This first outing since agreeing to wear diapers full-time was an eye opener. I couldn’t believe how much stuff we had to take with us. Mrs. Perals said that Timmy and I should prepare five diaper changes each. This meant taking ten diapers, plastic pants, and pre-moistened wash cloths, a can of baby powder, some extra pins, and a ‘just in case’ item, our night diapers and baby oil. Once this was added to Carl’s diaper supplies and selected toys, there was barely room left in the car for the picnic supplies and food.

“Is everything packed?” Mr. Perals asked.

“I think so,” Mrs. Perals answered. “I’ll go upstairs and try to get Carl dressed. Boys,” she said to Timmy and me, “put your pants on now.” It actually felt kind of funny wearing pants. Timmy and I had gone around in nothing but our diapers since the previous Monday, six days before. We were heading back downstairs when the screeching started.

Obviously, Carl was unhappy about something.

“I don’t think Carl wants to wear pants,” Timmy observed.

The screeching stopped abruptly and Mrs. Perals came downstairs holding

Carl’s corduroy overalls.

“He took one look at them and began screeching. He’s definitely not in the mood to dress up today. If we want to go, I think we’ll have to take him on his own terms. Do you mind?” This last question was addressed to me. My confused look prompted Mrs.

Perals to rephrase the question.

“Do you mind going out in public with Carl wearing only his diapers?

Would you feel embarrassed?”

“No,” I answered honestly.

“I’ll go get Carl,” Mr. Perals volunteered.

A couple of minutes later Mr. Perals came downstairs leading Carl by the hand. Carl took one look at Timmy and me and began screeching. He disengaged himself from his father and started slapping Timmy and me on the pants. Mr. Perals took Carl back upstairs to try to calm him down.

“I was afraid of that,” Mrs. Perals admitted. “Carl has gotten used to seeing you guys in just your diapers and he obviously wants you to stay that way… I think that I’ll have to stay home with Carl, but you three guys can have a boys’ day out,” she suggested.

“Gee, mom, that’s not fair. Maybe we can just have our picnic in the backyard. I don’t mind. Do you, Billy?”

Obviously, I was disappointed that we wouldn’t be going anywhere but I knew it would have been very impolite to complain about it.

“No, I don’t mind,” I said.

“That’s very nice of you,” Mrs. Perals responded, “but after being so good all week you guys deserve a reward.”

“I know how we can still have the picnic!” Timmy said brightly. “Nobody knows about our secret picnic spot. Billy and I don’t have to wear our pants in the car and nobody’s going to see us when we get there. We don’t have to wear our pants and you and Carl get to come, too. How about that, mom?”

“That’s not for me to answer. Billy is the one who has to agree to your plan.”

I only knew sketchy details about the picnic site. It was somewhere out in the country up highway 16 in the middle of nowhere. Timmy had also told me that it was located on the side of a hill overlooking a lake.

“Nobody will know?” I asked in a tremulous voice.

“Nobody,” he said firmly.

Since Mrs. Perals didn’t contradict him I figured that it would be OK.

“OK,” I answered, “I agree.”

“Yippee!” Timmy shouted. “Let’s take our pants off and show Carl. I’m sure he’ll be OK now.”

Timmy was right. Carl came downstairs without protest. We were getting into the car when Mrs. Perals put two rolled up items on the window ledge behind the back seat.

“Those are your pants. You’ll need them when we stop at the

Chicken Farm on the way home. I can stay in the parking lot with Carl if he puts up a fuss because you’re wearing pants.” The ride north to the picnic site was very pretty. It took us a little over two hours to get there. The roughest part of the trip was getting out of the city. Every time we stopped at a street light and a truck pulled up next to us I was afraid that the driver would look down into the back seat. I don’t know what worried me more—that the driver would think that we were riding around the city in our underwear or that he would figure out that we were wearing diapers and plastic pants. I was a lot happier after we got on highway 16. It was a little-used country road and we barely saw any traffic, and no trucks. Carl was very well behaved. He started out in the front seat between his parents but about halfway there he indicated a desire to climb into the back seat with Timmy and me. (Car seats and seat belts weren’t a big concern in 1962.) He spent the remainder of the trip leaning against me, asleep. Once again, I got nervous when Mr. & Mrs. Perals commented on how relaxed

Carl was around me.

The long ride was definitely worth it. The picnic spot was about a half-mile off the road, down a little dirt lane. Actually, the lake was a reservoir. It had been built about five years before. Mr. Perals knew about this out-of-the-way spot because he had been the chief engineer on the project. Later that day, he explained to me how tunnels had been dug under the mountain across the lake so that the water could flow by the force of gravity to the city on the other side.

The first order of business was a diaper change for Timmy and me. It sure felt funny lying on a blanket looking up at the clouds while getting cleaned and put into fresh diapers. I was amazed that I didn’t feel the least bit embarrassed. One thing did occur to me as rather odd—Timmy and I needed our diapers changed but Carl didn’t.

We ate lunch and Timmy suggested we do some exploring. Since the reservoir didn’t allow swimming or motor boating, the whole area was really calm. There were people out on the other side of the lake in rowboats but they were too far away to be of concern. Timmy had been here before so he knew the best places to find flat rocks to skip across the lake. After doing this for a while, he suggested that we investigate the grove of trees a little distance away.

“What for? I asked.

“Indian arrowheads,” he answered. “My dad found two of them while they were working here.”

This sounded like an exciting proposition but it produced nothing after a half-hour of searching. We headed back to the picnic area.

“Ah, here come the Big Rustlers,” Mr. Perals said.

I didn’t get it. Did Mr. Perals think we had stolen something because we had spent so much time in the woods?

“Dad!” Timmy protested.

“Yes, dear, don’t tease the boys,” Mrs. Perals added. I still didn’t know what they were talking about.

“My dad sometimes calls Carl ‘Little Rustler’ because of the noise his plastic pants make,” Timmy explained.

I felt my face flush.

“See, dear, now you’ve embarrassed him.” Mrs. Perals scolded her husband. “Billy, don’t pay any attention to what he says. His jokes are usually awful anyway!”

Mr. Perals broke out into a hearty laugh and apologized.

“Where’s Carl?” Timmy asked.

“He was sleepy and I didn’t want him getting too much sun. He’s in the back seat of the car.”

The two back doors of the car had been left open and Carl was stretched out.

“Are we staying much longer?” Timmy asked.

“No, just until Carl wakes up.”

Mr. Perals went back with us to the water’s edge. He taught us a couple of neat tricks to make our stones skip even farther across the water. We’d been at it for about twenty minutes when Mrs. Perals called down to us to come quickly. We took off up the hill as fast as we could. “It’s Carl,” she said. “He’s not in the car.” “Stay calm, honey. We’ll find him,” Mr. Perals said evenly. “We know that he’s afraid of water so it’s unlikely that he went toward the reservoir. Besides, one of us would have seen him if he had. He couldn’t have gone far. Boys, you go that way into the woods; Mom and I will look on this side.”

Before the search could get underway Carl came running out the woods making vrooming andscreeching noises. Mrs. Perals called for him to come to her but he ignored her and kept merrily running circles around the car.

“For heaven’s sake,” was Mrs. Perals only comment.

A diaper change all around and we were ready to pack up the car. We made it back to highway 16 but we turned in the direction opposite to the way

I thought we should go.

“How come we’re going this way?” I asked no one in particular.

“The drive around the reservoir is very scenic. We’ll go around to the other side and follow highway 49 south until we come to the junction that will take us back to highway 16,” Mr. Perals answered. “It’s a little out of the way but I think you’ll enjoy it.”

On the other side, we passed a miniature golf course that I wished we could have stopped at. I guess the scenery was pretty but I was getting a little bored with it. Darkness was setting in when we arrived at The Chicken Farm. Timmy had been talking about it for the last hour. It was a different kind of restaurant with one thing on the menu: fried chicken. You paid on the way in and the only decisions you had to make concerned whether you wanted mashed, baked, or French-fried potatoes, and what you wanted to drink. He said that it was a fun place with all kinds of crazy signs and jokes about chickens. I was looking forward to it. The restaurant parking lot was about half full when we arrived. Mr. Perals drove to the empty side of the lot so we could put our pants on.

“We’ll take Carl away from the car first,” Mrs. Perals said. “Once you’ve got your pants on, come to the front door.” She and Mr. Perals walked around the building to the front door. Timmy and I checked out the parking lot and decided it was safe to get out. I stood up and quickly turned around to take my pants off the window ledge.

“Did you take my pants?” I asked Timmy.

“No,” he answered. “Mine aren’t here either.”

I didn’t believe him.

“Quit fooling around and give me my pants,” I said sharply.

“I don’t have them,” he said in a panicky tone. “There weren’t any pants on the ledge when I looked.”

“Maybe your mom moved them,” I suggested.

We got back in the car and started looking everywhere. The pants were definitely nowhere inside the car.

“Maybe she forgot and put them in the trunk,” I suggested.

“But we can’t get into the trunk,” he pointed out. “We don’t have the key.”

“You mom or dad will come back to look for us, won’t they?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” he answered.

It seemed like an hour but it was probably only ten minutes when Mr. Perals came looking for us. We explained what we thought had happened. He spent a couple of minutes looking through the trunk but he found nothing. “I’ll be just a minute,” he said as he headed back toward the restaurant. He came back with a perplexed look on his face.

“You’re sure your pants aren’t inside the car?” he asked.

“Of course we’re sure,” Timmy said in an exasperated voice.

“Well, mom says that she didn’t touch them. The last time she saw them was when she put them on the window ledge. I don’t see how they could just disappear.”

“What are we going to do?” Timmy asked with genuine panic in his voice.

“Eat dinner, I guess,” his dad answered. “Mom already got us a table and paid for the dinners.”

“Can you bring ours out here to us?” he asked.

“I don’t think the restaurant would allow us to take their dishes and silverware out of the restaurant,” he answered. “Besides, I don’t intend to leave you out here all by yourselves. Now, come on. Let’s go inside.”

He opened Timmy’s door.

“Please, dad, no.” Timmy begged.

“Look, Carl has already gone in. It’ll be OK for you guys, too.”

“But Carl is different!” Timmy pointed out.

“Let’s not keep mom waiting,” Mr. Perals said.

Timmy hesitated for several seconds before getting out of the car. (I think he felt guilty about his reference to Carl’s autism.) I had no choice but to follow suit. I’m sure that we looked like the saddest boys in the world. I know that I was terrified and on the verge of tears. Only my pride stopped me from breaking down.

“Hold up a second, guys. I just got an idea.”

“Really?” Timmy asked in a hopeful voice. “You mean we don’t have to go inside?”

“I didn’t say that. I think we can get you inside more discretely.”

He led us around to a screen door at the back of the restaurant. Timmy and I stayed back in the shadows so as not to be seen. Mr. Perals walked into the kitchen and the last thing I heard was him asking to see whoever was in charge.

“Ok, boys, you can come in now,” Mr. Perals said opening the door for us.

We cautiously approached.

“It’s OK, come on,” he coaxed.

A grandmotherly woman smiled at us.

“Boys, this is Mrs. Pattersen. She owns the restaurant.” She smiled again before asking, “Which one of you is Timmy and which one is Billy?”

We identified ourselves and she offered her hand for us to shake. I could feel the kitchen crew staring at us. I didn’t think this was the time for formal introductions. “It just so happens that your mom is seated with your brother at table number 64, not far from that door over there. Follow me, and you’ll be at your table in no time.” She must have noticed how nervous we were.

“Don’t worry about a thing boys. Accidents happen all the time.” She led us to a circular booth where Mrs. Perals and Carl were already seated. We only had to walk past three or four tables but I still felt like I was having one of those dreams where you walk naked down a busy street. I heard several kids snicker and several adults make sympathetic comments. Mr. Perals let Timmy and me slide in first so that we would be better hidden. I didn’t see where it mattered anymore—everyone had already gotten an eyeful.

“Dad, what did that lady mean by ‘accidents happen all the time?’” Timmy asked.

“Well,” he answered sheepishly, “ I wanted to keep the story short so I told her that my two older boys were embarrassed to come into the restaurant because, like their little brother, they had no pants available to wear over their diapers. Mrs. Pattersen must have thought that you had wet your pants.” I wasn’t embarrassed by the cover story as much as Timmy seemed to be. Personally, I thought it was neat that Mr. Perals included me as one of his sons.

The waitress came over to ask us what drinks and potatoes we wanted. She seemed like a nice lady and I thought that she was being silly because she was trying to make Timmy and me feel better about being in diapers, but Mr. & Mrs. Perals assured me that her behavior was all part of the Chicken Farm ‘treatment.’ I could see some of the funny signs and riddles about chickens that Timmy had talked about. I wished that he and I could go around the restaurant to see the others. Our meals came and I have to say that I enjoyed mine very much. It was the best fried chicken I had ever tasted.

“Did you enjoy your meal, Billy?” Mr. Perals asked.

“Yes!” I answered enthusiastically. “Could you tell my dad where this restaurant is?”

He chuckled and said that he would be happy to. We ran into Mrs. Pattersen again as we were leaving through the kitchen. She thoughtfully invited the Perals to use her office if any of us needed a diaper change.

“I know that Carl needs a change,” Mrs. Perals said. “How about you guys?”

“Yes, please,” I answered and so did Timmy.

I was on the verge of pooping my diaper and I was worried about riding home in the car with the smell and the itchiness.

“Carl is getting restless,” Mrs. Perals announced. “I’ll take him outside to walk around while you change these guys. And since it’ll be rather late by the time we get home, you may as well put them into their night diapers.”

Timmy and I were told to wait in the office while Mr. Perals went for our diaper supplies. While he was gone Timmy and I both pooped our diapers. We got the giggles and couldn’t hold ourselves in. Mr. Perals (sniff… sniff) wrinkled his nose as he came back into the office a few minutes later.

“It looks… I mean, smells like I’ve got my work cut out for me, doesn’t it?”

This sent Timmy and me way over the edge. And then, seemingly from nowhere, I got a tingly feeling all over followed by a strong sense of absolute contentment. In a flash of enlightenment I knew that I was happy to be back in diapers. Also, seemingly from nowhere, I got an erection.

Mr. Perals started changing Timmy on the floor. He removed his plastic pants and then unpinned his diaper and began cleaning him. I was amazed to see that Timmy had an erection, too. What did this mean? Was he as happy as me to wear diapers? If so, how long had he known this? The more I thought about these things the harder my erection became. I tried to think about something else before it was my turn to have my diaper changed. It didn’t work. But, just as Mr. Perals seemed to have ignored Timmy’s erection, he didn’t comment on mine either. Once we were both ready, Mr. Perals sent us out to the parking lot to let Mrs. Perals know that the office was available for Carl’s diaper change. “Do you want to go out front and read the chicken jokes at the entrance?” Timmy asked with a mischievous smile.

“Wearing our big nighttime diapers?” I answered with a giggle. “…Sure, why not?”

We walked along the building and turned up the sidewalk. The signs leading up to the front door were really corny but Timmy and I both knew that we were there to be seen and not just to laugh at the jokes. Three older ladies came out of the restaurant and stopped in surprise.

“Does your mommy know that her little boys are out here all alone?” one of them asked as if we were three years old. “Yes, ma’am,” Timmy answered with a straight face. “We came to read the funny signs. Just because we wear diapers, it doesn’t mean that we’re totally stupid.”

“Well, I never!” the woman answered.

Timmy’s dad came up behind us.

“I thought I’d find you guys here. It’s time to leave. Mom and Carl are already in the car.”

“Sir, I think you have very rude boys,” the woman said to Mr. Perals.

“Well, ma’am,” he answered, “I heard your question and I understand why you got the answer you did. They’re obviously big boys, not little boys.” “Well, then,” the woman continued, “would you mind telling me why these big boys are wearing diapers?”

“I don’t mind at all,” he answered. “They wear diapers to keep their pants dry.”

The woman turned really red in the face and huffed off toward the parking lot. One of the other ladies smiled at Timmy and me and, then, winked.