Boy Scouts Pine Barrens

NOTE: this is a partial fantasy. No advocacy of underage activity is meant or implied.

It was totally cool to do the building fire, pitching tents, and whatnot. After the ghost stories were over, I headed back to my tent when I was grabbed by a couple of my buddies, and I was stripped and diapered up. Nuts, they could have just asked me.

Got back to my tent and I discovered it wasn’t empty, the Scoutmaster’s son was in it. “Hey!” “hey.” Um, what’s going on?” “OH, THAT, sorry, we figured you were into it.” “oh, no worries, not gonna rat anybody out; I reckon you did me a favor, this gear feels real good. So are we restricted now to just guys in diapers?”

“Yeah, we try to do this at least once a year.” “Shoot, it ought to be every weekend. What’s your dad think of all this?” “Better than drugs or getting girls pregnant.” “Oh yeah, I brought some beer and iced tea.” “OH get over it, it helps you pee.” Okay. So we both popped one and sucked it down. “Oh, I gotta show you some stuff. Now that you’re in the club, rules are we just wear t-shirts, plastic pants, and diapers until we leave. And sneakers or whatnot. This is the diaper shack; just toss used diapers here in this bucket, they get washed and end up on those shelves. I just wash out my plastic pants in the creek.

I thought, “This guy is really cool. I thought he was a dick.”

“And you hang them by your tent to dry along with your jock.” “Well, nosey much?” “Heck no, they practically slapped me in the face, but heck, no worries! I was gonna ask you about that but I didn’t get up the nerve. I think I am as much a diaperboy as you, or I’m working on it.”

“OH, I gotta build up the fire right.” “For what?” “Breakfast!” “Oh, chill, we use the propane stoves for that.” “Oh, right.” “Well go tell your Dad we’re sleeping in today. I twisted my foot or something, and don’t need him to look at it, I have my first aid badge, and not in the mood for hiking, fishing, or whatnot.”

“I like you already. You’re evil.”

Walking back to our tent, Mike told me his dad respected me big time. We got back and told Mikey I wanted to piss my brains out, and he said the same. So we did some more beer and iced tea, then we hooked up our sleeping bags together and snuggled up. I finally heard and felt Mike soaking his diapers, and me the same. It was great to meet another guy into the same stuff, when I thought I was crazy. We changed each other, except twice as much layers, on account of we planned to do more pissing, and dropped our old stuff at the shack.

We met the other guys, all dressed like we were and not thinkin a thing about it. I made a lot of good friends, the kind that matter.

We got back to the tent, and, mysteriously, our beer and iced tea supplies were replenished, well doubled. “Oh Mike (he looked cute wandering aimlessly in our tent in his diapers), where did all this come from?”

“I dunno, buddy! Honest!” Then I found a note, “Dear Joe, thank you for looking out for my son, and the rest of the guys. I know you have greater things in your future, but you’d make a hell of a Scoutmaster.”

I hugged Mike and told him he was a real lucky guy. Then I handed him a beer and told him to GET TO WORK! We approached the matter aggressively; we discovered being in tight wet diapers gives you a big hardon, so we mutually corrected that issue.

I don’t know why parents are so freakin paranoid about diapers and such. A couple of my buddies from camp followed me to University. We straightened those boys out. Well, maybe straightened isn't the right word.