My dad and Mr. Haston picked us up on Friday afternoon. The trip was really fun but there was something nice about coming home. After dropping the Zymmers off at their house my dad and I went home. (He didn’t comment on my short shorts and I wasn’t sure if my mother had noticed them since I brought my luggage directly up to my room and took them off before I greeted her.) It was nice to have the freedom to go around at home in just my diapers and plastic pants again. We had an early dinner and I watched a little TV; I was very tired and asked to be changed into my nighttime diapers early. I think I went to bed around 9:00.

The next morning I was brought totally back to reality by doing my Saturday morning chores. It was going to be a very hot day so I was glad to start early. I went directly outside in my nighttime diapers and began my few chores in the front yard. I then went and mowed the back lawn. I was just finishing the raking when two neighborhood friends, Pete and Henry, showed up to ask me if I wanted to play ball at 10:30. Especially after the experience in Los Angeles, I was less and less embarrassed to be seen in my diapers so I simply answered that I would be happy to join the game. This was only the second time that they had seen me dressed this way and I wondered what they thought. Henry unconsciously answered my question when I noticed that his pants were obviously being tented out by an erection.

After showering and being changed into daytime diapers I was practicing fly balls with myself when Billy showed up. He was carrying his baseball glove with his shorts rolled up inside it.

"You came over here like that?" I asked, surprised- especially since he had obviously carried his shorts over instead of wearing them. "I thought you didn’t want your parents to know that you wanted to go around the house in just your diapers and plastic pants. Or did you take your shorts off here in my yard?"

"No, listen," he answered ambiguously, "I have two really big pieces of news to tell you. Here’s the first. A little while after I got home yesterday, my parents sat me down and told me that since the very warm days of summer were coming that it would be alright for me to lounge around in just my diapers and plastic pants since that might be more comfortable for me. They even said that, regardless of the weather, I can make my own decisions about how I want to dress. Isn’t that great? Now I can dress however I want, with or without pants."

"Cool," I said out loud. Inside, I thought, "So that’s how Mrs. Haston decided to give permission to Billy to go around in just his diapers." Continuing out loud, I asked, "But, did you really leave your house in just your diapers?"

"Sure. This is all I’ve worn since my mom and dad gave me permission to go around in just my diapers and plastic pants. I didn’t feel like wearing shorts to come over here so I said to myself, ‘Everybody already knows, it can’t change their opinion of me one way or the other.’"

I wasn’t so sure about that but I didn’t voice my opinion. After all, I had been in just diapers and plastic pants while doing chores this morning and I had gone to his house all excited about the trip to California- but, crossing the neighborhood regularly in just diapers seemed like going overboard.

Remembering what Billy first said, I asked, "What’s the other big piece of news?"

"Oh, man, I could give you a million guesses and you would never get it," he laughed. "I still can’t believe it myself. It’s really so funny. Go ahead, make the wildest guess you can think of."

My curiosity was really getting to me and his obvious enjoyment at stalling made me jump him and wrestle him to the ground. (We used to do this a lot, but since we had been put into diapers I couldn’t remember us wrestling even once. Our plastic pants made funny swooshing sounds as they rubbed against each other.) Sitting on his legs and bending over him to keep his arms pinned to the ground I said, "You’re not getting up until you tell me." Still laughing hysterically he gasped in between guffaws, "OK, OK, I give." "Tony is in diapers full time, too," he finally said.

"What? But he just graduated high school. What did he do?"

Billy began laughing again and I had to remind him of my threat to not let him up until he told me the story.

"Alright, I give," he repeated, "I’ll tell you everything. But part of this is a secret that not even my parents know. You have to promise never to tell. Now let me up, my arms are beginning to hurt."

We sat on the lawn facing each other, cross-legged, as he told the story.

"Do you know who Karen is?" he asked.

"Yeah, Tony girlfriend," I answered.

"Not anymore," he continued, "but that’s really messed up since everything that happened started because of her."

Now I was really intrigued and coaxed him on with the story.

"I didn’t know it at the time," Billy said, "but Tony told Karen about my diaper punishment right when it started. She apparently found it very funny and asked Tony for all kinds of details. Anyway, that was during May and she never asked about it again until a couple of days after we left for California. She started asking questions about whether or not I had taken all of my diapers and plastic pants with me or if I had left any stuff behind. Tony asked her why she was so interested. She said that she thought "big" boys in diapers were cute and that she might be interested in playing some games with "her" big boy if he allowed her to put diapers on him. Of course, Tony said to forget it. But then she stopped allowing him to kiss her and do petting and stuff so he agreed to do it one time only. He went over to her house while her parents were out and she squeezed him into my diapers and plastic pants. She began to play with him through the diaper until he came. He thought that that would satisfy her but she said she wouldn’t allow any kissing or other stuff until he had wet the diaper. In a little while, he managed to get it wet and they had fun on the couch until he had to get changed because her parents were coming back soon. He brought the diaper and plastic pants home and hid them in his closet until he could get them washed. This went on three more times and he still hadn’t gotten around to washing them. My mom was putting some clean clothes in his dresser one morning when she noticed the diaper smell coming from his closet. She checked and found the wet diapers."

"Wow," I said, "Tony must be really embarrassed. Is he getting the diaper punishment because of what he and Karen were doing? Do Karen’s parents know about it, too?"

"’Yes’ to the first question and ‘no’ to the others," Billy laughed. "Let me explain. Karen’s parents don’t know anything about this. When he got home that day, he went to his room and saw the four diapers and plastic pants washed and neatly piled on his bed. He knew right away that he was hopelessly caught. He went to pieces when my mom called him to the kitchen where she was getting dinner started. She asked him to sit down at the table and explain what was going on. He was too scared to admit that he and Karen had been fooling around so he invented a story about being curious about what it felt like to be in diapers. My mom challenged him, ‘Don’t you mean wet diapers?- none of those diapers I found was dry.’ He admitted that he was curious about wet diapers and then she asked him how come he had done it four times. He kept getting deeper and deeper into the lies until his story made it sound like he wanted to be in diapers full time. My mom and dad are now convinced that he wants this," he laughed again. "After dinner that night she went to Suttee’s Pharmacy to order his diapers and plastic pants but because he needs adult sizes they already had them in stock. He’s been in diapers for ten days now."

"Wow," I repeated, "how long are they going to keep this up?"

"I don’t know, But they think that he wants this, so it seems pretty permanent to me. Besides, they got rid of all his regular underwear and bought him as many daytime and nighttime diapers as I have."

"So, does he really use them?" I pursued.

"Yeah," Billy affirmed, "he’s afraid that if he doesn’t, our parents will get suspicious and he is still too afraid to admit to what he and Karen were up to."

"How come you said Karen ‘used to be’ his girlfriend?"

"This is the part that has really gotten Tony furious. After he was put into diapers he went over to her house to explain what had happened. He thought that she would be happy that he took all the blame and didn’t involve her at all. She got all agitated when he told her about his diapers and she said that diapers were just a little game- she couldn’t date a guy who wore them all the time. He got really mad and they had a big fight. Now she doesn’t want to see him and he’s really upset that she dumped him like that."

I thought about that for a while and I could see how each side had a point. Karen wouldn’t want a boyfriend whose only underwear was diapers and Tony seemed to have the right to feel betrayed because Karen had been the one to start it. "Dating can really get complicated," I thought.

"But," I said, "Tony has a job. Can’t he go out and buy regular underwear to wear during the day?"

"I suppose so," Billy said, "but how would he get them washed? My mom would see them in the laundry and he’s hardly ever home when she’s out. It would be hard to get away with. Besides, Tony isn’t even seventeen yet. (He had skipped two grades in grammar school because the school had said that he was too advanced for the other children.) He’s probably going to be living at home for at least two or three more years."

"Boy is he ever in a mess," I commiserated.

"No, not really," Billy said smiling, "just wet. At least he didn’t tell my mom that he wanted to know what it felt like to mess in diapers!"

A few moments passed in silence before Billy said, "One good thing to come out of this is that I feel closer to Tony than I ever have. Yesterday, when he got back from work, he told me the real story. He said he trusted me to not let our mom and dad know what really happened. He’s never trusted me like that before. You won’t tell anyone the real story, not even Freddie, will you?"

I promised I wouldn’t. There were three more questions I had to ask.

"Um…," I said hesitatingly, "who changes Tony’s diapers?"

"Oh, that," Billy said laughingly, "he gets to do his own changes as long as he doesn’t come down with a rash. Tony has been very careful- he’s already asked for my advice on how often to change."

"Um…," I said again, "what about work?"

"I don’t know," Billy said thoughtfully, "I don’t think anyone knows… yet."

"Last question, I promise. Well, actually, two. Does he wear pants around the house and did he tell you if he played with himself in his diapers?"

"Ever since I’ve been home," Billy giggled, "we’ve been hanging out together, watching TV, playing catch, and even preparing last night’s barbecue in just our diapers and plastic pants. You know I think Tony’s a lot like me; I think he enjoys his diapers. He’s sure taking big risks going outside in them; he must know that sooner or later someone is going to catch him."

"And…," I prompted since Billy had stopped talking.

"Uh…," he said embarrassed, "when Tony was telling me about how he got put into diapers I got really hard and he noticed it. He told me not to be embarrassed; that his diapers made him feel the same way. He sent me to my room ‘to take care of myself’ and while I was there ‘taking care of myself’ I heard him ‘taking care of himself.’"

I now knew how Henry felt when had seen me earlier in my diapers and plastic pants. I had maintained an erection during the entire story that Billy told me about Tony’s diapers and plastic pants. I was glad to know that I wasn’t the only one to react this way to diapers.

We left for the game a short time later- wearing our regular shorts, of course.

After the game, I came home and wanted to shower again. I called my mother to get me out of my diaper and, as usual, she told me to call her when I was finished so that she could get me into a fresh one. (She astounded me by saying that she had missed changing me while I was gone. Regardless of how much you think you know your parents, they always manage to say something new and incomprehensible.)

I was never a quick shower taker since I liked luxuriating in the hot steamy water. Eventually, I called for my mom and she told me to come downstairs to get dressed.

"Your father and I need to talk to you," she said.

This didn’t sound good to me. She had never done this before.

I was not aware that while I was showering, my parents had called the Hastons who, along with Billy (also freshly showered), were waiting in the living room. He was sitting on the couch and I noticed that he wasn’t wearing any pants and that his diapers looked all puffy. My dad started.

"Marc, I talked to the Zymmers this afternoon and found out why you boys were wearing those new shorts when you got off the train. I thought that you were learning how to treat people properly, regardless of what you may think of them. Now, I find out that you abandoned a younger boy in a strange and crowded place and that he had to find his own way back to his family. Why did you do this?"

How could I explain? If I said that it was Freddie’s idea, he would answer that I had to learn to be mature enough to make my own decisions and to act responsibly no matter what others did. If I said that Timmy was wearing his really short shorts and it embarrassed us because others might guess that we also were wearing diapers, he would say that the point of our punishment was for others to know that we were wearing diapers. I couldn’t think of any logical explanation so I used the universal teenage excuse.

"I don’t know," I said.

"You don’t know!" he exclaimed, his voice rising in anger. "You’re fourteen years old. How old will you have to be before you understand that actions have consequences? What if something had happened to Timmy?"

"Yes, dear, you’re absolutely right," my mother agreed. "I guess we’ll have to remind you and everyone else in a more obvious way what this punishment is all about."

"But..," I started to say before shutting my mouth. I realized that this was not a time to negotiate.

I wondered how many more months would be added to our sentence. The way that they had described our actions I prepared myself for the worst.

"Now, for the punishment," my mother announced, "three months will be added- one month for each hour that you ‘ditched’ Timmy. Also, until school starts again you will go back to a ‘no pants’ punishment, only this time in your nighttime diapers with these special plastic pants."

She held up a red pair just like those awful crinkly transparent pants I had worn on the first day of my diaper punishment.

"But those won’t fit over nighttime diapers," I said, thinking that they were the same pair I had worn before.

"These aren’t the ones you borrowed from Freddie; this is one of a set of six that I picked up at Suttee’s today. That should be enough for daytime wear. You’ll continue wearing your regular white ones at night." my mother answered "By the way, the same basic rules apply as before- no hiding in the house, no avoiding usual activities, and, especially, no avoiding your other friends."

Three months wasn’t so bad, but wearing only diapers and these awful plastic pants for the rest of the summer was too much. What would the guys say?

I was still only wearing the towel I had come down in. Billy was still in his regular white plastic pants but now I understood why they had appeared to be so puffy- they were his thick nighttime diapers. I wasn’t going to make reference to the fact that he wasn’t wearing these hideous noisy pants when his mother picked up a bag from the couch and pulled out several similar pairs. Each of us wound up with three red, two yellow and one green pair.

"What color would you like to start with?" Mrs. Haston asked Billy.

He pointed to what seemed to be the least offensive- green.

"Ok, Marc," my mom ordered, lay on the floor and I will diaper you."

As I was being diapered, Billy was ordered out of his white plastic pants and into the crinkly green ones. He had already wet his diaper slightly, but they weren’t dripping. As soon as he had the new pair on, I was horrified to see how easily the wetness of his diaper could be seen through the transparent material. The green coloring did nothing to hide his wet condition. My red pants were finally pulled on and the crinkling of our pants was horrible.

"Now, outside with you, boys," Mr. Haston announced.

We headed for my back yard.

"No, guys," my dad said, "we forgot to mention backyards are off limits, except when you’re doing chores. You either go to another friend’s house or you stay in your front yards or the street. Of course, you can go anywhere you want, as long as you tell where you’re going and when you are returning."

I was right. We became the butt (no pun intended) of every joke. One of the unanticipated problems was the varying colors of our plastic pants. Our diaper changes were less noticeable if wore the same color plastic pants for two diaper changes in a row. But, since red was the color we had the most of, we were forced to wear the most obvious pairs most frequently.

Two days after our new round of punishment began Billy and I were out in front of his house when Henry came by. He told us that a baseball game was being organized in the empty lot two streets away (our usual location). We tried to tell him that we wouldn’t be playing in any games until we got our pants back. Unfortunately, Mrs. Haston must have heard him talking to us because she came out and said the she thought it was a marvelous idea and that we had been moping around the house too much. She hinted that things could get worse for us if they (our parents) thought we were avoiding our friends. I tried to stall for time (Of course, if I had thought it through, what good would five minutes do anyway? Mrs. Haston was making us go to that game and all of the guys who would be there must have already known about our new round of ‘no pants’ punishment.)

"Um…, Mrs. Haston," I said, "my parents aren’t home now and I need to be changed and they won’t let me do it myself."

"That’s no problem, dear," she smiled back at me, "I can change you right now. How about you, Billy, do you need a change, too?"

Billy’s transparent yellow pants made it obvious that he needed a change. However, I could see he was struggling with himself. To ask for a diaper change in front of Henry would be humiliating; but, to refuse and have to play baseball in an obviously wet diaper, would be worse.

"Yes, I do," he meekly admitted.

"I’ll wait for you here and we can walk to the game together," Henry said.

This actually began a new phase of our treatment in diapers. From now on, our diaper changes took place at the nearest house. In a short time, our diapers and plastic pants had become totally commingled and this procedure continued even when we weren’t in a ‘no pants’ punishment cycle. (I have to admit to having felt a certain thrill at wearing the exact same diapers and plastic pants that Billy had worn.)

Walking to the game in just diapers and crinkling plastic pants was the farthest Billy and I had ever ventured out of the immediate neighborhood without our parents presence. Whenever I got nervous I would have an immediate and urgent need to pee and I was desperately trying to hold it in as long as possible. It was important to me at that moment to at least arrive dry at the game.

Henry confirmed my earlier thought. "It really won’t be so bad. The guys already know that you’re back to a ‘no pants’ punishment. They wanted me to invite you and, besides, you guys are just about the best players. I don’t think they’re going to make fun of you, at least not too much."

The closer we got, the more nervous I became until I couldn’t hold it anymore. I didn’t exactly flood my diapers but they were very wet. I know that I turned red when Henry looked down at my plastic pants and saw the growing wet spot. For my part, I noticed how hard he had become inside his shorts.

Once the game started I became less aware of how I was dressed. The only really annoying thing (aside from the constant taunting aimed at "Mr. Red Pants") was that the crinkling of my pants gave away my position when I was on base, making it more difficult for me to take long leads.

A few days after this I did get into mild trouble for ruining a pair of red plastic pants by sliding into second base. However, my mother couldn’t deny that it wouldn’t have happened if I had been allowed to wear something over them. It also didn’t stop her from replacing them with two more of the same color.

Freddie got the same punishment from his parents but that didn’t stop him from riding his bicycle the three miles from his house to our neighborhood. I sort of admired him for his courage but I wouldn’t go over to his house unless it was very early in the morning or it was beginning to get dark. Needless to say Timmy wore his short shorts for the rest of the summer with no apparent embarrassment. I probably would have, too, if I had been given the chance.

Summer was ending. I was actually looking forward to the beginning of high school. Things would be different but I was optimistic. Why not?