It was the day after Thanksgiving when my parents asked me the single most important question I had ever been asked. I had gotten up late and my mother was putting my first diaper of the day on me.

"After you’re dressed, come downstairs. Your father and I want to talk to you."

Seeing the fear on my face, my mother added, "Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble. This is just a little family discussion."

Relieved, I put on my shoes, socks, and shirt. As usual, I went downstairs without pants on.

"It’s been seven months now that you have been wearing diapers as a punishment for what you did to Freddie. Your mother and I are happy that you and he are now getting along so well. However, we feel that your diaper wearing is no longer an appropriate punishment."

I couldn’t believe it. Were my parents about to announce that I would not have to serve out the remaining seventeen months of my punishment? Seven months ago this would have been thrilling news, but not now. How could I tell them that I wanted to continue wearing diapers- forever? My dad was still talking as I tuned back in to him.

"…Billy’s parents are having the same discussion with him about whether or not he wants to stay in them permanently. So, what do you want? But know this first, whatever decision you make, you must hold to for a full year. No matter how you decide, there will expenses involved and we can afford these expenditures only once."

My brain was trying to work furiously. How disappointed would my parents be if I admitted how much I liked my diapers and plastic pants? How much would I miss wearing them if I said I wanted to go back to regular underwear? Would I be allowed to go back and forth between regular underwear and diapers? Would I want to go back and forth from diapers to regular underwear? I was pretty sure that Billy would choose the diapers and plastic pants but what if he didn’t? The minutes stretched out but my parents didn’t rush me. Finally, I was ready.

"I want to keep my diapers for another year," I said decisively.

My dad smiled and said, "I’m not the least bit surprised. OK, you can run along now."

It was cold outside so I ran upstairs to get my pants and a jacket. I needed to go over to Billy’s to find out if had made his decision yet. I knocked on their kitchen door and Tony answered.

"Is Billy here?" I asked.

"Up in his room," he said going back to the breakfast he was making.

It was warm inside so I took off my jacket and pants and hung them on the hooks by the door. I wondered if Tony had been asked the same question as Billy and I. He had gone back to diapers voluntarily four months ago but I wondered if he still wanted them. Since he wasn’t wearing any pants and I could clearly see his wet diaper, I guess it was a pointless question.

I knocked on Billy’s door and he asked me to come in. My heart sank. He was standing there in long pants. He started laughing. I became furious.

"After everything you said about wanting to be in diapers forever, how could you not choose them?" I screeched.

I turned back toward the hallway and was about to leave, humiliated.

"No, no, you don’t understand," Billy was saying.

I heard him unzipping his pants and stepping out of them. I turned around to see him standing in his familiar diapers and plastic pants.

"When I saw you coming up the street in your long pants, I thought that you had decided to go back to regular underwear," he explained.

"You goof," I countered, "it’s cold outside. That’s why I was wearing long pants."

I jumped him and we innocently wrestled on the floor, our plastic pants making their familiar swishing and swooshing sounds as they rubbed against each other.

It was about two weeks before Christmas and Henry and I are were heading to his apartment to study for an algebra test. I had never gone to Henry’s before because he said it was too small an apartment when the four of us studied together, but since there would be just two of us it would be alright. As we were taking off our jackets I asked if his mom would mind if I went around without my pants.

"Of course not, I do it all the time."

Mrs. Walker greeted us and she asked Henry if he needed a change. He nodded and she led him off to his room while I sat at the kitchen table and opened up my algebra book. I wasn’t going to do any work until Henry came back so I looked around the kitchen and the little bit of the living room that I could see. I guessed that his family and mine must have been in the same economic category. Their kitchen had just about the same kind of stuff in it as ours did. Also, what I could see of the living room also appeared to be of the same quality. In time, I heard Henry walking down the hall, his plastic pants echoing loudly in the uncarpeted hallway. Mine did the same thing when they were cold (like when I wore them directly from the basement) and quieted down when my body heat softened them. I wondered why Henry’s were crackling like that. Wasn’t Henry’s room heated?

He came around the corner into the kitchen and I understood why his plastic pants were making a different kind of sound- they were real baby pants. They were a shiny blue color with teddy bears and balloons printed on them, complete with snaps along the sides. Of course, they weren’t baby-sized baby pants, I mean, they were in a size that fit him perfectly. I was perplexed.

"Um,…" Henry began, "I guess I have to explain something to you. I like wearing these when I’m at home. I guess I like the feeling of being a baby again."

I had gotten out of my chair and I was staring at his pants. His baby pants were getting me excited. His mother walked into the kitchen and I was about to sit down when she said, "Marc, your diapers seem to be sagging a lot. Do you need a change?"

It had become common for our moms to change any of us when we visiting each other. I had never visited here before and I was a little reluctant to have her change me, especially in my excited condition. On the other hand, I really did need changing.

"I don’t have any changing supplies with me," I explained.

"Henry has gotten several changes from your supplies. I’m sure I can take care of you, too. Come along."

She grabbed my hand and led me to Henry’s room. Walking down the hall it occurred to me that his mom had done the same thing to Henry- that is, she had led him by the hand as if he were a toddler who might run away from his diaper change. The changing pad was still on the bed. Without letting go of my hand she guided me onto it. Lifting my shirt out of the way she pulled the plastic pants down my legs and off my feet in one smooth motion.

"My, my…, you really are one soaked little boy," she exclaimed.

I smiled back. This was kind of weird, being talked to like I was three years old, but I liked it anyway. After disposing of the wet diaper in Henry’s diaper pail, she cleaned me up and asked me to lift up so that she could slide the dry diaper under me. This was my favorite part- when the fresh diaper was pulled tightly around my groin and pinned on. (To this day, I can’t adequately put into words the feeling I get when someone pins me into a clean diaper.) She was very gentle and she completely ignored my rising excitement. Turning around, she opened a drawer and pulled out a pair of snap-on style baby pants. These were white and imprinted with little kittens chasing brightly colored balls of yarn. They seemed to me to be even more babyish than the ones Henry was wearing. Still, I didn’t protest when she asked me to lift up again so that she could slide the open pants under me. In just a few seconds my pants were all snapped up and Henry’s mom had checked to make sure that there was no stray material escaping from the plastic pants. She sent me back to the kitchen. These pants crackled and snapped every bit as loudly as Henry’s.

"I see my mom gave you the full treatment, too. Sorry," Henry apologized.

"That’s OK," I said. What I didn’t say was how much I was enjoying the experience.

We started working on the algebra. I heard Mrs. Walker wash her hands and then proceed down a flight of stairs. My curiosity was getting to me.

"I thought this was an apartment house." I began, "How come you’ve got a basement."

"We own the building," he reminded me, " our apartment is the only one that gets to use this end of the basement. That’s where my mom has her laundry and where I have my trains set up."

I said that I always liked trains and he said we could go down and look at them after we had finished the algebra review we were doing. (This was probably why Henry did better in school than me- I would have abandoned the algebra and gone down to the trains right away.)

A half-hour later we were finished. I asked if we could take a look at his train set up. We descended to a large basement that had been divided off into four sections. There was a light on in a room to the left where Henry said his mother had her laundry. We were entering a room on the right and I commented on how warm the basement was. He explained that his dad had done all the work himself and that the basement was kept as warm as the rest of the house. When he turned on the light I saw the largest train setup I had ever seen. There were four transformers controlling five separate trains and all kinds of accessories. It was great. We started it up and he began showing me all of its features. Each section of rail was wired so that trains could not collide into each other. There were working accessories of all kinds: an ice house, a cattle corral, a freight station, and more. There were also what seemed to be hundreds of little lights inside buildings and along make-believe streets and roads. Henry told me that the whole thing had taken seven years to build and that he and his dad were always planning expansions.

We were interrupted by Henry’s mother who called to us saying it was time for me to be running along. She also told him to pick up his laundry on the way upstairs.

"I’ll get it later," he answered.

"You’ll get it now," she called from the laundry room.

"Um…," he said nervously, "you already know about the baby pants, you may as well know about the rest."

I was certainly intrigued now.

The laundry room was about as big as the train room. An automatic washing machine, ironing board and iron, and long counter (for folding the dried clothes) ran along one side of the room. The rest of the room was taken up by clotheslines. The usual kind of family laundry was hanging from the lines. The "not-so-usual" laundry hanging there included several additional pairs of snap-sided baby pants, printed pull-on style baby pants (large enough to fit over nighttime diapers), a yellow one-piece footed sleeper with Henry’s name embroidered on it, an assortment of short baby t-shirts, and, most prominently, a red corduroy overall with snaps running up the inside of the legs and into the crotch. All these baby clothes were obviously large enough to fit Henry.

Pointing to the counter, Mrs. Walker said, "Those two piles go to your room."

Henry handed me one pile which contained his "big boy" diapers and plastic pants along with some school clothes. He took up a pile that was mostly baby clothes- a blue pair of snap-waist footed pajamas, some toddler style elastic waist shorts, and a collection of pull-on and snap-on baby print plastic pants. We walked in silence to his room and back to the kitchen where I dressed to go home.

"You won’t tell anyone, will you?" he asked pleadingly.

"Of course not," I assured him.

We looked at each other for a few seconds until he began nodding his head in a sign that he believed that I would keep my promise. I left for home.

I arrived about half an hour later than I should have. Since I hadn’t called to let my parents know that I would be late, I knew I would be in trouble.

"Marc, where have you been?" my dad called from the kitchen. "We’re just about ready to sit down to dinner. We were getting worried; why didn’t you call?"

I knew that I had no reasonable explanation so I just continued taking my jacket and pants off. A half-second after I walked into the kitchen I remembered that I was still wearing Henry’s baby pants. It was too late to retreat as my dad had already seen me.

"New pants?" he asked, his eyebrows raised in twin peaks.

"Uh…, I was at Henry’s studying for an algebra test and I needed to be changed," I said, as if this explained everything.

"Well, I’m glad that you’re taking your studies more seriously. Henry seems to be having a good influence on your school work. Now, about the plastic pants…" he trailed off.

I tried to avoid answering directly since I had promised Henry that I wouldn’t tell anyone about his baby clothes but my parents kept pressuring me. Finally, I explained how I didn’t have any clean diapers with me and that Mrs. Walker had changed me. I also had to tell how Henry had shown me even more of his baby clothes when we brought laundry up to his room. I told my parents that I had promised that I wouldn’t tell anyone about it and that I felt guilty for telling them. They assured me that they would not tell anyone else.

Later that I night I was watching television when my dad asked if I needed to be changed or if I could wait until it was time for me to be put into my nighttime diapers. I told him that I could wait.

"So, do you like the plastic pants you’re wearing?" he suddenly asked.

"They’re OK, I guess," I obfuscated.

"What does that mean?" he pressed.

"Um…, well, I guess I can kind of understand why Henry likes them. I mean, when Mrs. Walker put them on me, it made me feel babyish and I kind of liked it. When I saw his sleepers and pajamas it reminded me of secure I used to feel as a toddler."

"So, you remember what it was like to be a toddler?"

"Well, no, not exactly," I admitted, "but, well, I don’t know, just looking at his baby clothes made me feel good inside."

No more was said about it, either at home or with Henry.

Christmas had finally arrived. Freddie, Billy, Henry and I had made all kinds of plans for the vacation. The biggest was that the Hastons were going on a three day skiing trip between Christmas and New Years and that Freddie, Henry and I were invited. Even though we were fourteen, going on fifteen, the three of us were looking forward to Christmas just like little kids would.

The weather had turned extremely cold on Christmas morning. My dad and mom woke me up early; they had two packages in their hands.

"Here, open these before we change you," my mom said.

This was something that had never happened before- opening Christmas gifts in bed. The first package was about the size of a shirt box, but fairly heavy. I ripped off the paper and opened the package. Inside were eight pairs of baby print plastic pants big enough to fit over nighttime diapers. The second package was fairly large and I knew that it had to be one of two things. I excitedly opened the sealed box and took out a green snap-waist footed pajama set. There were embroidered building blocks on the front that spelled out ‘Marc!". I loved them. My beaming face must have told my parents everything they wanted to know.

"OK, let’s get you dressed in your new jammies and plastic pants so we can go unwrap the rest of our gifts," my dad said.

My mom went downstairs to put on the coffee. My dad seemed even more gentle with my diaper change that morning. He even tickled me under the arms and got me to beg for him to stop tickling before I peed myself. I picked out a pair of yellow baby pants that had representations of babyish looking airplanes, boats and cars to wear under my new pajamas. After he had snapped the top and bottom together all the way around he asked if I wanted to see how I looked. The baby pants crinkled and crackled loudly as we walked to my parents bedroom but, unlike in the past, this was a comforting sound to me. I looked at myself in the full-length. The sight of my bulging diapers coupled with the noise from my baby pants had made me very hard. I understood fully how Henry felt in his baby clothes. Could I eventually get more, I wondered?

Downstairs my mom had already lit the Christmas tree and the smell of brewing coffee was floating out of the kitchen.

"Do you want juice, Marc?" my mom called.

"Yes, please." I answered. "But, hurry, I want to open gifts." Even to myself, I sounded like an excited three year old.

She came out of the kitchen and commented, "How sweet you look." I blushed but didn’t object. I was having too much fun.

"Here’s your juice," she said, handing me a toddler "sippy" cup. I looked at it, shrugged, and began drinking.

For the next half hour we exchanged gifts, one person at a time opening a gift. As usual, I got many more gifts than my parents did. However, this year, for the first time, I was able to afford something nice for them. I think they were sincerely touched. For my part, I was very excited to get more science equipment to go along with the microscope I had received on my birthday. Additionally, though, I also received a full collection of baby clothes. Overalls, a blanket sleeper, elastic waist toddler shorts, baby shirts, striped toddler shirts, and snap-on baby print plastic pants were among the items I received.

I was only nervous about one thing.

"No one will find out about these clothes, will they?" I asked nervously.

"Not if you don’t want them to," my mom assured me.

It wasn’t until two o’clock that I finally cleaned up and got into my "regular" clothes, except that I chose to wear some of my new snap-on baby pants. I knew that Freddie, Henry and Billy wouldn’t be coming over today because they were with their own families or at relatives’ houses.

The ski trip was starting tomorrow. My mom was busily checking and rechecking my luggage to make sure that I would have everything I needed. "Geez," I thought to myself, "do all women get this excited about such a small thing as packing?" Anyway, I couldn’t wait to leave and I knew that I would have a great time.

The trip took about two and a half hours and we arrived at the resort around eleven thirty in the morning. We checked in and looked forward to a great afternoon of skiing.

"Not so fast." Mrs. Haston said from the door that joined the room Mr. & Mrs. Haston would stay in to the one us four guys would use, "Diaper changes first," she ordered.

We groaned and opened our suitcases to get out fresh diapers and plastic pants. I grabbed a diaper from one side of the suitcase and remove the protective cover of the other side to discover that my mother had only packed baby print plastic pants for day and night use. I was mortified and angry. I wondered if the other guys had any extra "regular" white plastic pants that I could borrow. I was pondering this when I became aware that Billy and Freddie were also uncomfortable about something. Their suitcases only contained baby print pants, too. Henry was standing in the middle of the room laughing.

"If you guys could have seen the looks on your faces when you discovered that you only had baby pants to wear on this trip!" he sputtered through gasps of laughter.

"What’s going on?" Freddie, Billy, and I demanded.

"Simple," Henry said, "just like you set me up to get into diapers by coming up with the ‘Baby Beatles’ Halloween idea, I tempted you into baby and toddler clothes by showing you mine. Now we’re even!"

We wrestled him to the ground and pretended to be angry with him. After a few minutes of this wrestling Mr. Haston asked if we wanted to go skiing or not. We were quickly changed into fresh diapers and rather crackly sounding snap-on baby pants. Luckily, our ski clothes muffled the sound pretty well.

That night, freshly changed and snug in our sleepers, we talked about how we felt about being treated as babies. Henry admitted that he had gone a lot farther than just baby clothes- he also liked pacifiers and baby bottles. Almost as if on cue, Mrs. Haston came in and told us it was time for bed. She asked who wanted a bottle to go to sleep with. That first night only Henry and Billy took her up on the offer. By the end of the trip we were all hooked. (As we were checking out, a bell boy delivered a baby bottle to Mr. Haston saying that the kitchen had forgotten to return it. Then it hit me, the kitchen must have known that they were heating up baby bottles for four teenaged boys.) The skiing was terrific. Each night that we were there a couple of inches of fresh powder fell, just enough to refresh the runs.

Over the next few months, I experimented more and more with the baby side of diaper wearing. Soon I was enjoying being babied by my parents, getting nighttime bottles, sleeping with a pacifier, and being dressed in toddler clothes. While this limited my availability to other friends and activities, Henry, Billy, Freddie, and I were always willing to share the experience with each other.

Looking back on it, I couldn’t have had better high school years. While there were some people who sneered at us because of our diaper wearing (and what would they have said if they had found out about our baby and toddler items?!), the four of us established deep and important friendships with each other.

After college, Freddie followed his dad in the business consultant field and, also like his dad, was very successful at it. He met and fell in love with a charming woman, also from the business field. They have been married almost 27 years. They have three beautiful daughters.

Henry and Billy formed a partnership in a landscape design company. They eventually discovered that they were in love with other. They have been life partners for our twenty years.

For my part, I married Maureen, Freddie’s younger sister, a short time after she graduated from college. We have built a rewarding life together over the last twenty-six years. She is a practicing psychiatrist and I own a computer consulting firm. Our four children range in age from twenty-three to fifteen. Matthew, our youngest, has inherited my fascination with diapers. About two years ago, Maureen (accidentally) found an open package of overnight disposable diapers in his room. Just like Henry’s parents had done so many years ago, we wrote him a letter of support telling him that he did not need to ever hide anything from us. We promised to be there for him no matter what. Since then, he has shared with us his desires honestly and openly. He was introduced to cloth diapers and plastic pants. His favorites are baby print pants and thick nighttime terrycloth diapers, just like me. When he is eighteen Maureen and I will talk to him about my similar passions- that is, if he doesn’t already know about them.