Tommy's Attitude Adjustment Chapter 25

Tommy's Attitude Adjustment Chapter 25
by Chadlad

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This story is intended for ADULTS ONLY It contains explicit depictions of sexual activity involving minors. If you are not of a legal age in your locality to view such material or if such material does not appeal to you, do not read further, and do not save this story.
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Chapter 25: Oh, to be Young Again

Jeremy's face turned crimson, and he gave Francine a glare could have burned a hole through the wall. Fortunately for Jeremy and his already painfully sore, blistered butt, only Francine and Shirley saw it.

Jeremy's mother sat the diapers on the coffee table and started for the bathroom. "I kept his diapers from when he used to wet the bed all the time," she said. "You never know when these little boys are going to have a relapse."

"Jeremy used to wet the bed?" Francine said, smirking.

"Up to last year," his mother said, as Jeremy's look went from embarrassed to aghast.

"Ma!" he protested. "Don't talk about that!"

"Why, it is a secret?" his mother asked. She went on into the bathroom, talking loudly enough to still be heard. "Everyone knows little boys have troubles controlling their wee-wees sometimes. Anyway, I've got some Vaseline here," she said. "To protect his little boy goodies when he wets or dirties himself. Wouldn't want him to get diaper rash when he goes in them." She emerged from the bathroom holding a glass jar.

Jeremy stiffened. "Don't need that," he said flatly. "There's no way I'm goin' in diapers!"

"Yes, you will, and that's final," his mother said. "You are going in diapers right now, and you're staying in them until tomorrow morning. Then, and only then will I let you go back into underpants and pants, and then only if you've been good the entire time. That means being cheerful, cooperative, and obedient. Because if you're not good, I'll let Francine paddle you this time, and I'll add another day of diapers. And I'll keep doing that until you're good."

She looked expectantly at Francine. "You know how to diaper a boy, don't you? You know, with extra padding in front where their little yoohoos are? Can you diaper Jeremy for me while I just run down the street and talk to Mrs. Raphael for a moment? Then we can all go to the park. Shirley can give you a hand if you need it."

Francine perked up at the name of Mrs. Raphael. "You mean Maxine Raphel's grandma?" she asked.

"Maybe," Jeremy's mother said. "Does she have a step- brother named Bobby?"

"Yeah, that's her," Francine said. "She goes to our school. She's in 6th grade, I think. But I don't know her brother that well – he's our age, but he just moved in at the end of the school year. He used to live somewhere else, I think, with his real mother." Maxine's father, her grandmother's son, had disappeared long before, and her mother was also gone, some mysterious somewhere that no one talked about. Bobby, product of what his grandmother called her absent son's "youthful indiscretion," had popped up suddenly on her doorstep, a cancelled train ticket in one hand and a small valise in the other, containing some ragged clothes and a letter explaining that his mother "couldn't take it anymore" and was sending the fruit of her lover's loins back to his family. From what little she'd seen of Bobby, Francine considered him a mildly repulsive boy, thin and dark haired, with flashing brown eyes that seem to dart around continuously. He seemed to be horribly impulsive, constantly into trouble, teasing girls, and in generally following Maxine around making a nuisance of himself. Maxine had said right after he moved in that he was driving both her and her grandmother crazy.

Shirley paid little attention to this conversation, spending the time instead studying Jeremy's bare bottom, wishing he'd turn around again and display the fascinating structures attached to his front, and thinking that he was rather cute, when all things were considered, even if he was her cousin and therefore off limits. Thus, when she thought over these events in the future, as she had many times since, she had to admit that the memory of the first time she heard her future husband's name was pretty hazy. In fact, the same held for the first time they actually met. Or perhaps these memories were simply overshadowed by stronger, more significant later memories.

"Tell Maxine we'll be at the park!" Francine said to the departing Mrs. Whitt.

Over against the wall, Jeremy stiffened, clearly not in favor of that idea. He didn't like Maxine Raphael, not one little bit. Despised, that would be a better word for his feelings about her, feelings that were clearly mutual. Her new stepbrother wasn't a bad person, though.

Jeremy's mother paused before entering the kitchen. "So you can handle diapering him?" she asked. Francine she nodded her head eagerly. "Sure," she said. "I know all about diapering little boys. You just leave him with us – he'll be in good hands. And I can teach Shirley." Jeremy's mother hustled out, leaving Jeremy at Francine's mercy once again.

Francine pictured Maxine and Bobby Raphael. Francine took the top diaper and spread it on the floor, then spread another on top of it. "We'll have to use two, he's probably a big wetter," she said to Shirley. She looked over at Jeremy, who was trying to melt into the floor without success, and gave him her sweetest smile. "Come here, little boy, so I can pin you into your diaper," she crooned. She held up the diaper pins, which had little duckies on them.

"I'm not wearin' no diaper," Jeremy said flatly, staring at the wall and not moving. His blistered little butt twitched as he talked.

"Yes you are," Francine said. "Your mother said so. Now you march your little fanny right over here and lie down on the floor so I can put Vaseline on your diaper area and then fix you up."

"I'm not wearin' no diaper, and you're not putting that stuff on me," Jeremy said more insistently.

"Yes you are," Francine said. "You either come over here and lie down and let me put Vaseline on you and diaper you, or I'm going to tell your mother that you wouldn't let me diaper you and ask her if I can paddle you for misbehaving! You heard what she said when she left – if you're not good and obedient, you get a paddling from me and another day in diapers. You could be in diapers the entire summer if you keep it up! I'll come over every day and help take care of you! And I know just how I'll paddle you, too! I'll hit you real hard – as hard as I can hit! Right in the middle of your butt!" She grinned wickedly at Shirley. "Right where the poop comes out!" Shirley felt a naughty thrill listening to the nasty things Francine was saying. Francine continued. "Just think, Jeremy! You'll have to go over my knees and hold still while I get to hit your little fanny over and over again, and make you cry like a big baby. I bet a paddling from me would really hurt with all those blisters you have already on your little butt."

Jeremy still stared at the wall. "I'm counting to 5," Francine said. "Then I'm gonna tell your ma. Your ma will help hold you, I bet, and Shirley can help hold you, too. One, two, three…"

"All right! All right! I'm coming!" Jeremy said, turning reluctantly from the corner and taking the humiliating walk across the room to the two girls sitting on the floor by the open diaper. He felt horribly exposed with his penis bobbing along at the girls' eye height, but was afraid to move his hands from behind his head in case his mother came back soon. On the brighter side, if he let them diaper him, they'd at least stop looking at his genitals.

Francine pointed at the floor. "Lie face down," she said. "I have to do your butt first." Awkwardly, Jeremy settled on the floor, lying atop the diaper, cradling his arms and burying his face in them in shame. His little red, blistered butt quivered.

Francine dipped two fingers in the Vaseline bottle and settled down on Jeremy's right side. "Now hold still," she said. "This is probably going to hurt a little bit since your butt is so sore!" Francine wiped the glob of Vaseline

on his right butt cheek and began spreading it around.
Jeremy tensed.  "Ow!" he complained.  "Ow!  Ow!  Ow, it
hurts!  Be careful!"

"Tough," Francine said. "Try not to be such a baby."

"But it hurts!" Jeremy whined into his cradled arms. "And you're making it hurt more!"

"I am not," Francine said. "I'm trying to be gentle. But you're pretty blistered, so there's only so much I can do." Francine said matter-of-factly. "So shut up. And hold still. I didn't tell you to wee-wee on your mother and get paddled, you know, so the fact your little fanny hurts isn't my fault."

"Just – ow – just be gentle," Jeremy begged. "It's really sore!"

"Of course it is," Francine said. "Your mom blistered, you all over!" She continued spreading Vaseline across Jeremy's cheeks. Jeremy continued wincing in pain as her fingers worked over his blistered skin. "It must've been humiliating!" Francine continued conversationally, as she worked her way towards the boy's butt crack. "To get spanked right out on your front porch, I mean," Francine said. "And with us and all those other kids watching! And you butt naked, with your little tallywhacker hanging out! I mean, everyone saw everything! And you were bawling like a baby!" She put a another glob on Jeremy's bottom and started spreading it, while Jeremy tensed his buns in pain.

"And that little dance you did afterward, with all your stuff bouncing around, while you held on your butt and bawled! That was so cute! But I don't know how you can stand it, knowing that everyone saw! I wouldn't be able to face those kids again! And I bet it's all over the neighborhood by now!" Francine said.

She stood up and stepped to the boy's other side, settling down by his left buttock. "Ow!" Jeremy complained again as she wipe a dollop of Vaseline on his left flank. "Don't be so rough!"

In response, Francine deliberately pressed harder on the circle of blisters in the center of the boy's buttocks. "Owwwww!" Jeremy complained again, tensing his buttocks and then wincing at the pain that caused him.

Francine shushed him. "Hold still and stop being a baby," she said. "I'm almost done." Methodically, she covered Jeremy's left butt cheek with glistening Vaseline. She looked up and Shirley. "Spread his butt apart," she said. "I have to get his crack, especially his butt hole! Because that's where the poop will come out when he poops himself!"

Jeremy's head shot up from his cradled arms in alarm. "You're not touching my dookie hole!" he said. He squeezed his buns together tightly, despite the pain it caused him to flex them.

Francine looked across at him in disgust. "Yes we are, young man" she said. "Your mother said to diaper, you, and when you diaper a baby you have to put Vaseline all over his diaper area or he'll get diaper rash. You don't want diaper rash, do you? Because if you pee or poop in your diaper and you don't have Vaseline on that's what you're going to get!"

"Not going to pee in it," Jeremy said firmly. "I'm not a baby."

"Bet you will," Francine said. "Because your mom said you're wearing diapers until morning. You'll have to pee sometime. You may even have to poop, too. Then we'll have to change you like a big baby."

Jeremy buried his face in his arms in despair. He didn't have to go now, but he would. For one thing, he'd had two big glasses of iced tea with lunch. He bladder was filling already. And there didn't seem any way out of it but to pee his diaper when he had to, and submit to having Francine and his cousin change him! The thought of girls his own age changing him like a baby humiliated him to the core.

Meanwhile, Shirley had gripped each of his buns, and was now separating them widely to give Francine access to his butt crack. Her grip on his sore buns hurt, and Jeremy's first instinct was to tense them again, but he know there was no way to avoid letting Francine do what she wanted to. As his butt spread apart, Jeremy again felt horribly exposed and violated. He didn't care that they'd already seen it several times before, he hated people looking at his dookie hole! Francine applied a glob of Vaseline between the top of his buns, where his crack started, then beginning to work it in upward toward his butt hole. Shirley, watching, holding the quivering, muscular buns of the little boy, marveled at how white and untouched the boy's crack was compared to the red, blistered surface of his butt. That part of him was really well-protected! Francine got within half an inch of Jeremy's butt hole before stopping abruptly. "You have to wipe him," she said. "He's still got poop on him."

"I don't want to wipe him," Shirley said, shivering. "I might get it on me!"

"You don't have to get it on you," Francine said reasonably. "Just use lots of paper. But you have to do it, because my fingers are all greasy."

Shirley raced into the bathroom, emerging with a giant wad of toilet paper with which she delicately tried to clean the boy, while Francine held his butt apart. After several attempts during which Jeremy decided she was trying to push his butt hole right into his guts and rub the wrinkles out of it at the same time, she managed to make him reasonably clean-looking. She grimaced at the paper and carried it off to the bathroom, holding it between her fingers like it was going to bite her. Returning, she spread his butt apart more roughly than before, until Jeremy could feel the skin joining his buns stretching uncomfortably.

Little tremors shook Jeremy as Francine went to work coating his anus with Vaseline, running her fingers around the edges first, then liberally coating the little split in the center. Jeremy couldn't help it, squeezing his butt hole repeatedly under her touch, making it writhe like a little animal afraid of being squashed as Francine worked Vaseline into all the wrinkles. She then moved on down below his butt hole, liberally coating the expanse of skin disappearing down between his legs, until she finally reached the base of his tiny ball sack. At this point she stopped, and wiped her fingers thoroughly on the boy's left leg, where it joined his butt.

"Flip over," she said commandingly Jeremy, handing the Vaseline to Shirley. "But keep your butt on the diaper." Reluctantly, hating to expose his meager privates to the handling he knew was coming, Jeremy turned over. He kept his arms cradled over his face so he wouldn't have to look at them.

"You want me to do his boy stuff?" Shirley said. "I don't know anything about diapering boys."

"You have to," Francine said. "Because you're his cousin. It's okay for you to touch his stuff, 'cause you're family, and it doesn't mean anything. I'm kind of his girlfriend, so it wouldn't be right for me to touch him there."

Jeremy lifted his arms from his face. "You're not my girlfriend!" He snapped. "You're just a stupid girl from my class, and I hate you!"

Francine smirked at Jeremy. "I am so your girlfriend," she said confidently. "Because if I'm not, I'm going to tell everybody I know everything that happened to you today! I'll tell them how you had to get naked in front of us, and how we saw your butt and your your butt hole, and how you cried like a little baby and kicked your legs, and how your mom blistered your butt right on the front porch and you danced around butt naked with your little tallywhacker bouncing. And I'll be sure to tell them how tiny your tallywhacker and your little bag it is! I'll tell everyone!" She paused and smiled sweetly at him. "Unless I'm your girlfriend. Girlfriends never tell."

Jeremy groaned and covered his face with his arms again. Shirley, meanwhile, gathered a large dollop of Vaseline out of the jar and deposited it in a half circle smack in the center of Jeremy's tiny ball sac, which was easy to do at the moment because his penis, already stiffened somewhat from having his butt rubbed, was flipped up to point at his face. From there, she began working it in circles, rubbing it into the rough surface. She discovered to her surprise that the hard little marbles in the sack moved easily out of the way when they were pressed, just like they were real marbles in a sack. Jeremy flinched as she experimentally she shoved the left orb all the way to the edge.

"Hey, be careful," he moaned. "You got to be careful with boy stuff! It's delicate!"

Shirley, not really wanting to hurt him, lightened her touch, and coated the rest of his sack and then his groin with Vaseline, carefully avoiding his penis, which had become quite stiff by now and was projecting straight up now with all the handling he'd received. Finally, the straining little pole with its mushroom cap was the only part of his diaper area that wasn't glistening with Vaseline.

Shirley replenished the Vaseline on her fingers and began coating the sides of Jeremy's hard little shaft, working toward the bulging, mushroom-shaped head. She had to put her thumb on one side of it to hold it still while rubbing Vaseline on the other side. Jeremy squeezed his butt together suddenly, thrusting with his hips. Shirley jumped back, letting go of the little shaft.

"Why'd you do that?" she asked, watching Jeremy's penis bob in mid air.

"I don't know," Jeremy said. "My butt just does that sometimes when my mickie gets hard. I don't do it on purpose." He'd uncovered his face and was looking down his up thrusting little organ. He really didn't understand the way it acted sometimes. When he went to sleep at night, he'd often lie on his back on the bed with his legs together, like a body in a coffin, and he sometimes found it comforting to put one or both hands on his genitals. Usually, he'd cup his little package, but sometimes he'd gently and rhythmically squeeze his mickie. When he did the latter, often times the sensations would become so powerful that he stopped squeezing, and would lie there just holding himself as shivers ran down his spine. At times it seemed as if his mickie was promising him something more if he would continue squeezing, but he couldn't -- the tickling was too strong and he just couldn't keep stroking himself despite the urge inside him that was pressing him to go on.

Invariably, in the morning he would wake up with it rock hard and straining, pointing upward at a jaunty angle. In fact, it would be so hard that it made a little tent that stuck up higher than his waistband as he rushed to the toilet to pee. Once there, he would pull it out the fly in his pajamas and have to wait for a moment for it to start drooping downward before he can pee comfortably. A couple of times, he had squeezed it in his fist while waiting, causing contractions just like the one him just had at Shirley's touch, and again that shivery feeling that made him want to stop and want to go on at the same time. He'd always been too afraid to squeeze it more than once or twice in this situation -- afraid of the sensations the squeezing was causing, and afraid that his mother would suddenly walk in and ask him, to his eternal shame, what he was doing.

His penis was straining upward, still, longing for her touch. "I think I need some more," he said. "You didn't get much on it, and you didn't get the tip."

Shirley looked – indeed, the tip of the boy's pee-pee was dry, not glistening like the sides. She took another glob of Vaseline and began working it into the tip with her fingers. The little shaft in her hand began jumping like a little animal, and Jeremy suppressed another hip contraction.

"Am I hurting you?" she asked, worried.

Jeremy's voice had become, somehow, huskier. "No, don't stop. Feels good. Put more on it." he panted. Shrugging, Shirley got another glob of Vaseline and rubbed the tip of his organ some more, getting more hip thrusts and little penile jumps from the boy. Jeremy felt something in his loins building, something promising – like if she kept it up for a few more moments….

Off in the kitchen, they heard the outside door opening as his mother returned."

"That's enough," Francine whispered, pushing Shirley's hand away. "We'd better get him buttoned up before she gets in here." Jeremy sagging in disappointment. He'd been close to something, he knew. Something revelatory. The girl's hand had felt so tickly, and yet so good! It was like there was something that was there, something that was going to happen. He longed fervently for her to touch him again.

Expertly, showing long practice, Francine folded the diapers over to make a thick pad in front of the boy's penis, forced the hard pole down so it ducked under the cloth, then lifted the pad over his groin and pinned first one side and then the other with a pair of ducky pins. "Stand up," she said as Mrs. Whitt walked into the room "Let's see how it fits."

The thick diapers bulged around the standing Jeremy, the front projecting most due to the doubling of cloth, but the back also bulging, making Jeremy's butt look huge. Jeremy took a few waddling steps. "I can't walk in these," he complained. "And I'll never get my pants over them."

"They you won't wear any," his mother pronounced, looking at him with approval. "It's a warm day – your tee-shirt and diaper ought to be warm enough. Now put on your shoes and let's be off to the park!"

"The park!" Jeremy protested. "I can't go to the park in a diaper! Other kids we'll see me!"

"You should've thought of that before you started wetting all over people like a little baby," his mother said firmly. "If you're going to act like a baby, you're going to dress like a baby!" She turned away from him. "Now I don't want to hear another word from you! You're wearing that diaper until tomorrow morning! And you're coming with us to the park, because I promised the girls! Now either get your shoes on and get ready to go, or I'll take that diaper off, let Francine give you another dose of the paddle, and then you'll be marching to the park anyway, only without anything at all covering your bottom!"

Protesting the whole way, a reluctant Jeremy Whitt was marched down the street to the park on the corner, waddling in his diaper and looking fearfully around for other kids as they went. Surprisingly, no on was out as they went down the street, so he managed to make it to the park without the shame of being seen dressed like a poorly-trained toddler.

At the park they went immediately to the play equipment, Jeremy hanging back to hide his diaper between the others. To his relief, the only people at the play equipment were a pair of kindergartners being watched over by a near-sighted grandmother, who took no notice of his attire. Glumly, Jeremy stood behind a nearby park bench, trying to hide his diapered bottom. His butt still throbbed from his paddling, and the Vaseline coating him everywhere felt greasy between his buns as he moved, making them slide past each other in an oily, disconcerting fashion. His penis had shrunk and felt stuck greasily to his groin. He didn't feel like playing at all, certainly not climbing, which would stretch his sore butt muscles, or swinging or sliding, both of which would be on a painfully sore bottom. He watched Shirley race Francine up the monkey bars, hoping they'd get tired soon and they could all go home, and that meanwhile no one else would take notice of him.

Bright-eyed kindergartners being what they were, though, soon one of the little kids came running over to where he stood by the bench, followed by the other one. A girl and a boy, he realized as they neared him. They stopped in front of his bench, staring through the slats at his white, puffy bottom attire.

"How come you got a diaper on?" The small girl asked. "Don't you know how to go potty yet?"

Jeremy tried acting like he had not heard her, hoping that would end the conversation.
It didn't work "Didn't you hear me?" The girl said more loudly. "I said, how come you got a diaper on? You're a big boy! Big boys don't wear diapers!

"I don't wear diapers!" the little boy announced proudly. "I don't even wet the bed!"

"Are you a retard?" The girl asked. "'Cause retards have to wear diapers sometimes!"

"Leave me alone," Jeremy said. His mother, sitting by a nearby bench, heard his tone and looked up from her knitting.

"Don't be rude, Jeremy," she said. "Tell the nice children why you're wearing diapers!" Jeremy looked at the ground. "Tell them!" His mother said. "Or I'll call Francine over to deal with you like I promised, right here and now."

"I had an accident," Jeremy said.

"Tell them the whole story," his mother said. "Right from the beginning."

"Ma! It's embarrassing," Jeremy protested.

"Too bad. Consider it part of your punishment," she said.

"I had my pants off, and I got scared and accidentally wet on my ma," Jeremy said.

"Tell the rest of it," his mother said. "Tell them why you had your pants off to start with, and what made you so scared you wet on me like a baby."

Jeremy blushed all the way down to his neck. "I got spanked," he said, looking at the ground. "And my mom took my pants off to spank me. And then she found out my dookie ho -- I mean my bottom was dirty, and she said she was going to paddle me because I didn't wipe my bottom. And I got so scared I peed on her." Jeremy concentrated, trying to fall into the earth. It didn't work.

Yeah, but you're big," the girl said. "You're not 'sposed to have accidents when you're big. You have to hold it until you can go to the potty. And you're sposed to wipe."

"I always wipe," the little boy said proudly.

Jeremy decided to walk over behind a group of bushes, hoping the younger children wouldn't follow him. The two dogged his heels the entire way, though. "Do you poo-poo in your diaper, too?" she asked, poking him right between the buns as he stopped, proving she could guess exactly where his butt hole was hidden under folds of cloth. "Or do you just pee yourself?"

"I don't do either one," Jeremy said, insulted. "My ma just made me wear these," he added. "It's a punishment. I don't go in them."

"I bet you do," the girl said in a mocking tone. "I bet you have to wear them because you pee and poo yourself! I bet you do it all the time!" She lowered her voice and looked at him conspiratorially. "My brother peed himself last week," she said. "He peed right in his pants! It ran down his leg and into his sock! And he'd just said a minute before then that he didn't need to go! Grandma was so mad! She made him take his pants and underpants off and gave him a spanking right there in the living room! She told him if he didn't stop peeing himself she'd cut his thing right off! You know, his boy thing! The thing he pees with!" She lowered her voice some more, so the boy, who was lagging behind, couldn't hear. "I don't think she really will, though," she said. "I think she just said that to scare him."

She thought a moment. Jeremy looked for somewhere else to flee to. "Maybe she will, though," she said, as her brother got within earshot. "Maybe she will cut his thing off if he pees himself again." Her brother started, looking upset. "Don't look so scared," she chided him. "Your boy thing isn't good for anything, anyway – it just gets in the way. I don't know why you even have them! We girls don't have them, and we do just fine!"

The little boy was looking a bit more worried now. "Adults don't really cut of your wee-wee," he said, trying to convince himself. "You'd bleed all over your pants!"

"They take your pants and your underpants off first, stupid! And after they cut it off, they put a big bandage on it made out of gauze, so it stops bleeding, but you can still pee," the girl said nonchalantly. "But you have to take your pants down to pee after that, and you have to sit down, of course. My friend Irene told me all about it."

"That ain't true," little-boy said more confidently, having thought of something. "Because I see all the boys in the potty when they line up to pee – and I ain't never seen a boy who didn't have a pee pee." Satisfied the issue was settled, he turned his attention to Jeremy. "Are you going to wt your diaper soon?" he asked. "I wanna watch when they change you."

"They aren't going to change me," Jeremy said. "I told you I don't in it – they're just making me wear it." He hoped that would convince them that he wasn't interesting so they'd leave him alone.

Unfortunately for Jeremy, Francine had silently walked up behind him. "He'll pee his pants," she said confidently. "Because he has to wear them until tomorrow morning. And he'll have to pee by then – boys have to go pee a whole lotta times every day, just like girls. In fact, I'll bet he has to go pretty soon!"

The two younger kids' eyes danced at this news. Jeremy looked at the ground, his face flushing. "What's the matter, Jeremy," Francine asked. "Don't want to be diapered in front of the little kids? Afraid someone will see your little tallywhacker again, like they did when you got paddled on the front porch?"

"His what?" The little boy said, puzzled.

"His tallywhacker," Francine said. "You know, the little sausage he goes pee with!"

"Oh, his pee-pee," the little boy said. "But why would he care if anybody saw his pee-pee?" Francine rolled her eyes as the two smaller children, losing interest, scampered away. She turned to Jeremy.

"Come push me in the swing," she said.

"I don't want to," Jeremy said. He certainly had no desire to stand in plain sight on the playground while wearing a diaper.

"I told your ma you would say that," Francine said. "And she said to tell you that you have to if you don't want your fanny paddled right here on the bench."

Groaning, Jeremy followed her across the swing set, hoping against hope that nobody else would show up at the park. He had barely pushed her for the fifth time, when he spotted two girls and a boy crossing the street towards the entrance of the park, the girls walking ahead, the boy trailing about 20 feet behind. God, no! He knew them, he knew all three of them! It was mean old Maxine Raphael, her younger brother Bobby, and her smart-aleck friend Ruth Myers. Maxine and Ruth were 12 and in 6th grade, whereas Bobby was a bit younger but nonetheless would start in Jeremy's class in the fall. Maxine was a tall and broad girl, who already had visible breasts rather than the little bumps most 12- year-old girls at his school had. Ruth was flat as a board, straight-haired, thin, and plain, with a humped nose that had earned her the nickname "Witchy-poo" at school. There were leaders of a crowd of girls, mostly older than Francine, but she knew Maxine to talk to, and laughed with the other girls at Maxine's familiar and contemptuous attitude toward boys, and her talent for saying just the right things to humiliate them to the core. If you were a boy, seeing Maxine come your way at any time was bad news, Jeremy knew, but seeing her headed your way when you were in a diaper was worse, possibly even worse than being paddled on your front step in front of the other neighbor kids. Maxine loved to taunt, torment, and generally make the lives miserable of boys she saw as vulnerable, and Jeremy was certainly vulnerable in the best of times, let alone when he was wearing a diaper. When in the company of Ruth, she became three times worse, apparently rising to the occasion of in audience.

Yet the presence of Bobby, in his own way, made it worse. Bobby certainly wasn't a friend – his status as the new kid in town made him a bit of an outcast, not part of any group of boys, yet. To be mocked, belittled, and treated like a baby by girls was humiliating, but boys were at least used to females being in authority. To be seen in diapers by a younger boy, even a slightly younger boy, was absolutely emasculating and would cause Jeremy to slip far below this new kid in the masculinity hierarchy.

Bobby Raphael was a bit of a puzzle. He was he was sulky, rarely happy, and impulsive to a ridiculous level. Whatever crossed his mind he often simply did, and he didn't seem the least bit worried of the punishment would come from it at the time. It wasn't that he was tough. On the contrary, he seemed as afraid of punishment as any little boy. The last week of school, when Mrs. Hempstead had left the room for a moment, Bobby, passing her desk, had, on impulse, tossed her purse out of the third-story window of the classroom to land on the sidewalk below and scatter its contents everywhere. A livid Mrs. Hempstead had, a few minutes later, taken Bobby firmly by the arm, announced the class he was being taken to the principal's office to be paddled on the bare fanny for his misbehavior, and then dragged him, protesting and struggling to get away, down the hall. Despite being momentarily unsupervised, the remaining class members had sat quietly in their chairs, scarcely breathing, listening expectantly for any sounds at all from the office of the principal down the hall. After many minutes, the smacking of solid wood on bare skin began reverberating through the school, loudly enough that it appeared the principal had left the door open so the entire school could hear. After the second smack, Bobby's voice rose as well, at first pleading for the principal to stop, and that he was sorry, then screaming, "My butt, my butt! It hurts!" over and over again, and finally degenerating into incoherent sobs. The shocking use of the taboo word "butt" coupled with Bobby's hysterical shrieking had affected different kids differently – some of Jeremy's class had begun giggling, some had become red-faced and silent, and one girl burst into inconsolable tears. The paddling had gone on and on, the principal apparently determined to make an example out of Bobby. When the fleshy smacks had finally stopped, Bobby had continued bawling down the hall for some time. After a while, Mrs. Hempstead had come back, shaking her head taking charge of the class again. Later, still, the principal had brought Bobby in, his face still flushed red and his eyes still puffy from crying, but staring defiantly at his classmates as if daring them to say anything. He'd winced when forced to sit in his seat, but otherwise betrayed no sign of the ferocious beating his bottom must've taken.

Jeremy and his classmates had assumed that the traumatic experience would have some effect on Bobby's behavior. Yet no change appeared to be in the offing. Bobby continued to do sulk around and do impulsive things, getting away with them most of the time, fear of additional punishment seemingly not on his mind.

Jeremy trying to figure out how he could hide or get away from the scrutiny of these three, but there was nowhere to run to. They were walking directly towards the play equipment. It was Ruth who first caught sight of them, nudging Maxine and pointing towards him, smirking. They stopped in front of the swing, their eyes fixed on his midsection. Francine dragged her legs and stopped swinging as the two girls reached the swing set. Bobby caught up with them. Maxine was the first to speak. She glanced around, noted Jeremy's mother was out of hearing range if they kept their voiced moderated, and then greeted them. "Hey, Diaper-baby. Hi, Francine," she said. "Diaper-baby's ma said you'd be here." She looked at Shirley, who'd also stopped swinging in the adjoining swing. "And you're Diaper-baby's cousin, right?"

Shirley nodded. "Look, he's got ducky pins!" Ruth said, pointing at the 4 pins holding the thick folds of white cloth around Jeremy's loins. Bobby didn't say anything, he just looked at Jeremy standing there in a diaper, his gaze saying everything. I'm above you in the hierarchy, now, it said. You'll have to defer to me, because I saw this, and I can bring it up anytime I want to.

"Your ma finally realized you weren't potty-trained, huh Jeremy!" Maxine said. "Bet she got tired of washing the fudge out of your underpanties!"

Francine decided a bit of explanation was in order. "He got spanked this morning for being rude to his cousin," she said. "And so he was bare afterward, and that's when his ma…"

"Shut up!" Jeremy said.

"I don't have to," Francine said smugly. "Because you're just a little boy in a diaper. I'm going to tell them everything!"