# Raphael's Washing

The long line of washing was blowing in the gentle breeze behind the little cottage below the downs, where Raphael lived with his mother. What bliss for Raphael, to be the only child of an adoring single mother, the apple of her eye and the sole recipient of her love. Lying on his tummy on a rug on the grass, with his big brown teddy bear called Pooh beside him, the eleven-year-old boy looked with satisfaction at the waving row of white pants - all his own work. Not the washing of them (that was Mommy's task), but the soiling of them. And that was only two days worth. There were four of the terry nappies which Mommy dressed Raphael in at bedtime, six pairs of thick toweling training pants, six pairs of plastic pants, and about twenty pairs of the white cotton underpants which he wore in multiple sets to school, ("Just in case..." as Mommy always said.)

Raphael liked the training pants best. They had boy-blue tape trim around the legs and an elastic waist, but were otherwise just like a nappy, with a special triple layer of the thick soft thirsty cotton between your legs. Raphael loved to gaze at the thick extra padding in the base of his training pants, and to reflect how that extra cloth had been placed there specifically in order to lovingly receive and contain his accidents, so that his Mommy could in due course take care of everything.

The main difference between his training pants and his nappies was that the pants were less baggy and bulky. This had two advantages - even a reasonably modest bowel movement would fill them up very pleasingly, and you could wear them beneath ordinary clothes. Raphael had a pair on now, beneath his boy-blue shorts. There was a gradually spreading patch of darker blue on the front and seat of the shorts; he had been dribbling pee gently into his training pants for some time now, and it was starting to soak through and wet his shorts.

This didn't worry Raphael at all. Mommy would change him lovingly, with no scolding at all, and with no questions asked, when she arrived home from the village where she had gone to shop on this sunny Saturday morning. Raphael got up from the rug, picked up his teddy bear, and wandered around the garden for a while, stopping to sit for a few moments on the swing beneath the big old apple tree. Then he got up again, and walked slowly into the middle of the small lawn, with a pre-occupied look on his angelic face. He stopped, stood in the middle of the grass with his feet slightly apart, squatted slightly, and held his teddy close, as his look turned to one of intense concentration.

It took Raphael some time to fill his pants. It usually did, especially when, as this morning, he found himself needing to pass a pretty substantial and satisfyingly soft bowel motion. There was no need to hurry, and doing it slowly enabled him to make the most of every big, smooth lump of warm soft boy-mess as it squeezed out of his bottom with a long, rich, rasping squelching sound, and spread out inside, covering the white toweling.

Raphael loved the feeling of the soft, sticky warmth sliding out into his pants, each successive lump pushing its predecessors further out, up behind him or, best of all, sideways down to the backs of her legs. He loved, too the rich smell that came wafting up from his pants and mingled with the gentle springtime fragrances of the garden.

This morning's movement was a particularly satisfying one. It was just the right consistency and texture, smooth and soft and slightly sticky, without being too squidgy. And there was plenty of it. Mommy fed Raphael all the right things to ensure that he passed large regular healthy motions.

Now Raphael could feel the warm muddy sensation thickly coating his bottom and his thighs. When he sat in this pants-full, it would probably squeeze out at the legs of his training pants into his shorts.

Raphael loved it when it did that. It made him feel so small and helpless and messy, and he sensed too that Mommy got extra protective and concerned and affectionate when she found him in that state. Raphael sat down on the rug slowly, and with a blissful expression on his sweet face

There were more soft sucking noises as the warm brown softness filling his pants spread out, and, sure enough, a sudden rim of brown appeared at the legs of his pants - visible under his shorts - as he leaned back on his hands and wiggled his bottom in his big bowel movement. More washing, he thought, and he smiled contentedly, anticipating in his imagination Mommy's loving words of re-assurance, and her soft gentle touch, which would shortly be his to enjoy, when she arrived home and discovered his "accident".