    Bobby in NOLA

    Summary: Eleven year-old Bobby in deep doo-doo.

    For as long as he could remember, eleven-year-old Bobby loved the feel
    of thick diapers between his legs, and of late, hardly a night went by
    when he didn't rock himself to sleep, squirting a clear, sticky goo
    into his pinned up folded flannel blanket.

    But, the last thing in the world he would have imagined was having his
    diapered butt squeezed into a highchair, and made to drink a chalky-
    tasting liquid from a baby bottle. Yet there he was, and all he could
    do is watch his four year-old cousin practically bouncing off the
    walls, wearing only a T-shirt and a sagging Pull-up.

    Bobby felt like knocking him upside the head when Mikey would come
    over, press his grimey hands on the highchair tray, and stand there
    making a mock pouting face with his lower lip;--yet, at the same time,
    he felt sorry for his little cousin, whom he'd seen get his bare butt
    paddled at least once or twice a day;--always for something stupid,
    Bobby thought.

    So this time, instead of popping him in the head, Bobby just returned
    the pout with his lower lip, and gave Mikey a gentle kick in the nuts.
    His little cousin seemed amused by this, and once again pushed on the
    highchair tray, curled up his nose, and stuck out his tongue with a
    "ny-aah!"

    Bobby felt like squirting him in the face with his plastic baby bottle,
    but instead, mirrored his cousin's snotty look, and thrust his foot up
    between Mikey's legs, holding it there while he danced on his toes,
    shrieking with laughter.

    "Mikey!--I told you to get your butt in here!" bellowed his Mother from
    the kitchen, "it's time for your medication."

    "His 'medication'," Bobby thought, remembering how his teachers at his
    old school wanted to have him put on a drug called Ritalin, only
    because he spent much of his class time gazing out the window while
    sucking his thumb. They said he had something called A.D.D., which
    Bobby thought was a load of crap;--he was just bored out of his mind;
    having to "co-operate", and expected to do what everyone else was
    doing.

    What really riled his teachers though, was Bobby passing his drawings
    around the classroom--pictures depicting his teachers as hideous,
    reptilian-looking creatures with horns atop their heads;--and in
    especial, those of the Principal, a prune-faced old crone, who seemed
    to enjoy "disciplining" Bobby by pulling his pants tight against his
    butt, and smacking his behind with a "paddle" fashioned out of layers
    of cardboard held together with rubber bands.

    At length, Mickey returned to the dining room a changed boy--literally:
    aside from the dull, glazed look in his eyes, his Mother had his butt
    pinned up in bulky diapers wrapped in rubber pants;--and the pout on
    his face was real this time, as the once keyed-up boy slumped in a
    chair and began sucking his thumb, now mirroring Bobby.

    His Mother, Bobby's aunt Dolly, was to follow, carrying his other
    cousin, the two year-old Dietrick.

    "You ain't gettin' out of that hichchair 'til you finish yr bottle, so
    stop suckin' yr thumb an' hurry-it up, or I'll get Miss Maudie to feed
    you," she drawled, plopping the fussy Dietrick in the playpen.

    "If only she hadn't seen me," Bobby thought. He had been at his
    cousins' house less than a week, and already found himself in a heap of
    doo-doo. When the teachers at his old school finally gave up on him,
    his Mother, rather than send him to public school, decided to ship him
    off to New Orleans, where he was to attend a prep-school while staying
    with her sister.

    This was supposed to "shape him up", and get him to behave like other
    boys his age, that is, to do what he was told, and maybe, just maybe,
    "cure" him of his fascination for wearing diapers. Little did she know
    that her Bobby was now sitting in a dozen-or-so wet, and soon to be
    messy ones at that.

    Part 2

    What Bobby regretted was something as innocent as lying in bed with a
    safety pin in his mouth; or so he thought. After a miserable first day
    at his new school, on the following morning he complained to his aunt
    of having a bad headache; telling her he didn't think he was up to
    going to school.

    "Why don't you go back to bed then, baby...I'll come up in a bit an'
    take yr temperature," he remembered her telling him. Bobby's Mother
    must have said something to her sister about his diaper habit, because,
    to his astonishment, upon seeing the pin in his mouth, his aunt yanked
    down the covers, as stared as if in disbelief at Bobby's half-pinned up
    blanket over his already bulging hard-on.

    "Oh me, oh my!" she exclaimed, "so you wanna act like a baby, huh?--I
    guess I got the wrong thermometer."

    Bobby recalled this vividly, dreading that she was going to come back
    an stick an other thermometer up his butt (something his older sister
    used to do when playing "doctor"), but instead, his aunt surprised him
    by returning with a pacifier-thermometer (something he never knew even
    existed), and plunged it into his gaping mouth.

    "There, baby, hold that under yr tongue for a minute or two...I'll have
    Miss Maudie give you a sponge-bath before she puts you in some of
    Dietrick's dee-dees, an' since you like yr diapers so much, baby Bobby
    can wear 'em to school tomorrow."

    Bobby recalled her every word, and remembered how he began to sweat
    bullets at the mention of wearing diapers to school. His classmates
    already teased him for sucking his thumb, especially the jocks, who
    called him "baby" after being marched down to the Office to get his
    thumb treated with a terrible-tasting liquid from a little bottle
    labeled "THUM".

    And on top of that, after Bobby flatly refused to "get down and do ten
    push-ups" in gym class for not counting the jumping-jack steps out
    loud, the jar-head instructor penalized the whole class;--making them
    do laps around the gym, resulting in Bobby getting his bare butt
    snapped with wet towels in the shower room by hairy jocks who were at
    least two years older than he.

    (Bobby had started school early at the age of five, and because of his
    exceptional reading ability was allowed to by-pass second grade
    altogether.)

    After about a minute and a half had passed, the digital pacifier-
    thermometer sounded the tune, "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star",
    whereupon Ms. Maudie, an enormous Creole woman, didn't even bother
    taking it from his mouth and reading the temperature, but sponged off
    some beads of sweat dripping from Bobby's forehead.

    "You's a hot one alright," she said, "Miss Dolly say her baby be
    naughty an' need to get his little butt spanked, so roll over onto dis
    here pillow; befo' I change deez sheets an' puts baby in his nappies."

    Part 3

    At length, Bobby rocked himself asleep in spite of his stinging
    backside. He remembered then how good rubber pants felt, even thought
    these were a bit on the tight side.

    It had been a few years since he'd been able to sneak a pair of his
    baby brother's, which, incidentally, tipped off his older sister, who
    no doubt heard them crackling amidst the sound of creaking bed-springs
    from the next room, and one morning he'd awakened to find that his
    covers had been lifted above his upturned behind while his she stood
    across the hall, nonchalantly brushing her hair.

    Although she never said anything directly to him about it, she liked to
    talk about seeing other boys his age in diapers, as a sort of not-so-
    subtle "wink and nod", so to speak.

    His peaceful dreams came to an abrupt end, however, and he began
    squirming on the plastic sheet as he now saw himself being sent off to
    his new school, clad only in his white, short-sleeved dress shirt with
    its clip-on black neck-tie; shiny black shoes and white socks; and
    about his bottom were what looked and felt like a dozen diapers pinned
    up inside a tightly-fitting pair of rubber pants, barely concealed by
    his shirt-tails which kept being blown upwards by the stiff, sideways-
    swirling New Orleans winds; his backpack bumping his butt with every
    step as he ran to catch the Magazine Street bus;--its passengers a bevy
    of grotesque-looking creatures covered in tattoos, and body piercings
    jutting from practically every part of their faces; their hair in a
    wild array of pinks, greens and orange; all gawking at him while he had
    to sit on the knee of a giant of a Creole woman whose butt took up two
    side-facing seats in the front, and who kept calling him: "Baby...Baby,
    wake up now," said his aunt Dolly, pushing and patting his bottom,
    "time for baby's bottle," she drawled in her sing-song voice.

    Bobby was parched, and even though it was a baby bottle, he eagerly
    quenched his thirst with the cold lemonade. "Finish yr bottle and then
    come down for lunch...we're goin' on a bus ride to get my medication
    an' some new diapers for you and Mikey."

    Bobby nearly choked on his lemonade, and at once went to find some
    baggy pants to wear over his diapers, since Ms. Maudie promised him
    another spanking if he tried to take them off;--only she or his aunt
    could remove them if he had to "make doo-doo".

    To his utter dismay, Bobby found that all of his pants were missing
    from the dresser, right down to the last stitch of underwear. Now
    starting to perspire again, and made his way downstairs, slipped past
    Mikey who was strapped into Dietrick's baby swing, and ran smack into
    Ms. Maudie, whose immovable frame sent him stumbling backwards, landing
    him on squarely on his padded posterior.

    "I see de baby feel better now," she said, laughing, "c'mon, honey-
    chil', let's gets you in your highchair."

    His aunt came from the kitchen carrying a steaming bowl of gumbo and a
    bib. "Aunt Dolly!--what happened to all my pants? I...couldn't," cried
    Bobby, cut short by her tying the bib around his neck.

    "Don't worry, Bobby," she laughed, "yr school pants are hanging right
    here in the closet; I pressed them for you this mornin', 'member? As
    for the rest of 'em, you won't be needin' 'em while you're staying
    here;--but, for our shopping trip this afternoon, I got a little
    surprise for you, so eat yr gumbo, or do you want Miss Maudie to feed
    you?"

    Part 4

    Bobby slurped the hot gumbo from his spoon, and looked on as Mikey was
    lifted out of the baby swing by Ms. Maudie;--his little cousin
    obviously subdued; again diapered like his baby brother;--and was
    stepped into a pair of short bib overalls which were cuffed at the
    legs, and where there once was a fly, the buttons had been removed and
    the fly sewn shut, making them look even more like toddlers' rompers.

    Mikey stood there with his thumb in his mouth while Ms. Maudie buttoned
    up the bib and the sides at his hips, causing him to stick out his
    rear-end, and finally, after pulling his thumb from his mouth, replaced
    it with one of Dietrick's pacifiers, making the four year-old Mikey
    look even more like his two year-old brother, who was dressed in a
    similar fashion.

    "Look Bobby!" exclaimed his aunt, "I made yr long bibs look just like
    Mikey's!--the girls'll be goin' wild over those cute bare legs of
    yours!"

    Bobby had learned early on that his aunt Dolly was a little batty, but
    he couldn't believe she was going to drag him out dressed like his four
    year-old cousin, who in turn was dressed just like his two year-old
    brother.

    He remembered that after lopping up his remaining gumbo with a chunk of
    French bread, he let out a loud fart, the odor of which reminded him of
    that morning, when he had to race off to the bathroom and jump on the
    pot, and, whatever it was he'd eaten the night before, practically
    exploded from his butt, spraying the bowl with a runny mess having the
    distinct smell of some bottom-feeder like shrimp, or crawdads (as they
    were called back home in Indiana).

    Now sitting with his butt pinned up in diapers, he doubted if there was
    any way he could get out of them in time if this were to happen again.

    Bobby then recalled the only time he could remember actually peeing his
    diapers, and when he could no longer contain the pressure, let go and
    began soaking them with what seemed like an endless warm stream of
    pee;--and if matters could get any worse, another runny load had quite
    uncontrollably shot from his butt, leaving him feeling like a real baby
    sitting in a puddle of doo-doo.

    "C'mon, Bobby, let's see how baby looks in his new bibs," said his
    aunt, wiping his mouth with his bib. Once she removed the highchair
    tray, Bobby slid down from the seat, feeling the warm, slimy mess
    coating his butt as he stepped through the legs of the overalls.

    "Yr cousin Mikey mus' wanna act like a baby too," said she, stooping
    down as she pulled them up his legs. "He jes' got his little butt
    spanked for pooin' his Pull-up again, so be sure an' tell me or Miss
    Maudie if...you...Bobby!" she exclaimed, now wrinkling her nose.

    "I couldn't help it!--it just came out!" cried Bobby.

    "So baby mus' want another spankin', huh?" she said, giving Bobby a
    "whap" on his behind.

    "Miss Maudie, baby Bobby's been naughty again," said she, "paddle and
    powder his little behind real good this time, I'll be up in a minute to
    diaper him myself. I don' want no stinky-poohs ridin with me on the
    bus!"

    Part 5

    Another thing Bobby learned early on, was when his Father (who was
    assigned the task of "disciplining" him) took the belt to his bare
    behind;--and if he began to cry, it would only intensify his Father's
    rage and prolong the punishment.

    But, if he kept quiet and looked dead serious, it had the effect of
    neutralizing his Father's anger, and the beating would usually stop
    after a single stroke of the belt.

    So he remained while Ms. Maudie spanked his bare bottom with a paddle-
    ball paddle; biting his lip with every stroke; his eyes welling up with
    tears as the pain intensified--but she wouldn't let up--even though it
    were impossible that his butt could've turned a brighter shade of red,
    and only after Bobby started kicking his legs and wailing like a baby
    did she bring down the final "smack" on his raised behind.

    "Dere, baby be better now," drawled Ms. Maudie, plugging Bobby's
    whimpering mouth with a pacifier.

    The baby powder did little to soothe his stinging backside, especially
    after she had him raise his knees, stretching his burning butt up even
    more while she smeared the powder up the crack of his behind. In this
    position, he saw his aunt bringing in a thick stack of diapers--a pile
    looking like about double the amount he was just wearing.

    "Oo Lawdie!" she exclaimed, "looks like baby won't wanna be sittin'
    down for a while...let's give that little red butt o' yrs some
    paddin'."

    After pulling the pillow out from under him, she plopped the pile on
    the plastic sheet, and with another "smack" on his butt, had him roll
    over while she opened a bottle of baby lotion.

    "Let's get yr little wee-wee oiled up real good; since you wanna act
    like yr cousin Dietrick, these dee-dees ain't comin' off 'til baby's
    beddie-bye."

    Part 6

    For better or for worse, his aunt had Bobby carry a large tote bag as
    he and cousin Mikey waddled their way up to the bus stop. With the
    strap crossing from his left shoulder to his right hip, the bag, which
    contained her over-sized purse and plastic baby bottles filled with
    water, rested squarely over his butt, and while it hid his
    conspicuously padded behind, it bumped against his still smarting
    bottom with every step.

    Needless to say, Bobby had mixed feelings about being paraded down the
    street in diapers, and dressed just like his four year-old cousin, who
    sucked his thumb while clutching his stuffed toy monkey.

    One the one hand, his aunt had seen to it that his little wienie stood
    up and stayed up, and with his diapers pinned up so tightly, he felt on
    the verge of creaming them at any moment.

    Adding to this sensation, was that he felt quite helpless in
    controlling his case of the "runs", and hadn't waddled more than a half
    a block before another watery fart shot from his butt.

    He shuddered to think of how it would've felt if he {hadn't} had his
    butt packed in diapers, so for the first time he could remember, he
    actually {needed} them, for the time being at least, but nonetheless
    making him feel even more like a big baby.

    Still, as "recalcitrant" as he was (that was what they called him at
    his new school), spankings or no spankings, Bobby wasn't keen on taking
    orders from anybody, and at once plotted his escape from his batty aunt
    Dolly.

    Part 7

    At the Magazine Street bus stop going uptown (opposite the direction of
    Bobby's school), stood one of his dream creatures holding a guitar
    case. It (he couldn't tell if it was a he or a she) had a shaved head,
    other than a green Mohawk which stood straight up like a scrub-brush.

    Dressed in black from head to toe, it had whiskers like a cat, and its
    neck and arms were covered with tattoos, making the beast look like a
    giant iguana. Bobby scrunched his nose while staring open-mouthed at
    the numerous studs, hooks and rings stuck in its head, as if it were an
    almost human pin-cushion.

    "Bobby!" exclaimed his aunt, giving him a swift "whop" on his behind,
    "it ain't po-lite to stare!" Bobby remembered blushing as the creature
    stared directly at his bulging crotch, having heard the unmistakable
    sound of his rubber pants getting smacked.

    "You's a little old to be still pissin' on yrself, ain't-cha, baby?"
    the beast croaked, in a voice so raspy, Bobby still couldn't tell its
    gender.

    "I'll thank you to mind your own, you..." his aunt Dolly fumed,
    "you...whatever yr s'posed to be...my babys' jus' ain't potty-trained
    yet."

    Now deeply blushing, Bobby stared in astonishment as the creature stuck
    out its long, serpentine tongue, extending it practically to its chin,
    and in the center of the fleshy mass was embedded what appeared to be a
    studded pearl.

    "It must be a girl," he remembered thinking for some odd reason.

    Yet the most unnerving thing of all came when the bus slowed to a stop-
    -Bobby once again having the tote bag slung over his shoulder--
    following his aunt as she helped Mikey aboard the bus by lifting up the
    back of his short overalls, exposing his thick diapers between his
    legs, and just as Bobby released another runny load into his own;
    stepping upwards, he felt something hard wedged between his legs, and
    turning, he saw the she-beast with a ghastly grin, jabbing his butt
    with the neck of her guitar case, squishing the runny mess all the way
    up the crack of his sore behind.

    The bag over his butt prevented him from batting it away, and it wasn't
    'til he reached the top step that she finally pulled it out from
    between his sticky butt-cheeks.

    Once aboard, although he felt like whining like a baby who badly needed
    his diapers changed, Bobby bit his lip and stuck out his foot as the
    creature passed by him, sending the beast careening into the laps of
    school-girls in plaid dresses seated on the side-facing seats in the
    front of the bus.