The Bunny Scouts

JillHaroldLamaar

Prologue 

I’m not what you would call a “good boy”.  Fuck, I’m not what you would even call a “bad boy”.  That’s what I was called when I was six.  Today?  Well today, people have seen it fit to bless me with more accurate titles.  I’ve heard “terror”, “nuisance”, “menace”, “delinquent”, and “future felon”, but so far, my favorite has been “little shit”.  I know, I know.  Being called a “little shit” isn’t exactly something to be glad about, but it’s not a matter of being glad.  It’s being proud.  Proud that I pushed the authority figures to use such language, breaking their own rules they set for me out of pure frustration.  Just so you know, I’m not trying to be a jerk to anyone in particular, or make anybody’s life a living hell.  It’s just that they all made breaking the rules so damn fun, so whose fault is it really?

Also, I don’t care.  I don’t care about school, nor the bright future everyone says I have.  Actually, scratch that.  I really, really, don’t care.  But maybe I should have.  I’ve been able to deal with any punishment I’ve been given so far.  Spankings?  I’m not a toddler anymore, I can take it.  Take my stuff away?  I have other stuff, and most of the time it’s stuff I had tucked away that I’m not supposed to have anyways.  Ground me?  Good fuckin’ luck.  I always get out, and if someone finds out, then so what?.  What are they going to do, ground me harder?  

Anyways, the point is that I’m invincible.  Or, I was.  Past tense.  Was.  I could do absolutely anything I wanted, up until a certain someone told my parents about a special behavior correction program.  Of course, they’ve tried a million of these things, and I’ve beaten them all, but with this one—and I hate to admit this—I can’t.  The name sounds like the most pathetic thing, but when my parents agreed to enroll me in the Bunny Scouts, I realized that I had finally pushed them too far.

***********************************************************************************

“Do you realize what you just did?  Do you want to go to prison?” my mother asked, “You’re lucky your dad is a lawyer.  I think we just made a mistake, next time we should just let you…”

I stopped listening there.  This was another car ride home, just like the others.  I got in a fight today and messed up the other guy pretty badly, not to brag.  I had been suspended from school again, for the 8th—no—9th time and I was getting the usual earful from my mom.  I had gotten used to it, so by now I couldn’t care less what she was saying.  I had heard it all before.  Now, I was focused on what kind of fun I was going to have tonight, contrary to my parents’ demands, of course.

The rest of the car ride was silent, as usual.  When we got home, I had already started heading up to my room before I heard the classic, “go to your room and wait for your father to come home”.  Whatever.  My dad is, and always has, been a pushover, so what is he going to do?  In my room, I opened a hidden box, popped a gummy from it, and turned on the portable game system I had kept hidden.  The games were older, but entertaining enough.  About two hours later, I heard my dad’s car pull into the driveway, and I knew I was about to have the same conversation for the thousandth time.  I had plenty of experience with this, so I already knew every answer.

When my door opened and Dad walked in, I was prepared with a comeback to all of his usual inquisitions, but I was surprised when all I heard was:

“Get a good sleep tonight, things are going to change in the morning”. 

Then he walked away and closed the door.  That was it.

“Well, that was different.”

Normally, he would give me the regular speech about how I need to shape up, behave, think about my future, yada, yada, yada.  But I guess this time, he might just be tired of wasting his breath.  I played my game for a few hours more as the edible kicked in, and when I say "kicked in" I mean it was kicking my ass.  I might have upped my dose a little too much, but I was still feeling great.  Finally, I switched off the game after I couldn't focus anymore, and began drifting off to sleep.  I thought a little bit about what my dad said, but I didn’t waste much time on the usual empty threats.  He wasn't going to do a damn thing.  

I was never more wrong in my life.

Chapter 1. 

Bouncing.

Swaying. 

Light.

Bright light. 

My whole world felt like it was spinning before I even dared to open my eyes.  Holy shit, my dealer must have fucked up and given me the wrong stuff.

Voices.

Parents' voices.

"Mom? Dad? What's going on?" I asked.  Or rather, tried to ask, as the sound that reached my ears was just a muffled mumbling.  Confused, I repeated myself and was met with the same result, only this time, I realized that my mouth was full of something.  I went to spit out, but I couldn't.  When I attempted to lift my hands to pull the intruding object from my mouth, I discovered my hands would not move.

The feeling that something was seriously wrong pushed me to overcome the discomfort from the bright light on the other side of my eyelids.  My eyes fluttered open to take in my surroundings, and I began seeing strange things that came to me faster than my brain could process any of them.  Car.  Back seat.  Bright sun.  Parents.  Desert.  Mountains.  Car seat.  Buckles.  Puffy things.  Stuffed animal.  Stupid shirt.  Short shorts.  Diaper. 

Diaper. 

The white waistband peeking out of my shorts was definitely that of a diaper, and I followed it from the center of my stomach to where my right hand was resting.  Though I couldn't see my hand, I tried to move it to inspect my suspicious clothing, and that's when I found out why it hadn't worked earlier.  There was a large mitten covering my hand, with a short cable linking it to the seat in which I was sitting.  My vision snapped to the left and saw the same on the left side.  I tried to yell, but only heard the same reduced noise as earlier.

I looked down, and I could see something strapped across my face, and a movement of my tongue confirmed that this device was holding something in my mouth.  Looking down my nose, my eyes continued forward until they met those of my father, staring back at me from the passenger seat.

"Nice to see you awake, it's almost 10:30," said my dad, as casually as if he was waking me up for breakfast.

I tried to respond, but of course no words left my mouth. 

"That pacifier is in your mouth for a reason," he continued with the same calm voice, "now is the time for you to just sit there and listen."

Pacifier?  First a fucking diaper and now a pacifier?  I knew my hands were restrained, but I tried to jump out of my seat only to go nowhere.  Looking down again, I saw a harness securing me to what looked like an oversized child seat.  I kicked my legs out, but they only went about eight inches until their movement was stopped by something similar to what was attached to my wrists.  I thrashed against my bonds for another several seconds until I felt my dad tapping on my knee.

"There you go, baby, have your little tantrum, " he said as if he was talking down to a three year-old.   

I focused all the rage I could gather in my glare as I looked back at him, but it was as useless as my efforts to break free.

"As I was saying, you don't need to say anything right now, you only need to listen.  You should be in prison right now, and for a while.  At your age, beating someone up like that is no longer just two people fighting, it's assault.  I would not be opposed to seeing you in jail if it weren't for my belief that it would just make your behavior worse.  I don't know what we did wrong in raising you that made you turn out like this, but I know that you would just see spending time in jail as a badge of honor, and the people you would meet inside would push you further down this road you're on.  But yesterday, when I was talking to the mother of Jimmy, the boy you hurt, she suggested an alternative, and you're not going to like it."

He paused for a bit, and all I could do was sit and wait for whatever would come next.  To me, it looked like he was trying to figure out how to explain something, and I understood why when he began speaking again.

"Son, we've sent you to summer camps for behavior correction before, but you're about to spend the next six months in a program called the Bunny Scouts."

Ha!  The fucking Bunny Scouts?  Was he serious?  I thought I had something to worry about.  Even with the pacifier in my mouth, my parents could hear me laughing.

"You can laugh at their name, but I don't think you'll be laughing much when we get there.  Even before we arrive, this will probably stop being funny once the rash of sitting in that wet diaper for hours starts to set in."  

Wet diaper?  What wet diaper?  There's no way I would actually piss myself.  I looked down at the diaper, but it was covered by my shorts, and it didn't really feel wet at all.

Seeing the confusion on my face, my dad pulled the front of my shorts down to reveal the diaper beyond the waistband, and I was not expecting what I saw.  It wasn't just a regular, white diaper.  It looked like an actual baby diaper, with blue designs and little rabbits characters all over it.

My shock was interrupted by Dad speaking again, "This one is blue, but from what I've been told, you will get to wear yellow, green, and pink ones too, so at least you will have a variety.  And do you see this line here?  If the diaper is dry, the line is yellow, but yours is turning blue, so it is definitely a bit wet." 

"It's from those drugs you took last night," added my mother, " you were so knocked out that we barely got the diaper on you before you soaked it.  The last time you went potty in your diaper like that, you were my little Boo Boo."

My face went red, both with anger and humiliation.  Not only was I actually sitting in a dirty diaper that apparently I had wet in a genuine accident, but my mom brought up the nickname that I had more or less forbidden her from using since I was six.

Mom must have seen my embarrassed face in the rearview mirror, because she kept talking to me with a voice normally used with small children, "I can't wait to see you as a Bunny Scout, waddling around in your diaper and wearing one of the cute outfits they have for you.  Drinking from your bottle, getting put down for naps, and of course, all the stinky diaper changes."  

Even if the pacifier wasn't in my mouth, I would be speechless.  All I could do was look back at my dad with my wide eyes and hope that what I just heard wasn't true, but he confirmed it. 

"That's right.  The Bunny Scouts is a group that takes boys like you who think they have control over everything, and it gives them control over nothing, including their bodily functions and necessities.  For the next six months, you will be treated as a toddler, and all that implies.  You will rely on someone else to feed you, bathe you, dress you, wipe the snot from your face, and even change your diapers, because Bunny Scouts aren't allowed to use the toilet."  

There's no way this is really happening.  I was right, my dealer gave me the wrong stuff, and now I'm having the worst bad trip possible.  With my eyes shut, I willed myself to wake up.  Please, just let me wake up and I promise I will never punch someone more than five times ever again.  I struggled against the car seat a second time, pulling at the wrist cuffs until it hurt, and yet I still couldn't wake up.  My fantasy that this situation wasn't real was broken when I heard my dad moving from the front seat to the seat next to me, and I reopened my eyes.

He was rummaging around in a bag on the floorwell to the left of me, and he pulled out what looked like a one liter baby bottle full of milk before turning back to me.

"We still have a ways to go, so we have to keep you fed and hydrated.  Now, this can be done the easy way, or the really easy way, so I'm going to take the pacifier out and then you can drink your bottle.  I don't want to hear anything from your mouth once that pacifier comes out."

This was my first chance to say something, but what could I say?  This whole situation seemed so unreal that I could barely believe it, let alone think about how to talk my way out of it in one second, but here was my chance.  I felt the buckle on the pacifier loosen and the nipple slipped out of my mouth.  This was it.

"Dad, please, this is cra-"

That was all I got out before the nipple of the bottle replaced the pacifier.

"I said I didn't want to hear anything from your mouth," Dad said before giving my thigh a sharp slap.

Not expecting the hit, I reflexively clenched my mouth, inadvertently drawing in a mouthful of milk from the bottle.  Except it wasn't milk, it tasted like a protein shake, but either way, I wasn't going to give my parents the satisfaction of seeing me drinking a baby bottle.  I sat there holding the mouthful of milk or whatever for several seconds before I heard my dad sigh.

"As I said, this can be easy, or really easy, so please just drink your bottle.  When you get half of it down, I'll let you ask questions about all of this.  OK?  If you still want to be stubborn, things will get really easy for me, but no so much for you.  Either way, you are going to be drinking your bottle.  What will it be?"

This was all so fucked up.  Yesterday, I was the toughest motherfucker in the neighborhood, and less than 24 hours later, I'm stuck in a diaper with a bottle in my mouth.  And now I have a decision, do I resist now and somehow this nightmare gets worse, or just go along with it and wait for the right time later?  I thought about it for a couple seconds more before temporarily resigning myself to my situation, closing my eyes, and swallowing.

"There you go, it's not that bad is it?" my dad responded to my action, "It's not baby formula, but it's close to it.  You won't be hungry nor thirsty afterwards, and-"

I blocked out the rest.  This was too much.  I tried my best to keep focused on drinking, imagining it was just water, or beer, or anything to take my mind off of how I was strapped into a child's car seat while my dad fed me from a baby bottle.  I had to stay strong or I risked doing something that I hadn't done in several years.  Hold it back.  I just kept going until I finally reached that halfway point and I felt the nipple being pulled away.

"There you go, baby boy, now you can ask questions, but keep your language clean or the bottle goes back in your mouth," my dad warned.

I thought about what I should ask first, but my mouth moved faster than I could think, and all I could ask was, "How? Why?  Why am I here?"

Dad pressed a finger to my lips and gave me the "shush" that one would give a little kid, and replied, "The 'why' of this is because, as I said, you should be in prison now, but I chose this for a punishment instead because I believe it will be more effective in changing your behavior.  Everything your mom and I have ever tried as a punishment or corrective program never worked, but those were conventional ideas.  Now, here we are with an unconventional approach."
 
"The 'how' of this is because the mother of the boy you beat up happened to be connected with the Bunny Scouts, and suggested it as punishment instead of pressing assault charges.  She provided the car seat, mittens, pacifier, and even the diaper you're wearing.  I've been telling you that sooner or later, you're going to pick a fight you can't win, and here we are."

"But what about last night, somebody drugged me!" I yelled.

"Calm down, or this conversation is over," he responded, "Nobody drugged you last night, you drugged yourself.  I am well familiar with your habit of using marijuana since the last two times you've been caught, and I know where you hide it.  All I did was add to your stash with a little gift, and the guy at the shop told me it was the good stuff, so I figured you would enjoy it.  If the dosage was too high for you, you should have read the label before taking it." 

This shit was unbelievable. "So technically, you drugged me.  I can't wait to call the cops on you for abuse.  Making me wear a diaper like this is illegal," I said, trying my best to hold my tongue.  They get on me for breaking the rules, yet they're willing to commit a crime against their son?

My dad shook his head, "It's not abuse," he countered while producing a small stack of papers, "These are your medical records.  Unfortunately for you, the doctor who treated Jimmy is a good friend with Jimmy's mother.  When we agreed to send you to the Bunny Scouts, the doctor was willing to provide me with documentation detailing the condition you've been dealing with.  Your medical records now state that since you were eight years old, you've been suffering from urinary and bowel incontinence.  So, according to these papers, you need to be in diapers.  It's nothing out of the ordinary for you."

There's no way.  There's no way that any of this was fucking possible.  I was trying to think of how to respond to this new news, but I couldn't find the words to properly express how fucked up this all was.  

"You, you can't do that."  Was all I could get out.

"We can, and we did.  Yes, maybe some laws were broken, but I don't understand why the legality of things suddenly concerns you so much.  You didn't care yesterday when you beat up Jimmy, so why care now?"

Again, I didn't know what to say or do, and my thoughts were interrupted by my mother touching my leg.  

"So, how do you feel?" asked my mom, using the same tone as earlier. "Yesterday, you were the big, tough guy, and now you're legally a diaper boy.  Aren't you excited?"

Immediately, all the confusion left me, and what I should say was perfectly simple and clear.  I took a deep breath and screamed,

"FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK Y-"

That's all I could get out before Dad rammed the bottle back in my mouth.  I tried to move my head away and spit the nipple out, but just succeeded at sending a spray of milk onto my lap.  He squeezed the bottle, sending another rush of the liquid into my mouth and I held it there as the same feeling from earlier came creeping back. 

Hold it in, hold it back.  Hold it in, hold it back. 

He squeezed the bottle again and my mouth filled up entirely, and still I refused to swallow.  Then, unexpectedly, he pulled the bottle up quickly and broke the seal my lips had on the nipple, sending most of the milk I had in my mouth spilling down my chin before I could stop it.  I reached up to wipe my face, but of course my hands were still restrained.  I could do nothing but sit there and look ridiculous as I watched the milk soak in to the stupid shirt I was wearing.  The smiling cartoon rabbit on the front of it was seemingly mocking me as I watched a few drops leaking downwards before dripping under the waistband of the diaper to be absorbed.   

Hold it in, hold it back.

My dad pulled out a baby wipe and began wiping my face clean like one would do to a baby after a messy feeding session, and my mom delivered the comment that pushed me over the edge:

"Awww, does our little Boo Boo Bunny need a bib?

There was no holding it back anymore.  I felt my face get hot and my vision began to distort as the tears filled my eyes.  When I felt the first drops run down my cheeks as my parents looked on, I broke down completely and started bawling.  This wasn't fair, this wasn't right, and I didn't care that I must have looked exactly like a toddler throwing a fit.  There was so much that I was feeling, and for the first time since I was actually three, I felt absolutely powerless.  

While my sobbing continued, I screamed and fought against the restraints on the car seat again out of frustration, only to be silenced by the pacifier being refastened on my face.  This did not stop my crying, though.  I kicked and cried until my nose was running and drool was leaking from the pacifier, and only after a few more minutes did I finally calm down.  I was still a hiccuping, blubbering mess and my face was stained with tears and snot, but at least I could start thinking clearly again.

Dad took out another baby wipe and cleaned up my face a second time before he put it up to my nose.

"Blow your nose."

The infantile instruction renewed my sobbing for a short bit before I complied, clearing my nose of all the mucus brought on by my childish moment.  He wiped away the remaining boogers before throwing away the wipe, and saying,

"If we keep using up all your wipes like this, we won't have any left for when we need to change your diaper."  

Oh God, please don't let that happen.  Up to this point, I had been trying to ignore the fact that I was wearing a diaper, and sooner or later, I would be expected to consciously use it, but I hadn't thought about the reality of my parents cleaning me up down there.  

"Speaking of diaper changes, we might as well get this out of the way now.  There is only one diaper in this car at the moment, and you're wearing it.  If you want a change before we get there, you're going to have to walk into a store—wearing what you are now and holding our hands—go to the diaper isle, pick out the ones you want, walk to the register, and pay for them.  Then we go to the bathroom and you get your diaper change.  It will be up to you to decide what's worse: the embarrassment of everyone seeing you like this, or sitting in a diaper that's only going to get dirtier."

I just turned my head away and looked out the window as a few stray tears rolled down my face.  This situation just kept getting worse with every passing minute.  I know that I'm the farthest thing from a well-behaved kid, but this was cruel and unusual punishment.  Seriously, what kind of fucked up person thinks of a program like this and then forces other people into it?  Is it some person whose neglectful parents left them in dirty diapers for too long, and now they're taking it out on me?  

I tried to look for some silver lining in this, but I couldn't find one.  Well, at least someone else will be taking care of my every need, right?  Yeah, dumbass, and that includes having someone else wipe your ass, how fun is that?  Well, at least this seat is comfy?  You know, that's right, this car seat is a lot more comfortable than the regular seat.  It has a nice padded head rest and everything.  Maybe I can fall asleep for a bit, and when I wake up, I'll be back in the sane version of the world.

Chapter 2.  
 
I was awakened by the feeling of slowing down, and I saw we were turning off the highway towards a gas station.  The first two things I noticed were that I had only been asleep for an hour, and that someone had taken the stuffed animal that was next to me and put it in my lap.  Just like everything else in this hell, it was a rabbit.  As we turned into the gas station, I shook my legs a bit to knock it onto the floor.

The car came to a stop at the pumps, and my mom announced, "If anyone needs a potty break, now’s the time to do it." as if this was some casual family road trip.

"Fuck you," I attempted to say as she and Dad exited the car.

Maybe her smart ass comment had a point, though.  All I could do in my current situation was to delay the inevitable, and I could already feel that I would be needing to go soon.  Of course, I would try to hold it as long as I could, but the best situation here, besides not having to piss and shit in a diaper, would be to do it when I'm alone.  But I'm not going to give in this easily, I could make it until the next stop.  

Dad went inside as Mom was walking back to the car, and she got in next to me.

"Well, this is a fun change of pace, isn't it?" She said. "Two days ago, I never would have imagined that we would have a baby in the family again, yet here we are.  How are your diapers holding up, Kiddo?"

I didn't have time to react as she unceremoniously pulled the front of my shorts down, but I turned red again from having a spontaneous diaper check from my mom. 

"Haven't peed anymore, I see, and from what I smell, you haven't gone poopy either.  Don't hurt yourself holding it.  We still have five more hours on the road, and It's not like we're going to call this whole thing off on account of you not using your diaper.  And I know you've always been a morning pooper, so I bet you really need to go by now." 

I rolled my eyes, but she was right.  My stomach was sending those early signals of a need for release, but I put the thought far out of my mind.  I'm not giving her the satisfaction of seeing me do that in my pants.  

As Dad got back in the car, Mom told him, "I'll give him his next bottle when we're back on the highway."

A minute later, Mom was doing as she promised, pulling out another of the liter bottles from the same bag.

"You know how this goes.  The pacifier will come off, and you just need to drink your baba.  But don't get all worked up this time.  I hate to see my little Boo Boo like that, crying his eyes out and throwing a fit.

I kept looking away as I felt my face heat up again.  As she said, the pacifier came out and the bottle went in.  I didn't bother trying to say anything this time because I figured it would just make everything worse.  Well, things were going to get worse anyways, but I just didn't want to start crying again.

I drank the bottle, and unlike last time, there was no halfway point.  I continued until I finished all of it with only a brief pause, and when I was just sucking air, she pulled it away.    

"My my, you certainly are a thirsty boy.  Now that you have another chance, do you want to say anything?  Remember, if I hear anything naughty we can go onto bottle number 3." 

This time I knew exactly what I wanted to say. "You seem to be way too happy and normal about all of this.  Dad seems to understand how crazy this is, but you don't." 

I heard a quick laugh from the front seat before Mom responded, "He's just looking at this situation objectively, as a punishment.  Me, I'm just happy to have my little Boo Boo again." she said before picking up the stuffed rabbit off the floor. "Aww, your bunny fell over.  He reminds me of Hopsy Bunny you had when you were little.  Do you remember him?  I know that until you were five, you wouldn't sleep a wink unless you had Hopsy Bunny with you." 

God damn, this woman was stuck in the past, and also knew exactly which buttons to push to get me embarrassed.

"Can you stop the 'Boo Boo' stuff?  You know I hate that, and I've told you that for years.  And I don't need, nor want, a stuffed animal anymore.  So yes, I get it, I'm being punished, but you need to come back to reality and realize how messed up this is.

I turned to look out the window, until that damn rabbit was shoved in front of my face.

"What's wrong?" my mom said, voicing the stuffed rabbit, "I bet you're grumpy because your diaper is wet."

"How about the fact that I'm wearing a diaper at all?" I snapped back.  "You guys are sick and twisted.  Even with all the shit I've done, I never would have thought about doing something like this."

"Well, you must really like your milk, because you just bought yourself another bottle." She said, shaking her head.

It took me a moment to realize what I did wrong before I quickly said, "Wait, I'm sorry, it just slipped out.  I didn't mean to say that."  Mom wasn't phased by my apology, and continued to produce another bottle, but I continued, "Please, I don't think my stomach can take another one of those.  Do you want me to throw up everywhere?"

"If it happens, it happens.  Babies spit up all the time, and we can clean you up if you do.  If your stomach is full, maybe you should empty it out a bit.  As we've said, you're not just wearing a diaper to look cute, you know?"

I maintained my defiance, kept my lips locked shut, and turned my head away.  I didn't say it, but my growing need for a toilet was the real reason I didn't want another bottle.  My stomach was only slightly uncomfortable.

"Boo Boo, if you don't drink voluntarily, we're going to have to try something else, and it's going to be with a different bottle.  We have a bottle here in this bag with medicine in it that will help you go poopy.  Do you want that one instead, or do you just want to start drinking this one?"

Fuck.  They were holding all the cards and I had nothing.  I had to find some error in their plan to get out of this, but this constant bombardment of insanity sure made it hard to stay concentrated on that.

"Fine.  Just give it to me."

She looked at me for a second before I saw a small smile on her face.  "I tell you what, I'll make a deal with you.  Since you didn't really mean to say a naughty word, I'll let you off with only drinking a little of this, but you have to ask for it politely.  So, I'm your mama and I have your bottle.  Can you ask me nicely for it?"

I knew it.  Every minute of my existence was going to bring me a new form of torture.  I should have just kept my mouth shut right away, but that's not really in my nature.  Each option I had here sucked a fat one.  Take some embarrassment now, or more later when I have to, you know, go?  

My face was burning red, and in the quietest voice I could find, I quickly whispered, "Mama, can I have my bottle?".

"Speak up, Little One, I can't hear you." She replied.

I could feel the urge to cry coming back, and I repeated the humiliating line loud enough so she could hear.

"Ahh, we're still missing that magic word.  I know that you're still learning your manners, but I have to hear it."

"Please."

"There you are, now that wasn't so hard, right?"  She said, bringing the nipple to my lips.  She stayed true to her word and only made me drink about a quarter of it before pulling it away.  "I'm going to give your pacifier back now, ok?  But I'm just going to clip this one on your shirt rather than strapping it on your head.  It is to stay in your mouth until we take it out, but it should be more comfortable for you."

With that, I was sucking on a new pacifier.  Not having it attached to my face was nice, but keeping it in my mouth was more of an effort.  At least concentrating on not dropping it kept my mind off of the fact that I was not going to make it to the next gas station to relieve myself in private.  I shut my eyes and tried to picture relaxing somewhere far away in hopes of falling asleep again, but the discomfort of holding it was preventing such an escape.  It was going to happen, but I was still going to try to minimize the damage and make it as inconspicuous as possible as to not give my parents the pleasure of watching me have an accident.  

Hold on.  Even if I'm not asleep, I could still pretend to be asleep, pee, and use the drugs from last night as a defense, right?  Yeah, good idea, genius.  How is wetting yourself in your sleep somehow a better perception than if you just consciously do it?  And you still have to take a dump, too.  God dammit, maybe I should just do it like ripping off a band-aid.  Act like it's completely normal, and do it as quickly as possible before my parents can comment on it.  Or maybe I can try peeing just a little bit. 

I looked out the window and began focusing on what I was about to do.  I just wanted to let a few drops out before fully committing to the deed, but it was understandably difficult.  I was about to throw away years of potty training, which I remember being the first accomplishment that I would use to feel superior to others.  I would laugh at other kids in day care who still wore diapers, and made fun of bed-wetting classmates for years, but it wasn't funny now.  I imagined I was standing in front of a toilet and almost 30 seconds later, I felt a small trickle come out.

I stopped the flow as quickly as it started, and the sudden warmth rapidly faded away as it was absorbed.  That wasn't so bad, but I still had to worry about the feelings in my stomach.  Mom was right that I normally took care of that once a day in the morning, so by now, I was starting to sweat with how much effort it required to not shit myself.  The struggle here was mentally preparing myself to do something so disgusting and babyish.  I discretely shifted in my seat to find some better position, but was unsuccessful.  The harness on the damn baby seat offered me no range of movement, but I would just have to deal with it.

Here we go.  This is fucked up and it's going to be gross, but let's just get it done.

I shut my eyes and returned to my previous imagined image, only this time I was sitting down.  I willed myself to not cry again, no matter what my parents said, and I waited for the stream of pee to start as my bowels began working.  When the first dribble leaked out to soak the diaper, I pushed as if I was sitting on that toilet I was envisioning.  The result was instantaneous, but instead of my poop falling free, it stopped when it hit the diaper.  I continued to pee as my butthole was stuck open, and with the limited range of motion I had, I pulled myself up an inch or two to make room for the oncoming load.

"Ooh, Honey, look!  Our little Boo Boo Bunny is going poopy!"

Busted.

My fantasy of going to the toilet privately was shattered and my eyes flew open to see Mom recording a video of my humiliating situation.  Realizing my plan had failed, I attempted to stop what was happening, but the seals were broken and my body was going to finish what it had started.

The slow trickle of urine had become a complete flood, and raising my butt off the seat allowed for enough space for the mess to move freely again.  The pacifier fell from my mouth and I let out an embarrassing moan as I pushed again, feeling the filthy mass spreading up my butt cheeks and through my crotch, meeting the last spurts of pee before my dick was smothered too.  With a final grunt, my shaking arms relaxed and I sank down into my nasty diaper.

"This one is for the baby book," Mom taunted, "Little One's first messy diaper.  Let's see how bad it is."

With one hand, she pulled me forward against the harness, mashing the diaper into the crotch strap, and with the other, she pulled open the back of the diaper to look inside.

"Oh my, that certainly is a full diaper.  Your poopy almost came out the back.  And it's so stinky!"

Holy fuck, the smell.  The diaper being pulled back from my waist released an ungodly odor that immediately filled the whole car.  I suppressed a gag when I heard from the driver's seat, 

"Jesus Christ, that's bad.  Guess we're just going to have to get used to that with a baby in the family again."

Don't cry.  Don't cry.  

As all the windows rolled down, Mom's hand fell on the crotch of the diaper, and it was then I felt just how swollen it had become.

"You definitely packed your pampers, Kiddo.  You just let us know when you want to waddle into a store to get your diaper change.  But everyone is going to know by the smell that you're just a diaper baby before you even get a new package in your hands.  If you don't want to do that, you're welcome to sit in this one for the next four hours or so.  After all, you might as well get used to it, because this will be your life for six more months."

I had told myself to ignore anything they said, but holy shit was it difficult.  My cheeks were on fire and I was struggling to keep the tears at bay, then the car suddenly moved to the right and started shaking.  For the next several seconds, we were riding the rumble strips on the shoulder, sending vibrations through the car and into the diaper, increasing the unpleasantness of it as the sloppy mess moved around.

"Sorry about that," Dad said with a smile, " There was something in the road." 

I choked back a sob as the diaper settled.  With Mom's hand still resting on the front of it, she continued,

"It's all right, Boo Boo.  Maybe one day you can graduate to big kid undies again.  It's going to take a lot of work, though.  After you're done being a Bunny Scout, you're not going to have much control of your potties and poopies left, and you're going to have to be potty trained to be a big boy for a second time.  But I know you can do it.  And if you can't, you can just stay our little baby forever."  

Don't cry. Don't--  Aw hell.

I let out a soft whine that grew until it was uncontrollable wailing.  Mom tried to put the pacifier back in my mouth, but it quickly fell out, leaving a string of saliva down my chin.  My chest heaving, I continued to bawl my eyes out at how out of control my life had gotten.

"There you go, let it all out," Mom said in forced comforting tone, "All babies cry when their diapers are stinky."

In the midst of my sobbing, I managed to yell, "I don't want to be a baby!"

Even with the windows down, my words reached nobody other than my parents.  My helpless crying did nothing other than embarrass me further as the car moved on towards my unthinkable future. 

Chapter 3. 

12:30

12:48

1:00

1:02

1:05

It had been almost 45 minutes since my “accident”, and time was dragging on.  The mess in my diaper had cooled and was getting increasingly itchy and uncomfortable.

Wait a second, my diaper?  Fuck that, this was their diaper.  It wasn’t my decision to put it on, and it wasn’t my decision to shit myself.  Well, it was, but you know what I mean.  The point is, I’m not going to fall into this baby bullshit.  I’m not going to go through potty training again like Mom said because I’m never going to lose my control.  I only did it this time because I had no other option.

The pacifier was back in my mouth, and I held it there under the threat of the laxative bottle.  This served as an additional punishment to me because I was stuck breathing through my nose, and even with the windows down, every breath prevented me from ignoring what I had done.  But at least my parents were stuck smelling the same thing.  Fuck them, I can wait a couple more hours before I get out of this diaper if it means I can get back at them just a little bit.

Looking out of the car, I saw the scenery had changed from the desert to wooded mountains, and we were going up.  I was getting curious about my destination, so I let out a few noises to signal Mom and Dad that I wanted to talk.

“What is it, Baby?”  Responded my mother, taking the pacifier out, “Got something to say?”

I stretched my jaw, glad to be free of the invading object, before asking, “Where exactly are we going?”

“East.  Up in the mountains.”  Dad said, “I was told there will be a lot of room up there for you to run around and play, so at least you get to have some fun outside.  It’s also close enough to a couple cities that they will take you into town from time to time to get more stuff.  Powder, wipes, food, that kind of thing.”

“You mean they’re going to take me out in public like this?  It’s bad enough that I have people in cars gawking at me, now you’re saying they’re going to take me to stores?”

Mom jumped in and replied, “Why wouldn’t they?  They can’t leave a baby at home or in the car unattended.  And remember, you need to be in diapers now, so nobody will think anything is wrong about it.  Speaking of diapers, when do you want your change, Boo Boo?  You’re pretty stinky and there’s a town coming up in a five miles.”

I didn’t want a diaper change.  Or rather, I did, but there was no way I was going to walk into a store to buy my own diapers before having my parents change me.  Absolutely no fucking way that was going to happen.

“Don’t you want a clean diaper?”  She continued, turning her attention towards Dad, “Isn’t it weird how babies can be honey?  One second they’re crying as if they’re dying just because they want some milk, then later you find them sitting in a dirty diaper without a fuss.  I know if I had pants full of poop, I wouldn’t be a happy camper, but I guess our little one doesn’t mind sitting in his mess.”

He responded, “It reminds me of that time coming home from Disney Land when he was two, remember?  We didn’t hear a peep, only to look back and see poop down his legs and up his back.  I sure am glad that I’m potty trained and don’t have to sit in such a mess, but I guess our little boy just hasn’t figured it out yet.”  

My frustration and anger grew as they talked about my bathroom necessities as if I wasn’t there, so instead of giving them what they wanted by showing how they were getting to me, I tried again to ignore them, but a few parts still came through.

“And he put it in his mouth!”

“The walker incident with the poop trail.”

“Then he put his hand down the back of it.”

“I can’t believe that we have to go through this again.”

Sitting there, I started seriously thinking about the reality of my situation for the first time.  Was this all for real or just bluffing?  Am I actually medically considered incontinent now, or was that a lie?  Am I really stuck in diapers for six months?  Will I actually lose my potty training, or are they just trying to scare me?  My thoughts were running at a thousand miles per hour as I was becoming painfully aware that I was now in a second infancy and there was nothing I could do about it.  Maybe not now, though, but I would sure try to get out of this hell later.

I returned to my previous coping mechanism of trying to will the time away.

1:30

1:36

1:55

3:00

Is it 3:00 already?  I must have fallen asleep again.  We were now way up in the mountains and Mom was back behind the wheel.  The next thing I noticed was a familiar ache in my bladder and my rumbling stomach.  No.  Please not again.  The itch in the diaper had become an unpleasant stinging and I had no desire to add anything new to my filthy pants.

Dad must have noticed me awake again, and said, “Is naptime over, little guy?  We only have about an hour and half left on the road, are you sure you don’t want a diaper change?  I bet everyone in the county can smell you.”   

Yeah, and you can keep smelling it, prick.  If I have to be in this situation, you can share in the misery.

“Still ‘no’ on the diaper change?”  I heard from Mom, “Maybe instead of calling you Boo Boo Bunny, your name should be Poo Poo Bunny.”

My cheeks flushed as I rolled my eyes, and I felt another cramp from my belly.  What was in those bottles?  Did they lie to me and every one of them had laxatives in them?  Just an hour and a half left though.  I can make it.  I can make it.

Fifteen excruciating minutes later, I knew I wasn’t going to make it, and my parents did too.  I tried to discretely ease some of the pressure in my gut, but what I thought would be a silent fart was much noisier due to the soiled diaper, and Mom pounced on this opportunity to further humiliate me.

“Oh my, is our little baby making more poopies?  Judging by your face, it looks like you’re about to lose the fight, Boo Boo, but that’s OK.  Let’s just hope your diaper can hold it all.”

Oh fuck.  Despite the earlier discussion about my accidents as a baby, it hadn’t occurred to me that here and now, shit might come out of the diaper and get on my clothes.  I let out another round of gas and it felt like something semi-solid came out with it, but I couldn’t tell for sure.  The way the fart was trapped inside the diaper was a uniquely disturbing experience as it moved through the existing filth and popped against my balls.  I shuddered from the feeling and from understanding that was the last time I would get away with releasing anything that wasn’t more poop.    

Hard braking.

Everything in the car, including the occupants, flew forward as we narrowly avoided hitting a deer.  The instantaneous break in my concentration combined with the harness on the seat pushing into my stomach resulted in an explosion from my ass.  Unlike last time, this excretion was runny and it hastily squished into any available space, but with the crotch strap of the seat still firmly embedded in my groin, the limits of the diaper’s capability were immediately exceeded. 

I couldn’t tell where the diaper failed first, but in the next few seconds, shit went everywhere.  I felt it pouring over the rear waistband and continue moving up and sideways across my back.  Meanwhile, my crotch was receiving a similar treatment as the mess escaped the padding, creeping down my legs and filling my shorts.  Just when I thought it was over, I started peeing, continuing the ruining of my clothes and seat when piss started overflowing from the front.  

When I was finally finished, I dared to look down to survey the damage and I nearly threw up.  My light blue shorts were now mostly yellowish-brown, with distinct wet stains following the outline of the diaper down the front.  The thin fabric easily revealed that the insides of my legs were entirely covered in poop, and between them, a pool of liquid feces was forming under my butt.  I couldn’t see behind me, but I could feel the mess moving over the whole lower half of my back when I tried to turn. 

My mind went blank as I tried to comprehend what had just happened.  No complete thoughts would form, only single words that seemed to come from some place of primal or infantile simplicity.

Dirty.  Stinky.  Change.  Messy.  Wet.  Change.  Uncomfortable.  Slimy.  Change.

I need my diaper changed.

I began to cry again and I didn’t try to stop it.  I wanted to cry because, in that moment, it felt like the only appropriate response to being covered in my own waste.  I needed to be cleaned up, so I needed to cry.  It made so much sense.

“What is it Boo—oh my god!”

I guess that was Mom’s first reaction to seeing her son in such a pathetic state, then I heard Dad’s: 

“God dammit I jinxed it by talking about Disney Land.”

Without making eye contact, I found a moment in my gasping sobs and I let my thoughts become words in the only way that would save me from my disgusting situation.  

“I need my diaper changed.”

I tried to say it as calmly and normally as someone my age could when asking for such a thing, but crying so much made it come out with a childish squeak one might expect when hearing such a statement.  

“Hold on, Pumpkin, we’ll get you changed, we just need to find a store to get you more diapers and clothes.”  

“We can’t take him into a store like this.  A regular dirty diaper would be doable, but there’s poop all over him.”

“Then I can just run in and get diapers and we change him in the car.  Look at him, we can’t leave our little boy like this for another hour.”

“I was told that he goes into the store to buy his own diapers, or he doesn’t get a change.  The reason he’s in this situation in the first place is discipline, and we can’t compromise on it.  It’s only another hour, he’ll live.”

“Dad, please.  I’ve learned my lesson.  I’ll be good from now on, just get me out of this diaper.”

My voice was frail and unconvincing, because he just grabbed the pacifier and pushed it between my lips to silence me.

“We’re going to have quiet time now until we get there.” He said, unclipping the pacifier strap from my shirt, “Don’t spit it out, ok?  If it falls in your lap or on the seat, you won’t be happy when it goes back in your mouth.”

My eyes went wide and filled with new tears at the thought of Dad actually doing such a thing.    I didn’t want to believe he would, but considering this whole nightmarish car ride was real, I didn’t want to tempt him.  I began sucking as my sobbing continued.  Eventually, I had cried myself dry, yet I could not stop helplessly mewling from behind the pacifier for the final miles of this hellish journey.  

Chapter 4.

“Hello? Yes this is she.  Yep, we’re only ten minutes or so away.  No, he didn’t go for the diaper change, so please roll out the changing mat, because we have a very poopy boy in our back seat.  Oh yeah, you’ll see how bad it is when we get there, see you in a bit.”

Finally.

Still sucking the pacifier, I was shivering in my seat from the wetness and muck that had since cooled.  I definitely had a diaper rash by now on my ass, but I was starting to feel the same discomfort in my crotch and inner thighs from being trapped in a puddle of shit. At this point, the only thing I cared about was getting clean.  It didn’t matter if they dressed me in another diaper and stupid baby clothes, as long as they were clean and dry and I got a shower first. 

The car meandered up a narrow dirt road for those last minutes, and all I could see were dense trees on either side.  I had already contemplated the idea that my parents had gone completely insane and this situation wasn’t helping their case.  How do they know this place doesn’t just throw people into a dark hole?  Did they give me diaper rash so I would later put the lotion on the skin?

Moments later, we turned left and the trees fell away to expose a wide clearing with a large, two-floor house at its center.  In front of the building was a small playground, but as we got closer, I saw that certain pieces of it were noticeably larger than what would be at the average city park, and Mom did too. 

“Won’t that be fun to play on, Boo Boo?  Maybe you can go outside tomorrow, but for today, you just need a bath, some clean clothes, and a tour of the house.” 

Could you promise it will be in that order?

We finally stopped at the end of the long driveway and a woman came out to meet us pushing some kind of cart.  Both of my parents stepped out of the car to meet her and closed their doors behind them, leaving me to watch a conversation I couldn’t hear while I awaited my fate.

I was shaking a bit more now and it wasn’t because of the state of my pants and seat.  Was I scared?  Yeah, a little bit.  I know it’s not cool to admit that, but try getting kidnapped by your parents and sitting in your own shit for hours and then tell me how you feel. 

The conversation paused as they turned back to the car and opened my door.  As terrible as everything was, I was happy that I was going to be unstrapped from this seat and stretch out my arms and legs.  I took in a welcome breath of fresh air as Dad started working on getting me out of the car seat.  Next, I felt the entire seat move as I was hoisted out of the car and set backwards on the cart, which I now discovered was a baby stroller.  I wanted to scream in frustration but I had a greater desire to not drop my pacifier into the repulsive swamp below.

“Aww, so this is the little guest we’ve been waiting for!” The woman said. “You definitely need a diaper change, young man.  Come along and we’ll get you cleaned up.”

Nothing more was said as I was wheeled through the front door, but I was stuck looking backwards as my parents pushed me forwards.  Not being able to see where I was going in this strange home didn’t help my anxiety and fear, but the look on my parents’ faces relaxed me slightly.  

“Oh wow,” I heard from Dad, then from Mom, “This is amazing!  This is perfect for a little boy.” 

“Have you thought of a name for him yet?” The unknown woman asked.

“Boo Boo,” Mom responded without hesitation, “he’s going to be our little Boo Boo Bunny.” 

“That’s a wonderful name for such a precious boy.  He’s going to fit in so well here.”

Of course that’s what she chose.  And what’s with this lady?  A precious boy?  Has she seen my rap sheet?

We continued through the house until I could finally see some details, and it was both disturbing and relieving at the same time.  This place looked just like a day care center for toddlers, except everything was scaled up.  In the living room were a couple bouncers for someone my size, and from what I could see of the kitchen, there were high chairs, booster seats, and a rack of drying sippy cups and bottles.  The walls were painted in bright colors that were occasionally interrupted by scenes of diapered rabbit characters playing.

My attention shifted elsewhere when I heard a door open and the woman say,

“Let’s get our Boo Boo in here and out of that stinky diaper.”

On any other day, I would be horrified at the thought of being stripped naked in front of my parents, but considering how dirty I was, I was willing to accept a brief moment of nudity in exchange for getting clean.

“One, two, three, wheee!” my mother said as she and Dad picked me up and set me down in a large, standing shower.

“We’re going to let you out now, so don’t give us any trouble.” Dad warned as he released the straps that held my wrists.  Mom did the same for my feet as the mittens came off my hands, and I took a moment to stretch out my limbs for the first time since yesterday.

They each grabbed one of my hands and Mom said, “Time to get up now, Boo Boo, but please don’t throw a fit or we can’t get you out of your poopy pants.”

I had my priorities straight and I wasn’t going to risk getting clean for anything right now.  I let them lift me out of the soiled seat and I heard a disgusting sound as I was peeled away from it.  With the seat gone, I was pulled to me feet on the shower floor, and Mom started removing my shorts while Dad went to work on my shirt.  He unsnapped a series of buttons on my left shoulder, maneuvered my arms through the sleeves, and started pulling the shirt down my torso.  I did not hesitate to step out of the soiled shirt when he pulled it down to my knees, and as I did, I finally got a clear view of how much poop had spread up my back.  

“Good thing we had you in this kind of shirt,” he started with a sweet voice, “I remember these being a lifesaver when you were a baby.  Without these, any time you had a nasty diaper blowout, we would have to pull the shirt over your head, which would leave you with poop in your hair and an even grosser situation.”

This was the first time that Dad had spoken to me with that same toddler talk voice that Mom had been using, and I was already sick of it.  They had easily stripped me of the dirty clothing that I was wearing and I was now left with nothing more than an overflowing diaper in this unfamiliar shower.

“Plug your noses, ladies and gentleman!” Mom announced like a joke, “We’ve got a poopy diaper to change!”

The diaper was immediately pulled open and I gagged at the smell before I remember my hands were now free, and I reached up to cover my nose.  Not a second later, Dad pulled my arms back down to my sides and said,

“Wait a second, Boo Boo, if Mommy and Daddy have to smell your poopy, you do too.  It’s only fair that he who dealt it, smelt it.”

I gazed away and wriggled slightly as Mom pulled the destroyed diaper away from me while Dad kept my arms held down.  I was now completely naked in full view of both my parents and a stranger when Mom turned the faucet on.  Looking back to me, she said, 

“I don’t think there are enough baby wipes in the world to clean you up now, Poo Poo Bunny, so we’ll have to give you a baby bath.  Just let me get the temperature perfect for a tiny boy, and here we go!”

The water from the shower came splashing down on my head on body.  After the initial surprise from the warm water, I opened my eyes to see all of the shit stuck to my skin washing away.  I was slightly sickened to see the drain momentarily fill up with brown water, but I was much happier to finally be clean.  

“Hello there!  I’m Captain Bubbles and I’m here to get you clean!”  Mom said in a silly voice with a washcloth puppet on her hand.

Well, getting cleaned up had me feeling happy for a few seconds, anyways.

She poured some baby soap on the bath mitt and wasted no time starting to scrub my body.  I was fine with it and it actually felt nice until she moved towards my crotch.

“Mom, no.  Let me take care of that.”  I argued, trying to take back some autonomy.

“Aww, look at who’s ready to grow up all of a sudden,” she said, “Sorry, Kiddo.  It’s common knowledge that anyone who poopies their diaper isn’t big enough to clean themselves.  That’s what Mamas and Dadas are for.  Besides, it’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

My face went red yet again and I took advantage of my hands being freed to shield my face as I was thoroughly washed from back to front.  After I was cleaned, I was pulled from the bath and wrapped in a hooded towel to dry off, and I shouldn’t have to tell you which fluffy animal the towel was modeled after.  Content that I was thoroughly dry, Dad lifted me up and I glanced around to see that I was being carried to a changing table.  My first sight was the plastic cover on top of the table, then I saw the stacks of familiar rabbit-themed diapers below that were too large for an ordinary baby.  I realized exactly what was happening and objected,

“Dad, I understand.  I was bad, but I’ll be good now.  I know this is a punishment, but hasn’t it been enough?  Don’t make me wear diapers anymore and I won’t cause anymore problems.”

I couldn’t get another word out before he put a new pacifier in my mouth and kept his hand on it so I wouldn’t spit it out.

“I’m sorry, but it’s too late for that,” he answered, “Everyone knows that you’ve needed to wear diapers since you were 8 and it’s not going to change now.  We can’t have you pooping and peeing all over the place.” 

There was nobody in front of the door right now and I saw my chance.  My patience had paid off and here was my moment to escape.  The car was outside and if I didn’t act now, I might not ever get out of here, so I made my decision.  I tried my best to move the pacifier off my tongue and yelled,

“Suck my nuts, asshole.  I don’t fucking need diapers!”

With all the strength I could gather, I jumped out of Dad’s arms and landed on the floor.  I bolted for unguarded exit that was still open and made my way towards the front door and to freedom.  I reached the door untouched, but when I turned the knob, it wouldn’t open.  I frantically tried the lock, but I barely got my hand back on the knob before I was lifted up from behind.  I kicked and fought as I was dragged back to the bathroom I had just came from until I was unceremoniously tossed across the top of the changing table face down.  I was still furiously struggling when the first spanks started.

My first thought was surprise.  Not only because I was being spanked for the first time in years, but because this actually hurt.  Maybe it was because I was still damp from the shower, and there was the developing rash on my butt, or maybe Dad had been holding back all these years, but there was no ignoring the stinging blows that kept coming.  By the 10th hit, I was helplessly kicking my feet in an attempt to escape, and by 15, I was failing to hold back tears.

“You will watch your language when you talk to me young man!” He yelled, accenting every syllable with a smack on my butt.

I made it to 25 swats before I broke down.  I was bawling and trying to get up, but Dad’s arms were too strong.  My feet kept uselessly flailing as the spanking continued, and for the second time today, I once again had both tears and snot running down my face.  He kept going until he hit 50, and by then, I was left sobbing over the changing table, watching my tears pool on the plastic top of the changing mat.

“My my, you are a potty mouth.”  Said the unnamed woman.  “Why don’t we try this for you, little Bunny?”

Still recovering from the spanking, my eyes followed her to a large garbage bin where she lifted the lid, reached in, and retrieved an object.  As she came back, I recognized it as the thoroughly used diaper I had been wearing minutes before.  Dad was still holding me down over the changing table when she placed the filthy thing in front of me and opened it.  Without saying a word, I watched her drag a pacifier through the diaper until it was completely coated with excrement, and then she held it inches from my mouth.

“You want to be a potty mouth, right?  Well here you go.  Open up and taste your potty and poopy if that’s what you want.”

I closed my mouth as tightly as I could and suppressed my bodily desire to throw up as the disgusting pacifier was dangled under my nose.  I was forced to breath in the horrid stench of the poop-covered soother and she moved it closer towards my lips.  I thought she was going to just shove it into my mouth before she finally pulled it away.

“Let that be your first lesson, Boo Boo.  Any naughty language here will be severely punished.”

She then rolled up the diaper again and dropped it and the pacifier into the same trash can before turning back to me. 

“This is baby’s diaper pail, and that pacifier will stay at the bottom.  If you ever say another naughty word in this house, I’ll pull that pacifier out, put it right in your mouth, and you will learn exactly why being a potty mouth isn’t fun, do you understand me?”

I immediately nodded frantically, trying not to think about how I was almost fed shit from my own dirty diaper.

“Good boy,” she replied before turning to my parents, “If you could get him diapered and dressed, I’ll have all the paperwork waiting for you in the kitchen.  His outfit is on the shelf right there.”

I was still blubbering from the spanking I received when Mom turned me over and said,

“I’m sorry we had to spank you, Boo Boo, but we can’t have you saying such naughty things.  Now, I want you to hold your little stuffie bunny while we put your diaper on, OK?”
Now laid on my back, I took the stuffed bunny as I squirmed in discomfort from the pain coming from my ass.  I wanted to throw the stupid stuffed rabbit across the room, but I didn’t want the spanking to start again.  What was that about, anyways?  Dad was really hitting me, almost like he was trying to hurt me for real.  Still lying down on the table, Dad fastened a strap around my stomach, securing my sore bottom to the crinkly table top.  I watched as he grabbed one of the diapers from under the table, unfolded it, then instructed,

“Lift your legs, Little One.  We gotta get a diaper on you before you have an accident everywhere.”

I didn’t even have a chance to willingly obey before Mom grabbed my legs and pushed them back towards my chest.  I felt the diaper slide underneath my butt, but before my legs were let down, he started rubbing some cream onto my bottom and private parts.

“You spent a long time in a dirty diaper today, so this should help with the diaper rash.”  He said before following up with a sprinkling of baby powder.

Both pairs of my cheeks were burning as I took the rabbit I was holding, shoved it into my face, folded its ears over to cover mine, and waited for this humiliating moment to end.  Finally, my legs were let down, I felt the diaper close over my penis, and Dad tightly taped it on to finish the job.

“There we go.  Changing baby diapers is like riding a bike I guess.  They’re a lot bigger now, but they fit our little man just the same.”  Dad said with a laugh.  “All right now, on your feet.  We need to get you dressed”.

I wasn’t given any time to get used to the diaper between my legs before I was unbuckled from the table and guided to the floor.  I hadn’t noticed it in the car, but these diapers were extremely thick and forced my legs apart.  Standing was easy, but I could tell that walking would be challenging with how much the diaper affected my stance.

As I stood there, with a plush bunny in one hand and holding onto the table with the other, the world seemed to stop while I took in everything that had happened.  I tried my best to escape and nobody even broke a sweat stopping me.  I just got spanked until I cried my eyes out.  Some stranger almost forced me to eat my own shit.  Mom and Dad just changed my diaper like I was a baby.

I touched the front of the diaper and heard the plastic exterior crinkle, but I couldn’t feel a thing underneath because it was so poofy.  With the aroma of the baby powder still floating around me, it was hard not to feel like a baby.  This isn’t just a diaper, it’s my diaper, and I can’t do anything about it.

“Oh my goodness, you look adorable!” Mom blurted out as she came towards me with a stack of clothes.  “It’s almost a shame to cover up your cute little diaper, but I think this outfit will be even better.  I have to take your stuffie for just a minute, OK?  And lift your arms up now, Kiddo.”

Fearing another spanking or worse, I didn’t defy her.  She pulled the stuffed animal away, I lifted my arms, and allowed her to pull a baby blue shirt over me.  Once it was on, I saw it had the same cartoon rabbit on the front as the last shirt, but this one had a babyish Peter Pan collar.  The next part was a pair of cutoff overalls, and as she guided my feet into the leg holes, I calmly objected,

“Do I really have to wear this?  Even with the diaper, can’t I just wear normal clothes?”

“Firstly, normal clothes won’t fit over your diaper butt, silly,” she said, pulling the short pants up and pulling the straps over my shoulders.  “Secondly, we’re up in the mountains now and it gets cold, so we need to make sure that our baby bunny is snug and cozy.  And just look at that little tail, isn’t that wonderful?”

As she finished fastening the shortalls, I looked at my behind and sure enough, there was a poofy rabbit tail stitched onto my butt, and on the front was a smiling rabbit face.  I gently whined when I saw my whole outfit and I realized that I looked exactly like baby.  My legs were still spread due to the diaper, and the overalls didn’t leave much to the imagination as to what was underneath them.

“And now for the finishing touches.” she declared as she produced a few more items.  The first were a pair of pink slippers which she quickly pulled over my feet, and as much as I hate to admit, they were actually quite warm and comfortable.  The last piece was a headband with floppy bunny ears to complete my ridiculous look.  I could only stare at her with pleading eyes, wordlessly begging her to stop this humiliating punishment, but that only encouraged her. 

“Pouting like that only makes you more adorable, Boo Boo.  Why don’t we try a smile instead?”

Her hands flew towards me and I could not react before her wiggling fingers found their way under my arms.  She had just broken another truce.  First, she threw aside the limitations stated in the “No More Boo Boo” resolution, but now she had violated the tickling non-aggression pact.  The last time she did this was on my 7th birthday, but she found the right spots like an expert who had spent every day practicing.

“Mom!  Stop!”  I shouted, with an embarrassing voice crack.  Those were the last complete words I could get out before her tickles drove me into an uncontrollable giggling fit.  The assault soon stopped, Mom and Dad got weirdly quiet, and they watched me as I stopped laughing and caught my breath.  I felt a hand wrap around my own when Mom said,

“My little Honey Bunny, I knew you were still there.  Now, can you be a big boy and walk to the next room, or do you need to crawl?”

Dad took my other hand and kept up the act,

“Walking can be hard, Kiddo, but we’ve got you.  If it’s too hard, we can put you down to crawl, OK?”

With an awkward gait, a bright red face, and a parent in each hand, I was led waddling into the next room, not knowing what terrible fate would await me there.   

Chapter 5.

Mom and Dad pulled me along as I tried to get accustomed to walking with such a bulk between my legs.  We only had to go from the bathroom we just came from to the adjacent kitchen, but between my short steps and their unnecessary, embarrassing commentary, it felt like forever.

“All right, Boo Boo, one foot in front of the other.”

“Just like that! Now you’re getting it!”

When we reached our destination, I saw a normal table and the high chairs from before, but I was directed towards another contraption that was hanging from the doorway.  The other woman was there and she was placing a step stool down in front of it.

“Boo Boo can sit here and play while we take care of the boring stuff.”  She said.

With a better look of it, I could tell it was a scaled-up baby bouncer, and I was going to be its occupant.  My parents were still holding my hands and I was in no position to resist, so I followed the directions I was given as I stepped up the stool and was hoisted into the suspended seat.

With my weight pulling down on the bouncer, I could place both of my feet firmly on the ground, but I didn’t understand that they weren’t finished with me.  Firstly, my hands were guided forward into mittens that were sewn into the bouncer and wrist straps were tightened to keep them there.  I audibly groaned when I saw the finer details.  The mittens were designed to resemble rabbit paws, and my hands were restrained up high, close to my chest. 

“There we go, Little Bunny Boo Boo has his paws up and ready to go hopping through the forest.” Mom said, playing with my covered hands.

I mentally searched for anything to say in response that wouldn’t make this situation any worse.

“Do I have to?”

I meant to say that with more sarcasm, but the words sounded closer to those spoken by a stalling child who already knows the answer. 

“Yes, you do.  Don’t worry, it will be fun,” Dad responded, “Now lift up your feet.”

I did as I was told, and I watched as a large, square board was slid underneath me.  I started wondering what it was for until my feet slipped out in opposite directions.  The sensation of falling was sudden, but brief, as I was caught by the bouncer and pulled back up enough to place my feet down.  As I tried to steady myself, I lost my footing again and the same process repeated.

“I put a waxed surface underneath him,” said the woman, “With the booties he’s wearing, he can’t get any traction, but the bouncer is designed so it’s not very comfortable to just sit in for long, so he will alternate between trying to stand and falling until he learns to enjoy bouncing.”

I let out another noise of protest, but it was quickly silenced by the familiar feeling of a pacifier being pushed into my mouth.

“It’s going to be quiet time again, Boo Boo, OK?”  Was all Mom said as she fastened the clasp behind my head, securing the pacifier to my face.

I couldn’t decide what was worse: everything that was being done to me, or knowing that there was nothing I could do to stop it.  And yes, there was actually nothing that could be done, so if you’re thinking about how you would have done this or that differently and avoided all this, you can sit on it and spin—or bounce—unless you also happen to have experience with being forcibly regressed to toddler status.   

I fell again into another few seconds of helpless bouncing, and this woman was right, every time I tried to just relax and hang there, the fabric seat rode up into my crotch in a way that got uncomfortable in a hurry, especially against my diaper-rashed, recently-punished backside.  Mom and Dad had walked to the table and taken their seats there when I heard:

“Now that we’re all settled in, let’s begin”, the woman said.  “I have introduced myself to you two already, but for little Boo Boo, my name is Caroline, and I’ll be your scout leader for the next six months.  We just need to sort out all of the final details of your stay, so go ahead and play in the bouncer while us grown-ups talk, OK?”

Stuck in this degrading pose and unable to stand, I could only glare back while I watched the scene play out.

Bringing her attention back to the stack of papers, the process started.

“First things first, we already have the name sorted out, and to clarify, what is Boo Boo’s gender?”

“He’s a boy,” Dad responded.   

“Great.  And would you like him treated like a boy?  Some boys spend their time here in skirts, dresses and all other manners of girly styles.  One Bunny had a particularly unique situation where we purposely put his diapers on loosely when he was wearing his boy outfits until all of them had obvious poop stains from the blowouts.  Then, we introduced girls’ clothes to him and every day, we made him choose between clean, frilly, baby girl outfits, or his boy clothes that gave him away as a poopy diaper boy.  It took weeks before he could make that decision without tears in his eyes.”  

“Yes, we’re sure.  We would like him treated and dressed like a little boy.”

“Some of the clothes and diapers we have here are pink, but not really girly, will that be OK?”

“That will be just fine,” Mom chimed in, “He wore pink sometimes as a baby, and little ones are too young to care about that stuff.  Just no dresses, girly hair styles, or anything like that, please.” 

I had already learned that it was, in fact, possible to take someone’s age away and turn them into a baby, but it had not occurred to me that a boy could have his masculinity taken away as if it was a toy or game.  I suddenly felt a small bit appreciative to my parents that they allowed me to keep that last bit of dignity and didn’t sign me up to be treated like a two year-old girl.  The next questions came quickly and Mom and Dad went back and forth answering them.

“Is he old enough to walk, or is he still crawling?”

“He can walk, but not very well yet.  We had to hold his hands just to get him from the changing table to this room.”

“How about talking, how is Boo Boo coming along with that?” 

“He knows a lot of words already, and most of them aren’t nice, as you’ve heard.  It would probably be best if he keeps his pacifier in most of the time.”

“I couldn’t agree more.  And onto feeding.  Our normal meal routine involves a variety of bottles, baby foods, vegetables, and even chicken nuggets or cut-up pizza for special rewards.  Does that sound good?”

“That sounds fantastic, but I should tell you, whatever was in those bottles we had did not agree with Boo Boo’s tummy, as you could tell from how much he went poopy.  He had trouble with formula as a baby, and it looks like he still does.”

“That won’t be a problem, we have other options for his baba.  Next, you’re OK with him playing outside on the playground?”

“Definitely.  Little ones need exercise and play time.”

“And you know that we take our Bunnies into town once in a while, right?  You’re OK with him being seen as a Bunny Scout publicly?”

“That won’t be a problem any more than it was the first time he was a baby, except for maybe trying to find a place to change his diaper.” 

I should have expected something like this, but I still couldn’t believe that they were customizing all of the horrible details of this punishment right in front of me.  I couldn’t say anything, I couldn’t walk away, and I could barely even look away.  Everything I could see brought a crushing reminder of my helpless situation, from the conversation happening before me, to my hands enclosed in the rabbit mittens, to the row of oversized high chairs against the wall.  My feet slipped once again and the bouncer renewed it’s springing action as it caught my weight.  The situation was humiliating enough, but Mom had to make it even worse.

“That is so cute!  I can hear his baby diaper crinkling as he’s playing on his new toy.” 

“You should hear it when we have all the Bunnies in one room, it sounds just like a bunch of babies crawling and toddling around.  And speaking of diapers, let’s start on that section because there’s a lot to get through here.  You want him diapered all of the time for both pee pee and poopy, right?”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

“And while Boo Boo is here, do you want us to focus on getting him to a point where he needs to wear diapers when he leaves?”

Mom and Dad looked at each other and silently agreed on something, before Mom answered, 

“Yes.  We’re going to try starting over with Boo Boo, so when we come back to get him, we would like to pick up a baby boy who still needs Mommy and Daddy to change his dirty diapers.” 

Even with the irremovable pacifier in my mouth, I shouted in objection.  Mom had said something in the car about needing to re-potty train, but she didn’t mention that her decision would deliberately cause it.  I continued to yell as loudly as possible because it was the last thing I could do to take back some sense of personal authority.  I couldn’t even wave my arms nor stomp my feet, I could only scream into the gag until drool leaked out of the pacifier and fell down my chin.  I knew it was useless, but I had to do something to interrupt this messed game of treating me like a doll.  

Mom stood up and walked over to me, and after she wiped my face clean, she started to gently pet my cheek while explaining:

“Don’t be upset, Boo Boo, this is necessary.  Your father and I have read that we might have potty trained you too soon, and since you were too young to remember it, you didn’t have an opportunity to really bond with us over that first big hurdle.  We believe that this led to you forming ideas of independence from your parents way too early, and that’s the root cause for all of your bad behaviors.  So we’re going to try it again, OK?  We’ll be there to take care of your diapers, wipe your butt, and cheer you on when you make your first tinkles in the potty.  It might be a long journey, but Mommy and Daddy will be there for you.”

By the time she had finished speaking, my muffled shouts had turned to soft whimpering and I had begun crying again.  I had already had enough of diapers after only half a day, how can they force me to keep wearing them?  With how gross that was, how can they want me fully back in diapers?  When was I ever going to get to use a toilet again?  

“Oh, Honey, you’re a regular tear fountain today,” She continued, wiping my face again, “It will all be OK, don’t you worry.  You’ll get used to the feeling of filling up your diapers until you’ll wonder how you ever managed to go to the potty, and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that.”

She gave a tug on the bouncer to get me moving again before walking back to her chair, and as I sat there swaying in the air, I looked at Dad through my blurry eyes, wishing for him to save me.

“Hey now, don’t me that look, Kiddo.  I know you’re a tough guy, so you’ll get through this.  If you can handle getting into trouble and fights all the time, you can handle dirtying your diaper in front of your parents on a daily basis.”

“And that is the truth.”  Caroline said to punctuate the ordeal.  “Now, related to the diapers, we need to talk about diaper changes.  All Bunnies get a diaper change after breakfast and we will talk about that soon, but how do you want any other changes to go?  Do you want Boo Boo to be able to ask for a change?  Do you want changes to only happen after random diaper checks?  We can also do set changing times every day.  What are you thinking?”

Dad answered this question with, “Diaper checks are OK, but I want him to ask for changes too.  It should do him some good to swallow his pride and have to ask for clean pants like a toddler.”

“That’s right, and it also helps to normalize the wearing of diapers.  Diaper checks and scheduled changes work well too, but a Bunny who asks for a change is consciously accepting and admitting that their diaper is dirty and it was they who had peed and poopied in it.  That helps towards our goal of having Boo Boo lose his potty control because it turns dirty diapers and changes into something as routine as us grown-ups going to the bathroom.  Once Bunnies have lost the shame of asking for a change, the shame of wetting and messing themselves has likely passed too.” 

“That sounds like a good system, we’ll do that.”

“Related to that, we also do something called “tells” if you’re interested.  Any parent knows the face or stance their baby makes when peeing or pooping, so we’ve included that here by rewarding Bunnies who announce when they’re using their diapers.  It’s usually a simple phrase like “I’m going potty!”, and if a Bunny says it, they get an immediate diaper change, but if they don’t, their change is delayed for a half an hour from the time they ask for it.”  

“But what about if he’s got his pacifier in?”

“Not a problem at all.  We have a silent, universal tell that all the bunnies learn so they can signal what they’re doing even if they’re on quiet time.  They hold their hands up like Boo Boo’s are, stick their bums out, and wiggle them.  It’s absolutely the cutest thing to see and we’ll make sure you get to watch him learn it tomorrow.  What’s even better is when he finally starts having real accidents, you can see him dance and tell in a panicked hurry only after he realizes he’s peeing.”

“I think that’s wonderful,” Mom added, “For his tells, what about ‘Mommy, I’m going wee wee’ and ‘Mommy, I’m going poopy’?  That would be adorable to hear Boo Boo say those every time he needs to go.”

New tears were threatening to overflow from my eyes and my face almost felt swollen from how red it was.  As if all of this wasn’t bad enough, now they’re going to make me dance and humiliate myself even further just for a diaper change.

“Those will be perfect.” Caroline said, scribbling down the ridiculous phrases Mom just said.  “And for nighttime, if Bunnies need a change in their cribs, they need to cry for it.  I don’t mean yell or holler, I mean properly cry about their dirty diaper.  This doesn’t seem like it will be a problem for a cry-baby like Boo Boo, but I thought I should mention it.  Look at him now, he’s about to start sobbing just from us talking about his stinky diapers.”

She was right.  I couldn’t hold back the tears anymore and they were silently falling down my blushy cheeks.  After this whole day, I was surprised that I hadn’t cried myself completely dry, but maybe Caroline was telling the truth.  Maybe I am just a cry-baby. 

“And as for the morning change for all Bunnies, this is how it works,” she started again, standing up and walking towards me.  Grabbing my shoulder, she turned me around backwards and continued,

“In the living room, we have our Potty Time Circle.  Every day after breakfast, we bring our Bunnies in here, they’re laid down on the floor in a circle, and we attach a safety strap to them.  The strap only allows them enough movement to get onto their hands and knees, and they stay in the circle until every single one of them has gone potty in their diaper.  We do this in a circle so each Bunny can see, and be seen whimpering, moaning, and crying as they do their baby business without any privacy at all.  It’s all part of our philosophy of turning dirty diapers into the most normal thing possible.”

Just when I thought that was it, the description of this torture chamber went on. 

“We also have a rolling schedule of each Bunny getting a regular enema to make sure nobody is constipated, and on any given Bunny’s turn, they get to be in the center of the circle to release it.  Won’t that be fun, Boo Boo?  You’re number seven here now, so once a week, you get to mess yourself in the center of six other Bunnies who are all doing the same thing.  And I bet you’re thinking that you’re somehow going to beat this, right?  Somehow, pooping your diaper won’t become as easy as using a fork or throwing a ball?  All Bunnies think that at first, Boo Boo, but I guarantee that in six months, you’ll be jealous of most preschool kids’ potty training.”

The tears continued to fall as she let me go, and I spun back the other way to see Caroline take her seat at the table.  Returning her attention to my parents, she finished,

“Once everyone has gone potty, they all get a change.  If anyone decides to fill their diaper before breakfast or the Potty Time Circle, they still have to sit in it until every other Bunny is done, and then they will be changed in front of everyone else.  We also stick to scheduled meals that keep our Bunnies regular and need of a poopy around breakfast time every morning.”

“That is quite the system.”

“It is elaborate, but as I said, it’s designed to make something like a big, stinky diaper as normal as turning on the TV.  It also exists so that our Bunnies know that we are in charge, and there is nothing we have not thought of.  But in the case Boo Boo forgets that, why don’t we move on to punishments.”

Punishments?  Wasn’t this whole thing a punishment?

“We’ve already had to cover spankings and the pacifier trick, but here’s a full list for you two, and you can check the punishments that you would like us to use if Boo Boo is naughty.  We’re not going to talk about them, though, so they stay a surprise for him.”

That worried me enough, but then I started hearing the comments from Mom and Dad as they read the list:

“Oh, wow.”

“Um, OK.”

“That doesn’t sound fun.”

And so forth, until they had made their mysterious check marks and set the pen back down.  Looking at the list, Caroline said,

“I appreciate your willingness to step outside the box for this.  Unconventional problem children call for unconventional punishments, after all.  Finally, we have our last section, and it can be a little awkward with Boo Boo still in the room, but this is related to personal pleasure.”

That caught my attention.  I had already been stripped of all the privacy and personal agency that one would expect from someone my age, but are they really going to talk about that?

“I understand that Boo Boo is old enough to feel big boy feelings, but how do you want us to deal with those?  Some parents think being a Bunny Scout should be 100% punishment and want their bunny in controlled chastity, others think it’s more appropriate to give their Bunny a choice in the matter, but to punish any naughty actions.  There’s also a third group that lets their Bunnies have as much fun in their diapers as they want, treating it as a means of associating pleasure with wearing a diaper.  We’ve taken that a step further and we offer devices that vibrate when they detect wetness, delivering immediate positive reinforcement for using their diapers like good Bunnies.”  

I looked at each of the three people in the room and my face was red again, but this time from a different kind of embarrassment. 

“I’m going to defer to you on this one.”  Mom said, putting up her hands.

Dad sighed and said, “Let’s not mess with that too much.  He’s not here for fun, so naughty behaviors should be punished, but let’s leave it up to him to decide whether it’s worth it or not.  I think we have to leave one thing for Boo Boo to personally work on over the next six months.”

“That’ll work.” Caroline said, flipping to the final page in the stack of papers, “That concludes all of the questions we need you to answer, and all of the general rules and expectations of the Bunny Scouts are in the original paperwork you received.  If you’re content with the decisions we’ve made, I’ll just have both of you sign here, and Boo Boo will officially be one of our Bunnies.”

I watched Mom look at the paper for a few seconds, pick up the pen, and sign the document with no additional hesitation.  I screamed from behind the pacifier in one last desperate attempt to get them to reconsider this lunacy, but I was ignored.  My heart was pounding as she passed the pen and papers over to Dad.  Deep down, I knew they weren’t going to turn back now after everything that had happened, but I was still so anxious, hoping this would stop and I would find out this has all been a big prank.

I stared at him sitting there, reading and re-reading the last page in suspense.  Every passing second increased my stress, until, without saying a word, he reached out to grab the pen.  As he clicked it, I was driven over the edge and nervously let a sudden rush of pee escape, but I wasn’t concerned with that.  All I could watch was the way the pen glided across the line, leaving the signature that would resign me to half a year as a diaper baby.

With a flourish of a pen, my fate was sealed, and I watched the permanent ink soak into the paper as the last drops of my accident soaked into my diaper.  

END OF PART 1