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by Keith D. Fraser
I was seething with frustration. Maybe I'm just not cut out for sales, I thought. Anyway, Tiny Time and I were parting company for good this time. I bolted for the elevator and made my way to the first floor. Once outside, I took a final glance at the offices at which I'd worked for the past five years. I'd had it with baby furniture. The new quota system was just the final straw.
I rounded the front of the building and headed down the alleyway that lead to the park area that separated Tiny Time's offices from the subway-stop a few blocks north. I made a beeline diagonally across the park area, towards the buildings at the corner of May and Lucas. As I walked, I began to calm myself. It was a beautiful summer's day and the park was full of people soaking up the sun and fresh air. With my frustration abating, I decided to stop and ponder my situation a little more carefully. Should I really pack it in? I'd felt this way before and hadn't.
I sat down at a bench near the corner of the park. The bench overlooked a fenced area at the back of one of the buildings. Inside the fence, children were playing on playground equipment. The equipment drew my attention. This was a conditioned response, I suppose. I sold this kind of equipment and I subconsciously took note of brands and styles wherever I encountered it. Since I sold into the wholesale end of the business, I rarely saw my equipment in use. A lot of it ended up in private daycare and commercial establishments like play centers at fast food restaurants.
Most of the equipment on the other side of the fence was toddler equipment like wooden ducks on springs and small teeter-totters. Both were big sellers in my territory. Some of the children playing were of kindergarten age, but a majority were toddlers, just the right age for this equipment. It seemed ironic that I sold so much of this stuff, but rarely got to see it being used.
As I looked on passively, lost in my own thoughts, I became aware that I too was under scrutiny. A small boy had wandered over to the fence adjacent to where I was sitting. He bend down and picked up a small toy, one of those plastic animal figures that makes a squeak when it's squeezed. He was wearing a little white tee shirts, the kind that people buy as souvenirs when on vacation or at sporting events. This one said "Do it in the dirt" and had the image of a dirt bike on the back. He also wore loose fitting cotton track pants, the kind of thing that adults wear around the house to be comfortable. His was toddler sized, of course, and had an almost designer look in the way it complemented the tee shirt.
As the boy bent over to pick up his toy, the top of his underclothing thrust itself above the top of his sweat pants. For an instant, I found myself staring at the top of his diaper. Let me be clear, I'm not a pervert and I'm not in the habit of ogling small children. But at that instant a strange irony occurred to me. Even though this little boy was dressed in a diaper and imprisoned inside that fence, in a strange sense, he had more freedom than I. He had no quotas to meet and no car payments to make. No one expected anything from him. He could sleep when he wanted, play when he wanted, even empty his bladder whenever he wanted. Someone else made his meals, washed his clothes, and turned down his bed.
Of course, there's a price he had to pay for this freedom. I mean, would you want to walk around with your pants full of shit? When you're two years old, maybe you don't think about things like that very much. But for everyone else, it's not a pretty sight. He has no privacy, no toilet, and no dignity. I certainly didn't envy him that part. But as far as the rest, I'd change places with him at the drop of a hat.
As I pondered this thought, I strange thing happened. I felt a blast of warm air. At the same instant, the boy straightened up, For a second, I thought I was imagining it, but something happening behind me caught my attention. I turned by head to see what was going on. Some weird weather phenomena seemed to be happening at the far side of the park along the path where I'd walked. It looked like a heat-pressure wave or maybe a tornado. I'd never seen either before.
It was as if the ground was a carpet and a wrinkle was flowing across the park toward me. I blinked, thinking it must be something in my eyes. I instinctively turned my head back toward the fence, intending to pivot my whole body to get a better look at what was taking place. As I did this, my eyes locked with the little boy's eyes and an instant later the ground seemed to heave beneath me. I suddenly felt my body pitching forward and I had a sensation of falling. As I fell forward, I was aware of the little boy beside me on the other side of the fence. He seemed to be pitching forward, as if a rug had been pulled from beneath him.
For a moment there was darkness. I gradually regained my senses and realized that I was on my hands and knees on the ground. I felt a burning sensation in the palms of may hands. I must have really gone down for the count, I thought. My first instinct was to stand up. My head felt groggy and I wobbled as I forced myself to a standing position. "I better sit down or I might fall", I thought. I began to bend at the waist, as if to sit down on the bench, when I realized that there was no bench. Still groggy, I stood looking where the bench had been unable to comprehend what was happening.
Some movement nearby caught my attention, and I instinctively glanced in the direction of the fence. A man was crouching on the other side of the fence. No, he wasn't crouching, he was on his hands and knees. He seemed to be in some distress. I reached out to grasp the fence in an attempt to steady myself. As I did, the man seemed to become aware of my presence. He turned his head in my direction and I gazed into his face. I knew that this face was familiar, but in my grogginess, I couldn't quite place it.
The man tried to stand up. For a moment, it seemed that he had succeeded. I could see mud stained tears in the knees of his pants. The palms of his hands were dirty and he seemed disoriented. At that instant, his unsteadiness got the better of him and he sat backwards. Missing the bench entirely, he sat down on the ground where he had been prostrated before. For a moment he sat there in silence, wearing a stunned expression on his face, and then suddenly he began to cry.
As I stood bracing myself with the fence, my head began to clear a little. I began to realize that something was very wrong. I looked about me. Somehow, the phenomena had thrown me or moved me inside the fence. It also seemed to have caught this man off guard, for he seemed to have been thrown to the ground, just as I had been.
I glanced at the man as he sat on the ground sobbing softly. The tears streamed pitifully down his face. I felt sorry for him. As I stared into his face, for the second time, a moment of clarity swept over me. I recognized this face. It wasn't the face of some stranger, it wasn't the face of a friend or an acquaintance. This was a face I had seen a thousand times. This was a face I had grown up with. This was MY face.
I stood in stunned silence, unable to comprehend the reality of what I was seeing. If that was "me" on the other side of the fence, who was standing on this side of the fence. I glanced down at my feet. I was wearing stubby looking sneakers with Velcro fasteners. Rather than the tan colored Dockers I had put on that morning, I was wearing navy colored track pants and a white tee shirt.
I let go of the fence and stood fully upright. I reached down and felt around my crotch. My abdomen was clad in a thick padding, much too bulky to be the boxer shorts, I had put on that morning. I stuck my hand down inside the sweat pants to investigate further and immediately felt the unmistakably pliability and smoothness of vinyl. I was wearing what seemed to be plastic pants. Overcome with shock and revulsion, I immediately withdrew my hand and examined it more closely. It looked small, with stubby fingers. There was a moment of panic. I realized that somehow my body had become a child's body.
I turned and scanned the fenced enclosure in which I now found myself imprisoned. There were children everywhere. I was somehow inside the daycare enclosure, trapped inside a child's body. How could this be?
My mind began to race. I tried desperately to remember the previous few minutes. My memory was hazy, I could only recall fragments of that time. I had been sitting on the bench, outside the fence, thinking about something and watching a little boy. There had been a noise behind me, I had turned to investigate, and had been knocked to the ground. I must have been knocked unconscious. My next memory was of being inside the fence.
Then it occurred to me, if I was inside the body of the little boy, he must be inside mine? I turned to examine the man--my body--sitting on the ground, on the other side of the fence. He had stopped crying and had begun pulling himself to his feet. This time, with the help of the fence, he succeeded. Fully upright now, he stood towering over me. He seemed huge. I barely reached his knees. He stood for a moment, supported by the fence.
Unnerved by his size, I unconsciously stepped backwards, away from the fence. Now it was my turn to be unsteady. Lacking the support of the fence, I lost my balance and fell backwards, landing clumsily on the ground on my behind. For a moment, I sat dazed.
As my head cleared, my gaze again returned to the man on the other side of the fence. He stood motionless supported by the fence with an expression on his face that I can best describe as bewilderment. He shook the fence a little as if trying to break through it. He appeared to want to get inside. He continued shaking the fence. Then he stopped and the expression on his face changed to one of concentration. He squirmed a little, as if adjusting his clothing or his posture.
At that moment, I noticed a stain begin to form in the crotch of his pants. At first it was small, but as the seconds passed, it grew larger and began to spread down the inseam of his pants. The stain continued to grow, until most of the front of his trousers was drenched and the stain extended down in the front past his knees. Anger and frustration spread over me as I witnessed this display. A toddler had been given control of my body, and the first thing he'd done was empty my bladder into my cotton Dockers.
As I pondered the situation, an alarming thought occurred to me. Giving this child control of my body was like giving a twelve-year-old the keys to a Porsche. What if he was unable to control it properly? What if he damaged it? I knew instinctively that I needed to get back into my body. I wanted it to remain in good shape, while I was absent.
At this point, my worst fear was realized. The boy seemed to lose interest in rattling the fence and started to wander away from the bench. I was afraid to have him out of my sight. I called after him, "Hey, come back here!" This was the first time I had attempted to speak. I was surprised by the soft tenor of my voice. My speech seemed garbled and difficult to understand. Nonetheless, the toddler heard my sounds and they seemed to capture his attention. He returned to the fence and again began to rattle it.
By this time, all the commotion began to draw the attention of people nearby in the park. Some seemed to be watching the goings on, while others seemed to be ambivalent in the way city dwellers are when witnessing abnormal behavior by fellow citizens. One of the women inside the fenced enclosure also took notice and made the trek over to the fence to investigate.
The toddler had quieted for the moment. He was standing adjacent to the fence peering through the wire with a goofy look on his face and the front of his pants soaked with urine. The woman immediately took charge of the situation. "Sir, are you alright?" No answer. "Sir, is anything wrong?" she asked again. Still no reply.
At this point, the woman seemed to realize the seriousness of the situation. She turned from the fence, bent over, and placing a hand under each of my arms, she hoisted me to a standing position. She then rotated me and with a gentle shove from behind, scooted me away from the fence. "Mathew, you go play with the other children now, OK?"
The momentum of her push carried me far away from the fence. This caught me off guard. Loath to be separated too much from my body, I turned around as fast as I could and headed back to the fence. By this time, others had gathered by the fence to gawk.
A short while later, a policeman arrived on the scene and an investigation began. "Is there a problem here, sir?" the policeman asked. The toddler had yet to utter a word and continued to maintain his silence. He looked a pitiful sight and when a second policeman arrived on the scene, an ambulance was called. When the ambulance arrived, my body with the toddler inside it was hustled inside and in the blink of an eye, it was gone. The policemen lingered only long enough to get statements from bystanders and then they too were gone.
I stood by the fence in stunned silence. Just like that, my body was gone. Nearby two caregivers were discussing what had happened. "Did you see that guy, Kim?" one of them asked. "I was over by the slide when it all started. I guess he was sitting on the bench, then there was that sonic boom. A few minutes later, I looked over again, and he was acting really strange. He fell on the ground, I think. Did you see? He peed his pants!" The other caregiver nodded. "No I didn't see how it started. I just saw him rattling the fence, then they came and took him away. Nothing like that has ever happened here before. Weird that something like this would happen on your first day, Lisa."
The second caregiver continued, "Anyway, let's finish reviewing the schedule. It's about 9:30 now. When the weather is nice, like today, we keep the children outside until about 10:00. Then we move them inside, do potty and diapers, then we give them snack. At about 10:30 we do circle for a while, then there's free playtime which takes us to noon. Just before lunch we do diapers again, and then we give them lunch. After lunch most of the children nap for one or two hours. By 2:00, some of the children begin waking. Most will need changing after their nap. Then it's free playtime until the parents arrive. We do diapers again just before parents arrive, so the children go home clean. They're all supposed to be gone by 6:00, but there are sometimes stragglers. We take turns staying late with the stragglers."
Overhearing this conversation gave me a cold shiver down my spine. I knew that I needed to come up with a plan to get out of this situation. I needed to do some serious thinking. I looked around the enclosure for a private spot where I would be undisturbed. At the northeast corner of the compound, I noticed a plastic playhouse. Ironically, I had just delivered a shipment of exactly the same model of playhouse to Tiny Time's warehouse the previous day. I wondered, if this was one of those. Of course, it couldn't possibly be. This one had obviously been here for some time. But nonetheless, the irony of the situation was hard to ignore. I had wanted to escape from the playhouse business and now I found myself using a playhouse to try to escape from the playhouse business. It would have been funny, if the implications weren't so serious.
I toddled across the enclosure in the direction of the playhouse. When I reached it, I pulled open the door and stepped inside. It seemed so spacious. From a child's perspective, it looked like a real little house on the inside. It had windows and a door and even some play kitchen appliances. If it had been raining, it might even have been dry shelter. I closed the door behind me and sat down on the grassy floor. For the first time since this all began, I felt a measure of privacy. Now it was time to think.
What exactly had happened to me? I was sitting on the bench, there had been some kind of phenomena, and I had ended up switching bodies with that toddler. This situation, I thought, was kind of reminiscent of an X-File episode in which Mulder switches bodies with a G-man. But that was just a TV program. No one could rationally believe that something like that could happen in real life. Nonetheless, exactly that seemed to have happened to me. So how had the episode turned out? As I recalled, in the end, the same phenomena had reoccurred at exactly the same location, and Mulder and the G-man were returned to their respective bodies. It seemed far-fetched, but maybe the same thing could happen to me. I hoped so anyway because I couldn't imagine how else I could get back to my real body. For this to work, of course, 1) the boy would need to return my body to the fence, 2) I would need to be there at the same time, and 3) the phenomena would have to reoccur. I had no idea how to engineer these circumstances, but somehow I just had to. In the meantime, I was trapped inside this child's body and would have to make the best of the situation. What should I do next?
At that moment, the door of the playhouse swung open. I was about to discover that personal privacy was a commodity that didn't really exist in the baby world. In stumbled a little boy. He was probably about my age or I mean the age of my new body. He mumbled some unintelligible syllables and then planted himself beside me. I tried to reply, "Hi little guy. What are you up to?" but all that came out was gobbledygook.
At that instant, I caught a whiff coming from his direction. He smelled like the south-end of a manure truck headed north. This little guy had obviously soiled his pants. In the confines of the little playhouse, the odor seemed to be amplified. Phew, I had to get out of there quick, so I pushed open the door and escaped to the outside.
This incident was a sobering experience. It struck home a point that, up until now, I hadn't considered. I was in basically the same situation as that little boy. There were no toilets out in this play area and there would probably be none inside either, at least none that would be accessible to me. No matter how stiff a resistance I put up, eventually I would need to empty my bladder and bowels. I needed some contingency. I needed some way to minimize the indignity of this situation. What were my options?
Clearly, I couldn't resist the need for too long. That would be unhealthy. But at the same time, I didn't want to casually walk around like that little boy, with my pants full of shit, waiting for someone to smell me and then clean me up. Yuck, what a humiliating experience that would be. That's when an idea occurred to me. Maybe I could find a secluded corner somewhere where I'd go unnoticed. I could pull down my pants and dump my load on a newspaper or some discarded wrapping. There was a garbage can by the entrance to the enclosure. I would simply discard my waste there. Pee would be even easier. I could go just about anywhere, as long as there was grass and no one was looking. If I was vigilant, I might be able to get out of this situation hassle-free.
With this objective in mind, I began to scout the compound. I needed to anyway, because I was beginning to feel early symptoms of a full bladder. It began with a bloated sensation in my abdomen. At the same time, I had a sick, nervous feeling in the pit of my stomach. There was urgency to these sensations that seemed more intense as a toddler, then as an adult. It was as if the body I was in was accustomed to responding to its needs in a particular way and was unaccustomed to taking orders. I knew I would have to act quickly.
I soon discovered that the most private place available was either inside the playhouse or just behind it. But first, I needed to find some newspapers or other suitable packaging. I started to scout the compound, looking for what I needed. Things started to go wrong almost from the start. First problem, I couldn't find any newspaper or wrapping. The compound was squeaky clean. Lots of toys and play equipment, but no discarded paper products were to be found anywhere. Maybe I could pick something out of the garbage, I thought. I waddled over to the garbage can and took a look inside. Much to my disappointment, the garbage can was empty.
At that moment, the sensations coming from my abdomen became intense. At first it was just a feeling of urgency, like I felt as an adult with a full bladder. Within a minute or two, it felt like far more than just urgency. I really needed to go badly. No problem, I thought, I'll head over behind the playhouse, pull down my pants and pee there out of sight of everyone. Then, I'll just pull my pants back up and no one will be the wiser. I started to waddle across the compound working my way carefully through the gaggle of children playing in the center of the play area. It seemed to take longer than I anticipated and by the time I reached the playhouse I was in real trouble.
I was beginning to have serious doubts that I would make it in time. Somehow I did, and as I discreetly stepped behind the playhouse, I was already engaged in the process of removing my clothing. The track pants were the first piece of clothing I took off. They were loose fitting and I quickly had them pulled down to below my knees. This was my first time taking these pants off, so I looked down to survey what I would need to do next.
As I had suspected, I was wearing some kind of waterproof wrap. It seemed to be made of a soft vinyl material, and was gathered with elastic at the top and leg openings. It was held in place with Velcro fasteners attached to flaps that were pulled tightly across the front. I grabbed one of the tabs and gave it a tug. It hardly budged. It was much tighter than I had expected. I gave it a second tug and with considerable difficulty detached it from its mooring. I let go of it and the wrap seemed to flap loosely on one side.
I then immediately started to try to unfasten the other side. Then it occurred to me that this was unnecessary. With one side undone I should be able to simply slide it down. I grabbed the side that was still fastened with one hand and the front with the other hand and with one great heave, I pushed the wrap down so that it rested on top of the track pants hanging beneath my knees.
Now there was only one component remaining, the diaper itself. I looked down to survey what I was up against. My abdomen was encased in a fluffy white cloth, pulled tightly into my crotch and held in place on both sides of my waist by pins. Oh no, safety pins! I might have trouble getting these out. I took a deep breath and began fumbling with the right side pin.
First I tried to slip back the little blue cover to expose the release mechanism. This was difficult, but I succeeded. Next I tried to release the pin itself. I knew I'd only need to remove one, then I could just slide the whole arrangement down. Stonewall! I couldn't get the pin to release. I knew how it worked, but I just didn't seem to have the strength and coordination to accomplish the task. I tried fruitlessly for a moment and then suddenly came to the conclusion that the situation was hopeless.
This was a low point for me spiritually. My inability to remove the pins would be a showstopper. I was so close and yet so far. My bladder suddenly began giving me red alert signals. I had no contingency for this situation. I stood there for a moment naked from waist to knees, desperately trying to restrain my bladder. It remained inactive for a moment and this gave my spirits a lift. Then suddenly and spontaneously, it began to empty. It began first with a dribble, then as the seconds passed, the process seemed to accelerate. As it continued, I began to feel relief from the pressure and urgency that I had been feeling before. The feeling of release was accompanied by a tingling sensation, and a warm, pleasant feeling enveloped my abdomen.
At this point the body in which I was imprisoned took charge. My eyes closed and I felt completely relaxed. The flow seemed to reach equilibrium and I wiggled from side-to-side, as if performing some ritual pee dance. Freed from the containment of the wrap, the diaper drooped generously at my waist, while my penis swished around loosely inside like an out of control fire hose squirting urine everywhere.
After a few seconds, I became aware of leakage as a warm trickle of urine began running down the inside of my legs. For the moment, none of this seemed to matter. The little body was in complete control, and it was doing what it was accustomed to doing. In return for compliance, it was rewarding me with an exquisite array of sensations that I'd never experienced while urinating as an adult. These feelings were more than simply physical sensations. A part of my mind was actively involved and urging me to continue. It was as if my mind was telling me that I was doing the right thing. The more I let go, the more it seemed to reinforce this point, by accentuating the pleasure sensations.
Gradually, the flow began to diminish and then stop entirely. With the urgency gone and the pressure relieved, I stood motionless in a blissful trance. The sensation of urinating had been intensely pleasureful, and now I was basking in the warm, comfortable feeling that followed its completion. As the seconds passed, the physical sensations of pleasure were gradually replaced with a more cerebral kind of pleasure. I was in my own little world and I had done exactly what I wanted. I vaguely remembered putting up some kind of resistance. But, at that moment, I couldn't imagine wanting to resist something that felt so nice. Anyway, I'd done a good thing and I felt satisfied. That was the important thing. This body and I were a team and we'd really gotten the job done.
A short time later my senses returned. I looked around. Where was I? I remembered then that I had been standing behind the playhouse, trying to unfasten a diaper pin. I felt a cold shiver of terror ripple down my spine. I looked down and realized the full gravity of what I'd just done. A soft beige color with a subtle yellow aura had replaced what had previously been the bright, almost florescent whiteness of the diaper. It's neat, trim appearance was now gone. It seemed to hang loosely in an unkempt, mottled fashion. There was no mitigating the situation. I had drenched my clothing in urine.
This was another low point for me spiritually. It wasn't just the fact that I'd wet myself. It was that I'd done it voluntarily. In fact, I'd enjoyed doing it. It was as if part of me, the adult me, was slipping away. Now I understood what I was up against. I wasn't just battling to get my body back; I was fighting to maintain a sense of my real identity. I gritted my teeth with determination.
As quickly as that, the feelings of defeat were gone. Suddenly it occurred to me that I might still be able to save the day. If I could get those pins unfastened, I could remove the wet diaper and discretely stash it some place along with the wrap. The next time one of those women checked me, they would see that I wasn't wearing a diaper and they'd realize that I didn't really need one. At the same time, I'd explain to them the situation, that I wasn't really a baby and that I'd swapped bodies with the toddler they called Mathew. They might even be able to help me find my real body. Yes, I realized. It would be far more productive to enlist their help, than to try to do it clandestinely all by myself. I resolved to come clean with these women and explain to them the real situation.
Yes, I know what you're thinking. This was all completely crazy. I was deluding myself. Under the circumstances, no one would believe any of this story, even if I was able to communicate it to them. But I wasn't thinking clearly. I didn't know it then, but my mind was beginning to experience the first stages of what could be called "turbocharged brain syndrome."
Time seemed to be slowed down while I was in that toddler's body. What must have been minutes seemed to be much longer. I realized later that, in fact, it wasn't that time was slowing down, it was that this toddler's brain was operating faster than my adult brain. It was as if it was free of the inertia of knowledge and experience, and was making decisions rapidly and impulsively. In addition to the speed, it was hyper-sensitized to my senses. It was as if every sound, color, smell and sensation was amplified. That is why that little boy's pants had smelled so bad inside the playhouse. It was also why I'd found the sensation of urinating so pleasureful and why I had done it with so little hesitation. This mind was turbocharged and l was beginning to realize just how hard it would be to control.
"What are you doing over here all by yourself, Mathew?" I turned with a start. Towering above me was that older woman, I think her name was Kim. "Have you been trying to take your pants off Mathew? You know I don't like it when you do that. You might make a big mess. Here, let's get you put back together." Kim bent down and grabbed hold of the wrap. She pulled it up over my abdomen and deftly fastened the Velcro tab in the front. Next she slipped the track pants back up and over my buttocks and gave me a gentle pat on the rear. "There we go Mathew. You're in pretty good shape now. You head over and play with the other children. We'll soon be going inside. OK?"
I stood for a second dumfounded. This was not how I had expected things to go. I hesitated for an instant more and then decided that I better try to communicate the situation to this woman immediately. I tried to speak. "Hello, Kim. That's your name isn't it?" The words came out kind of garbled, but seemed to get Kim's attention. She looked down at me. She seemed surprised. There was silence for a second. "Mathew, you can say real words now. Your mommy didn't tell me that. You sure are getting to be a big boy aren't you?" This was not the response I expected. I tried again. "Look Kim, I'm not Mathew. My name is Alex. Something weird happened to me and I've traded bodies with Mathew."
Again my words came out kind of garbled and it occurred to me that Kim might not understand what I'd just said. This was a moment of silent panic, during which I didn't know what to do and then Kim responded. "I know Mathew, diapers are a real bother. But Kim can't let you take them off. You're a very messy little boy when you play with things and your pants aren't a toy. They wouldn't be fun to play with anyway. There are lots of other toys you could play with though." She reached down and picked up the string from a small plastic pull toy that sat abandoned beside the playhouse. She handed me the end of the string. "See. Here is a very fun toy. If you pull this string, the little dog will follow you around just like a real dog. Isn't this a fun looking toy, Mathew?"
Again I was dumfounded. Then frustration replaced the sense of panic. "I'm going to try to speak very clearly. I'm not Mathew, OK? I'm just trapped in his body and I don't like being treated like a child. OK?" Again my words came out garbled, but I knew that the note of defiance in my voice came through loud and clear. This woman would have to know that I meant business.
Kim stared at me again for a moment as if trying to understand what I'd just said. Then a look of revelation followed by concern appeared on her face. "Mathew, are you uncomfortable?" Without waiting for a reply, she bent over. Placing her left hand against my back she push-pulled me forward, so that my face was pressed tightly into the space between the front of her thighs, just above her knees.
For a moment I was completely ensnared and unable to breath as she held me in place with her mass and her strength. Then having positioned me where she wanted, she seemed to loosen the pressure on my back. I instinctively tilted my head back gasping for air and then looked up in an attempt to see what she was doing. Her size resulted in some overhang and instead of looking up into her face, I realized that I was looking directly up into her crotch. I could see the outline of her labia silhouetted in her pants only inches away from my face.
With the realization of what I was looking at, I also became conscious of the delicate aroma of her vagina. The sights and smells of Kim's female anatomy seemed to surround me like muggy air on a hot, humid day. This brought my adult male instincts to the surface and I began to experience sexual arousal. At that same moment, I felt Kim's left hand slide down my back until it rested just above the top of my buttocks. Her right hand brushed across my back, and then came to rest so it completely covering my behind. She seemed to be holding the seat of my pants in the palm of her right hand and then I felt a squeeze.
For a second, I though she was squeezing my buttocks and a torrent of erotic feelings burst forward. I wriggled involuntarily and then raised myself on my tiptoes drawing my face closer to her vagina. Pressing my face directly into her crotch, I inhaled deeply her intoxicating female aroma. With erotic thoughts swirling in my brain, I withdrew my face, again gasping for air.
As oxygen began returning to my brain and my senses returned, it occurred to me that she was not actually squeezing my buttocks afterall. Instead she was squeezing my pants. At that instant, she removed her hand from my behind, and stuck the thumb of her right hand under the elastic at the back of my pants. As she pulled them open, I felt cool air rush down to meet the warm, dampness under the wrap. Still aroused, I tilted my head further back until I could see her face. I looked into her face, fully expecting to see it radiating sexual passion. Instead she wore a dispassionate, but inquisitive expression and rather than looking into my face, she seemed to be peering down my back.
It occurred to me, at that moment, that although I was having erotic feelings, Kim was not. I felt confused. How could this woman be so dispassionate with a handsome, virile man's face pressed into her crotch? Not only was she dispassionate, she showed no embarrassment or sense of modesty at having my face there. As I pondered this display of nonchalance, it dawned on me what she must be thinking.
She wasn't ogling my buttocks for erotic fantasy, she was checking the seat of my pants for number two. I found the implication of this unsettling. In her mind, I wasn't a handsome, virile male or even a sexual being. I was just a cute little blond haired, blue eyed boy who'd soiled another diaper. Given that this was her perception, how could I blame her for not taking notice when I smelled her crotch. Nobody takes what babies do very seriously. They're forever exploring the world around them and from a sanitary perspective, it's far better that they explore your crotch with their nose, than a dirty diaper with their hands.
"Mathew, have you done business? Let's have a look see." I felt her apply more outwards press to her thumb and then slide it from side to side as she explored the seat of my pants. Then she stuck her fingers further down between my buttocks as if to expose more of my behind for examination. In spite of the fact that she was doing this without erotic intent, it was still an erotic experience for me. My intellect was telling me that it was undignified, and even shameful for me to allow this violation of my privacy. But the stimulation from my senses was too strong. Captive again in the pleasure of the moment, I wiggled from side to side attempting to amplify every sensation of her touch.
"Mathew, you little squirm-myster. Stay still while I check your drawers!" Having discovered what she wanted, she removed her fingers from my pants. "You're mighty wet, Mathew, but you haven't done any stinky business. Kim is very busy right now, so she'll get you fixed up with some dry drawers in a little while. Mathew, Kim is very pleased that you've told her that you need changing. It's a very good thing, when you tell Kim or mommy when you've done business. Kim knows how uncomfortable you must feel with dirty pants. Soon you'll be a big boy, Mathew, and start doing business in the toilet. Then you won't need diapers anymore and you can wear big boy pants instead."
Kim made a quick adjustment by pulling the back of the track pants up so the wrap was completely covered. Then she gave me a reassuring pat on the bum. "There we go, Mathew. All fixed up for now. You're an awful cute little boy you know. You come with Kim and we'll go play with the other children now. It'll soon be time to go inside and have snack."
The next thing I knew, she had hold of my left hand and was walking me out into the center of the compound. Seconds later, I was in amongst six or eight toddlers. I was still holding the string of the pull toy. I looked down at the little plastic platform with wheels. On the platform sat a dog. The dog seemed to stare back at me. "I'm yours!" it seemed to be saying.
End of Part 1
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