Gone Awry (R)
Even the best laid plans can have unforseen results.
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Did you get ˜em? Daughtry asked with anticipation, leaning over Walts shoulder to try and see down into his backpack. Cmon, man, out with it!

Walt shrugged a shoulder to try and push his friend off, clasping the top of the backpack together. Yeah, I got ˜em, alright? he said with a nervous look around the halls.

And he had got them. After ˜saving his allowance nearly all summer, minus the occasional candy or small toy, Walter had bought them one morning while his mom thought he had been out playing in the back yard. For over a week now, he had been hiding them in the back of his closet, going over in his head exactly how Daughtrys and his plan would actually work. The plan itself had been the whole summer in the making, as well, thought up and discussed behind the closed doors of untidy rooms, in tree houses hastily built at the edge of yards, and always out of the hearing of annoying adults. Much like the current meeting was taking place, at the end of the hall at the edge of a row of lockers.

Carefully, Walt turned so that he was facing the corner, his backpack wedged between himself and the wall, and ever so slowly eased one of them out of the large pocket of his backpack. Daughtry, who was supposed to be keeping watch, was holding his breath in anticipation and peering back down the hall. After some rustling, he felt something being pressed into his side hard. Daughtry abandoned his scrutiny of the passage, and looked down, grabbing for the object that had been so roughly jabbed at him, and immediately froze, his hands twitching in mid-grasp, but staying empty.

Is¦ that it? Daughtry asked, blinking his wide eyes in disbelief.

Yeah. Take it, hurry up! Walt was saying, pushing it at his friend again.

Daughtry couldnt speak for a long moment, and then with a look of disappointment and anger on his face, pushed Walts hands back at him roughly.

You screwed up, dude! Im not wearing that!

What do you mean youre not wearing it?! Walt shot back, now left holding it in his hands while they bickered.

Its for girls! came the response. You got the wrong ones, stupid! Now were screwed.

Walt flushed, and looked at the object in his hands. He couldnt argue that it was for girls, with its pink trimmed waist and leg openings and flower pattern down the front, but he certainly didnt think it meant their plans were completely ruined. Shoving the object halfway back into his bag, he glowered at Daughtry and hissed through clenched teeth.

It was all they had, dude! What, did you want me to ask for help and get found out?

Itd be better than wearing THAT! Daughtry pointed, Tell me youre jokin dude. Tell me youre just messin. He pleaded hopefully.

Im serious! Its really all they had! Walt said, face still red and trying once again to hand over the pink edged garment.

Daughtry pushed it away again, and kicked at the locker, causing some nearby students to look their way. Walt shrunk back again, and shoved it back in his bag, pushing it deeply towards the bottom where it was pressed against its matching counterpart.

Im so screwed! I didnt bring anything to change into, and then you pull this crap. Daughtry exclaimed, giving Walt a little shove, more out of anger in general than trying to start a fight. Keep that mess, man¦ Im gonna be grounded. He muttered as he moved off towards his classroom.

Walt watched him go, fuming, and decided right there that with or without Daughtry, the plan would go forward. With this on his mind, he stalked off towards the bathroom. Who needed Daughtry, anyway? Walt had been the one who had come up with the plan, spent all his allowance, kept them safe, and did pretty much all the work. If Daughtry wanted to back out because of a tiny little problem like this, then that was fine with Walt. Hed do this on his own, and be the only one to gain any of the benefits. Besides, it was the perfect plan.

And to a couple of seven year old boys at the beginning of the summer, it really had been the perfect plan. In kindergarten and first grade, recess had been a free-form playground affair to run the students out of energy after their lunch so as to not be too disruptive during the afternoon. However, as Daughtry and Walt had found out from some Daughtrys older brother, second grade wasnt going to be as fun. Instead of recess, they were now going to have the dreaded Gym Class. Imagine the nerve of them taking away recess and making it into just another boring class! But it got worse, or so Daughtry and Walt thought, when they were informed that they would have to change clothes before and after class, to avoid being sweaty for the rest of the day.

Once they had found this out, the two boys had retreated to the safety of the tree-line out back of Walts house.

Man¦ whatre we gonna do? Daughtry had asked dejectedly, plucking at some grass growing up through the roots of the tree on which hed been sitting.

I dunno, Tre. Walt responded. This summer had just started off on a bad note.

Daughtry, however, was clearly in denial. I cant believe theyd turn playing into a class! Its ¦ Its¦ something! he said, again pulling at the strands of grass. They cant make us. They cant¦

But, Walt said, suddenly having a vague idea, What if they really couldnt?

What you talkin about, Walt? Daughtry asked, not looking up from his mangling of the various flora within his reach.

Well, I mean, theres got to be some way of getting out of it, right?

Hardly. The only way would be if we couldnt do it, like if we had a broke leg or¦. And Daughtry looked up quickly. We are NOT gonna break out legs to get outta it. That hurts!

Walt shook his head, but didnt really seem like he had any better idea. Nah, and theyd make us do it anyway after the casts came off.

The two boys sat in silence for a while longer, seemingly resigning themselves to their fates. They would have to go to this mockery of a class, and they would have to change clothes around a bunch of their classmates, which was more of a concern of Walts than of Daughtrys if things were truly to be made honest. Hed always been self conscious, having been taught that after a certain age, children were not supposed to be visibly naked by anyone other than their parents, and even then only at bath time.

Hmph. I bet TOMMY doesnt have ta go to gym class. Daughtry remarked offhand. The Tommy in question had been a classmate of Walt and Daughtrys in preschool. Tommy had been known for having a bedwetting problem, and because of this had gotten to skip nap time on several occasions, for which the highly active Daughtry had never forgiven him.

Walt snickered, Only if they let him sleep through that class. Then suddenly his face lifted, and he stared down at Daughtry, almost falling off the tree limbs he was sprawled across. Thats it!

Whats it? Sleep through class? Daughtry asked, peering up through the leaves.

No. If we wet our pants! They couldnt make us go to that class then, just like Tommy and nap time.

Daughtrys jaw went slack. Are you crazy? he asked, once he could find his voice again, Im not gonna pee myself at school just to get out of gym class.

Walt slid down the tree trunk, shaking his head and leaping off, stumbling on an exposed root before coming to a stop in front of his friend. He brushed his hands on his pants before waving them, fingers outstretched in front of himself defensively.

No no! Not like that, He started, grinning, But what if we told them we did? Theyd have to let us out of doing it.

And what about when we dont do it? Theyll know. Daughtry stated, being a pretty practical kid, despite his age. Then well have to do stuff in class anyway.

Walt thought about this for a bit, then shrugged. Well wear something, like pull-ups or whatever, and then theyd not be able to tell if we did or not.

Daughtry opened his mouth to respond, shut it, opened it again, and then sat quietly rubbing his chin. From that point on, the plan had started to be formulated. They would save up their allowance; well, Walt would, since Daughtry didnt get one; then they would buy a pack of those Goodnights; again Walts task, since he lived closer to the store; and on the first day of gym class, theyd wear them and tell this gym teacher to get out of class free. It was the perfect plan. Theyd sneak these goodnights into school every day, put them on in the bathroom before school, take them off after, and no one would ever be the wiser.

But now that day had come, the first day of second grade and the first day of gym class, and Walt now found himself stomping off towards the bathroom with a backpack full of girls Goodnights. It hadnt been his fault, he reasoned, because all hed seen at the corner store was the pink one, and he was in too much of a rush to ask for help finding the blue ones. But that didnt matter. He was committed now, and in his slight embarrassment and frustrated rage at being the only one committed, he didnt even notice that one of the stalls was already occupied as he stalked through the bathroom.

Locking the stall shut, and tossing his backpack onto the back of the toilet, Walt began undressing. He slipped his shoes off, and yanked down his pants and batman underwear, wadding them up on top of the toilet. He quickly unzipped his backpack, and fished around inside until his hand clasped over the softly rustling cloth-like outer cover of the night-time incontinence garment. Quickly, almost putting it on backwards, he slipped the Goodnight up over his legs and into place, wiggling his legs to make sure it fit comfortably, and then tossed his pants and shoes back on. Stashing the underwear hed worn in at the bottom of his backpack, he stalked out of the stall, slamming the door and heading towards his classroom.

Hmph. Well see whos stupid when Im sitting pretty and not having to go to gym class¦ Walt muttered under his breath as he maneuvered his way down the crowded corridor. What was the big deal, anyway? They were just pink. And pink was a perfectly good color for what they needed them for. And so what if they had flowers and butterflies on them? It's not like anyone was going to have to see them. Besides, the boys ones had 4-wheelers that looked like little brown blobs, and that wasn't any better.

Walt slid into his seat once he reached the classroom, a gloomy look on his face. He stared at the blackboard, chin resting on his folded arms, and he fidgeted in his chair as he tried to get used to the slightly different feeling between his legs. Suddenly, he felt a sharp pain wrenching through his shoulder, and he almost fell off his chair as he spun to confront his assailant.

What took you so long, Walt? Daughtry said. Walt hadnt noticed him.

What do you think, chicken? Walt retorted, trying to keep his bravado up, despite the small fallout earlier.

You¦ didnt. Daughtry said in disbelief, then leaned over and whispered harshly, Did you?

Walt nodded, and looked around, then quickly lifted the edge of his shirt, showing off the pink top of the underpants. Im not a chicken, Tre.

Daughtry sneered slightly. I wasnt bein a chicken. Im just not a girl.

Me either, Walt countered, And this is just for today. Once gym class is over, then Im takin these off and going back to my undies.

Daughtry was about to say something to that, but the teacher chose just that moment to barge into the classroom like she owned the place, and started the school year. All through it, Daughtry kept stealing glances over at Walt, who seemed to shift back and forth more and more as class wore on. He had planned to ask what was up, but he never got the chance until lunch. He managed to slip his way behind Walt in the lunch line, and leaned over his shoulder to speak.

Hey, Walt, he said, You okay?

Walt jumped slightly, almost dropping his tray. Wah?! he exclaimed, then realized who it was that was talking. Oh¦ Tre¦ Yeah Im fine.

Daughtry stayed quiet as they went through the rest of the line, but spoke up again once they were seated.

You sure you wanna go through with this, man? You can always back out¦ He said, worriedly.

Walt shook his head. Nah uh. They are NOT gonna take away recess and replace it with some stupid class.

Walt glowered hard at nothing, trying to keep up his air of bravery. In reality, he was scared out of his mind. Every doubt that he probably should have been having over the summer was floating through his head now, shadowing his plans in uncertainty. But even as he sat and pondered whether or not hed be able to pull it off, he resolved to go through with it. Daughtry had backed out, and Walt wasnt about to go down that same road. He would do this, and that was the end of that. So caught up in his internal reverie as he was, Walt merely poked absently at his lunch, and started as the bell rang, signaling the last bathroom break before gym class. This was his last chance, and he let it go.

Walt forced himself to breathe, consciously willing the air to enter into his lungs as he walked in line with the rest of the class towards the gymnasium; towards the fruition of his plan. Much to his surprise, however, the gym teacher first asked all the students to take a seat on the bleachers while she explained how the class worked.

¦ And then once youve signed into class, youll each go to the locker rooms and change into your gym clothes for class. The teacher was saying. At this Walt drew in a quick breath, and cast a look around, as if his classmates could see his ruse written all over his body. No one was paying attention to him. Youll have five minutes to change, and then you come out here and line up, boys on the right girls on the left, and get ready for stretching and warm-ups. Now, I want you to go get changed and come back out here.

Walt sat bolt still as the rest of the kids got up and filed off, breaking off into two groups and heading for their respective locker rooms. Each child carried a bag containing his or her gym clothes, with the exception of Daughtry, who shot a single worried glance back over his shoulder. Once all the others had moved out of sight and earshot, Walt moved down off the bleachers, swallowed hard, and tugged on the teachers sleeve.

Uh¦ Miss Crutcher? Walt asked, hesitantly.

What is it¦ uh¦Walter? she asked, trying to place this childs name, Why arent you getting changed?

Walt rubbed the back of his head, and came very close to backing out. I, He hesitated, I cant change clothes. I cant take this class. He nodded, his confidence in his plan growing with each word.

Crutcher cleared her throat. Any particular reason for that? she asked, expecting any number of lame and tired excuses, but was actually quite surprised when Walt offered none of them.

Its kinda private, he said, looking around.

Miss Crutcher nodded, and pointed at a small office situated at the end of the gymnasium, between both locker rooms. Placing a hand on Walts back, she ushered him into the small office, lined with trophies and photos of past sports teams, and took a seat at the cluttered desk. Sighing, she leaned back and rubbed her eyes. The first day was always the longest.

Now, Walter, what is it that you think is going to keep you from taking this class with the rest of the students?

Walt swallowed hard, and opened his mouth, the words coming out in a rush. I wet my pants like Tommy in preschool did and so I cant do gym class!

Silence descended on the room, as Miss Crutcher stared in disbelief at the young boy standing before her. Come again?

Walt nodded hard. I pee my pants! Gotta wear pull-ups and everything. He said, convinced that if he sounded confident, he could make her believe him.

Miss Crutcher counted to ten in her mind, and took a deep breath. This was a new one to her, but then again, they were new every year. This was certainly the most creative excuse shed heard in a long time, but it had already been a long morning, with three other classes already having had to go through the gym class orientation speech and accompanying complaints and excuses. She squinted at Walt, and he took this as a good sign. She hadnt freaked out, or immediately told him to go get dressed no matter. He smiled, having decided this was going in his favor.

Look, Walter, She started, If you have a serious medical condition, youre going to have to have your mother send in a signed note with” but she never got any further.

I can prove it! Walt shouted, panicking now as his plan began to crumble under Crutchers cold hard logic. Before she could react, Walt undid his pants, yanked them down to expose his girlish protective undergarment, and closed his eyes. A bit of a flush came to his cheeks, and he sucked in a breath.

Look, Walt, I” and again Crutcher was cut off, but not by what Walt said, but what he did. Before her astounded eyes, Walt began to undress. She caught sight of what he was wearing as underwear, and was about to try and stifle a laugh, when she realized what he was doing. Her jaw went slack, and in the cold unforgiving silence of the room, she could clearly hear as Walter wet his pants. The boy opened his eyes as he finished, arms out stretched, a strange look of triumph on his face.

See? he said.

Walter. Miss Crutcher tried to keep her voice steady as she spoke, a mixture of frustration, anger, and shock creeping into her voice. I think you should, uh, pull your pants up and go see the principal. About this. Ill call ahead, okay?

Walt was ecstatic. This was exactly what he had been hoping for. He quickly pulled his pants up, and with a big grin, nodded and turned to leave. On his way out the door, he passed a very puzzled looking Daughtry. He nodded once, and headed over to the bleachers to retrieve his bag, grabbing it up and tossing it over his shoulder. Daughtry followed after, since the five minutes wasnt up yet, and he hadnt brought anything to change into.

Uh¦ Walt! Howd it go? He inquired, looking back over his shoulder at the office.

Perfect! Im on my way to the principals office, probably to get a pass or somethin that says I dont have to come to gym class anymore.

Daughtry was impressed, but still looked a bit concerned. You sure? he asked.

Walt shrugged his shoulders and patted his friend on the shoulder as he walked past. I told you that it would work. Have fun in gym class, Tre. Walt said, with an edge of sarcasm on his lips as he strode out. Daughtrys face flushed, and he turned and kicked the lowest seat of the bleachers, not liking that Walt had been right, despite wearing the girls Goodnights.

Daughtry! Came a wearied and exasperated voice from behind him. Get in line with everyone else. And why havent you changed into your gym clothes?

Walt winced slightly as he heard Crutcher ask Daughtry about his lack of clothes as he moved down the corridor. He hoped that Daughtry would come up with something good as an excuse, and not rat him out by saying that he had expected to join in Walt's plan. However, his current success at getting out of gym class apparently scot free had left him with a warm and fuzzy feeling in his chest, and not just in his pants. As he walked, he barely noticed the slight urine odor or the squishy feeling as his legs pumped him towards his destination. That would be over soon, since he'd head off to the bathroom to change back into his undies as soon as this business with the principal was taken care of.

There was a general air of excitement and activity in the school's main office as Walt entered. Secretaries and teachers aides and other parents all bustled about, trying to get a handle on the chaotic first day of class. At first, no one seemed to realize he was there, so he shrugged, and tossed his bag on one of the empty chairs and hopped up in to the one next to it. Walt squished slightly as he did so, but again, he wasn't bothered. It was the squish of victory, as far as he was concerned.

After a moment, and after showing a parent a map of the school and where to find their child's classroom, one of the secretaries suddenly seemed to notice Walt.

Hello, can we help you? she asked, moving back behind her desk.

Uh huh, Walt nodded, hopping up and plodding over after her, Miss Crutcher said I should come see the principal.

The woman looked at him for a moment, and there was a tinge of red starting to creep up her neck and into her face. You must be Walter. Have a seat please, and the principal will be with you shortly.

Walt did as he was asked, and occupied himself with glancing around the room, reading the posters and motivational messages strung about. One of the other office workers came up to the first and started to ask about the young boy in their office, when the first lady suddenly leaned in and began whispering to the second. The bit of red seemed to spread to the second lady, starting at her ears and working it's way around to the front of her face. She covered her mouth quickly to stifle a laugh. This might just turn out to be an interesting school year after all.

After what seemed to be an eternity of waiting, one of the phones rang, and after a brief conversation, the receptionist approached Walt and held out her hand.

Come on, Walter. The principal will see you now. She said, Bring your backpack.

Walt shouldered the bag, and still smiling, took the lady's hand and followed her down a short hall to a large office at the end. The office interior was modest and sparsely decorated, with a simple but full book shelf along one wall, a row of chairs on the other, and at the end, a desk with two more, larger chairs positioned facing it. It was to one of these chairs that Walt was led, to sit facing the back of Principal Delavan's chair as the secretary retreated back out the door. The silence was broken by the somewhat muffled phone conversation that the principal was just finishing up. Spinning his chair around and placing the phone on the cradle, he faced Walt.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke, or moved, or took their eyes off the other. Finally, Principal Delavan clasped his hands together in front of him, resting his elbows on the desk, and spoke.

I got a call from Ms. Crutcher concerning your claims of, uh, a physical disability that would prevent you from participating in gym class? he asked, innocently enough.

Uh huh. Walt nodded. I can't go to gym class.

Mr. Delavan blinked at this. He hadn't expected for the kid to come in here with this level of confidence. Usually children in his office are ready to confess after that carefully rehearsed stare. She also said that you, he cleared his throat slightly, Demonstrated your disability to her? He wasn't quite sure he believed the reports, but Marci had never lied to him about disruptive children before, and had no reason to now.

Blood rushed into Walt's face as he remembered the incident. He nodded. Uh huh.

The principal, still not sure he believed the somewhat strange report, motioned for the boy to stand up. Show me. Well, not the same way you showed Ms. Crutcher, but I do have to verify the claims... He said.

Walt nodded and hopped up, pulling is shirt up slightly, and unfastened his belt, letting his pants slide down slightly. Mister Delavan shook his head as soon as he saw the undergarment with it's tell-tale dark tinge and faded flower petals, and waved for Walter to sit back down.

Okay, okay. Please pull your pants back up and have a seat, Walt. he said, trying to regain his composure. He didn't know what he had expected, and even though he had been told, he hadn't been sure he had expected that. Especially not for the undergarment to be so obviously feminine.

Walter, the principal began, after taking a deep breath, The school records don't indicate that you suffer from any sort of physical impairment, and we haven't been notified by your parents that anything has changed over the summer. Why don't you tell me more about this condition of yours.

I wet my pants. Walt stated, as if the situation was as plain as day, and the principal was just blind to the truth in front of him.

Mmhmm, countered Delavan, And when did you start wetting your pants? Was it an accident, or are you sick? Please, enlighten me.

Silence. It was palpable, thick, and hung heavy between the boy and his principal. Walt, looking not unlike a wild animal caught in the headlights of an oncoming truck, shifted in his chair. His brain raced, trying to come up with something, anything, that would satisfy this new challenge.

That's... what I thought. Delavan said, finally breaking the tension. Why don't I give your mother a call, and see if she can shed some light on your condition.

A cold chill ran through Walt, starting at his stomach and rolling up through the rest of his body, matching the rapidly cooling feeling pressed against his groin. He watched in stunned silence as the principal reached for the phone, dialed a number and leaned back in his chair as the phone on the other end of the line began to ring. He didn't really remember much about the phone conversation, except that every once in a while Mister Delavan would look pointedly at him and say his name. All he remembered after the fact was being led back to the waiting area and asked to wait there until he was called for again.

However, he wasn't called for again for a very long time. Walt had been absently fiddling with the pink waist band sticking up above his pants and regretting not picking a warmer place to sit, when he was suddenly startled by seeing his mother walk into the office and straight past him to the front desk. After a brief exchange, the receptionist pointed past Walt's mother, who then turned her somewhat puzzled gaze to her son. Walt said nothing, and kept his head down, remembering to pull his shirt back down over his waist.

Walter H. Pinmoney. his mother started, approaching her son. What have you done to have me called all the way out here from work?

Principal Delavan, having been informed of her arrival by the receptionist, was coming up behind Walt's mother. Miss Pinmoney, if you'll both step into my office, I can explain what this is all about.

Please, call me Cheryll, she responded, extending her hand, which was shaken heartily. I hope this won't take too long.

It shouldn't, Delavan said, but he didn't look very positive, Please come to my office so we can talk.

The small troop marched their way back to the office, Delavan in front, Walt in back, and they each took their seats accordingly. Mister Delavan resumed his position of hands clasped on the desk before him, leaning on his elbows slightly and looking very grave.

Miss Pinm-- Cheryll, he said, trying to be less formal than he had trained himself to be, Today, Walter here tried to get out of gym class by claiming to have bladder control issues.

Cheryll's face went white, then a deep red. Oh did he? she asked Delavan, but she was looking down at Walter, who was trying his best to not be there.

Principal Delavan nodded slowly. After he said this, he then proceeded to... demonstrate his new found disability in front of his gym teacher.

Silence again while Walt's mother looked him over. He... demonstrated?

Delavan nodded, and motioned to Walt. Walter, please stand up and show your mother, please.

Face flushed, heart beating fast, Walter slowly stood up and for the third time today, dropped his pants in front of a set of adults. A sharp intake of breath from Walt's mother as she took a moment to comprehend the scene confronting her. After a moment, she reached out a hand and touched the cool and heavily wet front of her son's underwear. Walt's face was an even deeper shade of red than some of the girlish designs on the front of his sagging underpants, and he kept his eyes averted.

Why I never... Walt's mother began, then caught herself, and turned back towards the Principal, leaving Walt literally with his pants down. I'm so sorry about this, Mister Delavan. Walter is perfectly healthy, and I don't know what has come over him to want to pull a stunt like this.

Principal Delavan raised a hand to cut her off. Miss Pinmoney, please. A lot of students don't like the idea of gym class, and try a lot of excuses to get out of it. However, and he shot a glance at the still depantsed Walt, I don't think I've ever heard of anyone going this far.

So what's the damage? Walt's mother asked, trying to sound calm, but her voice was tinged with an edge of anger.

Well, as you can imagine, this type of behavior is no simple matter. Since your child was trying to disrupt class, even if it was just for himself, and topped on that he was lying about a serious medical condition, I'm afraid we don't have any choice except to suspend him for a week. Fortunately it's the first week of school, so he won't miss much.

Walt stared in disbelief, and pulled nervously on his backpack straps. He cast a glance up at his mother who seemed to move in slow motion as she nodded, and signed the paperwork that would send the boy home for a week of punishment. Punishment he didn't even want to guess the extent of. Once all the formalities were taken care of, Cheryll stood and again shook the Principal's hand firmly, then turned and scooped Walter up on her hip, leaving his pants down around his ankles.

Well, I guess I better go home and make some arrangements for the rest of the week. Come on, Walter. We need to have a serious talk about how we're going to handle this mess.

And without another word, Walt found himself carried out the door of the front office, down the halls, and out the front door of the school to his mother's waiting car. He knew they were looking, but at the moment that was the least of his concerns. As soon as his mother set him down, he yanked his pants back up, and slunk into the passenger seat. The ride home was punctuated with a myriad of What's wrong with yous and how could yous and even a few What am I going to do with yous. Even more hurtful was the single What if your father was around to see this that was tagged onto the end of one of the longer diatribes.

For his part, Walter responded with several I knows and I don't knows and I'm really sorrys where appropriate. It was quite possibly the longest car ride in the history of all car rides, even though they were only a few blocks away from the school. Once they arrived home, Walt meekly followed his mother into the living room, where she calmly sat on the couch and placed her hands in her lap, looking him over.

Do you have any more?

Walt nodded slowly in response, keeping his eyes low and trying not to sniffle yet. It wouldn't do to waste tears until it was prudent.

Go get them and bring them here, Walter. Then you can go get cleaned up while I think of what I'm going to do with you for a week.

Walt took off like a bolt, shooting up the stairs and racing to his room. He dug through to the back of the closet and pulled out the half empty package of girls Goodnights, and then turned to go back downstairs. The one he was wearing was starting to get clammy and uncomfortable, not to mention he needed to use the bathroom again. He had peed himself once to prove a point, but the idea of doing it now was none too appealing to his young sensibilities. Returning to the living room, he hurriedly tossed the package up on the couch next to his mother and started towards the bathroom.

Wait. she said, eying the package. Are you sure this is all of them?

Walt stopped and turned, nodding. Yeah, that's all I got left.

Cheryll picked up the sagging plastic bag, and looked it over. The label says there's supposed to be twelve in here. With the one you've got on, I only count seven.

Walt blanched some. I... uh.. used the others... he admitted, going a little pale.

His mother blinked, then looked concerned. Walter, are you having night time problems?

Walt suddenly went the other way, flushing heavily. NO! God, mom, no! I had to practice for.. uh... today. Y'know. he finished up looking away again, kicking at the carpet.

I... see. Here. she said, taking one of the garments out of the package and tossing it to her son. Go get cleaned up and put that on. Then go to your room, sit on your bed, and think about what you've done. I've got to make arrangements for getting you a babysitter for the rest of the week.

Walt was puzzled, and he picked up the disposable garment, which had fallen to the floor when he had completely fumbled the catch. He gave his mom a side-long look, and he hurried up the stairs to his room again, quickly pulling his shoes and socks off, followed by his pants and used pull-up. He threaded his legs through the fresh underwear, and then flopped face first on his bed. He stayed there for a long few moments, then rolled over on his back, staring at the ceiling. His mother hadn't been too terribly upset, so maybe things would be okay. He couldn't understand why she had wanted him to put another of these on, though, and sat up in bed, passing the time by tracing the flower and butterfly patterns with his fingers.

Meanwhile, back downstairs, Miss Pinmoney was making a phone call. She had gotten over her mild disbelief at her sons actions, and was starting to formulate a plan. However, she had to check on a few things before hand. She knew a few people who could help, but only if they werent busy for a week. She finished dialing, and waited for the answer.

Hello, Moslen residence, came the greeting.

Hi, Cynthia? This is Miss Pinmoney, Walters mother? Youve babysat for me before, I believe.

Oh, yes! Hows he doing?

Well, Cheryll started, and launched into an explanation of the days events. When she was done, there was a long silence on the other end of the line.

Oh my, Cynthia said, her voice sounding small and quiet, And¦ What does this have to do with me? she asked.

Ah. I have an idea to put these ideas out of his head, but I cant take a whole week off of work on such short notice, and need someone to watch him during the day. Cheryll explained, grabbing a kitchen chair and sliding into it. Are you still out on college break?

Oh, yeah! We dont go back for a couple of weeks, so if you need someone to watch him until he can go back to school, I can do it. Standard rates and all that.

Mmhmm, Cheryll went on, But this wouldnt be a normal babysitting job. Let me explain.. and she did. At great length, and after some discussion about it, Cynthia seemed thrilled with the idea.

Ill tell you what, Miss Pinmoney, my friends mother was going to have a yard sale next weekend to get rid of some things, but Im pretty sure they wouldnt mind lending us some things as long as we return them. Cynthia offered after it was all done.

Excellent! exclaimed Cheryll, If you could do that, Id be really thankful.

No problem! Ill run over there after I get off the phone and ask, Cynthia offered.

Great. Now Ive got a few things to take care of around here, but if you can be here first thing in the morning, that would be excellent.

Sure thing, Miss P.! Talk to you later!

Walts mother hung up the phone, and looked around. After a few moments of thinking, she nodded, and headed out to the garage to see if she could find some tools. Everything she needed was already where it needed to be, but a little elbow grease and some crafty remembering of instructions long since lost would be required to make the transition. As she searched, the wondered if what she was planning to do was the right thing, but she convinced herself it was for Walters own good. If he didnt appreciate what he had, she would show him what it was like without any of it.

As Cheryll made her way up the stairs, she thought she heard some noise coming from Walts room, and as she opened the door she managed to spy him jumping back up on his bed and trying to act like he had been there the whole time. She rolled her eyes and let it go, figuring that that whatever he had been doing couldnt have been any worse than what shed been dealing with already today.

Walter, Cheryll said, taking a seat on the edge of the bed and setting down, What you did today was wrong, you know that.

Walt could only nod his head in agreement. Now the sniffles came easily, naturally. He was really going to have to pour it on to get out of this one, and he knew it. I¦ Im really sorry m¦ mommy. He said, wiping his nose on a sleeve.

Going to school is a privilege, Walter, his mother continued, putting her arm around her son who was staring dejectedly at the flowers on his still exposed garments, But since you seem to not want to take the responsibility, and change clothes with the big boys in gym class, for the next week were going to learn just how good it is to be a big boy.

Walt looked up, puzzled. This wasnt exactly what he was expecting out of a punishment, for certain, and in his confusion his tears had all but dried up. Huh?

Cheryll smiled. Thats right. For the next week, instead of being the big boy I thought you were, I think you need some time on the other side, to learn to appreciate what you have.

Walter still looked puzzled, and wiggled uncomfortably. Whatre you talking about?

You, honey, Cheryll tried to say this as gently as possible, Are going to spend the next week as my little girl. Then when the week is up, maybe youll appreciate what its like to be a big boy.

Walter was stunned into complete silence. For a long moment he stared up at his mother, not believing what she had said, or at least not wanting to believe it. He watched in shocked silence as his mother stood up and moved towards his closet, a very serious look on her face reflected back to her son in the mirror that hung facing his bed from the back of the door to his closet. It was only when his mom started pulling clothes out of his closet that he was able to find his voice, hopping up and running over to pull on the back of her shirt.

Y¦You.. I mean, what do you mean? A little girl? He whined, staring up at her with something a kin to real fear in his eyes.

Yes. A little girl, She responded, taking more clothes out, For a whole week, until its time to go back to school.

Again, Walt found his voice had left him. He could only tag along behind his mother as she carried his clothes from his room to hers, even through several trips. He tried once to stop her, grabbing a pile of shirts that she was trying to extract from his dresser, and was told sharply to move out of the way unless he wanted his punishment to be even longer. Not getting his way by begging, he resigned himself to standing off against a wall of his room, arms crossed and pouting heavily.

His mother just rolled her eyes at the ridiculous sight. Finally removing all this clothes from his room, she retrieved her tools and came back up, starting to work on the bed.

What? Walt finally managed, his mouth dropping open, Youre taking my BED too?

Not exactly, Cheryll returned, pulling the bed away from the wall so that she could reach under it and pull out some wooden panels, I knew this three way convertible bed was a good investment, but I honestly never thought Id be putting it back the other way. She mused. Walter could only watch as the sides went back up, and his childs bed returned to the way it had been merely five years previous. His mom stood up, wiped a little sweat from her brow, and tested by lowering the side of the crib experimentally.

There, Cheryll said, pleased with herself, Thatll do for now. Get some pants on, hun, we need to do a little shopping, then we can start your punishment.

Walt looked dejectedly at the last pair of pants in his room, the ones he had worn to school that morning, and slowly picked them up. Sullenly, he raised his eyes to meet his mothers gaze, his lower lip shaking slightly.

Can I please use the bathroom first? He asked, giving the best impression of a sad puppy dog that he could muster.

Cheryll thought for a moment, then nodded. Yes, but hurry up and dont forget to wash your hands. Then come down stairs. I want to make it back in time to have dinner.

Walt rushed off down the hall, his pants dragging the floor behind him. From inside the bathroom, he could hear the phone ringing, but couldnt make out any of the actual conversation that was taking place. He obediently washed his hands, and looked in the mirror. He eyed the pink garment between his legs hurtfully, a mixture of betrayal and dejection seeping into his gaze. He tugged up on the pink waistband, muttering something under his breath, and stalked out just as his mother was finishing up with the phone.

Excellent! So well look forward to you bringing those over in the morning? a pause. Great! Thank you very much. This is going to save me a bit of trouble, and simplify my shopping for tonight.

Another pause. Uh huh, right, yes, exactly like that. Oh, Im not exactly sure, probably one or two, maybe somewhere in between. Yep. Thanks again, Cynthia. Buh-bye now.

Cynthia? Walter asked, zipping up his pants and sitting down to tug his shoes on. Whats she want? Walt remembered Cynthia as one of his long time babysitters, and the one he actually got along with.

Mmhmm, Cheryll nodded, placing her hand on her sons back and steering him towards the garage door. Shes going to be babysitting you during the week since I cant get off work. And if you think youre going to get out of your punishment, let me assure you that Cynthia says shes looking forward to babysitting a cute , sweet little girl.

Walt flushed, and turned his head away, shoving his hands deep into his pockets and trying to slip his head down between his shoulders. Without a word, he hopped up in the seat of the car, suffered himself to be buckled in and kissed on the forehead, and kicked at the glove box moodily until his mom opened the drivers side door and started up the car. Again, they rode in silence, neither one feeling the need to say anything on the ride to the store.

Upon arriving at the store, Walt and his mother grabbed a shopping cart, to which Walt was instructed to hold on to, and they began shopping. At first it was just the usual grocery shopping and household needs, to which Walt paid little attention, until his mother rounded a corner and headed into the baby department. He stopped, then, causing the cart to suddenly swerve to one side and bang noisily into a display rack.

Walter! Don't just stop like that! his mother exclaimed, making sure the display wasn't in any danger of toppling over.

But... what are we doing in here? he asked, looking around uneasily. His friends would all still be in school right now, but he couldn't take any chances.

Cheryll knelt down on one knee to look her son in the face. What did you think I meant when I said 'little', Walt?

Walt scuffed a shoe nervously on the floor. But... baby stuff? he asked in trepidation.

With a curt nod, Walt's mother stood up again. I'm trying to show you to appreciate being a big boy, and that means no big boy privileges at all.

Walt paled as he started to put it all together in his mind. He hadn't thought much of his mother putting the sides back on his bed, now crib he supposed, and had generally just been pouty in the hopes that she would change her mind. This, however, put a new spin on the whole punishment. If she was serious, it was going to be a long week for him. He stared up at the shelves of baby items, food, juices, and toys as they continued on through the aisles, almost falling over the cart when it came to a sudden stop at the end of one aisle before a large wall. A wall of diapers.

Mom, I-- Walt started, but was cut off.

Now, what size were those goodnights you got... she mused, looking over the various packages, finally settling on one. AH! Here we go! These are labeled for the same weight, and look, Walt! They have the Disney Princesses on them! she exclaimed, showing the package to her son.

Indeed, the toddler on the front was smiling in glee as she romped through a superimposed background proudly displaying Jasmine on the front of her diaper. More Protection For Extended Use the package proclaimed in large bright letters.

Wonderful.... Walt muttered under his breath, turning a tinge pinker. He watched in embarrassed horror as his mother tossed three of the packages into the shopping cart.

Oh, cheer up. I remember just a few years ago how you would sit and watch some of these movies over and over and over again until you had all the songs memorized. Cheryll smiled at the memory, Just a few more things and we can go grab something for you to wear today and tonight.

Walt tried his best not to stare at the packages, which meant he wasn't looking at the shopping cart, and incidentally not to where he was going, either. Bumping into shelves and being jerked around corners as his mother continued to pile baby food, bottles, a few toys, bath supplies, and even a pack of pacifiers into the basket, Walt tried to stay perfectly oblivious. He was only startled out of his denial by a sharp warning from his mother that if he didn't pay attention, she would just put him in the cart's front seat, so she wouldn't have to stumble over him. With another muttered complaint under his breath, he straightened up and looked around, finally noticing that they had moved from the baby's section and into the clothing department.

Hmph. 'Least I ain't gotta be dressed in baby clothes. He mused, half noticing he was saying it out loud.

Oh, no, his mother returned, patting him on the back towards the interior of the lady's department, There's no way you'd fit into any of that stuff. Besides, we just have to get you something for tonight.

Walter was going to ponder that statement for a while, but was suddenly shocked to find his mother picking up shirts off of racks and holding up in front of him for size. Hold still! I have to make sure we get the right size. She said, reprimanding him sharply. Walt did as he was told, and eventually his mother was satisfied with the sizing., and left him to his own devices while she browsed through the racks. Taking care not to get too far out of sight, it wouldn't do to extend his punishment needlessly, Walt took in the myriad of clothes around him, reaching out to pull some off the racks and amuse himself by reading the fronts of the t-shirts.

Perfect! He heard his mother exclaim, and he poked his head around the rack he was currently browsing to see what was up. In her hands was a pair of bright pink short-alls with golden clasps, and a purple t-shirt with a sparkle covered butterfly on the front. What do you think, Walt?

He winced, but nodded, just wanting this whole thing to be over. She smiled back at him, and tossed the garments into the shopping cart, then went off to look for something else. She returned shortly with a long silk nighty, it's collar rimmed with tiny yellow flowers. Walt tried his best to look unimpressed, but even he had to admit that it was sufficiently girlish, and dare he say, cute. In defiance, however, he poked his bottom lip out hard, and pretended to hate it.

Oh don't put on such an act. his mother was chiding. It's only for a week, if you behave, and then you get to spend more time catching up on school work than you'd spend pouting about this. Besides, you got yourself into this.

Walt just tossed his gaze off to the side, still scowling, and took hold of the side of the cart again, his hand being brushed by the garments inside as they trundled to the checkout lines. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered why his mom had only picked up one outfit if this was supposed to be a week-long punishment. As the items were scanned across the register, he tried his best to look disinterested in what was going on, shifting slightly to try and maneuver the Goodnight he was wearing to a position that wasn't causing the back of his thigh to itch terribly. They weren't quite as much like underwear as they had advertised, he was finding.

Once all the bags were loaded into the car, there was another silent car ride home, though this time without nearly as much tension in the air. It was more of an anticipatory silence, with Walt rolling over in his head what all this meant, and how far his mom was going to take this whole punishment thing. Judging by the one outfit and nightshirt she'd purchased, he guessed not very far, and was somewhat comforted in this. He could survive a few days of this, and no one would be the wiser.

After the groceries had been put away, with Walt's help, his mother turned and picked up the last two remaining bags. Alright, up to your room and let's get you started for the week.

With his heart beating up into his throat, seeming to burst from his mouth, Walt hung his head and started up the stairs towards his room, his mother close behind. Once in his room, she sat the bags on top of his dresser, grabbed him swiftly from behind, and lifted Walt bodily into the crib. He sat there, stunned at the movement, and waited as his mother stepped back over to the dresser, opening the drawer that had once held his underwear. Deliberately she began removing one diaper after another from their packages and placing them into the drawer, talking to him as she did so.

Now, Walt, from now until you go back to school next Monday, you are going to be my little girl, and you are expected to act as such. she started, making sure the rows of folded diapers fit neatly into the drawer. If you are caught acting in a way that is unbecoming a young lady, then you will be punished as would any toddler, and if you continue to misbehave, I may extend your punishment past the time you would be going back to class.

Walt decided right then and there that he would behave himself. As bad as this punishment was going to be, it was nothing compared to having to attend school wearing the clothes his mother had picked out for him. He'd never live that down. Not ever. And that wasn't going to happen.

Now, as a baby girl, the TV, computer, toilet, video games, and any of your toys are off limits without my express permission. Is that understood? Cheryll asked, finishing up the last of the putting away, and approaching the crib where Walt sat, watching.

Yes ma'am. He said meekly, hoping that being good would get him off the hook early.

Good. Now, I think it's time we got on with it. I have to cook dinner, and I can't leave my little one improperly dressed. she said, motioning at his dinosaur covered shirt and blue jeans.

Walt sighed, and started pulling his socks and pants off, and was helped with his shirt unexpectedly by his mother pulling it up over his head as soon as his hands were free. He quickly folded his arms across his chest, sitting in the crib with nothing on other than a girl's Goodnight and a scowl. His face went red, though, when his mother reached down and pressed a pair of fingers against the front of his underwear, then ran her hand up and pushed gently on his chest to get him to lay back.

Good girl! You've managed to keep this one dry. Now let's get you into something a bit more your age. Cheryll cooed down, slipping her fingers along the top waist band of the underpants.

Just for this week! Walt exclaimed, wanting it to be clear to all involved.

His mother rolled her eyes. Yes, just for this week. Now shush up so I can get this done. Dinner isn't going to cook itself, sweetie. Then, with the practiced ease of a seasoned veteran, she slipped the unused undergarment off, wiped, powdered, and diapered her charge.

There. she said, pulling him up by his arms into a sitting position. That wasn't so bad. Now stand up so we can get some clothes on you.

Walt stood, shaking, to his feet. His knees felt weak, and he was having a hard time taking his eyes off the face of Belle staring up at him from his protruding middle. The diaper obviously was different in feel than the pull-up, but he wasn't prepared for how much different it was. Where the goodnight had softly rustled, the diaper made a harsh crinkling noise, and was much thicker. No matter how he moved, he was constantly reminded of it's presence pressing against his inner thighs and keeping him from standing normally.

Arms up! His mother cajoled, tapping his shoulders. Walt did as he was asked, and the newly purchased purple shirt slid down his out stretched appendages and over his head, leaving him in darkness for a moment before his face poked out through the neck hole. Next came the shortalls. His mother held them out for him, while he gripped the railing of the crib and stepped in, letting out a little WAIT! as she started to pull them up his legs.

What now? came the exasperated question.

I got my legs in one hole. Walt whined, not feeling these brushing up his inner legs like his normal clothes would have.

There is only one leg hole, dear. was the patient reply, followed by a quick tug, two snaps, and the short-alls that were really some sort of skirt-thing were in place. Walter bent his knees, and reached between his legs to feel... nothing. Except his hand brushing against his exposed diaper beneath the hem of the denim jumper. He looked back up at his mom with a slightly lost look, and she picked him up and sat him down on the floor.

You'll get used to it, sweety. Now come on, I'll put some cartoons on for you while I cook. Cheryll led her son, now part time daughter, by the hand to the living room, and motioned that he should sit on the floor. Taking up the remote, she flipped the channels for a while, and settled upon some early development programming. She then walked into the kitchen to prepare dinner, taking the controller with her.

Walt squirmed around for nearly twenty minutes on the floor, trying to get comfortable. The strange drafty feeling between his thighs and the extra bulk of the actual diaper caused him a great deal of consternation. He eventually ended up on his stomach, chin propped on his hands , held up towards the television. All his wriggling about had caused the jumper to ride up slightly which provided anyone looking in his direction a clear vision of the Disney Princess brand across his well padded bottom.

The next show came and went, and Walt finally pushed himself up off the floor. He pulled on the back of his clothes as he made his way into the kitchen, and addressed his mother with a concerned look on his face. Something had been bothering him for a while now, and he decided to say something about it.

Mooooom? he started.

Hmm? She looked up from her cooking. Whats wrong honey?

I, uh, Walt began, pulling on the front of his clothes now, still very uncomfortable without proper pants, I have to go to the bathroom.

Cheryll nodded slightly, and turned back to her cooking. Thats fine, honey, Ill be sure to change you after dinner.

Ch¦ change? You mean I gotta¦ and he left off, his hands suddenly pressing his diaper tight against himself through the jumper.

Well, you certainly didnt have a problem doing that today at school. She shot back, not missing a beat. Walt blanched, and frowned. Didnt she know that this was different? Moodily, he stalked back out into the living room. He glared back over his shoulder, and crossed his arms over his chest.

When it became clear that pouting out of sight of his mother wasnt going to improve his situation, Walter turned back to the television spread his legs to about shoulder width, and closed his eyes. A minute later he opened them and slowly sank back to the carpet, a warm squish greeting his arrival on the floor. He suffered through yet another half hour of childrens programming, sneering at the concepts of shapes and colors. He was barely two hours into his punishment, and he was already soggy and bored.

The boredom didnt last much longer than that, however, as he was suddenly shadowed from behind. As he tried to turn his head to see what was going on, he was scooped up in his mothers arms, and carried on her hip towards the kitchen.

Time for din dins! Cheryll chirped happily, slipping a hand under her sons bottom to support him, And then its time for this little princesss bath and a fresh pair of panties, mmhmm!

The blush that flowed into Walts face would have made a tomato jealous. He started to protest, but a light tap on his upper leg silenced him before he ever began. Plopped down into his chair at the table, he looked a bit lost at the lack of utensils. Or plate. Or cup. He looked up and was about to ask, and decided that the sight of his mother approaching him with her plate in one hand, and two jars of baby food in the other.

Now honey, Walts mother preempted his complaint, Im not going to make you eat baby food for every meal.

Walt sighed with relief.

However, every other day, dinner will be coming from a jar, just as reminder of what youre missing out on by not acting like a big boy. She continued, and Walts sigh caught in his throat, and died.

Miss Pinmoney placed her son(daughter)s meal on the table next to her own, and fixed herself a glass of tea. She also brought a bottle of apple juice out of the refrigerator, sitting it in front of Walt.

Now, honey, try and be still for mommy. We dont have any bibs here yet, and I dont want you making a big messy-wessy all over the place, okay?

Mooooom! Walt protested, his face flushing again, and he pressed his hands firmly into his lap, trying to recreate the feeling of the pants he had so long worn.

Tut tut¦ Cheryll chided cutely, and spooned a mouthful of some unidentified mush towards Walts mouth. Now open up for the choo choo train! Toot Toooooot!

To his credit, Walt suffered the feeding with as much dignity as he could muster with strained peas smeared across his face from one cheek to the other. Unfortunately, trying to hide behind his bottle of juice while his mother finished up her own meal only caused a bemused giggle and hair ruffling instead of the sense of guilt he was trying to exude. By the time his mother was done, and the dishes put in the dishwasher, Walt was very pleased to be on his way to the bathroom, again perched on his mothers hip. The mush on his face had begun to dry, and the wetness in his diaper had grown cold and noticeably odorous, which added together to make him almost want to beg for a bath.

Who wants bubbles? Cheryll asked, wagging a bottle of Mr. Bubble towards her son once she had gotten him undressed and in the tub.

OH! ME! Walt cheered, reaching towards the bottle. If he had one joy in life, it was bubble baths. Not even this punishment was going to stop him from enjoying that. He bounced excitedly in the tub, sloshing water.

Walters mother couldnt suppress a genuine giggle at her son(daughter). Alright, alright, honey. Calm down¦. She chirped, and measured out a portion of the bubble substance. The rest of the bath went relatively smoothly, with Cheryll getting her son(daughter) as clean as any seven year old would allow his mother to get him clean in a bubble bath.
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What a wonderful and engrossing story!! I love it to bits. I hope theres more x x x


I'm sorry, but this is all. I decided when I started that I did not want to drag this out and make it a spectacle, which is what many stories become.
Baby Flo
A very good story! I like it a lot!
Love everybody
everybody will Love you
What a great story can't wait for the next love Sissieann
Mina Silverwind
I am impressed with how well you wrote this story, and I hope to see great things from you well into the future.
success is not how many times you win but is instead our ability to learn that we win by never giving up when times are tough.
hi there Self
That was spectacular.
"The surest way to corrupt a youth is to instruct him to hold in higher esteem those who think alike than those who think differently." - Nietzsche
I loved your story. As much as I detested Gym class I'm sure I would have never come up with a plan like that to get out of it. Then again, it just might be crazy enough to work......

The mother was unnaturally supportive but hey he made the choice.

As to the stopping place - for a short story format, you made a nice call to stop there. The fact that people were left wanting more just proves it.
very, very well written story ^.^
one of the best i've seen on here in a long time.
lots of love
from lilgirl stephy :)
Mina Silverwind
I love the story so much, keep up the great work, and I hope you post more stories in the future.
success is not how many times you win but is instead our ability to learn that we win by never giving up when times are tough.
Easily one of the best stories this site has to offer

This was a very well written story, AE, and I think you ended it in just the right place. It all has to do with what the story is about, and you as the author are the one who gets to decide. Is it a story about a boy's journey into baby girlhood? No, it's not. It's a story about a child's first gradual realization that being a boy isn't what's really right for him, that he has a choice about what to be. I'm not sure we could even say whether he's a transsexual or not right now -- about the only thing that's certain is that there are messages society sends kids about what's appropriate for boys and girls, and he's one of the many kids to whom those messages don't apply.
Sunshine & rainbows,

"So sing aloud now, your favorite music
Because Heaven needs to hear it too."
-- Jennifer Funshine
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