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This is a story that I've already completed, and I'll release the parts as I get a chance to edit. It's the story of a boy going into high school who gets sent to stay with his aunt during the summer and she treats him the same as his younger cousins. The Drive to my Aunt's House My mom was deployed to the Middle East the summer after I finished eighth grade. My mom was a single parent, so I went to stay with my Aunt Amanda for the summer. She lived in this remote mountain town, and I didn’t know any kids my age who lived near her house. I was fourteen, which made me too young to get a job, and too old for summer camp. I would spend all summer with my two younger cousins. Scott was seven years old, and Debbie was five. In truth, I liked my aunt, even though she still treated me like I was a little kid. For some reason, she didn’t realize I was a teenager and didn’t need to be supervised all the time. My mom warned me, “Tommy, I know it feels like Aunt Amanda treats you like a kid, but if you can show her that you’re mature, she promised to give you some more freedom and responsibility. But that means that you have to be helpful and respectful. You might need to help with your cousins and, of course, clean up your messes.” The truth was, despite being fourteen and entering high school, I acted more like a kid. My mom still had to remind me to brush my teeth and tell me to take a shower at night. She constantly had to tell me to put away my things, and I never did any chores without being told to. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to, but I just never thought about it unless she asked me. I also would pout and whine, and even tantrum, when I didn’t get my way. I don’t think I was a bad kid, but I was just really immature for my age. I’m not completely sure, but I think my mom hoped time with my aunt would help. My mom and aunt met halfway between their houses. Scott and Debbie were in the car with my aunt, and I noticed a diaper bag in the back of the car. That surprised me because I thought Debbie was already potty trained and figured Scott was too old for diapers, at least during the day. We did our goodbyes, and I took a seat in the passenger side next to my aunt for the three-hour drive to her house. Now, despite my mom’s warnings, I overindulged in chips and soda along the way, and my stomach was already rumbling when we got on our way. I figured it wasn’t an emergency yet. I didn’t want to ask my aunt to stop because she already warned me before we left. She asked, “Tommy, it’s a long drive, do you need to go potty before we leave?” That annoyed me and I replied, “I’m not a baby! I can hold it.” Aunt Amanda noted my sharp tone, “Ok, but remember, you can’t ask me to stop unless you go potty now.” The pressure grew and I tried to fart a little to relieve it, but it wasn’t just a fart. I felt something come out, and it wasn’t just a small leak. It was enough that I could feel it in my underwear, and it wasn’t long before I started to smell it. I was fourteen years old, and I just pooped my pants! I wanted my aunt to see me as a teenager and not just some little kid, but that wouldn’t be possible if she knew that I pooped my pants. I tried to be discrete, but Aunt Amanda noticed the odor. She asked, “Scotty, did you poop?” “No.” Aunt Amanda then asked, "Debbie?” “No, Mommy. I’m a big girl.” “I know you are, honey. It smells like somebody pooped, so we’re going to stop.” We pulled into a rest stop, and everybody got out. My aunt checked Scott and Debbie first. Scott didn’t poop, but he wet his Pull-Up and his mom said, “Scotty, that’s your second accident. That means that you need to go back to diapers. We’re going to take a break from potty training.” I tried to sneak off as she was dealing with Scott, but she saw me. “Where do you think you are going?” “I need to go to the bathroom?” “Not yet; I need to see if it was you.” “WHAT! Don’t treat me like a baby. I didn’t poop my pants!” My aunt shot me a stern look, “Do you need to go to time-out?” I shook my head and meekly said, “No.” “Ok then. I understand that you want me to treat you like a big kid, but I can’t treat you like a big kid unless you act like one. Do big kids throw tantrums?” “No.” “That’s right, and you just threw a tantrum, didn’t you?” “But …” I didn’t get a chance to finish my protest. “Did you just shout at me and cry that you didn’t poop?” I nodded. “If you didn’t, let me check.” “Please! Let me go to the bathroom. I’ll clean it up.” “Was it you?” I blushed and cried, “Only a little bit.” “So, it was you; why didn’t you say so?” “I was embarrassed.” She placed a change pad from the diaper bag in the back of her SUV and said, “Hop up so I can take care of your mess.” “Um. What? Can’t I just go to the bathroom and clean myself?” My aunt shook her head, “I’m afraid not, Tommy. I need to make sure you’re properly cleaned.” I protested, “I can do it myself. I’m not a baby!” I hoped that would make her realize that I didn’t need her to clean my butt, but she just rolled her eyes and scoffed. “Really? Do big kids poop their pants?” “It was an accident!” “Yeah, it was, and I need to make sure it won’t happen again.” “It won’t happen again, I promise. I’m not a baby; I’m fourteen years old.” By this point, I was whining and begging. Aunt Amanda shook her head and said, “Tommy, if you want me to treat you like a big kid, you have to act like a big kid. So far, I’ve seen no evidence that you can do that.” “What? I am a big kid. You can’t do this.” “Do big kids poop their pants?” I shook my head. “Do big kids pout and whine?” I cried, “I’m not pouting!” By this point, Aunt Amanda was tired of it, “Look! If you’re going to act like a baby, I’m going to treat you like a baby. I can’t potty train you if you’re not cooperating.” “I am potty trained. It was an accident.” She laughed and said, “I certainly hope so. I’d hate to think you did that on purpose. However, at my house, an accident means that you have to wear Pull-Ups until you can show me that it won’t happen again.” She took a pacifier and ordered, “Open up.” I asked, “What’s that?” and as I did, she plopped the pacifier in my mouth. “That’s a pacifier. That’s what you get when you whine too much in my house. Keep that in your mouth until I take it out. Now be a good boy and lie down on the mat.” I resigned myself to having my aunt clean my messy bottom but pleaded for more privacy. In a muffled voice, because of the pacifier, I cried, “Can’t we do this in the baffroom?’ “I’m sorry honey, but you’re too old to take into the women’s bathroom. We have to do this out here.” “But you’ll see my --,” I was too embarrassed to say it in front of my aunt. Aunt Amanda grinned, “Honey, I’ve changed lots of little boys. I’ve even changed your diaper a few times.” I closed my eyes and let her lift my legs and clean my bottom, just like I was three years old. She finished wiping my bottom and then praised me, “You’re being such a good boy for me. It is so much easier when you’re not squirming.” She put my legs through a Pull-Up and then told me to lift up, so she could finish putting the Pull-Up on me. “See, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” “I guess so.” I suddenly realized that everybody would see me in just the Pull-Up when I got up to put on my shorts. I asked, “Can you help me with my shorts?” “You want me to help you get dressed?” “I don’t want anybody to see me in just the Pull-Up.” She nodded and then said, “Let’s see what you have in your bag. You can’t wear the ones you were wearing because they need to be cleaned.” After she finished, she helped me up and asked, “Are you going to be a good boy?” I nodded, and she took the pacifier out of my mouth and said, “Ok, that’s good. Keep this in your pocket to remind you what happens when you pout.” She then pointed to the package of Pull-Ups and said, “These are just in case. You still need to use the potty. If you can use the potty for three days, I’ll let you wear underwear again. But, if you don’t, you are going to stay in diapers until I can potty train you. Scotty is going back to diapers because he wasn’t using the potty, and the same thing will happen to you.”

Jimmy’s Story Mary quietly entered her home. She’d had to work a little late at the office but she knew that two of her three children would be out getting on with their lives... she also knew that one wouldn’t. Jimmy was laid out on the sofa dozing. The TV was showing some nature program on elephants whilst the soft, reassuring and knowledgeable English voice of the narrator explained the animal’s lifecycle. The image showed a mother elephant looking after her recently born baby and what she had to do to protect it in those first few hours. Mary stood in quiet appreciation of her youngest son. At that moment, when he looked like he did, her heart filled with the love only a mother can have for her child. His soft, stretchy Disney pyjamas made him appear so damn cute. The top of his PJ bottoms revealed the thick, semi-opaque plastic protection he was wearing and the thick padding they kept in place. His shallow breathing, floppy blond hair and extremely long eye-lashes, only accentuating his sweet, innocent looks, but what topped the entire scene off was how he was soothing himself with his thumb, which was gently embedded between his full moist lips. Mary couldn’t have been greeted by a more agreeable or more reassuring sight as she slowly woke up her sleepy-eyed son. “Time for bed sweetheart,” she said as his eyes fluttered into recognition. “It’s way past your bedtime and you look so, so sleepy. Let’s get you upstairs…” His dribble-coated thumb was replaced by a smile as he recognised his mama was now home. “I stayed awake for you…” then realised he hadn’t. “Tried,” his mother gently corrected with a grin and pushed some loose strands of hair away as she kissed her son’s forehead. She helped him to his feet. His diaper crinkled as he moved also revealing more of his padding and plastic pants. She reached in and pulled them up for him. “Look,” she said pointing towards the digital timer on the cable box, “it’s after nine and you have school tomorrow.” She tapped his padded bottom and followed him up the stairs as he waddled, unselfconsciously, to his room. She pulled back the covers and let him climb in. His thick padding making sure he was well protected for the night ahead. Not that he often needed it these days but it seemed he just couldn’t sleep unless his night time diaper was in place. He hadn’t actually wet or messed himself for quite some time but was scared stiff that he might repeat an incident that happened when he was five. Since that experience ten years ago he never trusted himself to be without protection. The mess, the smell, the effort of cleaning him and his bed up (the sheer awfulness of the memory caused him to shake uncontrollably), and everything the family had to go through on that particularly unpleasant night made him fear any kind of relapse. He’d begged his parents if he could forever wear a diaper when he went to bed. His mother wasn’t in any rush to change things. Eight years earlier she’d lost one son, John who, at fifteen, had been found dead from a drugs overdose in the family garage. He was the eldest of her four children; always positive, clever, the leader, the experimenter, the knowing one of his group of peers but it was he who was now no longer around - she was determined that nothing untoward would happen to her other kids. Jimmy was only seven when his brother died and that led to another series of unfortunate accidents in his pants and bed (a repeat of his experience when he was five), that the rest of the family, coming to terms with the death of his brother, could have done without. Little Jimmy was beside himself with grief both for his lost sibling and the extra work he was adding to the laundry. * Of course, it was all connected and trauma affects people in different ways but Jimmy, well he never really got over that terrible day. However, more was to come, within six months his father Joe also passed away. An industrial disease that had plagued him for many years eventually spread rapidly throughout his body and ended only with the man’s last cough and spluttering fit. The compensation that all the families affected by this terrible disease had been fighting for came two weeks after his death. So, although his wife and children would be comfortable, he would never see that money do the good he hoped it might achieve. Friends and neighbours, and to a certain degree Mary, all thought that the untimely death of his eldest son had hastened his demise. No one could be certain but it certainly coincided with Joe being at his lowest ebb. Losing two members of his family had been hard on the youngest who began to cling to the things he knew, the things that gave him comfort and a sense of stability. His soft cuddly teddy Mr Chips was always by his side, his thick diapers offered security, his blue pacifier (dum-dum) was never far away and, if he could, he would never let mama out of his sight. Unlike most boys his age Jimmy didn’t like to go out, play sport, play X-Box… he didn’t want to do any of the things most other fifteen year-old boy did. He was now at the age his eldest brother had been when he died but you wouldn’t know it, the difference in temperament between them was quite staggering. Whereas John had been confident and extravert, his youngest brother was shy and reserved. Despite him growing like a fifteen year-old he was still very much a child. He clung to his mama. He helped her bake, helped her shop and helped her sew. In fact, he was more of a daughter to her than his sister, seventeen year-old Marcia, who was part time at college and part time at the beauty salon. She, like his older brother, eighteen year-old Paul, was also very independent and spent more time out of the house than in, often only returning for the occasional meal and to sleep. Paul took after his father, who had been an ace with anything mechanical, worked in the local garage fixing engines though these days was hardly ever home. The room he shared with his younger brother still had his single bed made and ready for him but he spent most of his time with his girlfriend at her place. She was ten years older than him but they seemed happy enough and Paul, being an extremely likable roguish, laddish type of lad, was confident in his relationship with her and everyone else. Once, when Jimmy was younger and being picked on by both school mates and the occasional teacher, it was Paul who had thumped the bullying ring-leader in front of the bullying teacher. The withering look he gave the horrified teacher (and the implied threat), even from one so young was enough for him to change his attitude towards “That sissy little fag”. It would have been easy for a self-assured lad like Paul to hate his brother’s childish ways but in fact, the family had grown used to him and liked that he was sweet, naïve and exceptional. Jimmy never said a bad word about, or to, anyone. He was kind, gentle and, as far as Paul was concerned, woe-betide anyone who tried to take advantage or change him. …to be continued *

A debate rages if the mother Liza Martinez over-reacted when her 14 year-old son Aaron took her newest BMW on a joyride in the rain. When the mother found out she phoned her adult daughter, Liza Campero, to see if the BMW was still at home. When told the car was gone, Liza M told her daughter, "Bring me the belt!" Liza C documented most of the incident using her phone to live-tweet to the InterWeb. Subsequently Aaron and both Lizas have appeared on many TV and radio shows. Was this use of a designer belt justified, or effective? Please share your thoughts. Below is a longer on-line posting by Liza Compero talking to be youngest brother Aaron Martinez a few days after the joyride and spanking. Below is a podcast of The Texas Belting Mom, Liza Menendez, and her adult daughter and Tweeter Liza Campero, being interviewed on Buzz Adams in the Morning at a radio station in Midland, Texas on Thursday, 18 October, 2018.

My name is molly I'm 15 years old and i was just taken in by John and Kathleen Carlin.

Seth sat on his bed in the orphanage listening to nirvana and coming to terms with the fact that he'd stay there until he was 18. His ADHD

My name is kelly and i am 13 years old

Posted here for brainstorming purposes. Feel free to point out any weakness you spot in the idea, or to add details