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Thread: A Second Chance parts 1 to 5 By Travestytrav@yahoo.com

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    A Second Chance parts 1 to 5 By Travestytrav@yahoo.com

    Summary: A boy, orphaned at birth, spends the first years of his life living in horrible foster homes where he is severely mentally and physically abused. He's also a bedwetter, which only makes his problems worse. Finally, after being horribly beaten and running away, he finds himself in a loving home with a caring family. Knowing that he has had a horrible childhood, his new family lets him start over and become a baby again. He quickly learns to love being the new baby of the family, especially his diapers.
    Note: Be patient because diapers don't really come into the story until the second part. Feel free to Email comments to travestytrav@yahoo.com

    A Second Chance Part 1: How it All Started

    One might say that I was cursed from the very beginning. I never knew my real mom or dad. The only thing I knew about my mom was that she was a crack addict. I remember once being told that I was born addicted to crack, which is why I don't know my mom, because I was taken away from her right after I was born. Apparently, that didn't bother her too much, because, as far as I know, she never tried to get me back.
    So, from the time I was born, I was a product of "the system," a number lost in the bureaucracy of the state foster system. I bounced from foster home to foster home never staying in one for more than a few months at a time. Most of the time my foster families were something less than what you'd see on "Leave it to Beaver." From the time I was two or three I remember getting hit a lot. My foster parents, their kids, and sometimes people in the homes that I didn't even know all hit me. I tried to be a good boy, but I still got hit even when I was pretty sure I hadn't done anything wrong. I remember one house, when I was seven or eight, where I was pretty much the designated punching bag for my foster family's real kids. They'd beat me up for no reason at all. A lot of times my foster parents would be watching the whole thing, and they'd just laugh and call me a wimp because I didn't fight back or try to defend myself.
    Since my mom was a crack head, I was also born premature, and I was really small. That never really went away, and I've always been small for my age. I was too small to defend myself, and the one time I tried to fight back it only got me beat up worse.
    Then there were the homes were no one hit me at all, the ones where instead of hitting me they just said mean things to me. They called me a retard, a crack-head baby, stupid, shrimp, runt, bastard (I didn't even know what that meant), and a lot of other mean things. Those homes were worse than the ones where I got hit. At least when the hitting ended it was over for a little while. The mean words hurt my feelings really badly, and I usually cried myself to sleep every night.
    To make things even worse, I've been a bedwetter for as long as I can remember. Almost every morning I woke up in wet clothes and sheets. That only earned me more torment and abuse from my foster families. They called me worthless, a baby, piss pants, and everything else you can imagine. I got a lot of spankings and just plain beatings because I couldn't keep my bed dry no matter how hard I tried. In one place I remember they whipped me every morning that I woke up wet with a belt, the buckle end. I can't remember ever sitting down when I lived there that it didn't hurt a lot.
    In most of the homes I usually had to sleep on the same, nasty mattress every night, and it was almost always still wet from the previous night's accident. I didn't even know there was such a thing as plastic mattress protectors. Quite often I was made to sleep away from everyone else to keep my smelly bed from offending the rest of the family. A couple of places I slept in the basement, in others I slept in the garage, and once I didn't even have a bed. In that house they told me I was like a puppy that wasn't housebroken, I wasn't sure what that meant, and they made me sleep on the floor on newspaper. At least they did give me a pillow.
    The only good time in my life was when I lived with an older lady. She was very sweet and loving to me. She never hit me or called me bad things. She didn't care that I was a bedwetter, and she even bought me pullups to wear to bed at night so I didn't wake up wet and cold. I was only about five at the time, so I don't remember too much about her. I remember she made really good oatmeal cookies. I think I lived with her for about six months before she got really sick. The people who always take me from one house to another, I think they're called caseworkers, came and told me she was too sick to take care of me. She went to the hospital, and they took me away from her. I didn't even get to say goodbye. I don't know what happened to her. I hope she's okay and still taking care of some other kids.
    By the time I was ten I had long ago lost count of how many homes I had lived in. I was in the fifth grade and I was still a bedwetter. It was when I was ten that I was sent to the worst house ever. The "dad" drank all the time, and he always stank like beer, I've lived in a lot of houses where they had a lot of beer, so I know what it smells like. He was really mean and he hit me a lot. He also said mean things to me. I was beat up physically and verbally on a weekly, usually daily, basis. The "mom" didn't hit me a lot, but she was really mean to me. She called me bad names all the time. They had two kids, and they were both mean to me and hit me all the time. Most of the time the mom would make enough food to feed her family, and then I had to eat whatever was leftover. If there wasn't anything left I just didn't eat.
    One night, after I had been there for three or four months, the mom and the dad both got really drunk. I was sitting in the living room watching TV with them because their kids didn't want a bedwetter in their room. I didn't have any toys, and I wasn't allowed to play with their kids' toys, so I just sat there watching whatever they watched. At some point they got into a fight over something, I don't even know what. They stood up and started yelling at each other, using really bad words. The dad threw a lamp across the room, and it hit the wall and broke. The mom slapped the dad across the face and left the house. The dad was still really mad, and I was still there. I knew what was about to happen, and I tried to get away, but I wasn't fast enough. He came after me and grabbed hold of me so I couldn't run. He hit me a lot. I had a bloody nose and mouth before he was done. He didn't stop then, either. He kept hitting me long after I stopped trying to get away. I was able to get on the ground by a chair and curl up into a little ball. Even then, he continued to hit and kick me. I guess he eventually got tired and he stopped beating me. He told me, "Get your worthless ass to bed," as he went back to his chair, and I heard another can of beer pop open.
    I got up as fast as I could and ran out of the room. I tried not to cry because he hated whenever I cried, and I might get hit more if I did. In this house my bedroom was a walk-in closet in the hallway. I went into the room and collapsed onto the mattress that was on the floor that I slept on. I hurt everywhere. My face hurt and it was hard to open my left eye. My right arm hurt really, really bad. I couldn't move my right hand very well, and my arm was starting to get puffy. I hurt so bad that I couldn't help but start to cry. I lay down on my damp, smelly bed and tried to go to sleep. I lay there for a long time. I wanted to sleep, but I hurt too badly. Finally, long after the entire house was quiet, I fell asleep.
    I woke up sometime later. I felt cold. I reached down with my arm that didn't hurt and felt my abdomen. I groaned and frowned as I discovered that I had wet myself again, just like last night, and the night before, and every night before that. My stomach suddenly turned cold on the inside. I knew I was in for another beating when they found out I had had another accident. I got hit every morning here for that.
    I didn't know what to do. You'd think I'd just get used to being hit all the time, but it still scared me. Just knowing I was going to get beat in the morning was almost as bad as getting hit. I started to cry again in anticipation of the morning beating to come. Then, an idea that I had never thought of before crossed my mind. What if I wasn't here when they came to check my bed in the morning? If I wasn't here they couldn't beat me, right?
    I stopped crying and lay there thinking about that. I could just leave and I'd be okay, right? But, if I left I could never come back. If I ran away and came back they'd beat me worse than I had ever been beaten before. But, if I never came back, what was I going to do? I didn't have anywhere to go. I didn't have any friends at school because I was always dirty and people said I smelled bad. Who would take care of me and feed me if I left? But wait…I didn't get but a tiny portion of table scraps tonight. My stomach was growling even as I thought of that. No one took care of me here. I knew for a fact they didn't love me. They told me they hated me nearly every day.
    My options boiled down to either staying here, and getting beaten again for wetting my bed, or running away and never coming back. At least I had a chance if I ran away. If I stayed I was guaranteed more pain than I was already enduring. And just like that, my decision was made.
    I instantly started to get up. That turned out to be more difficult than I thought it would be. I hurt more now than I had when I came in here however long ago that had been. I was stiff everywhere. My right arm was still killing me. I pulled myself up and started for the door. My left ankle gave out, and I fell right back down to my knees. My left leg hurt really badly. I reached down and felt it. It felt sort of loose and squishy down by my ankle. I tried to ignore that, and I limped to the door.
    I turned on the light in my room, my closet, and looked around to gather my stuff. I grabbed my shoes and put them on as best I could with only one hand. I was still wearing my only pair of jeans, which were of course wet, but I had nothing else to wear. I had a white tshirt on, which I stripped off. I put on a worn-out, hand-me-down sweatshirt that was from two or three foster homes ago. I then looked around to see what else I should take. I had three more shirts, all of which stunk to varying degrees of my own, dried urine. My foster mother rarely did laundry, and, as I often slept in the same clothes I wore every day, I couldn't remember ever having pajamas, they always got peed in. Even when she did laundry, my clothes often didn't get washed. I grabbed one of the shirts along with a thin jacket that I had. That was it. I had nothing else. I considered going to the bathroom to get my toothbrush, but I didn't have any toothpaste to use with it. There was only one tube in there that my foster siblings and I shared, and if I took that I'd be stealing. If I were caught and had to come back here that would just be one more thing I'd be in trouble for, and they'd just hurt me more. For the same reason, I immediately dismissed the thought of taking any food with me. I was already taking a risk in running away, and stealing would only make things worse.
    I then had to figure out how to get out of here. The mom and dad were both drunk, and probably sleeping like the dead, but I had to be careful not to wake up their two sons. I decided that the back door would be the best exit. From there I could go down the back alleyway that ran behind all the houses on the street. That way I might better avoid getting caught.
    I did just that, and, after putting my jacket on, I went out the back door without being noticed. I went up to the fence and had to figure out how to get over it. The back gate into the alley was locked with a padlock, and I obviously had no key. It wasn't a really high fence, so I decided I could climb it. It was really hard to climb with my hurt arm and leg, but I finally managed to get to the top of the fence.
    I started to go down the other side. I got myself hanging from the top by one hand. I was about to drop down, but I lost my grip before I was ready. I landed on my left ankle, and it immediately buckled underneath me. I fell down catching myself with my left arm. That only caused me pain in my left wrist, and I was just barely able to stifle a yelp of pain. I sat there for a second and took further inventory of my wounds. Now both of my wrists hurt, although the left one wasn't nearly as bad as the right. My ankle hurt even worse now. I decided that I had to ignore my pain right now. I had to get out of here quickly before someone found me. I took my bundled, extra shirt, which I discovered I had ripped on the fence, and I headed down the alley. I zipped my jacket up and stuffed my extra shirt inside of it. It was a little cold, as it was October, and I was getting a little chilly. The damp spot on the front of my pants only made me more uncomfortable.
    I limped down the alley ever so slowly. By the time I made it to the end of the block I had to sit down and rest for a second. My arm and leg were both throbbing badly as was my head. I put my left hand up on my face. My left cheek was all puffy and my eye was swollen shut. It hurt badly and I wanted to cry, but I knew that wouldn't help anything right now.
    After a few minutes of rest I got up and resumed my getaway. I crossed a street and continued down the alleyway. I got more scared with every passing moment. My foster home wasn't in a very good part of town. I could sometimes hear gunshots at night, and there were street corners we were told to stay away from at night because men sold drugs there. I knew at any moment someone could jump out of a dark corner and kidnap me. I decided that I had nothing to lose, though, so I kept going down the street.
    I was also afraid that the police would see me. I was a little kid, and if any cops saw me out in the middle of the night they were sure to arrest me and take me a back to my foster parents, who would then beat me again.
    I made it down to an area of town that had some shopping strips and other shops. It was about ten blocks from my foster home. I would have tried to go further, but it was already starting to get light, and I was hurting so much that I just couldn't go much further. I went behind a shopping center to find a place to hide. There was an electronics store that had several big boxes piled up behind it. I found a TV box that I could fit in and I crawled inside. I was freezing cold, but the box didn't provide much warmth. I curled into a little ball and tried to go to sleep.
    I spent the next two days just hiding out behind the shopping center. I was too hurt to go anywhere else, so I just hid out back there in my TV box. I heard a few people and trucks go by, but I was able to remain hidden and quiet enough not to draw attention. I didn't sleep much because I was afraid someone might find me when I was asleep and try to hurt me. Whenever I did sleep, I always woke up wet. By the second day the bottom of the box was soaked. It was yucky, but I couldn't find another box that was big enough for me to hide in.
    By the third day I was getting really hungry. I hadn't eaten since Tuesday when I ran away, and now it was Friday. I was nearly always hungry, but I hadn't ever been this hungry before. I decided that I had to find some food. I slowly crawled out of my damp, not so warm box. It was really hard just to stand up. Both my arms still hurt, though the right one was by far the worst, and my ankle was getting even worse. My right arm started hurting really badly as soon as I stood up. It was throbbing painfully inside the sleeve of my jacket. The last time I pulled my sleeve up to look at my arm it was all swollen and yucky looking, and it scared me, so I hadn't looked at it in a day or so. I zipped up my jacket partway and rested my arm inside of it on the zipper, which helped a little. I limped down the alley behind the shopping center and out to the main street. I think it was around the middle of the day, though I didn't have a watch, so I didn't think I would run into any of my foster family, as they were either at work or school.
    I walked down the street trying to figure out where I might find something to eat. My stomach grumbled at me as I looked around trying to find a source of food. I considered maybe looking in a dumpster behind one of the stores, but they were pretty big and I couldn't climb into one with my arms and leg so messed up. I finally stopped in front of a small grocery store that was on one street corner. I knew there was food in there, but I certainly didn't have any money to buy any with.
    About then, the idea of stealing came into my mind. I frowned at that. I knew stealing was bad. I didn't want to do that, but I didn't know what else to do. I was really hungry, and I was afraid I was going to get sick if I didn't eat soon. I looked around the corner down the side of the building. If I could get in and take a little something I could slip down that way and go down the back alley and hide somewhere. I looked back at the store's entrance. I took a deep breath and let out a sigh. I didn't have a choice. I was starving. I had to do this. I had made up my mind. I would go in, take one or two little things, and that was it. The next time I'd figure out some other way to get food without stealing, but this time I had to do it.
    I took another deep breath and limped toward the front door. I slowly pulled open the door with my less-injured hand and slipped inside. I immediately saw a clerk at the checkout stand. Thankfully, he was talking to a customer, and he didn't even notice me come in. I quickly limped back into the store out of the clerk's view. I limped through the store trying to decide what to take. It had to be something small that I could conceal. It also had to be something that I could open. I had no can opener, so I couldn't get a can of beans or something like that. Finally, it had to be something that I didn't have to cook.
    I suddenly found myself in the produce section. That was good. Maybe I'd take an apple. Apples were healthy and not too expensive. If I took cheap things maybe I wouldn't get in so much trouble if I were caught. Without a further thought I quickly reached forward and snatched the closest apple that I could grab. I quickly stuffed it in the pocket of my jacket. I looked around nervously to see if I might have been spotted. There weren't many customers in the store, and there wasn't anyone in my view. I limped over to another aisle. I was looking for some kind of meat figuring that would be the best source of energy. I found the canned tuna and chicken on one aisle. I thought I was going to have a problem since they were in cans, but I found a brand of canned chicken that had the top that could be pulled off without an opener. I got the smallest can I could find, again thinking that that would get me in the least trouble if I were caught.
    I decided I had taken enough. I hadn't been seen stealing the apple or the can of chicken, but if I took any more I was more likely to get caught. I now had to figure out how to get out of the store without being caught. I decided that just walking out like normal would be best. I made my way back toward the front of the store. I went through another aisle and suddenly stopped. I was in the pharmacy aisle. There was medicine here. Medicine. Maybe I could take some medicine and that would help me feel better. I didn't know much about medicine, but I remembered being sick once. My foster mom gave me some red liquid that didn't taste very good, but it helped me feel better. But which one should I take for my hurt arms and leg and all of the other bruises? I looked at different boxes with bottles of medicine in them. I found one that said Tylenol. I remembered seeing a TV commercial for that one. I think that was supposed to help with pain and fevers, and I was definitely in a lot of pain. I reached up and quickly grabbed a package containing a bottle of Children's Liquid Tylenol. I figured that would be the best thing to take, seeing as I was a child. I had just shoved the package in the pocket of my jacket with the apple when everything went wrong. "Hey, Kid! What are you doing?" I heard a mean, male voice yell from behind.
    It startled me so much that I jumped. I turned and saw the store clerk rushing towards me. Oh, God! What was I going to do now? Without even thinking, I turned and started to limp towards the store exit. I pulled the medicine out of my pocket and dropped it on the floor. "I'm sorry," I cried to the guy behind me as I continued to try to leave. Maybe that would help.
    I went as fast as I could, but I just couldn't go fast enough. I made it out of the aisle into the front area of the store, but that was as far as I got. All of a sudden the guy was behind me. He roughly grabbed onto the collar of my jacket and pulled me hard. "Ow!" I cried out in pain.
    "Who do you think you are, kid?" he said angrily. "I'm sick of you kids stealing stuff."
    He pulled me backwards. He got me off balance, and my hurt ankle gave out underneath me. I fell to the ground crying out in pain.
    "What's wrong with you?" he asked angrily. "Get up! Playing hurt won't help you. I'm calling the police." "I'm sorry," I cried. I was sobbing uncontrollably by now. "I'll give it all back! I'm sorry!" I took out the apple and can of chicken and handed to him.
    "Where's the rest?" he asked still sounding mean. "Where are the candy, and the chips, and soda? That's what you kids always steal." I just shook my head. I was crying so hard that I couldn't even talk. "What are you hiding there?" he asked.
    Without warning he reached down for my jacket. He grabbed my right arm roughly and pulled it out of my jacket squeezing my forearm hard in the process. A wave of pain went through me. It hurt worse than any pain I had ever felt before. It was like a combination of an exploding fire and a bold of lighting went up my arm all the way to my shoulder. The last thing I remember was screaming at the top of my lungs, and then everything went black.
    I woke up sometime later, I don't know how long. I was confused because I found myself in a bed with clean white sheets and blankets on it. I couldn't remember the last time I woke up in a bed like that, if I had ever done it at all. My vision was kind of blurry. I looked around trying to figure out where I was. Suddenly, I caught some movement out of the corner of my eye. Then, I saw a woman standing over me. She was fairly young and wearing a business suit.
    "Hi, little fella," she said with a smile. "How are you feeling?"
    I didn't say anything. I was too scared. Who was she? Was she a policewoman? A doctor? Was she here to help me, or take me back to my foster parents?
    "I'm Shelly Morgan," she said. She pointed to an ID badge that was clipped to her suit jacket to prove who she was, "I'm with the Department of Child Protective Services."
    Oh. She was a caseworker. None of them had ever helped me all that much. I silently groaned inside, knowing that I would probably be back in my foster home pretty soon.
    "In case you're wondering, you're at the Children's Hospital," she told me. "You were hurt pretty bad. Your right arm is broken, your left wrist was sprained pretty badly, and your left ankle was broken, too. You have bruises all over you. Can you tell me what happened?"
    I just stared at her. Should I tell her? She probably wouldn't believe me if I did.
    "Okay. How about we just slow down and start at the beginning?" she suggested. "What's your name? We don't even know who you are."
    I even hesitated at that. Should I tell her my name? If she didn't know who I was, how was she going to send me back to the foster home?
    "Come on, big guy," she coaxed gently. "I'm not going to hurt you. Why don't you just tell me your name?" "Th- Tha- Thaddeus," I stammered weakly. "Thaddeus Holmes."
    "Okay, Thaddeus," she said. "It's nice to meet you. Do you go by Thad, or Tad, or something for short?" "People call me Tad sometimes," I replied.
    "Okay, Tad," she said. "So, what happened? Did you fall, or get hit by something…or someone?"
    I just looked down and nodded. "Someone hit you?" she asked. I nodded again.
    "Who?"
    "John did it," I replied. "Who's John?"
    She definitely didn't know who my foster parents were. Maybe that was good. "He's my foster dad," I said.
    "And he hit you?" she asked.
    I nodded. Suddenly a tear started to make its way down my cheek. She spent the next fifteen or twenty minutes asking me questions. I told her all about what happened that night in the foster home. She was shocked that it had happened on Tuesday, and I was only now getting help on Friday. I told her through my tears that I was too scared, and I thought that if I looked for help they'd just send me back.
    "Am I gonna go to jail?" I asked cautiously when I was done telling my story.
    "No, sweetheart," she said. "You're not going to jail. You didn't do anything wrong." "Uh huh," I said. "I stole. That was bad. I'm a bad person."
    I started to cry even harder then, overcome by the guilt of what I had done.
    Then the lady did something that was totally surprising. She got up and came over to me. She leaned forward, grabbed me around the shoulders, and hugged me. That felt really weird. The last time I remembered being hugged was when the nice, old lady did it when I lived with her. She hugged me all the time, but I hadn't been hugged in so long that I forgot how nice it felt.
    "You didn't do anything wrong, little man," the lady told me. "You were just trying to get a little food. The owner of the store said he's never seen anyone try to steal Children's Tylenol, and that's why he didn't press charges. You must have really been hurting if you were stealing medicine, huh?"
    "Uh huh," I whimpered.
    She held me closely for a few minutes until I calmed down and stopped crying.
    "Okay, big guy," she said. "I need to go make a couple of phone calls, okay? I'm going to go right outside. I'll be just out in the hallway on my cell phone. If you need anything just yell for me, okay?"
    I nodded again. She reached forward and gently wiped my tears away before she stood up to leave. She stepped out of the room closing the door behind her. I then started to look around. I first looked at myself. My bed was positioned so that I was sitting up slightly. I just then noticed how heavy my arms felt. They were both in casts that went up nearly to my shoulders. Each arm was bent at the elbow and fixed at a ninety degree angle. The cast on my left arm was blue and the right one was green. I'm not sure what they were made of, but it wasn't that white, plaster stuff. Each arm was resting on a pillow on either side of me. I looked further down and saw that my left leg was propped up on some pillows, as well. It was also in a cast made out that same stuff. The cast went up to just below my knee, and it was striped in blue and purple like a candy cane. It looked pretty cool. My toes were sticking out of the end of the cast. I wiggled them and thought they looked kind of funny sticking out like that.
    I wondered why I wasn't hurting any more. It was the first time in days that I wasn't hurting all over. Except for my leg, my lower half was covered in a sheet and a thin, hospital blanket. I was wearing a hospital gown. I wondered where my clothes were. I wasn't sure, but it didn't even feel like I was wearing underwear. I thought about lifting the covers to check, but I really didn't want to move my arms right now because they felt really good where they were. I decided to just put my head back and relax. There was a nice, soft pillow behind my head that I could rest it on.
    I lay back, and I was actually about to fall asleep when the door opened. The lady came back in, but this time she also had a guy with her. He was wearing a white coat. He introduced himself as a doctor. He told me about everything that they had done to me while I had been unconscious. He said that they had actually had to break my right arm again because it had already started to heal crooked. He said walking on my left leg had kept my ankle from healing, so it hadn't started to set yet. He told me I was a "brave young man" for going for so long in so much pain. I actually smiled at that because I don't think I had ever been called brave before.
    A little later, while the doctor was still there, another man came in. He was kind of a big guy and he was wearing a suit. He told me he was a detective with the police department. He took out a shiny badge and showed it to me. I thought that was cool. He wanted to know what had happened to me, so I told him everything about the last few days just like I had told the lady earlier. When I was done he told me that he had enough probable cause, I didn't know what that was, to get an arrest warrant, I remembered what that was from a TV show, for my foster dad. I asked if I was going to have to go back there, and he and the lady both told me "absolutely not."
    Before he left, the policeman also told me I was brave and tough, I know I've never been called tough before. He said I should be a policeman when I grow up. I thought that was neat. Then, he let me see his badge again. He even put it in the fingers of one of my hands and let me hold it for a second. I asked if he had a gun, and he pulled his coat back and I saw a big, giant, black gun in a holster thing on the side of his belt. He wouldn't let me hold that, though, but that's okay because I remembered from a class at school that kids weren't supposed to touch guns.
    I also asked the policeman if I was going to go to jail for stealing. I know the lady had told me that I wasn't in trouble, but I wanted to be sure. I was glad when he told me that I wasn't. He said I was just stealing because I was hungry, and the owner of the store didn't want to press charges.
    The policeman and the doctor left leaving me with just the lady. I tried to remember to call her Miss Morgan. She was really nice to me, and I didn't know many people who were nice to me, so I had to remember her name. She kept talking to me to keep me company. After I called her Miss Morgan a few times she told me to just call her Shelly. I thought that was kind of cool. One of the only things I remember from living with the nice, old lady was that she taught me that I should always call grownups Mr., Mrs., or Miss because that's the polite thing to do. The only adults I ever called by their first name were my foster parents, but they didn't really count. So, I started calling the lady Miss Shelly, which she thought was silly but kind of "cute." She told me I was a very polite young man. This had to be one of the best days in my life. Three different people had paid me three compliments in one day. That didn't ever happen to me.
    I asked her what they were going to do with me and if I was going to stay in the hospital tonight. She told me that she had already called some emergency foster parents, and they were on their way to pick me up. I started crying again when she said that.
    "What's wrong, little man?" she asked me.
    "I don't want to go with more foster parents," I sobbed. "They're always bad to me." "I'm sorry, Tad," she told me. "But you have to."
    "Can't you just let me go?" I asked. "I'll get a job, and earn money, and learn how to take care of myself." She just smiled and said I didn't need to do that.
    "The foster parents I called are different," she said. "They're very special. I've been saving them for a very special child, and you're going to be it. They're very, very nice, and they're going to take very good care of you." "Are you sure they're not mean?" I asked cautiously.
    "Yes, I'm sure. They're very nice," she said again. "They won't hurt me?" I asked.
    "I promise they won't hurt you," she said. "I swear they won't."
    She promised and swore, so I figured she was telling the truth. Maybe these foster parents would be better. Still, I remained unsure. I had been told that my foster parents would be nice before and found out otherwise.
    We kept waiting for what seemed like a long time. A nurse came in to check on me. She checked a bag of liquid that was attached to a clear tube that ran down underneath my hospital gown. I asked her what it was, and she said it was a bag of IV fluid. She told me that they put a little tube into a blood vessel on my chest to give me fluids and medicine with. I hadn't even noticed that. I couldn't feel it at all. She told me that they normally put it on a person's arm, but they had to move it when they put my arms into casts. She asked if I was hungry, but I told her I wasn't. I didn't know why I wasn't because I still hadn't eaten anything. I guess I was just nervous.
    Finally, the door to the room opened once more, and two strangers came in. It was a man and a woman. The man was really tall and big. I probably would have barely come up to his waist if I were standing by him. The lady was much smaller, but she was still big compared to me. She was slim, but she looked like one of the ladies I had seen on the workout shows, like she worked out or ran a lot. She was also very pretty like the ladies on those shows.
    Miss Shelly greeted them both, and then they came up to me.
    "You must be Thaddeus," the lady said to me. "I'm Jan Bradshaw, and this is my husband, Peter. We came to see if you'd like to come stay with us for a while."
    I just stared at them nervously. They looked nice enough, but I had had foster parents before that looked nice, and it turned out they weren't. The only thing that was different about them was they asked if I would "like" to come stay with them. That was new.
    "Yeah, Thaddeus," the man said. "We'd really love to have you. Do you want to come home with us?" That was definitely new. He had asked hopefully, like they really wanted me to come live with them.
    "Um. Well. Okay," I said quietly. I still wasn't sure if I wanted to go, but it sounded like I'd hurt their feelings if I said no, and I certainly didn't want to do that.
    "Good," said the lady. "We're glad."
    With that Shelly got up and went out of the room. I was a little worried to be left alone with these strangers, but she came back just a minute later. She had that same doctor with her and another nurse. The nurse came over to me and checked on me. She told me that she was going to take my IV line out, but not to worry because it wouldn't hurt at all.
    While she did that, the doctor talked to the Bradshaws and told them all about me. He told them where all I was hurt at, and he gave them instructions for how they needed to take care of me. He also told them that I was about eight or ten inches shorter than an average ten year-old, and that I should weigh about twenty pounds more than I did. He said I was the size of an average six year-old. I knew I was small, but I didn't know I was that small. He told them that I was small mainly due to malnourishment. I didn't know what that meant, but I decided not to ask because I didn't want to interrupt the grownups.
    When the doctor was done, Mrs. Bradshaw came over to me with a small bag she had with her. She told me she brought me some clothes because Shelly had told her that they cut off all my clothes when I got to the hospital, and I didn't have anything to wear home. She and the nurse then pulled my gown off and helped me get dressed. Actually, they really did it all for me, since I really couldn't use my arms. It was kind of embarrassing because everyone saw me naked, and I couldn't cover myself up, but I really didn't have much of a choice.
    After I was dressed in what felt like a brand new sweat suit, the nurse left and came back with a small wheelchair for me. She and Mrs. Bradshaw helped me out of the bed and into the chair. The nurse also brought two little pouch thingies. She said that they were slings to help hold up my arms in their casts. She and Mrs. Bradshaw put them on for me. They did take a lot of the weight of the casts off of my shoulders, which was nice. While they did that, Miss Shelly signed some papers for the doctor so they could let me go. Then, Mr. Bradshaw signed some more papers from Miss Shelly so that he and his wife could take me home with them.
    The nurse and the doctor told me goodbye and good luck, and then Mr. Bradshaw got behind me and pushed me out of the room. His wife and Miss Shelly walked beside me as I was rolled through the hospital's hallways. We got on an elevator and went down to the first floor. Then I was pushed out of the hospital entrance where there was a covered driveway. I noticed that it was getting dark outside. The day had already gone by.
    Miss Shelly and Mrs. Bradshaw waited with me while Mr. Bradshaw went to go get their car. A minute later, he pulled up in a big, expensive looking SUV. It said "Lincoln" on the side, so I guess that was the name of it. It was maroon in color, and it was so clean that it was all sparkly everywhere. I had never been in a car like that. I had only seen them a few times.
    He got out of the driver's seat and came up to me after he opened the back door on that side. He reached down towards me. I immediately flinched because I wasn't used to someone coming so close to me. He put one arm under my legs and the other behind my lower back. Suddenly, without even grunting with effort, he picked me up and I was floating in the air cradled in his arms. I felt really high, like I was flying.
    "Alright, big guy," he said. "It's time to go home."
    I shivered with fear and uncertainty as he put me into the back seat of the SUV. The seat was made out of soft, kind of white, smooth material. I think it was leather, but I wasn't sure because I had never seen leather before. He set me down on the seat, and then reached up to pull the seatbelt down over me. He buckled me into the seat. He then reached further into the vehicle and produced a pillow for me. He put it on my lap.
    "You can rest your arms on that, okay, buddy," he told me.
    I just nodded. He then stepped back and Miss Shelly took his place in the open doorway. "You have fun at your new home, okay Mr. Tad," she said.
    I had never been called Mister before. That was kind of funny.
    "Am I going to see you again?" I asked in distress. She had pretty much become my only friend on earth, and I didn't want her to go away.
    "Of course you will, silly," she said with a smile. "I'll see you lots more, and real soon, okay?" "Okay," I replied uneasily.
    She leaned forward and I flinched again as she gave me a kiss on the cheek. I hadn't been given a kiss by anyone in a long time. It scared me to have her so close to me, but the kiss was kind of nice.
    She told me goodbye and stepped away from the car. Mr. Bradshaw closed the door and moved forward to the driver's door. At the same time, his wife walked around to the other side of the SUV and opened the rear passenger door. She climbed into the back of the vehicle next to me.
    "Are you comfortable, sweetie?" she asked me. "Uh huh," I answered.
    She reached into the back bench that was behind the two middle seats we were in. She pulled out another pillow. She reached over to me and I couldn't help but flinch as she moved in front of me. She put the pillow up against the door on the other side of me.
    "You can lean up against that and rest, okay, honey," she informed me. I just nodded.
    She leaned forward again, and I flinched yet again as I received another kiss on the other cheek. She then climbed back out of the vehicle and climbed into the front passenger seat.
    "Ready, kiddo?" Mr. Bradshaw asked me from the driver's seat. "I guess so," I said timidly.
    He put the vehicle in drive and it rolled forward. I waved as best I could to Miss Shelly who was still standing there. She smiled and waved back at me. A few minutes later we were on the highway headed out of town.
    "You're going to like your new home, Thaddeus," Mrs. Bradshaw said from the front seat, turning around partway to look at me. "We've got a big house with lots of room."
    "Where is it at?" I asked.
    "A little over an hour from here," she said. "We live in McKinney."
    I wasn't sure where that was, but I had heard of it before. It was a nice suburb pretty far north from the city. "Um, so, what should I call you guys?" I asked shyly
    "Well, you can call us Jan and Peter," she said. "Or Mom and Dad if you like, or even Mommy and Daddy.
    That's what your brother calls us, but your sisters call us Mom and Dad." "Brothers and Sisters?" I asked fearfully
    Brothers and sisters usually just meant additional tormentors for me.
    "Uh huh," she said cheerfully. "You have a big brother, named Billy, he's twelve; and two big sisters, Andrea and Cecilia, who are fifteen and sixteen. They were really excited to hear they were getting a new brother."
    I wasn't so sure of that. I had never had a foster brother that didn't pick on me or hit me. I only remember having a few foster sisters and they were mostly younger than me. I remember one sister who was older than me. She hated me because she could never have slumber parties with me there because she was embarrassed of my bedwetting.
    Speaking of wetting the bed, that was another thing I was worried about. I hadn't told Miss Shelly or anyone else about that yet. I knew I was going to wake up wet in the morning. These people seemed nice enough now, but I was sure that would change tomorrow. Then, it would probably be back to the spankings, and hitting, and name calling. I was really worried about that, but I guess there wasn't much I could do about it. I had long ago resigned myself to a life of suffering because of my night wetting.
    "Sweetie," Mrs. Bradshaw interrupted my train of thought, "Why don't you lean over and take a little nap. You look tired, and it'll be a while before we get home."
    I frowned thinly and nodded. I was pretty tired, but I really didn't want to go to sleep. I leaned up against the pillow on the door and thought about all the uncertainties that lay ahead. I fought off sleep for as long as I could, but I quickly lost that battle, like every battle, and drifted off to sleep.
    I woke up a little later when I heard someone calling my name. "Thaddeus, sweetie. Wake up. We're almost home."
    I lifted my head off the pillow and saw Mrs. Bradshaw looking back at me. She had a big, warm smile on her face.
    "Did you sleep well?" she asked.
    I just nodded groggily. I would have actually liked to stay asleep. I was really tired from not sleeping much in the last few days. But then I forgot about that, because I suddenly felt that familiar, warm, wet feeling. I must have had another accident while I was sleeping. My worst fears had been realized. Now what was I going to do? I had ruined everything. These new people had been really nice to me, but I knew all that would change when they saw that I wet myself in my sleep. Almost immediately I started to cry. I was scared to death because I knew that I was probably going to get hit, or spanked, or even just yelled at in a few minutes. Then they'd probably not want me anymore. They'd probably call Miss Shelly as soon as we got to their house and tell her to send me back to my old foster parents.
    All too soon the SUV pulled into the driveway of a big, huge house. I had never seen a house so big before. It was two stories tall and looked like there were hundreds of windows on it. It must have had hundreds of rooms. I bet it was the biggest house in the world. It was too bad that I probably wouldn't get to live there once they found out I was a bedwetter.
    As they both got out of the front seats I started to shiver and cry more. I tried to find the latch to unbuckle my seatbelt. Maybe if I could unbuckle myself, I could get away and not get hurt. Unfortunately, the casts on my arms prevented me from reaching down by my waist where the buckle was. I was trapped until they let me out.
    Before I knew it the door by me opened and Mr. Bradshaw was there. The lights in the cab were on and he could immediately tell I was crying.
    "What's the matter, Thaddeus?" he asked me.
    I knew lying would only make things worse, so I didn't. "I had an accident," I sobbed.
    "Uh oh," he said quietly.
    "Please, don't hurt me," I begged pathetically.
    "What?" he asked in confusion. "Why would I do that? It's just a little accident. Come here, son."
    He reached forward. For the umpteenth time, I flinched as he leaned over me and unbuckled my seatbelt. He gently lifted me up and cradled me in his arms. He hugged me tightly to his chest and gave me a kiss on the forehead.
    "I'd never hurt you, kiddo," he told me. "Especially not for having a silly, little accident."
    By then, his wife had come around to us. She stood by us and brushed her hand through my hair to comfort me.
    They held me there for a few minutes until I calmed down a little.
    "Come on, big guy," Mr. Bradshaw said to me. "Let's go inside, and get you to bed, okay?"
    I sniffled one last time and nodded. They turned and I was carried toward the house. Without even thinking about it, I rested my head on Mr. Bradshaw's shoulder. The day had been such a long and tumultuous emotional roller coaster that I fell asleep before we even entered the house.
    A Second Chance Part 2: My First Day

    I woke up with a sudden start. Where was I? What had happened to me? I opened my eyes and looked around. I was shocked when I saw that vertical bars surrounded me. I looked around me and saw that I was indeed in a bed, but it had bars around it. I looked up and there was a weird looking mesh sort of thing over the top of the bed. Was I in a cage? I vaguely remembered those nice people bringing me to their house last night, but I couldn't remember anything after that.
    I then turned my attention to myself. I lifted my head off of the pillow it rested on and looked at myself. I saw the two casts on my arms, which reminded me about what happened yesterday. My arms rested on little pillows on either side of my torso. I had a clean, white, but baggy tshirt on. I looked further down and saw my left leg in its cast sticking out from underneath a blanket and sheet that covered me. The sheet was really soft and baby blue in color. The blanket was made out of fleece and had a very childish pattern on it.
    I then felt a very weird feeling down in my groin and abdomen. I reached down with one hand and lifted he covers up off of me. I was in shock when I saw that I was wearing a pair of strange, clear, plastic underwear, underneath which was some very thick cloth that seemed to surround my entire butt and private area. What kind of clothes were those? I reached down and tried to stick my hand in the waistband of the plastic underwear, but there was a tight band around the waist that I could barely even get my fingers under. I then frowned when I realized that I was wet on the inside of these strange garments. I must have peed myself during the night like I did every night.
    I was getting scared and upset like I always was about being wet. Of their own accord, tears began to roll down my cheeks. I was still quietly sobbing a few minutes later when I heard a door open. I looked through the bars of my cage across the room. My vision was distorted by my tears, but I saw what looked like a woman come through the doorway. She came over toward me. A second later she leaned over my cage and looked at me through the mesh over the top. It was Mrs. Bradshaw.
    "Hi, Thaddeus," she said. "What's wrong, honey?" "Why am I in a cage?" I asked pitifully. "Was I bad?" "Oh, sweetie," she said. "You're not in a cage."
    She moved to undo the mesh and she removed it from the top of the cage, or whatever it was that I was in. She reached down toward me, and again, I flinched as she put her arms under my armpits and lifted me up.
    "This is a crib, sweetie," she informed me as she held me to her chest and hugged me. "I only put the top over it because we were afraid you might try to climb out by yourself and hurt yourself. We won't use that again."
    "Okay," I whimpered. Then, I admitted my transgression, "I wet my bed. I'm sorry." "You didn't wet your bed," she told me. "You wet your diapers."
    "Diapers?" I asked. "Is that what's on me?"
    "Yep," she said. "We figured you would probably have another accident, so we put you in diapers. I'm sorry they're a little big on you, but that's all we have right now. They're your brother's diapers."
    "My brother's diapers?" I asked.
    "Uh huh," she replied. "He wears them, too. Come on. Let's go change you."
    She turned and carried me across the room. I kept my encased arms wrapped around her shoulders as best I could. We went over to the opposite wall of the room to a table. She laid me down on the padded top of the table. It was kind of a funny table to have a padded top that was covered with plastic. The plastic had little bears, blocks, rattles, and other baby toys printed all over it.
    "So, how did you sleep, sweetie?" she asked me as she knelt down in front of the table and began fumbling with stuff that were in the cabinets under the tabletop.
    "Okay," I said timidly.
    She stood back up and set a stack of white, folded cloth on the table next to me. She then produced a tiny, shiny thing from the pocket of the slacks she was wearing. I realized that it was a key when she moved it towards me. She went to the waistband of my plastic underwear and reached for a tiny lock there. She inserted the key into the lock, and there was click as I unlocked.
    "Why are these things locked?" I asked.
    "Oh, we use locking plastic pants at night so they won't come off if you roll around in your sleep," she informed me. She pulled the plastic pants off of me and began undoing safety pins on the diapers. She unpinned three of the diapers and pulled them away from me. I noticed the inside of the inner diaper was darker and stained slightly yellow from my accident. My damp groin and privates suddenly became cool as they were exposed to the air. She then put one hand under my knees and lifted my lower half up so she could pull the diapers out from under me. She bundled the diapers up and took them over to what looked like a trashcan at the foot of the table. She returned to me, and took a wet wipe out from somewhere underneath the table. She reached up and began to gently wipe the area that had been covered by the diapers.
    "Am I gonna get a spanking?" I asked cautiously as she wiped me. "For what, sweetie?" she asked me.
    "For wetting the bed," I replied.
    "Honey, I told you, you didn't wet your bed," she responded. "You wet your diapers. And no, we would never spank you for that. It was just an accident. You couldn't help it."
    I just nodded.
    "Did you get spanked for wetting the bed at your old foster home?" she asked me. "Uh huh," I replied. "Spanked or just hit. They did it at all of my foster homes. " "Well, not here, sweetie," she told me.
    She stopped wiping me and leaned over me. I flinched again as she gave me a kiss on the forehead. She got back up partway stopping with her face about a foot from mine. She ran her fingers through my hair.
    "Sweetie, why do you always jump when someone gets close to you or touches you?" she asked me. I looked down and frowned. I suddenly wanted to start crying again.
    "Because the only time anyone ever gets close to me," I sniffled. "Is to hit me or hurt me."
    "Oh, sweetie," she said. "That's not going to happen here, okay? It won't ever happen again. Do you understand?"
    I just nodded tersely. I still wasn't one hundred percent sure she was telling the truth, but she seemed sincere enough.
    She finished wiping my nether region, and then she took out a white canister. She sprinkled some sweet smelling powder all over my lower abdomen. She slowly and gently rubbed it into my skin down there. I couldn't help but squirm and giggle just a little as she rubbed the powder into my little pee-pee and balls. Her rubbing me there felt really good, and I felt my penis get a little bigger.
    After she was finished powdering me she unfolded the stack of white cloth next to me. There were four pieces of cloth. They each looked like the ones she had just taken off of me. They were rectangular with strips running down the center of each of them that looked thicker than the rest of the cloth. She folded them up and stacked them on top of each other. She then grabbed me behind the knees again and lifted my butt off of the table. She slid the stack of cloth underneath me and gently set my butt down on top of the thick, soft pile.
    She then spread my legs and pulled the front of the diapers up between them. She pulled them up into my crotch snuggly and fanned them out over the front of my pelvis. She used the same pins removed from the other diapers to pin on the new ones. She pinned them snugly around my waist using six or eight pins on each diaper. It took her a while to finish, but when she did they felt very secure and snug around me. The diapers were so big came up all the way to several inches past my belly button, almost to my nipples. The diapers added at least a few inches of girth to my lower torso, and it felt like my butt was at least a few inches off of the table. She picked up a new pair of plastic pants and slipped them over my ankles. She had just a little trouble pulling the pants over my leg cast, but she eventually got it. She lifted my butt up one more time as she pulled the plastic pants up and over my diapers. She tucked in the leg and waistbands around the diapers.
    "There," she said. "I know these pants are a little big, but I think they'll do for a few days." "But, why did you put more diapers on me if I'm awake?" I asked in confusion.
    "Well, for one thing, it's probably going to be hard for you to go to the bathroom with those casts on your arms, sweetie," she explained, "Since you can't pull down your pants or wipe yourself. For another, you'll probably be sleeping a lot today, which means you'll probably have more accidents."
    "Why will I be sleeping a lot?" I asked. "Do you hurt?" she asked.
    "Um, yeah," I said with a frown.
    I had been aching pretty much all over since I woke up.
    "Well, the pain medicine the doctor gave us for you is supposed to make you sleepy," she said. "Oh," I replied.
    "Also, we don't have any boys' underwear for you, so diapers are all you can wear," she said. "Oh," I said again.
    "You don't mind, do you?" she asked. "I guess not," I said.
    It wasn't like the diapers were uncomfortable or anything.
    "Now, how would you like some breakfast?" she asked. "Are you hungry?"
    I nodded vehemently. I was starving. I still hadn't eaten anything in days that I knew of.
    She reached down, put her hands under my armpits again, and lifted me up off the table. She planted my thickly padded butt on her left hip, and I wrapped my arms around her shoulders again. It felt kind of weird to be wearing these thick diapers, not bad, just weird. It was like I had a pillow or something wrapped around me.
    "Do you want some medicine first, or do you want to eat?" she asked me as she started to carry me out of the room.
    "I'm really hungry," I said.
    I figured I could ignore my pain for a little while, but my stomach was rumbling loudly. "Okay," she said. She carried me down a hallway, and then we went down a wide, curved stairway. She carried me through big open rooms in the house. I looked around in awe at the place. I was amazed at how clean and bright everything looked.
    Finally, we were in a big kitchen. It had huge, long counters surrounding it, and stainless steel appliances. The countertops were made out of some sort of greenish-black stone. It was the biggest kitchen I had ever seen in my life. A long counter separated the kitchen from a big table. She carried me over to the table. I expected her to sit me down in a chair at the table, but instead she took me over to a highchair. I couldn't believe it, but there was an actual baby's highchair next to the table. She held onto me with one hand as she used the other to pull the tray off of the highchair. She set the tray on the kitchen table, and then lowered me down into the seat of the highchair. I wandered why the chair was so big. In fact, I was kind of small for it. There was no way any baby could use it. She helped me get my arms through shoulders straps that connected to a seatbelt at my waist. She clicked the belt shut and then cinched the belt and the shoulder straps so that they held me tightly but not uncomfortably.
    "Lift your arms up for a second, sweetie," Mrs. Bradshaw instructed me. I did as she said, and she slipped the tray back on and there were two clicks as it locked into place. I noticed that the tray had straps on either side that looked like they were to tie the occupant's hands down. I could feel down on the footplate that my feet were on that there were more straps that were probably for the ankles.
    "How about some oatmeal?" Mrs. Bradshaw suggested.
    "Okay," I nodded. I really didn't care what I got so long as it was food.
    She went into the kitchen and put a pot of water on the stove to boil. After getting a canister of oatmeal out from a cabinet, she went to the refrigerator. She came back to me a minute later with a bowl and a spoon.
    "Let's have some fruit while we wait for the water to boil," she said.
    She set the bowl down in front of me, and then pulled a chair over from the table to sit down in. She sat down in front of me and stirred up the fruit in the bowl. I noticed it was a mix of fruit. There were some strawberries, bananas, grapes, and some fruit that I didn't even recognize. She picked up a little piece of fruit with the spoon and moved it toward myself.
    "I'm not a baby," I said. "I can feed myself." "Okay," she said. "Here. Try."
    She dumped the fruit back into the bowl and handed me the spoon. I took it in the fingers of my right hand and moved it toward the bowl. With the thick material of the cast covering almost my entire hand, it was actually hard just to hold the spoon. I managed to get a piece of some sort of orange fruit onto the spoon. Then, I had to figure out how to get the spoon to my mouth. With my elbow stuck in a ninety degree angle I didn't have much leeway in how I moved my arm. I tried to move my head and arm together to meet in the middle, but I ended up dropping the fruit on the tray. I frowned looking at the mess I made. The fruit splattered all over the tray. I suddenly wanted to cry because I usually got in trouble for making such messes, and getting in trouble usually meant getting hit.
    "I'm sorry," I blurted immediately.
    "That's okay, honey," she said. "See? You can't really feed yourself, so why don't I help you?" "Okay," I replied.
    She took the spoon from me and used it to start spoon-feeding me the fruit. "Am I gonna get in trouble for spilling the fruit?" I asked worriedly.
    "No, sweetie. Of course not," she said. "You couldn't help it." I breathed a deep sigh of relief.
    "Sweetie, did you get hit a lot in the other foster home?" she asked me.
    My lower lip started to quiver. I looked down at the tray as a tear rolled from my eye. "Uh huh," I whimpered.
    "Well, don't worry about that anymore, okay?" she told me. "We don't hit here. We do spank, but that's it, and we haven't spanked any of the kids in a while."
    I just nodded. I hoped she was telling the truth. I sat there as she continued to feed me my fruit.
    "What's that orange stuff?" I asked as she moved a piece of it towards my mouth. "That's cantaloupe," she said. "It's a melon. You haven't ever had that?"
    I shook my head.
    "It's good," I said with my mouth full.
    "Good," she replied with a smile. "I'm glad you like it."
    She finished feeding me my fruit and returned to the kitchen. She started making the oatmeal for me. "Whose highchair is this anyway?" I asked as she was stirring the cereal.
    "It's your brother's," she said. "You didn't see that it said 'Billy' on the seatback?" "Oh. No, I didn't,

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    A Second Chance parts 6a-6b By Travestytrav@yahoo.com

    A Second Chance Part 6 (a): The Diaper Boy Clan

    I woke up the next morning to the sun shining in through the window behind my head. It was normally still pretty dark outside when we got up during the week, so the light reminded me that it was Saturday. For me, the weekend mainly meant that I'd be spending more time with the rest of the family, particularly Billy, who was my best friend in addition to being my brother. Of course, for all practical purposes, he was my only friend. With the exception of Matty, whom I had only met once, I didn't even know any other boys, or girls for that matter, who were anywhere near my age.
    Of course, I woke up to the unpleasant feeling of being restrained. It was neither painful nor particularly uncomfortable, but I still didn't like it. I hated this stupid harness. Why did they have to put me in it? I knew they were doing it because they wanted to protect me, but there had to be another way to do it. I suddenly realized that this was the first home I had ever been tied up in. I had been hit, beaten, and verbally abused in countless homes, but never restrained. I had been locked up in a few closets before, but that wasn't the same. I wondered what that meant. Did it mean they didn't love me? What if my sleepwalking didn't go away? Would I just be tied up in my crib every night from now on? I didn't think I could take that. What if they decided they needed to take more drastic measures? I didn't know what that might be, and I didn't want to find out. They could eventually decide that my sleepwalking was a stunt for attention, and I was doing it on purpose. One or two of my foster families had decided that was the cause of my bedwetting. They put up with it for a while, but then they decided I just wanted attention, and then they started punishing me, which of course meant hurting me. I just hoped Mommy and Daddy didn't decide that was the case with my sleepwalking. I knew they said they'd never hurt me or hit me, but that was before I started sleepwalking.
    I lay there for the next several minutes. I wondered when someone was going to come get me up. I hoped it would be soon. I was getting pretty tired of just lying here unable to sit up or even move around. The time seemed to go by incredibly slowly as I lay there trying not to feel sorry for myself. I strained at the harness for a moment trying to free myself even though I knew it was a futile effort. I eventually started crying I got so upset with my predicament. I quietly lay there sniffling as tears streaked down the sides of my face. I couldn't believe how miserable I was.
    Finally, when I thought all hope was lost and that I'd be stuck in the stupid harness forever, I heard the door squeak open. I couldn't see who came in at first, but a second later Celli appeared standing over my crib.
    "Hi, baby," she whispered quietly. "You want to get up?" I just nodded vigorously.
    She went over to my chest-of-drawers and pulled open the top drawer. She pulled out the little, red, magnetic key thingy and brought it over to the crib. Now, I knew where the key was kept, not that it would help me any. It may as well have been on the far side of the moon for all the good it did me. She unlocked my harness and picked me up out of the crib.
    "Why are you crying, baby?" she asked me as she gave me a good morning hug. "I hate that stupid harness," I replied sobbingly.
    "I know you do, baby," she said. "But it's for your own good."
    Having everyone telling me that all the time, as though it was supposed to make everything so much better, was beginning to get really annoying.
    She reached around behind me and put her fingers inside my plastic pants to see how wet I was. She decided that I wasn't in need of a change at the moment, so she got my glasses for me and carried me out of the room. Billy was still asleep, so we just left him there. She took me down the hall and downstairs to the kitchen. We went over to my highchair and she strapped me into it.
    "Feel better, now, baby?" she asked as she put the tray in place. "Uh huh," I nodded.
    "Good," she said as she bent over to give me a kiss on the tip of my nose. "Would you like a bottle of milk?" "Yes, please," I replied.
    She went to the refrigerator and returned with a baby bottle of milk for me. She let me hold it by myself as she returned to the kitchen and began making coffee. She was still in her pajamas, which for her consisted of some very short, tight shorts and a loose-fitting blouse that had spaghetti shoulder straps. Andy wore pajama pants and a tshirt to bed at night. Seeing my sister's butt showing under her skimpy shorts reminded me of eating at Chick-Fil-A the other day.
    "Celli?" I asked after sucking on my bottle for a little while. "Yes, Baby?"
    "Why do older boys wear diapers, but older girls don't?" I asked.
    "That's easy," she replied. "Boys just can't control themselves as well. Girls just have better control over their bladder and bowels. That's why all boys should be in diapers, because it's really for their own good."
    "But I saw some boys at the Chick-Fil-A who didn't have diapers on," I said.
    "I'm sure you did," she replied. "A lot of people think that they have to potty train boys. They think everyone has to use the potty no matter what. Because of that, parents put themselves through a lot of extra grief trying to get their sons potty trained. The fact is boys are much harder to potty train, if they can be trained at all, and it takes much, much longer to potty train them than it does girls. Andy and I both took less than a week to be potty trained, whereas my friend Jackie's little, six-year-old brother took nearly a year, and he still has accidents sometimes. I'd be willing to bet that just about all those boys you saw at Chick-Fil-A without diapers still had a lot of accidents."
    "So, then why do parents potty train their boys?" I asked.
    "Society is just confused," she said. "There's this belief that everyone has to be potty trained by a certain age, and it's really just not that simple. Boys aren't supposed to be potty trained, which is why it's so much harder to train them. When girls go through potty training it's just another part of growing up, but with boys it becomes a very traumatic experience, one of the worst experiences of their lives. Do you remember your potty training?"
    "No," I shook my head.
    "See? That's because it was probably so traumatic that you blocked it out of your memory," She explained. "Most people think that if they don't potty train their boys they're going to end up ostracized or rejected by society, or they'll wind of with emotional problems, but that's absolute hogwash. Just look at Kevin. He's pretty normal, isn't he?"
    "Yeah, he's really cool," I agreed.
    "See?" she said. "There's nothing wrong with older boys, even adult older boys being in diapers." "But why aren't boys supposed to by potty trained?" I questioned further.
    "They're just not," she said. "Boys are supposed to stay in diapers. That's why all boys love diapers, because they're supposed to be in them."
    "Have y'all really done scientific studies that say all boys like diapers, like Andy says?" I asked.
    "Yep," she said with an emphatic nod. "We've proved it. All boys love diapers." "How did you prove it?" I asked skeptically.
    "Okay," she said. "You've seen your brother changed and you've been changed a lot. Whenever you get your diapers changed your little pee-pee gets stiffer and bigger, right?"
    "Uh huh," I said. "That's called an erection."
    "Oh, that's right," she replied. "Billy explained all that to you. Well, anyway, those happen when a boy likes something. Now, I've probably changed two dozen or more boys' diapers, and that's just older boys, not including little babies, and they always, without exception, get an erection during diapers changes. That must mean they love diapers, right?"
    "Hmm," I said mulling over that for a second. "I guess it does."
    "Of course it does," she said. "Besides, even if boys didn't like diapers, it would still be best to keep them all in them. Potty-trained boys are just much dirtier. I bet all of those undiapered boys you saw at Chick-Fil-A had horribly dirty bathrooms at home. Boys just cannot keep a bathroom clean. I once saw a study that showed that residential, that mean in homes, bathrooms had 45% more germs when boys used them regularly than bathrooms that were only used by girls. Do you know what 45% means?"
    "No," I admitted.
    "That means nearly half. So, if a bathroom that was only used by girls had 100 germs, a bathroom that was used by girls and boys would have 145 germs. I haven't found any research to support it, but I'd be willing to bet that a bathroom that has nothing but boys using it is at least twice as germ-ridden as a bathroom that only girls use. See? Boys are just dirtier, but it's not your fault, you can't help it."
    "But why are boys dirtier?" I asked next.
    "It's just one of those ways boys and girls are different," she replied. "That's why boys should stay in diapers because it keeps them and the area around them much cleaner. Jackie's brother is horrible in the bathroom. She's shown me where he's always missing the toilet bowl and peeing on the edges of the bowl or on the floor. Yuck! I mean he's your size for Goodness sake. His little pee-pee can't be but a few inches above the toilet bowl, and he misses that big, huge opening on it. And he can't seem to get his bottom wiped properly after he makes pooh-pooh. She's shown me the inside of his underwear, and let me tell you, they're disgusting. They have gross brown streaks in the seat from him not wiping enough or just not wiping at all after he poops. You probably had the same type of stains in your undies before you came here."
    I thought back for a minute and tried to remember my few measly pairs of underpants that I owned before I got here.
    "Hmm," I said. "I guess they were pretty bad, but mine also had pee stains on them from wetting the bed."
    "See, now, that's something you can't control," she said, "But it's also another reason why all boys should be in diapers. Many, many, many more boys wet the bed than girls, and they usually wet the bed longer than girls." "Hmm," I said considering all this information further.
    "So, you see, sweetie?" She concluded. "Boys just aren't capable of controlling that part of their lives. They should all just remain in diapers and let their sisters or capable adults take care of cleaning them and changing them."
    "But, then, what if I decided I didn't want to be a baby anymore?" I asked.
    "Yeah, like that's going to happen," she said with a snorted laugh. "You absolutely love being a baby. Don't try to deny it. I can tell. And, like I told you, even if you decided to be a big boy, Andy and I would figure out a way to make you want to be in diapers. Heck, we may not even give you a choice. You can be a big boy all you want, but you're still wearing diapers."
    "But Mommy and Daddy said it was my choice," I said.
    "Sure, being a baby is," she said. "But you really do need diapers. Andy and I would convince Mom and Dad to keep you in diapers whether you wanted to be a baby or not. And besides that, you've noticed there's no toilet in you and Billy's bathroom, so where would you go to the potty, anyway?"
    I frowned at that. She did have a good point. I had asked Mommy about that one night this week when she was bathing us. She told me that they took the toilet out a couple years after Billy came here, since he never used it, and they needed the space to make room for the big tub.
    "Well, I could go in one of the other bathrooms," I said.
    "No, no, no," she said. "I don't think so. You certainly can't use Andy's or my bathrooms. Those are girls-only toilets in there. And you probably couldn't even get to one of the other bathrooms in time without having an accident. Remember, boys can't really control themselves that well. Did you have a lot of accidents during the daytime before you came here?"
    I had to think about that for a few seconds, but then I did remember having sporadic accidents over the years, for which I was almost inevitably spanked or beaten.
    "Yeah," I said sadly. "I guess I did have some."
    "See, baby?" she said. "We can't have that in this house. That's why all boys have to be in diapers here. But that's really not a problem, since, like I said, all boys love diapers. So, now do you see why all boys should be in diapers?"
    "Yeah, I guess so," I said with a thin smile.
    "Good baby," she said. "One day, Andy and I are hoping that everyone will understand, and they'll just stop bothering to potty train boys. The world will be a much better, happier place if that happens."
    "So, why doesn't Jackie's brother wear diapers if he still has accidents and he's so dirty?" I asked.
    "Well, like I said, most people just don't understand," she said with a frown and shake of her head. "Their mom just doesn't understand that it would be better to keep him in diapers. Jackie and I have both tried to convince her, believe me, we have, but she still thinks dealing with accidents and yucky bathrooms and underwear is easier than dealing with diapers. Maybe next week I'll see if Jackie will bring him over after school one day so you can meet both of them. Jackie will probably be babysitting you one of these day, anyway, so you should probably meet her."
    She got up from the table where she had been sitting in front of me drinking her cup of coffee. She took my empty bottle and her coffee mug to the sink and returned a moment later with a bottle of apple juice.
    "Come on, stinker," she said. "Let's go watch cartoons until everyone else gets up. I guess everyone is sleeping a little late today since we were all out late last night."
    She unstrapped me from my highchair and picked me up. She carried me into the den and we sat down on the couch. She got me situated comfortably in her lap and she turned on the TV. We found some cartoons to watch and then I sat there as she held my bottle of juice to my mouth. As I sucked on it, I gave my bladder a little push and flooded my already wet diapers with more urine. As I wallowed in the renewed, comforting warms of my sopping diapers I thought how good it could be to be a baby.
    About the time I finished my bottle Mommy came into the room. "Good morning, you two," she said. "Are you guys the only ones up?"
    "Morning, Mom," said Celli. "Yeah, we're it." "Good morning, Mommy," I said to her happily. "Hi, sweetie," she said.
    She came over and picked me up out of Celli's lap. She gave me a kiss and a hug. "Did you have a good night with Kevin, last night?" she asked.
    "Uh huh," I said. "I like him. He's really cool."
    "That's good," she said. "I'm glad you like him, because you'll be spending a lot of time with him." "What do you mean?" I asked in confusion.
    She carried my empty bottle and me to the kitchen with her.
    "Well, you know we needed to find you a permanent tutor to do your home school for the next few months," she said as she put my bottle in the sink and carried me over to my highchair again. "Kevin just started college, and he only goes in the afternoons, so he's free a lot of the time, including every morning. He's a very smart boy, so we decided to see if he wanted to be your teacher. Daddy called him earlier this week, and then we came up with the idea of him keeping you guys last night to see how you two get along. So, you liked him a lot?"
    "Yeah," I said. "He is really smart, and he's nice. He also changes diapers really good."
    "Yes, he does," agreed Mommy. "He's been babysitting your brother for years, so he has lots of practice changing diapers."
    She went to the kitchen and began searching through the pantry.
    "I think we're just going to have oatmeal this morning, baby," she told me, "Since we're going to have a big lunch this afternoon."
    "Okay," I replied.
    "So, are you excited about meeting Matty's brothers and sister this afternoon?" she asked me. "Uh huh," I replied.
    "And don't forget, you're getting your new baby clothes, too," she reminded me. "I know," I replied. "I can't wait."
    She started making breakfast as I sat there quietly. "Mommy?" I asked after a few minutes.
    "Yes, baby?" she replied.
    "Um," I started cautiously. "Do I get to do Halloween this year?"
    "Oh," she said. "You know, I guess we forgot that was coming up. Of course you do, sweetie. We need to come up with a costume for you. Do you have any idea what you want to go as?"
    "No," I replied.
    "Well, why don't you think about that, baby," she said, "And this afternoon when Molly is here we can see what she can come up with in the next week. She's making your brother's costume, and she can usually get something put together pretty quickly."
    "Okay," I nodded happily. That got me pretty excited. I had never had a Halloween costume. I'd have to think really hard about what I wanted to be. I hadn't the slightest idea what to go as.
    Right about then Daddy came into the room carrying Billy. Daddy was the only person who could still carry Billy around. Billy was kind of jealous of me for being so small that everyone could still carry me.
    "Morning, everybody!" Billy announced happily.
    "Good morning, baby," Mommy told him. "Good morning, dear." "Morning, Honey," Daddy said quietly but cheerfully.
    Daddy carried Billy over to his highchair, which was next to mine. He got him into it and strapped him in. Before he was even in his highchair I could smell Billy's stinky diapers, so Daddy apparently hadn't changed him, yet.
    "Good morning, Tadpole," he greeted me as he strapped Billy into his highchair. "Morning, Daddy," I told him.
    When Billy was strapped in, Daddy moved over to me and gave me a kiss on the forehead and a pat on the head. He then went into the kitchen to help Mommy with breakfast. A few minutes later both the girls came into the kitchen. Andy said hi to everyone and she came over to give Billy and me our good morning kisses. Breakfast was ready just a few minutes later. Celli fed me my oatmeal and toast this morning while Andy fed Billy. After breakfast the girls took both of us babies upstairs to change our diapers. They decided to team up to get us changed faster this morning.
    "Let's diaper them up special for this afternoon," Andy suggested as she sat me down on the changed table and helped me lay down.
    "Okay," replied Celli. "How many do you think we should use?"
    "How about six?" proposed Andy. "We want to impress the other diaper boys." "You think his plastic pants will fit over that many?" asked Celli.
    "We won't know until we try," replied Andy. "We know Billy's do."
    I knew they were talking about putting six diapers on me. I thought four diapers was a pretty thick set, but six had to be ridiculously bulky. I didn't think I'd even be able to walk in that many diapers. I wasn't so sure that I wanted them putting that many diapers on me, but I was not in the least bit involved in the decision making process.
    Celli proceeded to unlock my nighttime plastic pants and remove them. She unpinned my wet diapers and removed them. I noticed that I got kind of cold as I waited there while she put my diapers in the diaper pail. It was supposed to be pretty cool this weekend, and I could definitely tell the difference in the temperature in the nursery this morning compared to last night.
    Celli and Andy pulled out a bunch of diapers and began to fold them up. Celli lifted my butt off the table and slid the first diaper under me. She pinned it on snugly while Andy both handed her diaper pins and folded up the other diapers at the same time. Five more times my butt was lifted and another diaper went under it. The first two were the smaller size ones Mommy bought for me, the second two were the bigger size, and the last two were actually two of Billy's pre-fold diapers. She got all six diapers pinned very snugly around my lower half. I don't know for sure, but it seemed like she must have used a hundred diaper pins on me. She then pulled out one of my pairs of plastic pants and held them up to me.
    "There's no way these are going to fit," she announced as she held them over the front of my diapers. "Nope, you're right," agreed Andy.
    I thought that meant they'd have to thin out my diapers, but I was wrong. "Use a pair of Billy's pants," said Andy.
    "Okay," Celli said.
    She got down on her knees to go through the plastic pants on their designated shelf. She finally came back up with a pair of printed plastic pants.
    "Here we go," she said. "We'll put them in baby print pants today, since it's a special occasion."
    She fed my legs through the pants and pulled them up. She lifted my butt once more and pulled the pants over my voluminous diapers. She got the leg holes of the pants tucked into my diapers to prevent leaks, and then she sat me up to adjust the top of my pants and made sure they covered my entire diapers. By the time she was done with that, Andy had retrieved my cast boot from on top of my chest-of-drawers. Celli strapped it onto my cast foot. She then gave me a kiss on the nose and picked me up. She stood me up on the floor. She then gave me a rather hard swat on my butt. My diapers were so thick that I couldn't feel it at all, but it nearly knocked me off balance nonetheless.
    She told me I could go, and then I walked around trying to get accustomed to my tremendously thick diapers. Of course, "walking" was an abject euphemism for the way in which I was forced to ambulate. My legs were forced so far apart by my diapers that I had to move with a horribly pronounced waddle, and the limp induced by the cast on my left leg only worsened my waddle. I waddled around for about fifteen feet before I lost my balance and fell. Thankfully, I fell flat on my butt, which was obviously amply padded. It didn't hurt at all to fall on my rear end.
    "Are you okay, baby?" Andy asked concernedly, having seen me go down. "Uh huh," I nodded.
    I then had to try to get up. That turned out to be difficult. My legs were so restricted by my diapers that I couldn't move them around too much, and I couldn't use my arms to push myself up since they were stuck in their casts. I struggled for a few moments, but I just couldn't do it.
    "I can't get up," I finally whined in frustration. "Here, baby, I'll help you," Andy said.
    She came up behind me and put her hands under my armpits. She lifted me up and got me back on my feet. "Now, just walk slowly, baby," she cautioned me.
    I nodded as I started to try to waddle around again. I made it another few feet before I once again lost my balance and fell on my butt.
    "Uh oh," Andy said from behind me. "You're not getting around so well there, bubble butt." "These diapers are too thick," I complained.
    "Oh, you'll be fine," she assured me dismissively. "You just have to get used to them."
    I just sat there as Andy returned to help finish diapering Billy. I was able to get myself turned around as I sat there in the middle of the nursery. I watched quietly as the girls got Billy into a thick set of diapers. When he was diapered just as thickly as I was, he slid off the table wearing a pair of plastic pants over his diapers that was identical to mine. He stopped for a second as he stood there and looked down at his diapered lower half. He smiled in deep satisfaction as he rubbed the front of his diapered crotch for a second. He then waddled over in my direction. He walked with a much more pronounced waddled than usual, but he didn't seem to have too much trouble getting around. I guess he had practice wearing such thick diapers. Of course, the diapers weren't quite so thick on him, considering he was a lot bigger than me. He came over to me and plopped down on the floor next to me.
    "I love diapers this thick," he said with a fiendish gleam in his eyes. "Calm down, diaper boy," Andy told him.
    She came over to me and stood me back up.
    "You two, let's go to the bathroom," she told us. "Gotta get those pearly whites brushed."
    She let me waddle along by myself, but she stayed right behind me to catch me if I lost my balance again. The three of us went to the bathroom while Celli went to our dressers to get the two of us babies some clean tshirts. With such thick diapers on, I was pretty sure there was no way any other type of clothes would fit on us. When we got to the bathroom, Andy picked me up and sat me on the counter. She got my toothbrush out and put toothpaste on it. Andy brushed my teeth while Billy brushed his own. A few minutes later we were ready to go. Andy picked me up and planted my heavily padded crotch on her hip. I couldn't even feel the arm she had under my butt to hold me up. She carried me out of the room and we found Celli waiting in the nursery with tshirts for Billy and me.
    Andy set me down and I stood there while Celli pulled the white tshirt I had slept in off and put me in a purple tshirt with a "Barney" iron-on on the front of it. She put a red tshirt on Billy that had a "Bob the Builder" Iron-on on it. Both tshirts were baby tshirts with the lap shoulders and snaps on the back of the neck. With such babyish tshirts and our baby-printed plastic pants, Billy and I looked even more babyish than usual.
    "Let's go downstairs, babies," Celli announced when she was done. "You two can play in the playpen and watch your cartoons while we help Mom and Dad get ready for this afternoon."
    She picked me up and we headed out of the room. Andy took Billy by the hand and led him along. The four of us went downstairs and to the den. Billy and I were put in the playpen and Andy brought us the TV remote. Billy turned the TV to Fox so we could watch some Saturday morning cartoons. It was just after 10:00, and a cartoon he liked to watch had just come on. We watched TV for a while as we simultaneously played with our toddler toys in the playpen. After a little while Celli brought each of us a bottle of juice to suck on. After watching Fox for a little while we switched over to Nickelodeon to watch some other cartoons. "Rugrats" was on, which had become one of my favorite cartoons for some reason. I think I liked it because Tommy Pickles always went around in just his diapers and a tshirt, just like Billy and I usually did.
    We watched TV and played with our toys for what seemed like a couple of hours. Everyone else in the house was busy getting ready for the little party we were having this afternoon. Daddy was carrying things outside to the backyard to put on the barbecue grill. We were having hamburgers and chilidogs, and he was going to grill a lot of meat. Mommy and the girls were in the kitchen doing a lot of things that I couldn't see. At some point Andy came out and checked our diapers and make sure we were okay. I don't know why she bothered checking our diapers, as we could have probably gone a few days without a change.
    Not long after she checked us my stomach started to hurt a little. Actually, it started to hurt a little more than it had been. I had kind of had an upset tummy all morning. I think it was from the ice cream Kevin fed us the previous night. I tried to ignore my discomfort and keep playing with my Little Tyke toys, but the pain in my abdomen kept getting worse. Pretty soon I stopped playing with the toys and just sat there rubbing my stomach as best I could with my right hand.
    "What's wrong, Taddy?" Billy asked after a while. He obviously noticed my growing discomfort. "My tummy hurts," I said with a grimace.
    "Bad?" he asked.
    "Uh huh," I replied with a nod.
    "Sorry," he said. "Does it feel like you need to poop or something?" "I think I'm gonna have diarrhea," I replied.
    "Cool," he replied with a look of delight on his face. "Cool?" I asked. "Why is that cool?"
    "Diarrhea is the best!" he said earnestly. "It feels so awesome, and it stinks up the whole house."
    I crinkled my nose up at the thought of that. I thought Billy was a little nuts, but I did know he loved his diapers. Then, I remembered back to when I had had diarrhea the last time. I remember how weird, and interesting, and good it felt. I guess diarrhea was pretty cool.
    Right about then I stopped thinking about diarrhea in the abstract sense. Diarrhea suddenly became a much closer, tangible thing. I suddenly felt an urgent, unbearable need to poop. I was sitting Indian-style on the floor of the playpen. All I needed to do was lean forward a bit to take my weight off of my butt and give one little push, and runny poop began to flow from my butt hole. The poop was accompanied by a wet, gurgling fart, which caused Billy to giggle with delight. I continued to push out quite a bit of very runny poop hoping that my stomach would start to feel better.
    While I was still pooping I watched Billy lean forward just a little like I was doing. There was an even louder fart from him, and it looked like he was filling his own diapers with solid waste. He had a smile on his face the whole time.
    We both finished pooping about the same time. I sat back putting my weight back onto my rear end. That caused my runny poop to squish all over inside my diapers. Billy spent a couple of minutes scooting his butt back and forth on the floor. He was obviously trying to get his own excrement spread around within his diapers. My poop was so runny that I didn't even need to worry about doing that. Unlike my last experience with diarrhea, I could very quickly smell the foul odors of my mess. I guess this mess smelled much worse than the last diarrhea I had if it found its way out of my diapers so quickly. Within a minute or so I could also smell Billy's own load of was. His poop seemed to smell worse than mine, but that may have just been because I was more accustomed to the odors my own waste produced.
    "It's fun, isn't it?" Billy commented as he began to rub the front of his super thick diapers. "Yeah," I admitted with a slight grin.
    Right about then the doorbell rang. Mommy and the girls came out of the kitchen. "They must be here," announced Mommy as she headed towards the entryway.
    Celli came over toward the playpen.
    "Come on, babies," she said. "We gotta go greet the guests." She got Billy out of the playpen and set him down.
    "You babies stink," she told us with a contorted look on her face. "We already need to change you."
    She picked me up and set me on her hip. She took one of Billy's hands with her free hand and we headed towards the entryway just as Daddy came in from the back patio. He must have heard the doorbell and came in to greet our arriving guests. We all gathered in the entryway just as Mommy unlocked the front door. I suddenly got nervous like I always did when I was about to meet someone new. I would be meeting a lot of new people today, which made me even more nervous than usual.
    "Hi, guys!" Mommy said happily as she opened the door.
    She stood aside and I saw a bunch of people standing outside. There were two adults, one of whom I recognized as Ms. Molly, along with a bunch of kids. The kids came in first. Matty was the first in, followed by two other boys, and then a girl who was holding the hand of the fourth, smallest boy. The girl was the same one I had seen earlier in the week climbing into the back of Ms. Molly's car at the school. Each of the boys had a backpack slung over his shoulders, which I imagined probably contained one or more changes of diapers.
    I immediately noticed how all the boys were dressed. None of them were wearing anything that even remotely resembled "big boy" clothes. Matty and the next smaller boy were in bib rompers like Daddy had dressed me in the previous day. Matty's romper was red and he was wearing a white shirt with fire engines on it underneath the romper. His younger brother's romper was bright blue with a multicolored, striped shirt underneath it. The next smallest boy had green short-alls on under which was a blue tshirt with a Scooby Doo motif covering it. Finally, the smallest boy was wearing bright orange overalls with a white tshirt underneath that had little Tiggers from Winnie the Pooh all over it.
    He was the only one that actually looked as though he should be dressed as a toddler. It was also quite obvious that all of the boys were thickly padded in diapers. I figured they had to be wearing cloth diapers under their clothes, as the diaper bulges each of them sported seemed much too big for disposables. The girl, I suddenly remembered her name was Maggie, was dressed in a pair of faded blue jeans that were very tight on her. She was wearing a thin, but also tight, maroon sweater. Her fairly long, reddish-brown hair was done up in a ponytail behind her head. I didn't really like girls or anything, but I couldn't help but think that she was very pretty.
    Celli set me down on the floor as the kids approached us. "Hi, guys!" Billy said happily with a wave to them all.
    "Hi, Billy. Hi, Celli," Matty said to my siblings. "Hi, Taddy." "Hi," I replied quietly.
    "Taddy, these are my brothers and sister," he introduced me. "This is Danny, Caleb, Zachary, and Maggie."
    He pointed at his brothers in descending order by size and then to his sister. Danny, who I remembered was eight was bigger than me by about six inches, even though I was two years his senior. I was closer in size to five-year-old Caleb. He was actually smaller than me, but only by an inch or two, even though he was half my age. Zachary was the only one who was significantly smaller than me. I guess he was about six inches or so shorter than me. I then looked up at Maggie. She was a lot taller than me. She looked like she was almost a foot taller than me. However, I was used to girls in my grade at my old schools being taller than me, so I really wasn't surprised that she was bigger than me.
    Danny and Caleb both came up and said hello to me. Danny even offered his hand and he shook the fingers of mine. I was then somewhat surprised when Zachary came up and wanted to hug me.
    "Zack likes to hug everybody," Maggie informed me.
    I accepted Zack's hug just a little awkwardly. He embraced my pretty tightly for such a little kid and then he backed away from me slightly.
    "Ooh, you got big diapers," he said with an amused smile. He reached forward and poked at the front of my bulging diapers gently.
    While he did that Maggie came up and put an arm around Zack's shoulders. She extended her right hand to me in greeting.
    "Hi, Taddy," she greeted me. "It's nice to meet you. I've heard a lot about you. Mom was right. You are very cute."
    At that I blushed deeply. For some reason I felt much more embarrassed by this girl seeing me in nothing but diapers than I had been by anyone else before. I don't know if that was because she was a girl or because she was my age. Thankfully, I didn't have much time to think of that because Ms. Molly and her husband had come into the house. Both of them were carrying several bundles that I decided must contain my new baby clothes. Mommy and Daddy relieved them of their burdens and they came over to where we kids were. They said hi to us, and then, somewhat to my surprise, Molly bent over to me and picked me up.
    "Hi, Taddy," she greeted me. "How are you, sweetie? Do you feel better than you did last time I saw you?" "Uh huh," I nodded.
    "That's good," she told me. "This is my husband, Clark."
    She turned toward her husband, who was standing next to her. "Hi, Taddy," he greeted me friendlily.
    "Hello," I squeaked nervously.
    "You stink, sweetie," Ms. Molly then informed me with a smile. "Yeah, he and Billy both need a change," Celli informed everyone.
    Now that everyone had greeted each other, we headed into the den. Ms. Molly carried me, which I appreciated considering how hard it was for me to walk in my overly thick diapers. Mommy and the girls wanted to go through my new clothes and things immediately. Celli and Andy were nearly bubbling over with excited anticipation at the prospect of going through all my new stuff.
    "Billy, sweetie, why don't you take the boys out back to play for a little while before we eat?" Mommy suggested. "Unless you all want to stay and watch us go through all the new clothes."
    "Nope, we'll go out back," Billy said immediately. "Go get your shoes on, first," Mommy told him.
    Billy nodded and he quickly waddled out of the room to go upstairs. He was back a minute or two later with socks and sneakers on. He looked sort of silly wearing nothing but shoes, a tshirt, and diapers. He led Matty and his brothers out the back door and to the backyard where they could play. Daddy took Clark back there as well to continue cooking the meat for lunch. I would have liked to go out back and play, too, but I was told that I needed to stay inside to try my new clothes on. All of the girls gathered with me in the sitting area of the den. Mommy and Ms. Molly started to unwrap the bundles of clothes, which were all wrapped in brown paper.
    "I don't think anything will fit over diapers that thick," Ms. Molly said.
    "I'll go get some stuff to change him," Celli said, getting up from the couch she was sitting on. "He needs a change anyway."
    "I don't know why you girls had to put so many diapers on them this morning, anyway," Mommy complained mildly.
    "We wanted them to look extra cute for the company," Andy explained. Everyone else got a little giggle out of that.
    Celli returned a few minutes later with a stack of diapers, plastic pants, a changing pad, a canister of baby powder, and a tub of baby wipes. She got down on the floor in the middle of the sitting area after pushing the coffee table out of the way a bit. She spread out the changing pad in front of her.
    "Come here, baby," she then said, waving me towards her. "Let me change your diapers."
    I had been sitting on Andy's lap on an easy chair. Andy helped me slide off her lap, and I waddled precariously over in Celli's direction. I tried really hard not to fall to keep from embarrassing myself in front of everyone, and I thankfully succeeded. I got over to Celli and stood in front of her on the changing pad. I then had to sit down on the floor, a task that I still hadn't perfected yet with even my normal amount of diapering, much less two extra diapers. I crouched down on as low as I could get before letting myself fall backwards onto my butt. That actually worked this time, but I landed on my butt hard enough that it squished the runny poop in my diapers around a lot. I felt liquefied poop flow all the way up the front of my diapers past my penis, so I knew Celli was about the have her work cut out for her.
    Celli got me positioned how she wanted me on the changing pad and I lay back and spread my legs apart. It was then that I realized that Celli had knelt down on the floor with her back to the couch that Maggie was sitting on. That left me facing her, which I found very humiliating. I just sat there leaning back on my elbows looking down at myself trying not to make eye contact with her.
    I barely had time to consider that before Celli reached up to my waist…well, actually, well above my waist, and pushed my tshirt up just a little so she could get at my plastic pants. She pulled my plastic pants down and off of me. She reached up and began to unpin my diapers. I don't know how many pins were in each diaper, but it must have been a bunch because it seemed to take her forever to unpin all six diapers. The first three diapers seemed to be completely dry. I don't think any of the urine from my three or four wettings had gotten to them at all yet. The third diaper from the inside may have been just a little damp. Finally, she got to the inner two diapers. These two were pretty wet, at least up front. I could also see poop leaking out of the sides of them around my legs. She unpinned the last diaper and opened it up exposing my genitals for all the women to see. Of course, they were completely covered in my poopy mess.
    "You made a big mess, stinky butt," Celli told me.
    I heard Maggie giggle quietly at that. I gave her a quick glance and noticed she had a very satisfied smile on her face. She must have been enjoying the opportunity to watch me get my diapers changed. I wasn't enjoying it at all. I was lying there in the middle of the room with five girls watching me. Sure, Mommy, Celli, and Andy changed me all the time, but it was still utterly humiliating to be changed in front of a crowd of girls.
    I was getting very uncomfortable, so I lay back and just stared at the ceiling as Celli started to clean my diaper area with wet wipes. It took her quite a while to get me clean, as I was very dirty, and she must have used probably ten baby wipes.
    "Celli, why don't you put him in some of his new diapers?" Molly suggested as Celli was finishing up. "He needs to try them on anyway."
    "Oh. I guess we can do that," Celli said.
    Molly went through one of the piles of garments on the couch next to her.
    "Here, have a look at them," she said as she handed a diaper to Celli and another each to Mommy and Andy.
    I got a very good look at the diaper Celli held up. It looked a lot like Billy's custom diapers. It was gleaming white in color, much whiter than my other diapers, which had already become a little dingy from use. It was rectangular with half-circle scoops cut out of the sides to contour around the legs. The top and bottom edges of the diaper, which made up the waistline was stretchy, like they had elastic in them to make a waistband. There also appeared to be elastic in the edges of the leg cutouts, which made sort of a little depression in the center of the diaper, which I imagined would help hold its contents in. I realized that the diaper looked a lot like the disposable diapers Billy wore, except it was a lot thicker and it obviously had no tapes. I noticed that the center panel of the diaper seemed to be thicker than the diapers I wore, or even the ones Billy wore. Apparently I wasn't the only one to notice the difference.
    "It seems quite a bit thicker than Billy's diapers," Celli commented.
    "Oh, it is," said Molly. "I found a new type of batting material to use in the soaker panels. It's a little bulky, but it's supposed to work pretty well. Supposedly it soaks up a lot of liquid, but it dries faster in the dryer than regular diaper cloth. I put four layers of that into the soaker panels of all of Taddy's diapers sandwiched in between the regular material. That's the first batch of diapers I've done since we got the new material, so I don't know how they'll work. Since I wasn't sure how well the stuff works I had the girls go ahead and put the normal, eight layers of birds-eye in there."
    "So, it's twelve layers thick?" asked Andy.
    "That's right," Ms. Molly said. "Although, like I said, the batting material is a lot bulkier than birds-eye, so it makes the diapers even thicker, but I'm hoping it will also make them quite a bit more absorbent. Like I said, this is the first batch of diapers we've done, which is why I did it for free. Taddy gets to be our test case."
    "And you made two sizes, right?" Celli asked.
    "Yep," replied Ms. Molly.
    "Good. We can put them on super thick, then," said Celli. "Remember he has to try clothes on," Mommy reminded her. "I know," Celli said. "I mean later."
    "Well, hurry up and get him diapered up before he has an accident," Mommy told her.
    I blushed in embarrassment at the insinuation that I might have an accident. I had only had a few daytime accidents in my life, so why would I all of a sudden start having them more?
    Celli had me lift my butt and she slid the diaper she was holding under me. She thoroughly powdered my diaper area and pulled the front of the diaper up between my legs. She got the diaper adjusted snugly around me and began pinning it in place. I thought it felt pretty good. It was very soft and comfortable. It only took me a second to decide that I liked the feel of these diapers, at least. Celli got a second diaper from Ms. Molly and put it on me. When the second diaper was in place it already felt like I was as thickly diapered as I was in my usual four diapers. Whatever that new stuff was in these diapers sure made them a lot thicker. She finished pinning the second diaper in place, and then I thought she'd reach for a pair of plastic pants to put on me, but I was wrong.
    "Let me have one more diaper," she said.
    "Celli, we have to be able to put his clothes on," Mommy told her. "That'll probably be too many diapers." "Well, Mom, we need to see how thickly we can diaper him in his new diapers and still put clothes on anyway," reasoned Celli. "So we may as well do it now."
    Mommy just let out an exasperated sigh, "I swear, you girls like your brothers being in diapers more than they do."
    "And?" Celli giggled with delight. "One more diaper, please, Molly."
    Ms. Molly just smiled and handed her a third diaper. Celli raised my butt up once more, and she slid the last diaper underneath me. She pulled it up and pinned it in place around the other two diapers. She reached for a pair of plastic pants and started to put them on.
    "Oh, try some of his new plastic pants," said Molly. "I made a bunch of printed ones for him."
    She handed Celli a pair of baby-printed plastic pants like I had been wearing previously, but they were slightly smaller looking. I only had plain plastic pants of my own, since that was all they carried at the drugstore, but now I had my very own baby-print pants. I kind of liked that. Celli had me lift my feet up, and she pulled the plastic pants onto me. She pulled them up as high as they would go and then helped me stand up so she could pull them the rest of the way over my diapers. She got the pants adjusted properly and then turned me around to give me swat on the butt.
    "Such a cute baby," she cooed at me as she turned me back around to face her. "Okay, let's get started," said Mommy. "Come over here, baby."
    I waddled over to where Mommy was sitting. She was on one couch sitting kitty-corner to the couch Ms. Molly was sitting on. They both had piles of clothes and cloth diapers on either side of them. It was definitely easier to walk in these new diapers than the six diapers I had been in previously, but they were a good bit thicker than my normal set of four diapers. It also seemed like the crotches of them were just a little wider. I got over to Mommy and she picked up a colorful garment with a baby print all over it. She unfolded it and I saw that it looked like a onesie, but it had long sleeves and legs. She opened it up at the bottom and began to put it on me. It was sort of like tshirt material, but thicker.
    "What is this, Mommy?" I asked as she pulled it over my head.
    "It's a playsuit, baby," she informed me. "For when it's a little too cold to run around the house in just diapers."
    The sleeves went over my arms pretty easily in spite of my casts. She got the garment over my torso and began to pull it down over my diapers.
    "I'm glad this thing is stretchy," she said as she pulled it down. She got it around my abdomen and began to snap the crotch and legs up over my legs.
    "You know I always put extra room in everything for that," said Ms. Molly. "Maggie likes the stuff the boys into too many diapers, too, so I always plan accordingly."
    "Yep," Maggie chimed in. "The more diapers the merrier."
    "Amen to that," agreed Andy. "Gotta make sure they never have a leak."
    Mommy finished snapping up the playsuit, but she had to leave some of the bottom snaps on my left leg undone, since they wouldn't close over my cast.
    "There," she said when she was done. "Doesn't that just look precious? And it fits perfectly."
    She had me turn around so everyone could see me. Everyone oohed and awed at me and said I looked cute. I only wore the playsuit for a few seconds before Mommy took it off of me. She picked up another garment and put it on me. I spent the next…well, it seemed like hours…trying on what seemed like dozens of outfits. Mommy and Ms. Molly would put a garment on me, I'd display it for everyone for a few seconds, and it would be quickly removed after everyone cooed at me and said how cute it looked. There were playsuits, and bib rompers, and rompers, which were like onesies with legs like shorts, and overalls, and short-alls, and onesies, and so many other clothes I lost count. There were half a dozen sleepers, but I could only try two of them on. I couldn't get into the footed sleepers because my cast wouldn't allow me to put my left foot into the foot of the sleeper. However, the footless sleepers had snaps in the crotch and inseams just like my playsuits, so I could try them on just fine. Everything seemed to fit perfectly, although Mommy just barely squeezed my thick diapers and me into some of the garments.
    Without exception, all of the garments looked very babyish. They were either in bright, solid colors, infantile pastels, or printed with some childish motif. Some of the garments had cartoon themes, while some of them had baby toys, teddy bears, or other childish paraphernalia on them, and others had vehicles on them. Nothing looked even remotely grownup. Still, I couldn't help but like everything. I had never owned so many clothes in my life, much less clothes that had been custom-made for me. I felt very lucky to have everything. Also, even though I got a little tired of trying on so many clothes after a while, I couldn't help but like all the attention all the girls were giving me. Sure, it was a little embarrassing, but everyone kept telling me how cute, and precious, and adorable I looked, and that made me feel really good.
    Finally, the fitting session wound down, which I was thankful for because I was getting pretty tired. I had been standing up for a pretty long time, and my ankle was starting to hurt ever so slightly. Mommy pulled the last garment off of me and put one of my new baby tshirts onto me. It was pastel blue in color with a green frog sewn onto the center of the chest. Like the older baby tshirts of Billy's that I wore, this one fit me somewhat tightly, and it was very short. It barely covered the top inch or two of my diapers.
    "There. All done, baby," she told me. "You can just wear that for the rest of the day. So, do you like all your new clothes?"
    "Yes, Mommy," I said. "I like them a lot. Thank you."
    "You're welcome, baby," she said. She picked me up and let me give her a hug. "Now, go thank Ms. Molly." She set me down and I waddled over to Ms. Molly.
    "Thank you for my new clothes, Ms. Molly," I told her.
    "You're very welcome, sweetie," she said. "I'm glad you like them."
    She picked me up and I gave her a hug as well. She sat me back down, and she gave me a swat on my butt as I turned around.
    "Okay, why don't we go outside and see how lunch is coming along?" Mommy suggested.
    Everyone stood up, and Mommy came over to me. She picked me up and planted me on her hip. She carried me out the back door as everyone followed behind us. We found Daddy and Mr. Clark out on the back patio by Daddy's big, shiny barbecue grill that was actually built-in on one side of the patio. I saw Billy and the rest of the boys out in the backyard on the swing set.
    "About fifteen more minutes," Daddy announced when he saw us come out. "Just waiting on the burgers." "That's good," replied Mommy.
    She set me down on the patio and gave my butt another swat. It was just slightly cool today, and the concrete was cold on my bare, right foot, but it wasn't too bad. I waddled over to the edge of the patio and looked out at the boys playing on the playground equipment. The house was kind of sitting on a very low hill and the small play area was at the bottom of it in a level area. I was kind of sad that I couldn't go out there. I wanted to run around and play, but I couldn't climb on anything. Mommy didn't even want me going out there because she was afraid I'd hurt myself. I stood there for a few minutes staring longingly at the other boys. A minute later, Andy came up behind me and put her hands on my shoulders.
    "You want to go out there and play with the other boys, huh baby?" she asked me. "Uh huh," I said sadly.
    "How about I go push you on a swing?" she offered. "But Mommy won't let me," I said.
    "She will if I'm watching you," she said. "And if I'm carrying you so you don't get dirt in your cast."
    She reached down and picked me up. She planted me on her hip and turned to Mommy, who was talking to Ms. Molly near the grill.
    "Mom, I'm going to push Taddy in the baby swing," she informed Mommy. "Okay. Just be careful with him," warned Mommy.
    "I will," Andy assured her as she walked out into the yard with me. We went down to the playground area, which resided in a pit of gravel.
    "Hi, Taddy!" Billy yelled from on top of the slide tower attached to swing set. "Hi, Taddy!" Matty joined in.
    "Hi, guys," I replied happily.
    Andy carried me over to the swings. There were three swings on the swing set. Two of them were regular swings, but one of them was like a toddler's swing. It was like a bucket seat with two holes in the front of it for the occupant's legs. It looked just like a toddler swing one might find at any playground, but it was big enough that a much bigger kid could swing in it. She lowered me down into the swing and got me situated in it. She went behind me and began to gently push me. I put my arms around the chains holding the swing up and enjoyed the sensations of rocking back and forth. I wished she would push me a little harder, but I'd take what I could get.
    She pushed me on the baby swing for a good ten minutes or so. After a few minutes she did begin pushing me a little harder so I'd go a little faster. I enjoyed my little, amusing ride as I watched the other kids play. I wish I could have been doing everything they were, but at least I was no longer watching from the patio. After a while Maggie came down from the patio. She sat on the empty swing next to me and joined me. We swung together for a few minutes. She didn't say anything to me, and I was too bashful to make direct eye contact with her, but I could see out of the corner of my eye that she kept looking at me.
    Finally, the adults called us in to come eat. Andy stopped pushing me and got my swing stopped. She picked me up out of the seat basket as everyone else ran off toward the house. She put me on her hip and I wrapped my arms around her to give her a hug.
    "Thank you, Andy," I told her.
    "You're welcome, sweetie," she said giving me a kiss on the cheek.
    She carried me up to the house. We probably would have eaten outside, but it was cloudy today and looked like it might rain, and I guess they didn't want to risk having our meal ruined by a sudden rain shower. Instead we went into the house and to the poolroom. With all the windows in there it was kind of like being outside, and it was certainly a big enough room for everyone to eat in. There was already a patio table out there with four chairs that the adults would be eating at, and Daddy had set up a big folding table with a bunch of chairs for all of the kids to eat at. Billy's and my highchairs had also been brought out here. Along one wall of the room a table had been set up with all of the food.
    Andy carried me over to my highchair at the big table and set me down in it. She got me strapped in and put the tray on it in front of me. Meanwhile, Maggie helped Zachary climb into Billy's highchair. He'd be eating in it today. The other four boys, including Billy, took places at the table. Celli produced a half-dozen bibs and each of us boys had one tied around our necks. Once everyone was settled in, Daddy stood at the grownups' table and said a prayer. Everyone but Zachary and I then got up and headed to the table with all the food. They lined up and filled their plates with food. Andy and Maggie each brought back two plates with them, one for Zachary and one for me. Andy set one plate down in front of me. It had a chilidog on it along with baked beans, potato salad, coleslaw, and potato chips. The plastic, disposable plate was nearly running over with food. I had no idea how I was going to eat it all.
    "Who gonna feed me?" Zachary asked as Maggie set one of her plates of food down in front of him. "Well, I am, silly," Maggie said.
    "No! I want Celli do it," he said adamantly, pointing over to Celli. Maggie just let out a sigh.
    "Oh, fine, you little brat!" Maggie said with a smile. "Do you mind, Celli?" "Of course not," Celli replied. "I love feeding my little Zacky-pooh."
    "Don't call me Zacky-pooh," Zachary said a little angrily, which just caused the girls to laugh at him.
    Everyone got situated and began eating. Andy sat down at her chair at the table, which was right next to my highchair. She took a plastic knife and fork and used it to slice my chilidog up, which I thought was kind of weird. She then used the fork to pick up a slice of chilidog that contained a piece of the bun, a piece of hotdog, and of course it was dripping with chili and melted cheese.
    "Open up, baby," she told me.
    I did as I was told, and she shoved the slice of chilidog into my mouth. I hadn't had a chilidog in a long time, so this was sort of a new taste for me. It was good. I decided I liked chilidogs.
    "Is it good?" she asked me as I chewed my first bite. "I huh," I mumbled. "It's good."
    "Good," she said. "Now, don't talk with your mouth full, sweetie."
    I just nodded and kept chewing. She continued feeding me as she ate her own meal and everyone else ate. She rotated through feeding me beans, coleslaw, potato salad, and chips. Every once in a while she would hold a sippy cup of Kool-Aid up to my mouth for me to suck from. There was hardly a moment in which there wasn't something in my mouth. Everything was really good, but I wasn't too fond of the potato salad. I didn't really care for the taste of it, but I knew I was supposed to eat what I was fed, and I wanted to be a good boy, so I just ate it.
    We all continued our meal. I sat there quietly not saying anything, but Billy, Matty, and Danny were conversing about something while the girls had their own conversation going on. I tried to listen into the boys' conversation, as I wasn't at all interested in what the girls were talking about. I heard Matty mention something about wanting to eat a ton of baked beans so he could fart a lot later on. The other boys laughed at that. Billy then said he was going to be sure to eat two chilidogs so he could really fill his diapers up later. I thought that was pretty funny myself.
    We spent another hour or so eating. Andy fed me every single bite of food on my plate. She asked if I wanted seconds, but I just shook my head. My tummy was really full, and I thought I would probably pop if I had one more bite of food. After everyone was finished eating, us kids were dismissed to go upstairs to play while the grownups cleaned up the mess from the meal. Andy let me out of the highchair and I waddled along behind Maggie and all the other boys as we headed back into the house. Billy held my hand and escorted me up the stairs. It still took me a long time to get up the stairs, but I was getting better at it every time.
    We got to the top of the stairs and went down that hall to the nursery. Billy, Matty, and Danny wanted to play video games, so they headed over to the entertainment center. I would have liked to play some video games, as well, but I still had trouble using the controller. Caleb and Zachary wa

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    Re: A Second Chance parts 1 to 5 By Travestytrav@yahoo.com

    I love the Story more please but why a short stop in part 6a

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    Re: A Second Chance parts 1 to 5 By Travestytrav@yahoo.com

    Wow, I thought I'd responded to this back in september…

    Quote Originally Posted by ab1td link=topic=6114.msg60117#msg60117 date=1411223541
    I love the Story more please but why a short stop in part 6a
    It's broken because he tried to post more data than his connection could handle at one time and cut off the posts. He was supposed to come back and repost this with one chapter per post but never did apparently.

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    Re: A Second Chance parts 1 to 5 By Travestytrav@yahoo.com

    http://abdlstoryforum.info/forums/in...ic,2120.0.html

    Same story only completed and with out the cut off.

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    Re: A Second Chance parts 1 to 5 By Travestytrav@yahoo.com

    Huh, odd. I knew I'd seen this before but it didn't show up when I searched for it orignally…

    I knew I should have done a manual search…

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