"Ready for school, John?" his mother questions. He nods, and they jump in the car.
John's bladder made an unfortunate choice of alerting him of a much needed bathroom break in History, much like the day before. He doesn't want to take any chances, since he really has to go.
"Mr. Bobson, could I go to the bathroom?"
The teacher groaned. "Is it an emergency?"
"Yes sir."
"Well...alright, get the pass from my desk." He ran across the room to grab the hall pass, then back across the room to dash out the door. If he could just make it to the toilet down the hall, he wouldn't have to deal with a wet diaper in school.
A fart popped out of John's bottom as he ran. He farted again and again, letting out small amounts of poop each time, though he didn't notice. The running loosened his bladder, and by the time he untaped his diaper and sat on the toilet, he was already half way done with his peeing. He sat there, staring down at his messy diaper, crying. After awhile, he pulled the diaper back up between his legs, taped it up, and realized that the mess had vanished.
"These diapers used to be plain white!" he said to himself in the empty bathroom. The diapers he wore now were Pampers Cruisers, images of Elmo adorning his backside. He depressingly accepted this, and walked back to class, the thickness of the Cruisers spreading his legs slightly apart.
Later in class, after lunch, John's mind wandered. Why was he wearing Pampers? Why were his accidents becoming so frequent? He asked himself these questions so much, that he pooped again - twice, reducing the 14 year old's age to twelve. With the undergarment's transformation chain over, his Pampers did not absorb his messes like before. The girl seated behind him smelled the load, and quietly tapped you on the shoulder, snapping you out of your trance, whispering, "Did you just poop your pants?"
He looked at the girl briefly in shock, then turned red as he turned back around. He asked the teacher if you could go to the bathroom, but was denied, as there were not many minutes left in the school day.
The day ended, and John rushed to the car to talk to his mother.
"Mom," he said, voice noticeably higher, "I'm wearing a pair of Pampers Cruisers, and I messed in them!"
"Jonathan, you know you can't use the potty, you're not potty-trained yet!" He accepted this, since he seemed to remember it to be true.
"But what about my age? I'm fourteen, not twelve!"
"What is wrong with you, honey? Are you sick? Of course you're twelve, you're in the sixth grade." He again accepted this as truth, now that he was far away from the high school he *used to* attend.
"Alright, mom...maybe I am sick. I have been having more accidents lately. I've pooped my Pampers practically all day, and I'm peeing a lot, too."
"Don't worry about it, honey, once you get to using the big boy potty like all your friends, you'll be just fine." He nodded in solemn agreement while incontinently emptying his bladder into his Pampers, making them leak and making him a messy-diapered 11 year old.
"What's that smell?" his mother asked. "Uh-oh...Jonathan, did you go pee-pee?"
"No, mommy."
"Are you sure?" she questioned more probingly. John squirmed around, feeling a warmth in his crotch. He reached into his jeans and squished his Pamper, leaking more urine onto the seat. "Yes, I did pee my Pamper."
"Well, my little boy's gonna need a fresh Pamper when he gets home - oh, Jonathan...your diaper is leaky!"
"Sorry mommy, I couldn't help it," he sobs. "I just go pee-pee, and it flows out."
"I know it's not your fault...well, at least the seats are leather, not some kind of cloth."
Arriving home, Mrs. Shmo cleaned up the car, then got John out of his dirty clothes and into a fresh Pamper, which was all he wore the rest of the day. He peed once more before dinner, but it was a small amount, and Mrs. Shmo saw no reason to change the 10 year old's Pamper yet.
"Mommy, when will I use a big boy potty?" he asked at supper.
"Well, whenever you're ready, I'm willing to buy you a potty chair to use," his mother replied, knowing that the day her son was potty trained was very far off.
"Okay, mommy. Buy me a potty chair and I'll go pee-pee in my potty."
"What about poopy?"
"I don't wanna poopy in the potty!" John giggled like a toddler.
"And why not?"
"Because I like when I make poopy in my Pamper." This raised questions in Mrs. Shmo. Did he always like to mess his pants? She may never be able to answer that question.
Dinner soon ended, and John laid on the couch to watch TV - Nickelodeon was the 10 year old's choice. However, John would not be ten much longer, for his dinner began to catch up with him. He felt the oncoming poop, and held it in for a moment. Mrs. Shmo saw her son pushing his hand against his bottom, squirming on the couch, then suddenly stop. His dinner was out of his 9 year old body, and into his Cruisers, and he squished his mess around a little while he watched Rugrats.
"Bathtime, Jonathan!" Mrs. Shmo called from the bathroom. John came running, and his mother sniffed the air. "Come on, Johnny, let's get your poopy Pamper off and clean you up, then it's bedtime." She stripped her son of his soggy, messy Cruiser, and got him in the tub, washing him for the first time in years. Then, it was out of the tub, into a Pamper and footed sleeper, and off to bed.
John's bedroom had undergone major changes since he was fourteen. His bed was smaller, and protected from leaking by a rubber sheet. A computer desk was replaced by a changing table full of more Pampers Cruisers. Everything around his room was, in general, more infantile - just the way he wanted it.
"Goodnight, mommy," he said after he laid down to sleep in his bed.
"Nighty-night, Johnny."
During his comfortable slumber, John soaked his Pampers, bringing him down to 8 years old, and a 2nd grader when he went to school the next day.