Story #55: Makin' S'mores

Story #55: Makin' S'Mores (Content Tags: Messy and wet diapers, leaky diaper, onesie, humiliation, slice of life, scouts) Graham was an anxious little thing. He was the type of kid to jump at his own shadow, which was part of the reason he'd gotten enrolled in scouts in the first place. His parents thought he could get some much needed confidence from being outdoors with other boys and learning all sorts of nifty survival tricks. The shaky brunette would disagree vehemently with such a silly assessment! The woods were creepy, these other boys were crude, and he had a rather *nervous* bladder. His fearful thoughts had left him with soaked shorts more times than he cared to count, which was also why he hadn't worn underwear on this trip. He was wearing a *diaper*. It wasn't the first time, to be fair, but it wasn't something he often did when knowing he'd be around other kids. It was mostly for situations that he knew would be scary or tense: scary movies, theme park rides, trick or treating, nerve-wracking tests, first day of class jitters... The list was longer than it should be, which is why he always had a pack at home. It hadn't started out as his own idea. His parents had gotten tired and pretty embarrassed by their son making a puddle in his pants at the mildest provocation, so diapers were mandatory in some circumstances. He'd been humiliated by it at first, but he'd grown to appreciate the safety and security that they offered, so he'd tape one on whenever he personally saw a reason to. No one had really caught on either, which was surprising, but in a good way. They were a little bulky, but the plain white things typically fit under his clothes without too much trouble. Something else he'd acquired, after some embarrassing problems with sagging, were some legless onesies. Sure, they were embarrassing as all heck, but they kept his soggy Pamps from bringing his pants down. He'd brought several diapers on this trip. He hadn't seen the need for them on the bus, or throughout most activities, but he'd made sure to put one on before they went into the woods. That'd been the right move too, with how creepy the forest had been on their hike, he'd felt his bladder losing control multiple times. By the time they got back to camp, his diaper had been absolutely soaked! Changing was the hard part. This wasn't some ritzy summer camp, it was them actually *camping* in the 'great' outdoors. No bathrooms, no cabins, no closed doors. He had his dinky little tent, that he already shared with the camp bedwetter and the camp 'baby', but neither of them knew about his bladder problems or his puffy padded solutions. His best scenario was to wait until they were away from the tent and preoccupied, or in one case already, waiting for them to fall asleep and then very carefully changing under the cover of his sleeping bag. Wet diaper went in a ziploc and got stowed into his bag; it was the second day of a three day camping trip, so he'd only gone through two of them so far, meaning he still have four or five, since he'd been erring on the side of caution. The lack of bathrooms had been more problematic than he'd initially thought; he couldn't pee in front of anyone (ironically unless it was in his pants) so he had to venture out to find trees away from any prying eyes. The more pressing issue, with emphasis on 'pressing', was that he couldn't bring himself to go number two in the woods. So he'd just been holding it since they'd left for the trip; he hoped that wouldn't become an issue at all, since he really didn't want to poop outside. All in all, things had been going smoothly enough. His tent-mates, Ricky (the bedwetter) and Brady (the baby), had been... Okay enough. Ricky didn't wear any protection at night, at least as far as Graham could tell, but the tent hadn't gotten soggy yet, so maybe it wasn't a frequent problem? He'd only heard from some of the other scouts that he'd whizzed the bed on some other trip, and he figured that was why they'd been grouped together. Brady, on the other hand, was primarily just obnoxious. He was the youngest scout there, a kid of one of the scoutmasters, so he was loud and excitable. While the rest of the scouts were between the ages of twelve to fourteen, Brady was only eight, and it showed. While these two were ostensibly the biggest losers in the group, that's also what made them some of the most dangerous to bunk with. Ricky probably would kill to have his reputation one-upped by a diaper boy, and Brady hated being called the baby of the bunch. Either one could sell him out in an instant. The thought of it almost made Graham trickle in his pants, but he had bigger concerns than that. More immediate concerns anyways. The first night had been all about settling in and going to bed early for a hike at dawn, but tonight would be different... Tonight would be scary stories around the campfire. Scary stories meant anxiety and fear; it meant getting jittery and jumpy... It meant his bladder would be very, very unreliable. So he waited for his tent mates to leave for the campfire, and then he got in there and began to prepare himself: diaper (with a booster!), a tan colored onesie, plenty of powder, and some breathing exercises. It'd just be for an hour or two...He would just need to focus on roasting weenies or making some s'mores. Maybe some of the scoutmasters would opt for funny stories instead? Graham was optimistic, though he was prepared for an extremely soggy diaper by the end of this. He was nearly the last one to show up to the campfire, and his choice of seats was sparse. Graham was seen as quiet and fidgety, but he didn't yet have the 'loser' status of the other two, so it wouldn't be a faux pas to pass up the 'loser log' in favor of sitting next to some more socially acceptable candidates. He had to weigh his opinion on that. Whoever got left sitting next to Ricky and Brady would probably get mad at him, but on the other hand, it'd help to distance his reputation from the bedwetter and the baby. On the other, *other* hand, he didn't exactly have much of a repertoire with his fellow scouts, on account of his meek shrinking. His eyes darted between the two options; to be bold or not? He was going to be bold. Graham passed by the loser log and instead gently sat down next to Devin, a black haired boy that he'd talked to only once or twice; the extent of his knowledge on the kid was that he chewed a lot of gum and cracked a lot of jokes. Jokes would be good here; anything to dull the fear that was bound to arise around the crackling fire. The last kid showed up not long after Graham had sat down, and he shot Graham a dirty look as he slunk over to sit between Brady and Ricky. Graham tried not to look over at him, instead focusing on his own shoes that lit up from the glow of the flames. One of the scoutmasters was missing, but that was casually explained as him needing to 'fortify' the camp, whatever that was supposed to mean. Graham suspected that the man really just wanted a couple hours of peace and quiet, after having to slum around with a group of obnoxious brats. Weenies and sticks got passed around to roast, and one of the scoutmasters announced that they'd be allowing the scouts themselves to go first with their own spooky stories, before they'd cap the evening with one from the adults. Graham skewered his hot dog and dangled it over by the fire; looking around at his fellow scouts, he hoped that their terrorizing tales would fall flat; it wasn't like they had any grand orators among them, or weavers of stories, so the anxious boy felt his optimism remain in place. He was mostly right. As each boy gave their own spooky story, Graham felt his chances improving. Many of them were practically plagiarized from movies or games, so he wasn't caught by surprise, and a few of them either veered toward the comedic or fizzled out from a lack of storytelling confidence. Graham hardly focused on most of them anyways, preoccupying himself with dog after dog. A couple of them were genuinely scary though; enough at least to get some white knuckles and to warm the front of his diaper with some errant piddling. He declined a turn of his own, lamely claiming he didn't have a good one to tell. Things were beginning to wind down a little as the last scout told their story about 'the call coming from inside the house' and the s'mores supplies were finally getting generously handed out. There would only be one more scary campfire story, from one of the adults, and Graham thought that they'd probably keep it mild for the sake of some of their younger scouts. Speaking of younger scouts, it was about this time that Brady got up and let his dad know that he needed to go take a whiz. A few of the boys cracked some quiet jokes about the 'baby' wanting to make sure he didn't piss his pants, and that led to jokes at Ricky's expense too, with Devin offering cheeky condolences to Graham about having to share a tent with the two after tonight. Graham nervously laughed and joked alongside his peers, secretly terrified that he'd be the one pissing his pants after all these scary stories. He'd already decided to keep the diaper on overnight, just in case this all caused some troublesome dreams, or if he woke up in the middle of the night and was too paranoid to wander outside the tent. The adult about to tell the story asked Brady's dad if they should wait for the pair to return, but the man declined and insisted to go ahead with things in their absence. While Graham was beginning to assemble his tasty treat, he couldn't help but jealously watch Brady saunter off into the woods. "Alright boys, this one is a real doozy, and it's as true as true gets. Anyone with a weak constitution should probably go and turn in early." The scouts grinned and exchanged looks. No way would any of them be chickening out after a warning like that! "Don't say I didn't warn ya. Now, our story begins in these very woods, twenty years ago when *I* was a scout just like yourselves..." Graham was as captivated by intrigue as he was by fear. As the dreadful tale hung in the air, he just kept making more and more s'mores to keep his cool; the way that the light of the fire flickered around the darkness, illuminating only shards of the man's features, added to the intense atmosphere. While the kids had told stories with shaky premises and momentum-killing pauses, the scoutmaster spun a yarn like a pro. Confidence in his own words, pauses in the narrative that were actually intentional, and mastery over painting a vivid picture with his words. Graham was glad that he'd opted for the booster. He'd felt his diaper warm up multiple times throughout the story, each time betraying the fragile nature of his nerves. A part of him was concerned that he might leak at this rate! "...Wandering the woods, they lost all sense of time. They kept hearing a clicking sound, not like a keyboard, but like a jaw snapping open and shut, and they also kept hearing the rustling of leaves, like something was following them, but staying out of sight..." Graham crossed his legs, going to make another s'more. His mouth was smeared with Hershey remnants of the last five that'd be already gobbled down, but everyone was far too engaged with the story to notice his idle gluttony. Grahm felt how full he was, but eating was all he could do to settle himself. "...He couldn't remember now, had they always had six scouts in the group? Had one of them always had those cold, hungry eyes? Then, he began to hear cries for help, from deeper within the inky blackness of those endless woods, a little boy..." He started to hear it. Clicking. It was subtle, but it sounded like what he thought a deer skull drumming its teeth together would sound like. Some of the boys looked around, but the scoutmaster paid the sounds no heed, as if he didn't hear them at all. He thought he might have heard a cry for 'help' too, but it was so very faint... Anxiety was growing for Graham, and intrusive thoughts of all the awful things it could be were winning out against the more rational belief that it was just the sounds of nature, or the adults trying to punk them. "...It'd been one of them the whole time. Opening its mouth, the creature had rows of teeth that seemed to go on forever; those cold, uncaring eyes filled with an animalistic bloodlust, a mechanical hunger of the most primal form. It let out a loud, monstrous scream...!" **RAGGGHHHHHRR!** As a coarse howl thundered from beyond the trees, the bushes nearby Graham rustled and erupted with a small shrieking figure, adding their own higher pitched screech that pierced the air. The scouts jumped where they sat, some yelping or screaming in shock at the sudden outburst, while Graham let out more of a pitiful squeak and froze up where he sat. After refusing to go number two in the woods, and spending an evening on gorging himself on hot dogs and s'mores, his bowels couldn't handle the stress of this giant shock. It happened so quickly, that it didn't even register to Graham. His bowels fully evacuated in sheer terror, filling out the entire backside of his soaked diaper with a mountain of magmatic mush and plastering his butt in the sticky bubbling muck. Simultaneously, whatever had remained in his bladder had fled him too, proving too much for his oversaturated diaper to contain. The small figure suddenly began to giggle and pulled off a rubber mask that it'd been wearing...It was Brady! And coming up behind him was both his father and the scoutmaster that'd skipped the campfire stories. "I got you guys good! You shoulda seen your faces! Especially *you, Graham, you sounded like a--" The younger boy's train of thought derailed once he had peered down to get a closer look at his tentmate; "--Ohmygosh! Graham peed his pants!" The rest of the boys had a fast turnaround from reeling in shock to erupting in derision; just like Brady had said, Graham's shorts were stained in front from his diaper leaking. Devin cringed and scooted away from the damp lad, "Geeze, I guess they put you in the right tent after all! You let the 'baby' scare you into pissing your pants?" Graham was humiliated, but much more than what his fellow scouts must have thought. They saw his accident in front, but they were ignorant to the damage he'd done in back. The adults looked a little sympathetic, but they couldn't help but get a laugh out of the whole thing too. The storyteller finally clamped down on the giggles and snickers long enough to gently tell Graham to go get some dry pants and to bag his wet ones, even offhandedly mentioning that this wasn't the first campfire story he'd told that resulted in a soaking. Graham awkwardly stood up, feeling the warm mass shifting around in the back of his diaper. Brady's father said that he'd go grab some wet wipes, to help Graham clean himself up, and told Brady to accompany the soggy scout back to his tent. Devin and another boy also got volunteered to get Graham back to his tent, since it would be better to keep the boys traveling in numbers. On the way back to his tent, the fumes of his fear were starting to waft more strongly from the bulging backside of his shorts, and it wasn't going unnoticed. Brady, tactless as he was, became the first to call mention to the fact that it 'smelled like poop'. Graham just meekly mumbled an excuse about gas and the older two boys started to get suspicious. Once they reached the right tent, and Graham was trying to dismiss them away, Devin got a devilish smile on his face. It still stunk, so he was going to get a look at what the little piss-pants was hiding. While Brady was again patting himself on the back for scaring the big kids so well, Devin snuck behind Graham and suddenly pulled his shorts down. The boys hadn't been ready to see what the truth was. With his shorts around his ankles, Graham's shame could be viewed in its entirety: a onesie that sagged heavily with the weight of a totally full diaper, so much so that plastic white was peeking out from around the graham-cracker colored cloth of the buttoned garment. "Holy crap, he's wearing a **DIAPER!** Guess this really is the baby tent!" "I didn't think they even made diapers that sized!" "Eww, he totally dumped in it, look!" The trio nearly bust a gut at the diaper boy's expense, with Brady bragging more about how he'd been the one to cause this. Devin even gave the back of the onesie a condescending pat and joked about how a few wet wipes wouldn't be enough to deal with *this* and how it served Graham right for being such a pig with the s'mores. That seemed to set off the lightbulb over Brady's head. The light brown of the onesie, the white of the puffy diaper, the assumed darker brown of what lied inside... "..He didn't just eat too many! He just made one!" The little boy chirped. The other two didn't seem to follow, until Brady got closer and pointed it out. He hooked his finger against the leg hole of the onesie: "Here's the graham cracker, the diaper is the marshmallow, and then there's all the Hershey's bars!" Graham was so mortified that he suddenly felt another big lump push past and drop into his yucky mucky diaper, right during the demonstration. By morning, the whole scout troop would hear about how else he'd been 'making s'mores' last night. He wouldn't be leaving the loser tent anytime soon.