Here is a place that you can write and submit any stories, peoms, thoughts or anything else that comes to your mind. We all love to read stories and thoughts so please share them with all of us!
The birds were chirping,
the flowers were blooming,
as your Mother drove you to Church.
She looked so pretty behind the wheel,
All dressed up in her Sunday dress.
A Bible laid on the seat next to her.
As you sat in your carseat and drooled.
A pungent aroma wafted up from the seat of your pants.
It filled the back of the car
until it reached your Mother's nose.
"Shooo! I smell something." Your Mother said.
As the smell of poop filled the car.
It was a smell, that your Mother knew so well.
That smell in the seat of your pants.
Your Mother wrinkled up her nose.
She smiled a motherly smile. "Did somebody poop their pants?"
She already knew the answer.
She couldn't help but smile.
You always filled your pants on the way to Church.
"Shoooo-wee Marty!" Your Mother said.
Playfully waving her hand under her nose.
"Somebody pooped their pants."
After parking the car, a group of mommies arrived.
Pretty mommies, in pretty Sunday dresses.
They all want to hold the baby.
"He's a little stinky right now." She warns them.
"Somebody pooped their pants." She whispered.
As if sharing a secret.
The words rolled off her lips like honey. "Somebody pooped their pants."
All the mommies exchanged warm, motherly smiles.
Stinky babies alway make mommies smile.
Motherly smiles, and wrinkled up noses.
As they passed you around.
Sniffing your bottom.
And making funny faces.
"Shooo! Somebody pooped their pants." One of them said.
Sniffing your bottom.
And making a funny face.
Another mommy felt the seat of your pants.
Feeling the fullness of your diaper
She smiled a motherly smile. "Somebody filled their britches." She said.
Oh you were so stinky that day!
Shooooo-wee!
"He needs his diaper changed." Your Mother said.
Softly patting your bottom.
Holding you close, she walked toward the Church Nursery.
The group of mommies followed behind her.
Smiling motherly smiles.
And waving their hands under their noses.
Oh you were so stinky!
Shoooo-wee!
"Shoooo-wee Marty!" They all said.
As they waved their hands in front of their noses,
as if the shoo-away the smell.
"Oh Marty!" They all said.
Waving their hands back and forth
Sniffing the air
And wrinkling up their noses.
"Somebody pooped their pants." They all whispered.
The nursery was just a few doors down the hall.
Children were playing.
Mommies were talking.
Smiling at you.
As that smell in the seat of your pants
wafted up behind you
"Shooo-wee!" Everyone said.
Waving their hands under their noses.
"Somebody pooped their pants."
More smiles, and wrinkled up noses.
Pretty mommies in Sunday dresses.
The nursery was bright and colorful,
with mommies and babies all dressed up.
And the smell of poop and baby powder was in the air.
A little birdie chirped outside the window,
singing as your Mother laid you down.
One by one, "Snap, Snap, Snap,"
your Mother unsnaped your pants.
A freshly filled diaper always made her smile.
"Somebody pooped their pants." Your Mother whispered.
The words rolled off her lips "Somebody pooped their pants"
Holding you by the ankles
She wiped your poopy bottom
With a wrinkled up nose.
"Shooo-wee!
Somebody pooped their pants."
The other mommies all gathered around,
watching, smiling,
as your Mother wiped your poopy bottom.
"Shooo-wee Marty!" They all said.
Waving their hands under their noses.
"Somebody pooped their pants."
A thick, soft, double diaper.
Under your fat, chubby bottom.
You played with your feet.
Drooling and jabbering.
As your Mother powdered your bottom with Baby Powder.
"Somebody pooped their pants." She whispered.
Smiling a motherly smile.
Pretty, plastic baby panties.
Another poopy diaper is changed.
Your Mother smiled a motherly smile.
You looked so cute in your Sunday outfit.
When the Pastor's Wife enters the Nursery.
She can smell that special smell.
Poop and Baby Powder.
The smell that mothers know so well.
"Somebody pooped their pants." Your Mother whispered.
As if sharing a secret.
The words roll off her lips.
All the other mommies all smile and nod their heads.
The smell of Poopy diapers
and Baby Powder
filled the Church Nursery.
"Somebody pooped their pants." They all said.
Waving their hands under their noses.
And smiling motherly smiles.
The Pastor's Wife smiles at you.
She could smell the Poop and Baby Powder.
Your Mother kisses you on the cheek, and pats your bottom.
The smell of baby powder and poop hang in the air
It was Sunday morning in the Church Nursery, 1959.
Last edited by Little Stinky Britches on Thu Nov 25, 2010 3:44 pm, edited 18 times in total.
hey i'm a hugeee fan of all of your stories and I was wondering if you could add on to either one of my stories that I had posted. One is called "snowed in with mrs.robins" and the other is called "the woods". Thanks! love your stories
And ritzcritz, thank you too! I never thought of myself as having "fans" but I think it's pretty cool.
Now, about finishing your story for you.....
A couple of things.
First, no one can write better then you as far as one of your stories. They are YOUR stories, and your fantaises, there is no way I can top that.
Second, I bearly have enough time to write my own stories or post very much on this site, much as I would love to.
Third, although we have VERY simmular fantasies concering poopy diapers, our fantasies are very different too.
Examples:
I see myself as a REAL baby between the ages of 6 to 13 months-old.
You see yourself as a little boy forced into diapers.
I love cloth diapers and plastic "rubber" pants.
You like disposable diapers, which are not really diapers in my opinion. (Sorry, but I come from the "cloth diaper era" and my mother diapered me with thick and soft double cloth diapers and rubber pants from 1959 to 1964, so I have a built-in dislike for disposables. )
I have a wide age range of mommies, nanas, and babysitters in my baby fantasies.
You tend to like just, or only the older, granny types of caregivers.
As you can see, there are HUGE differences in our fantasies, which is a built-in impediment to writing a story for you.
Like I said, you are a GREAT WRITER RITZCRITZ!!!
I invite you to finish your stories, no one can write them better then you.
What a great poem. It took me back to when we were little and we all got up early on Sunday and put on our best clothes to go to church. After church we all had Sunday school with the nuns and the Mommies, and I remember the babies being changed and breast fed. It's a nice memory thank you for sharing.
wow Marty that was fantastic! Your very good at making it come alive to all my senses...lol the smells the sounds just wonderful thank you for sharisng
