Skip to content The Un-training of Stanley Kaminski – Chapter Five
Morning arrived softly, sunshine streaming through the bedroom windows. It was going to be a beautiful day, fresh warm air fulfilling the promises of a Saturday, but one couldn’t say the same thing about the interior of the Kaminski’s bedroom, because there was a different air insulting the senses of anyone inhabiting that singular closed space.
“My God, what’s that smell,” and though Maureen was disgusted at what had happened during the night, she was overjoyed. Her plan had worked better than she could have imagined. She knew she had to play this just right, give her idiot husband an out, so the game could continue, because there would be so much more to come. She sat in bed chuckling, and she had to put her hand over her mouth, and her nose.
On the other side of the bed was panic. Stanley bolted upright, wondering just what the hell had happened. He reached down and it didn’t take long to figure it out. He was glad he was wearing plastic pants, but that wouldn’t help the sudden plight he was in. He had to think quickly. He only had one weak, lame excuse.
“Damn,” he said. “A squirrel must have crawled into the dryer vent and died. I better take care of it now,” and he bolted out of bed and ran down the stairs.
Maureen couldn’t help but laugh, seeing the drooping bottom of his flannel pajamas as the weight of his wet and messy diaper pulled it downward. The smell was horrible, and she waved her hand in front of her face. She sat for a moment and then began to laugh uncontrollably.
“My God. What the hell happened,” Stanley thought as he headed for the downstairs bathroom. His diaper was soaking wet, and worse, extremely messy. It took him a long time to clean up, and he realized he was going to need a plastic bag.
He heard Maureen yell from the bedroom, “Can I help?” but what he didn’t hear was her laughter, for that she concealed.
“No. I’ve got it,” he yelled, and he hoped desperately she wouldn’t come down until he got everything taken care of. It looked like the garbage can was going to get assaulted by the vestiges of Stanley Kaminski. He was glad he took his shower in the morning. At least that wouldn’t arouse more suspicions.
Saturday breakfast was a tradition at the Kaminski household, Maureen usually making eggs, with either pancakes or waffles. In the past year or two, it seemed more like a labor or task rather than something enjoyable. This time, morning breakfast would be different. For once, Maureen was happy; ecstatically happy, and she was going to enjoy cooking. She had two griddles going, one for the eggs over easy, the way Stanley liked them, and the other for pancakes. She could hear faintly, the cursing coming from the bathroom, followed by the shower, and she took deep satisfaction knowing her plan was actually working.
Stanley walked into the kitchen rather sheepishly, or so it seemed to Maureen.
“I hope you had a nice relaxing warm shower to make you feel better. You were in there a long time. What were you doing?” And her last statement sounded a little accusatory. She enjoyed watching her husband squirm.
“Uh…..I had to use the bathroom,” was all he could squeak out.
Maureen blurted a slight laugh, blurted and then covered it with her hand. She had to be cool. The pancakes and eggs finished together, and she secretly prided herself over her cooking skills, something her stupid husband couldn’t do. Turning her back to Stanley, she cut his pancakes in a crossing pattern, turning the round flapjacks into little edible, bite size pieces, fitting for a toddler.
“Here you are baby. Eat up and enjoy,” and with one sweeping movement, turned, glided over to the table and put the plate before her much surprised husband.
For a moment, Stanley stopped breathing, almost as if life itself had stopped.
“You cut them up?” he asked, though his voice was now showing the concern he had felt when she patted his bottom at bedtime.
“I wanted to be nice to my little man,” and she had to turn around again, turn and cover her mouth.
She gained her composure, put the remaining eggs and pancakes on her plate and joined her husband.
“But your pancakes aren’t cut up?”
“Oh but they will be. See?” and Maureen began to make cuts into her pancakes, but she deliberately didn’t cut them all up, but rather, a single piece, one piece each time she took a bite. Her husband let out a long sigh, the significance not escaping him.
As soon as breakfast was over, Stanley excused himself for the basement, leaving his wife with the cleanup. Maureen’s mood quickly changed from the unexpected joy she had been receiving, to the usual Maureen, the one who was constantly exasperated with her husband’s careless attitude, one that seldom thought of her.
Once in the basement, Stanley opened the metal box which contained the key. He stared down at it, thinking more than reacting. He knew something was wrong, but he couldn’t connect the dots because most of the dots were missing. His key was where it should be, but what about the locked room, he thought? He grabbed for the key, plunged it into the padlock and threw the lock off, yanking the door wide open and ran in, flipping light switches frantically. His thoughts ran through his head, and now he was pacing through his domain, looking at every object, as if they could talk, tell him if they had been intruded upon. They stood there mutely in the silence, keeping all the many secrets to themselves.
Absently, he wandered to the rack which held the CD’s. He admired his handiwork, painted wood and shining varnish revealing his craftsmanship. He idly looked at the CD’s, lost in his thoughts and suspicions, when something hit him. It’s as if it leapt out at him, and the image was of a spider. The spider phobia CD should have been at the bottom of the stack, because it had been awhile since he had softly played it through the bedroom sound system. He had cleverly programmed the DVD player to play at three in the morning, and he had turned the volume down low. He knew Maureen would be asleep by then, he would have his ear buds in, listening to the first baby hypnosis CD, and she…..and he shuddered. He hated doing this to her, but it looked like he would have to play it again tonight, just to make sure she wasn’t poking around where she didn’t belong. On his way back to the kitchen, he stepped on another spider. It was the second one he had killed this morning, and he couldn’t help but sense some sense of irony.
Night found its usual routine, except that Stanley had chosen a cloth backed disposable, and he would have to chance not wearing plastic pants. As he had surmised, his wife patted his butt as she said, goodnight baby. She seemed a little disappointed, her tone shifting from her unprecedented happiness, to something much less. It was Stanley’s turn to snicker, and he took some pleasure turning his Ipod on, knowing he would be drifted to sleep with the soft comforting words, be a good baby and go to sleep, wet your diaper, and little realizing what else would follow.
Unfortunately, Maureen’s sleep would not be so nurturing. In addition to fearing spiders, the CD would spin a story, something that would sound like it came from a horror movie. It would paint a scenario of a house, her house, overrun by spiders, thousand of hairy, poisonous spiders, prowling, creeping and biting their careless victim, sending their venom into the veins of its hapless prey. The bite would render one completely incapacitated, unable to move as hundreds of spiders descended from the ceiling, sucking the paralyzed dry, but not before they experienced agonizing pain, the body bloated and oozing.
Stanley tossed and turned in his sleep, and though there had been comforting words, they were now replaced by the other voice, and it was in control. The DVD player was saying 3:30 a.m. and Maureen was tossing and twitching along with her husband. Stanley gave another lunge and one of his ear buds fell from his ear, now opening a canal for receiving the message which floated through the room, and it carried bad news about arachnids. Coming out of Stanley’s exposed ear bud was the harsh voice, insisting that one mess and wet their diaper should anyone dare to mention the fateful word, “Oh Baby!” Together the messages intertwined through the dark corridors of night, preying on sleeping, receptive brains, twisting their purposes. Infant nightmares were birthed from the depraved tracs, babies in distress, terrified, wetting and messing, and a horde of spiders, big, poisonous, and baby spiders, some wearing diapers.
The morning alarm clock went off, blaring like an air raid siren, its harsh beeping signaling a bigger calamity, for upon waking Stanley was aware he had wet and messed his diaper, its contents leaking out the sides, unprotected from the lack of plastic pants, and the greater shock of his wife who was starkly realizing she had wet the bed. They turned and looked at each other for the briefest moment, and then took off running to their respective bathrooms. In short time, both showers were running full force, and if one had been a visitor, they would have heard swearing coming from both rooms.
The End of The Un-training of Stanley Kaminski – Chapter Five.
If you want to read more stories about ABDL boys you can find a list here: Diaper Boys – Index