Story Time in the Library

The children's library hummed with a quiet energy, shelves of books creating a maze of literary wonder. Mitchell arrived with his caretaker, dressed in a bright shirt and shorts, his pampers already hinting at their potential for mess.

"These shorts are irritating you," the caretaker muttered, carefully removing Mitchell's shorts. Now Mitchell stood in just his shirt and pampers, ready for story time.

They settled into a cozy corner, surrounded by picture books and the soft rustle of pages. Mitchell's caretaker selected a colorful book, patting the seat beside him. "Come here," he said, his voice low and instructive.

Mitchell climbed up, his pampers already feeling full. The caretaker began to read, his finger tracing the words, his other hand resting on Mitchell's back. "Go ahead," he whispered. "Poop your pampers. Pack them real good."

Mitchell's face scrunched with concentration. A deep breath. A push. A loud, rumbling fart escaped first—sharp and unmistakable in the quiet library. Then another push. His pampers began to balloon out, filling with a substantial load.

The caretaker continued reading, seemingly unbothered by the growing mess in Mitchell's pampers. Another fart. Another push. Mitchell's pampers stretched, the mess spreading, warm and heavy.

The story continued, pages turning, Mitchell's breathing matching the rhythm of the words. His pampers now full, sagging with the weight of his accomplishment. Another fart punctuated the quiet of the library corner.

"Good boy," the caretaker murmured, finishing the last page of the book. Mitchell sat, shirt slightly rumpled, pampers completely loaded, surrounded by the magic of stories and the comfort of his caretaker's presence.