2011

I've been using PixAI- I've failed to make the diapers look close to diapers(I've just put 'white undergarments' and that's the closest I ever get haha) but I at least have a few characters/scenes that I'm okay with- most do not have any diapers though. Hope you enjoy the story!

Everytime you ever bring this up since I started with the toys and the rest, I always think of just how much you are going to love a few of my future stories. And for the record, yes, I wanted to leave this open for interpretation. In this world, science and technology gone amuck can affect both Bigs and Littles. They call it an accident most likely. I call it karma. 

What site did you use to make ABDL AI art? Any advice on prompts? can't wait to dig into this. I love a good ABDL superhero story!

sigh, This would actually be a dream come true for me..

Chapter 29: Goldilocks It was barely time for lunch, and I was already bored out of my mind. I shoved Chester off of my lap as I stood up from the couch. The orange cat gave me an angry meow before sprinting down the hallway and out of sight. I set the book I had been reading down on the couch without bothering to mark my place. I’d have no trouble finding the correct spot to resume later on from memory. My stomach rumbled as I walked down the hallway. I hadn’t eaten the banana that Mom had left for me in the kitchen for breakfast. Didn’t she know that it was basically my least favorite fruit? There was something about its mushy texture that I simply couldn’t stomach. Instead, the banana had gone into the trash bag along with the completely soaked pull-up, which hadn’t had a single dry spot remaining on it after I had wet it a second time. In retrospect, that second attempt at peeing in the pull-up – done while laying on my back in bed – probably would have been best reserved for trying with a dry pull-up. However, it hadn’t leaked nearly as bad as when I had peed while lying on my stomach, so perhaps there was hope for attempting a wetting in that position sometime again. The issue I was facing was I had too many experiments I needed to do with the pull-ups and too little time – and too few opportunities – to pull them off. There were two big questions I needed answers to: Were there positions in which I could wet a pull-up that had fewer chances of leaking? And how much could I get away with drinking without risking a leak like last night? Mom was aware of how many pull-ups were in the package she had purchased for me. Even if she wasn’t keeping a close eye on them day-to-day now that they were tucked away in my dresser, if I were to use a bunch of them during the day, it would be very obvious that something was off when I went to ask her to buy me some more a week earlier. That meant that I was stuck to an allotment of one pull-up per day. It didn’t feel like close to enough. I had gotten what I had wanted, but it hadn’t turned out to be like what I had hoped for. I was finally being given the freedom to stay home alone by myself for this summer break, but that freedom had come with its own costs. I couldn’t leave the house. I couldn’t have my friends over. I couldn’t even make myself a grilled cheese sandwich on the stove to deal with my growling stomach. That last restriction was a major pain. I had texted Mom an hour ago, asking her what I was supposed to do for lunch for myself. She responded that there was bread and everything I needed to make a sandwich in the refrigerator. The sight of bland lunchmeat as I opened the fridge door was enough to temper my appetite for the moment. Was that what I had to look forward to all summer long? It wasn’t what I had pictured when I had dreamed of being given the freedom to stay home alone, and in a way, it was almost worse than prior years when I would be stuck home at times with my older sister. At least she usually left me home alone, especially when my friends came over to hang out, which they had actually been allowed to do then. And Grace, of course, had been considered responsible enough to handle kitchen appliances without burning the house down. My parents had said they would be willing to re-evaluate things, but I didn’t know how long it would take for them to reach that decision. Instead of returning to my book on the couch, I left the kitchen and trudged upstairs to my bedroom.  In the past, having privacy like this might have led me to get out all the old advertisements of pull-ups and diapers I had saved over the years. Now, I couldn’t even bring myself to think of them or risk again feeling disappointment over what I had in my dresser drawer instead. Instead, I pulled open the top drawer of the dresser and shuffled through the pull-ups with my hands. Part of me wanted to wear one right now and wet it, even with the risk that Mom might later notice the count was off. But the other part of me feared what might come of it. It wasn’t so much that I was worried about Mom catching me than the worry of how I would feel if I were to have the pull-ups fail on me yet again. Unlike every night for nearly the past two weeks, I was dreading going to bed rather than looking forward to it. Any excitement over getting to wear a pull-up to bed again was overshadowed by doubts about the product’s effectiveness and my concerns about how well my fake bedwetting plan would hold up in light of last night’s failures. That left me stuck in limbo. I wanted this afternoon to end, but didn’t want this evening to come. I left the pull-ups behind in the dresser and returned downstairs. Tonight was going to answer a lot of questions, but I wasn’t sure I was ready for the answers. <><><>  My water restrictions were back in full effect during dinner. My glass of water was a little less full than everyone else’s at the dinner table, and I didn’t even bother asking for a refill, which I surely would have been denied. I obeyed my parents’ unspoken limits without complaint, knowing that it would be necessary for what I planned to do tonight. While I limited how much I had to drink, I completely scarfed down the hot dish that was a Frankenstein combination of pizza and spaghetti, my ravenous hunger a result of skipping lunch in favor of snacking on a few handfuls of salted crackers. It was a delicate balancing act that I needed to play out. I needed to be hydrated enough that I would be able to pee in the pull-up, but not so hydrated that I would cause it to leak out disastrously like last night. I was like Goldilocks; it had to be just right.  That wasn’t to say I still didn’t steal a couple of sips from my hidden water bottle – after an extremely careful trip to refill it while Grace was downstairs washing dishes. But I made sure that it didn’t extend to anything beyond that. I attempted to avoid any awkward conversation with my parents about my new nighttime underwear by voluntarily heading to bed at what they – and not me – considered to be an appropriate time for the summer. Unlike yesterday, I hadn’t bothered to wet myself again while I was home alone for the afternoon. That was a mere substitute for what I really wanted, which was to be able to completely let my bladder loose into a pull-up, a quest that was currently delayed until I got my hands on something more absorbent than what Mom had initially purchased for me. This time, while getting dressed for bed, I didn’t make the mistake of not having anything on to cover the pull-up. Granted, the pull-up – with its bland gray designs – wasn’t much to look at.  I ended up being overdressed for the weather, with an extra-long T-shirt and poofy pajama pants that would have been better suited for bitterly cold January nights. But it guaranteed the pull-up would be fully covered. I took a few steps across the room. The pull-up may have been hidden from sight, but I could still tell it was there. I wondered if the way I walked with the additional padding between my legs looked as awkward as it felt. I wondered if someone else would be able to hear the crinkling sound as I walked and, like I did with Hannah, come to the conclusion that there was a disposable undergarment beneath my pajamas. There was a knock at the door. I knew it was Mom without needing to wait for her to say anything. I looked over my pajamas. All discreet. “Come in.” Mom opened the door and stepped halfway into the bedroom. “Are you all dressed for bed?”  I stared at her blankly. “Duh.” “Madelyn, don’t take that tone with me. You know what I meant.” I actually didn’t have a clue what she meant. A second later, I realized that Mom wasn’t looking directly at me, but rather behind me. I twisted my head to get a look. My underwear drawer – with both my regular and new underwear – was still pulled all the way open, leaving its contents completely exposed. I reached out to push it shut with one hand. But I wasn’t successful. The dresser drawer got jammed on a pull-up that was sticking part of the way out. Mom’s momentary frown relaxed into a gentle smile. I got it then. I looked down at Mom’s feet. “Yeah, I’m all dressed for bed.” “And are your teeth brushed?” I nodded because saying “yes” would have been a lie, but I didn’t want to leave the bedroom because of how I was dressed. “And if I check your toothbrush, is it going to be wet?” “Mom,” I protested. “Madelyn.” I shuffled my feet. “No,” I muttered. “Then you need to brush your teeth right away now. And use the toilet afterward.”                                                                                              Mom stepped to the side and held the door open for me. Right now, meant right now. I slowly stepped past her, cringing internally at what I was sure was the incredibly loud and obvious sound of the crinkling coming from the pull-up.  No sooner had I started to brush my teeth than Grace joined me in the bathroom, taking the adjacent sink. I stood completely still as I worked the toothbrush to all the places the dentist said it needed to go.  If Mom or Dad – or even Jackson, for that matter – were around, I would typically brush for the two minutes that I was supposed to spend cleaning my teeth. That wasn’t always the case with Grace, who wasn’t as judgmental about that as my parents, and, unlike my brother, wasn’t one to go and tattle on me, either. That wasn’t the case tonight. There was no chance I was going to leave the bathroom before my sister did. She may have never worn a pull-up to bed herself, but I still thought that there would be too great of a chance for her to notice that something was off about me. I tried to keep count of how long I had been brushing my teeth, but I lost track after about forty or fifty seconds when my mind began to wander. The only thing going for me was that Grace – while being more diligent in taking care of her teeth than me – wasn’t nearly as fastidious as either of my parents. Outlasting her wasn’t the most impossible of challenges. Still, the minty taste of the sudsy toothpaste in my mouth began to be too much to bear. I spat it out in the sink before rinsing off my toothbrush and swishing some water in my mouth to get rid of the awful aftertaste of the toothpaste. Grace had finished brushing her teeth before me and was now busy flossing. I absolutely hated flossing. But I needed an excuse to not leave the bathroom, so I was left with no other choice but to grab a disposable flossing stick from the drawer and begin to slowly work it in between my teeth. I caught sight of Grace looking at me a bit incredulously, as if she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing, but I held firm, managing to floss most of my teeth by the time she had left for her bedroom. <><><>  I considered my options as I sat in bed with the covers off and only a thin sheet on top of me. I wasn’t too warm to fall asleep later, but the way I was dressed was less than ideal. It was my only option, though. I wasn’t going to go through a repeat of this morning when Mom got a glimpse of my wet pull-up. I didn’t even want to imagine how embarrassing that would have been if that had been anyone else in the family who had seen me in that state.  Since I had leaked both times while lying down, perhaps it was best to wet the pull-up in that position tonight. Standing up in my room wasn’t a good option. Leaking onto the carpet would be a disaster. I could stand on top of my bed, but even then, a leak would be impossible to hide from Mom. Going all the way down to the basement was also ruled out. That might have worked when I had the excuse of taking laundry downstairs, but it would be harder to explain if I was caught doing that otherwise. That is how I found myself sitting in the safest position to pee into a pull-up – on the toilet. It was what I had done that one time I had attempted to put together a makeshift diaper. That time, the decision to sit on the toilet had been because of the difficulties I had had in trying to pee myself, though that had proved to be a good decision considering how poorly the makeshift diaper had performed. The walk from my bedroom to the bathroom, even though it was just the tiniest of strolls down the hallway, had nonetheless been nerve-wracking. I remembered all too well how Grace had caught me in wet pajamas in the hallway that one night when I had been certain that everyone else would be asleep. Still, as it was now after midnight, I felt confident that no one would be able to tell that I had gotten up. There wasn’t any way for me to lose in this scenario. If the pull-up didn’t leak, I could go back to bed and wear it the rest of the night. On the other hand, if it did end up leaking, there would be no evidence for Mom to find. I would likely need to toss the pull-up in the trash, but if Mom were to notice, I could always say that I had woken up early in the morning after an accident and tossed the pull-up to be more comfortable. Wetting the pull-up while sitting on the toilet required little effort on my part, which was good because the need to pee wasn’t all that urgent. Bladders weren’t particularly smart that way. My bottom was seated on the toilet, so the fact that I still had a pull-up around my waist was inconsequential.  I found myself peeing the moment I decided that I wanted to. This time, I counted the seconds out in my head as I began to feel a familiar warmth against my body. One Mississippi. Two Mississippi. For the first time after wetting the pull-up, I got to watch as it soaked up all the urine.  The pull-up did nothing to hide the fact that I was wetting, aside from how it began to swell up all around the epicenter. The white backing in the pull-up didn’t exactly stay white for long. It was one thing to feel it happening as I was lying in bed; it was something entirely else to watch the process take place. I had to resist the urge to press against the pull-up and keep it firmly in place against my body in an attempt to stop any leaks from happening. If I was going to avoid any leaks, it was going to need to happen naturally. It felt so incredibly good, and this time there wasn’t the rude interruption of wet sheets to interrupt my enjoyment of this wonderful sensation. Nine Mississippi. Ten Mississippi. Then I was all done. It was hardly the massive wetting like I had done yesterday afternoon in the basement or even close to as much as I had peed into the pull-up either of the two times I had wet it. I listened carefully as I remained as still as I could on the toilet, waiting nervously for the sound of any urine leaking from the pull-up and dripping down into the toilet. All I heard was silence. I ran my hands down the inside of my thighs. Both stayed completely dry.  I released a large sigh of relief. I had done it. The third time was the charm. I had actually managed to pee in a pull-up successfully. I didn’t get up from the toilet immediately. I was too comfortable to want to move. I gave the front of the pull-up a gently squeeze, feeling how much it had expanded. I estimated that the pull-up was perhaps only halfway full. Without the need to stress over how to handle a leak, I was finally able to relax and take in the sensation of wearing a wet pull-up.  For several minutes, I allowed myself to empty my head of anything but the thoughts of how good I was feeling, but then it was time to return to bed. That left me with a difficult choice. I really didn’t want to take the pull-up off, but I also was slightly worried that it might leak once I laid down on it in bed. Despite the risks, I couldn’t bring myself to remove the pull-up before I crawled back into bed. I reflexively ran my hand under my waist just to double check that nothing had leaked out when I had pressed the pull-up between myself and the bed, but my sheets remained dry. The effectiveness of the nighttime pull-ups began to make more sense now. Assuming that kids who wet the bed didn’t chug down lots of liquids before going to sleep, it did seem as though these pull-ups could live up to their claim of being able to provide enough protection to keep bedding and pajamas dry overnight. I told myself that I could make this work. Having a pull-up I could pee in a little was far better than not having one to pee into at all. It wasn’t everything that I wanted, but it would need to be enough for now. I had a sleepover to host this weekend.   --- Links to all my stories can be found at https://abdlwriter.wordpress.com/