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    • (I'm sorry I will try to stay more careful to not do it anymore) The child allowed himself to be placed in the high chair, still looking sleepy, which made the elderly nanny smile. "Are you hungry, little one?" the nanny asked the child, smiling at him before giving him a gentle pat on the cheek. The little boy he nodded silently and shyly to the old nanny.  
    • Chapter 9   So now here i stood flagger blasted by celestia apology, i expected many things from this encounter most of them ending in a gruesome end, but yet here she was the bearer of the sun apologizing to me, unconsciously in a barely audible tone the only thing i could say is “Why?” At that Celestia bit her lower lip, and took a deep breath “Because i was wrong, because i should have been there for you, not be your tormentor,and i am so so sorry” Celestia said with a remorseful grin all over her face. “B-b-but why now!” I said screaming with now tears pouring down my eyes “Because you are here now ,and you are my little sister, in retrospect i should’ve done this earlier but i was so busy and it was so early since you came back,but since the pale flare thing, i had to act” She said, determination and a hint of fury in her words. “B-but why i d-don't deserve anything!” i said and it was true, a thousand years ago i thought that i deserved as much adoration from Celestia, that ponies should love me just for existing and was worthy of love, of course that isn't the case, now since my return i understood that from the moment i was born i was but a tool to be used and discarded, even Milky the only reason she cared about me was because of her work, at the end who would love me in their sound mind,of course due to my regression it meant that most of the time i was prone to emotional outburst, but in the few moments that my body and mind weren't a mess it was a fact clear as crystal that nobody cared about me, yet why? She seemed so genuine, so warm. What happened to the ragefull and narcissistic celestia I knew?  Why am I tearing up despite knowing it's a lie, a facade to further increase her social status. So why did my body buckle under his own weight as I continued crying. Celestia on her part rather than insulting me, burning me or fling me like a ragdoll to one of the walls, like she used to, she kneeled down to my level and… Hugged me. At that moment any pretense of strength left my body and started crying loudly and mumbling simple why’s constantly over and over. During an unknown period of time, Celestia and I spend it hugging each other or rather she comforting me with her warm hug, as a matter of fact Celestia was so hot that if she wasn't her,I would've thought that she had the flu or another illness. After some time I broke the hug much to Celestia's displeasure. “Are you feeling better Luna” She said once again with her smile that was so characteristic it was probably trademarked? “Y-yes” I managed to respond after some tries after being interrupted by my own tears. “In two weeks there is a carnival in Canterlot, if you wish we could go together” She said with hope in her voice  To which i went for another hug, that fortunately Celestia took as a positive of her inquiry, afterwards i fell asleep in the arms of Celestia and curiously this night i didn't have any nightmares.   ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Sorry for the wait, these days have been horrible as i’m struggling with university a lot and life’s been pretty hard. As always thanks for reading, but please PLEASE if you could leave a comment in my story it would be greatly appreciated as right now i kinda feel i’m screaming into the void and nobody is actually reading my works, now with the rant over once again thanks for reading and have a good night!  
    • My wife asked me to lay off it for a few days while we have guests.
    • (you know that you are writing a bunch of actions for my characters, leaving nothing to write for me...)   Lydia put the boy down on his booster seat and joined the table.
    • Chapter 15: A Hard Pill to Swallow I stumbled through the front door after being dropped off by the bus on Thursday afternoon. I let my backpack fall to the floor with a loud bang as soon as I had shut the front door behind me. I was exhausted. It had been another seven hours of struggling to stay awake and focused through what had seemed to be an endless day of end-of-year exams. The only relief was that I was finished with taking my last test for this school year. Now I had about a week of bliss before my end-of-year grades became available online. Yes, I still had to go into school tomorrow, but that was just to wrap things up, clean out lockers, and have end-of-year pizza parties. I’d be free from homework, studying, tests, and early morning bus rides for the next three months. Now, all I wanted to do was sleep. Grace wasn’t anywhere to be seen. But I knew my older sister was home because the minivan she drove had been in the driveway when the school bus had dropped me off. I didn’t get what she did while she was shut away in her room all the time. I took advantage of her absence to drink a glass of water in the kitchen. But with my recently discovered sports water bottle – tucked away in the deepest recesses of the bottom drawer of my dresser – sneaking around to stay hydrated enough to make myself wet the bed wasn’t going to be an issue ever again. Angie and Emma had grilled me about the sleepover again during the ride home from school. That was annoying because I’d already told them yesterday that Mom had said she needed to think about the proposed all-nighter on my birthday a little over a week from now. I was hoping to get an answer about that from her tonight. Neither of my friends were coming over after school. Angie was busy tonight with preparations for the vacation her family was heading out for as soon as school was out tomorrow. I would have had Emma over this evening, except that she had somewhere to be with her family. I quickly cleaned the glass I’d gotten a drink from and then dried it off before putting it back in the sink, leaving no evidence behind. Once in the living room, I kicked off my shoes and collapsed onto the couch. <><><> I woke up to Grace furiously shaking my shoulder. I opened my eyes and looked up. She was standing over me with a panicked look on her face. “Leave me alone,” I mumbled, rolling over to not be facing my sister. “I was just taking a nap.” “What in the world are you thinking?” Grace said, her voice sounding rather agitated. “What do you think? I was taking a nap ’cause I was tired.” “And how do you think Mom would feel about you peeing all over the couch? That’s a lot harder to clean up than your mattress?” I turned back over to look up at Grace. “I wouldn’t do that during a nap.” “Well, that’s what I thought once, too. Just go to your bedroom if you want to sleep.” I yawned and looked at my phone. It was about twenty minutes since I had arrived home from school, but I felt a lot better even after that quick nap. “I think I’m fine, now.” That did raise another interesting question. Was it common for bedwetters to have accidents if they fell asleep for a brief nap during the day? And then there was another thought, one I would have to consider later. If being a bedwetter meant sometimes having an accident during a nap, that could create an excuse for me to experiment with peeing my pants more during the day. “Actually, since you are awake,” Grace said. “You should probably get the cat litter taken care of before Mom gets home. It was really stinky when I was putting clothes in the washing machine before you got home. And you can get your laundry out of the dryer while you're down there because I’m going to need to use it soon for my stuff.” It didn’t matter that Grace was saving me a potential lecture from my parents about not doing my chores. It still was annoying that she was telling me to do it. I stomped noisily down the stairs on the way to the basement. This evening couldn’t come quickly enough. <><><> Mom had apparently talked through the proposal for the all-nighter with Dad, and neither of them was enthusiastic about it. “It’s simply too risky, Maddy,” Mom said. She was sitting next to Dad on the couch. It was just me and my parents in the living room. Jackson was playing with Legos in his bedroom. Grace was off in the kitchen with her after-dinner chore of washing the dishes. “What if you fall asleep on the couch or on the floor by accident? I’m sure you don’t want to have a bedwetting accident around your friends.” I tried to get them to see my side, to no avail. “But that is why we’ll have a bunch of energy drinks. There’s no way I’m going to fall asleep.” “Maddy,” Dad said. “I don’t think you realize how much more caffeine is in those drinks. Even one drink could have four to five times as much caffeine as a can of pop.” “What’s this about energy drinks?” Grace asked as she walked into the living room. There was a splatter of wet spots across her shirt from when she had been washing dishes. “Maddy wants to do an all-nighter for a sleepover on her birthday to avoid the issues she’s been having at night. I was explaining that having a bunch of energy to stay awake the whole night isn’t going to be a good idea.” “There is absolutely no way I would want to deal with three girls all drugged up on caffeine and who knows what else in energy drinks,” Grace said. “Seriously, Maddy. You get shakes just when you have more than one glass of Mountain Dew.” “But,” I said, trying to protest. “It’s not going to work,” Mom said. “An all-nighter is simply not a good idea.” But this left me in a bind. If I couldn’t have a sleepover, what was I supposed to say to my friends? “But I can’t tell Angie and Emma that I can’t do any more sleepovers.” “I don’t think you’ll have to,” Mom said. “There’s something else we can do – something we did with your sister – to make it so you can have a sleepover, so long as it is a normal one without energy drinks.” Pull-ups. Please let it be pull-ups. Perhaps the advertisement in the magazine had been enough to remind Mom of what she may have done for my sister. “Guys,” Grace whined. “Do you have to keep mentioning my own bedwetting?” “It’s just to help your sister out,” Dad said. “We learned a lot about how to handle it with you, so of course, we’re going to try some of the same things with your sister.” “When your sister was around ten years old,” Mom said, “our pediatrician, Dr. Mathorn, recommended trying a pill that would make it so she wouldn’t wet the bed, and it worked quite well.” Seriously? It was as though my parents were doing everything possible to avoid the solution that seemed most obvious to me. But why did it take so long to get Grace the solution that apparently solved all her problems? “Why didn’t she have Grace take those pills earlier?” “I think she said it wasn’t as effective with younger kids and that bedwetting was fairly normal for younger, elementary-age kids, so there wasn’t any need to be concerned about it. We had Grace take the pill whenever she wasn’t going to be at home. It was very effective, so long as she also made sure to limit fluid intake and use the toilet before bed.” Grace groaned softly off to the side. Her hands were covering her face. Obviously, this wasn’t a memory she wanted to be forced to re-live in front of her younger sister. Mom continued her explanation. “Even after her bedwetting phased out, we will had her take the pill for sleepovers for the next couple of years, just as an insurance measure. We still have some, so we figured we’d have you try them the next few nights. Assuming they work as well for you as they did for Grace, then you’ll be able to have the sleepover without any issues. “You really kept those pills?” Grace asked incredulously. “I mean, it wasn’t really intentional. We didn’t think it was likely you’d need them again. They just got tucked away at the back of the medicine cabinet and were forgotten about. It’s probably about time to take them tonight. I’m going to go grab them now.” Mom left to get the pills. Dad excused himself to go off and get Jackson started on his own bedtime routine, leaving me alone with Grace for the moment. My older sister still looked a little irked that Mom had kept her bedwetting medication long after that issue had stopped. For all the ways my parents had allowed my older sister to be independent, bedwetting hadn’t been one of them, not when she had also been forced to continue to sleep on the waterproof mattress until a couple of nights ago. I turned to Grace. “Was there a reason you didn’t take the pills every night?” “I never slept well, and I often had really bad headaches afterward for the next day. It made school impossible.” “Is that supposed to make me want to take them?” “I mean, they do work. I never wet the bed once after taking them. And a terrible headache in the morning beats being known as the girl who still wets the bed at school. But there wasn’t any way I was going to take them every night; that would have been way too much.” “But, like, how does it work?” “I’m trying to remember exactly how the doctor put it,” Grace said. “Basically, it makes it so your body doesn’t produce as much urine while you sleep so that your bladder doesn’t fill up so quickly and make you need to pee.” This revelation about the bedwetting pills was another nail in the coffin to the idea that my older sister had ever worn pull-ups to manage her nighttime condition. I was fairly certain at this point that Grace had never worn pull-ups at home, not with how frequently the laundry was being done when she had been a bedwetter. And the pills meant that she wouldn’t have needed a pull-up any time she had been sleeping overnight somewhere else after she had turned ten. Still, if she had started using the pills around when she was ten, there would have been a time before that when her bedwetting would have to have been managed somehow when she wasn’t at home. I tried to think back to the trips we had taken, but I would have been a baby for nearly all of them, so I didn’t have the slightest recollection of what would have happened with my sister’s bedwetting. Had pull-ups perhaps been used only for those occasions? Or had we picked places to stay that had given my parents the ability to do the necessary amount of extra laundry that would have been required? I’d held off on asking further questions about my sister’s bedwetting because I hadn’t been able to think of a way to ask about pull-ups that would work. I couldn’t have her thinking that I was at all interested in wearing them. But this new revelation gave me an opening to ask a question that could lead to the same answer without revealing exactly what information I was seeking. “So, like, what did you do on trips before you had the bedwetting pills?” I felt quite proud of myself for how sneakily discreet the question was. Without even mentioning pull-ups, there was the possibility that she could give an answer on the subject. “Why does it matter?” “I don’t know. I just realized that I’d never noticed you wet the bed before.” Grace glared at me. Before my sister could say anything further, Mom arrived and answered the question for her. “Oh, we used a special, disposable, absorbent bedwetting pad on top of the mattress.” “Mom, did you have to tell her that?” “What? We’ve already discussed other stuff from your bedwetting.” “It sucked,” Grace said. “It was like sleeping on a massive puppy pee pad. It crinkled worse than my mattress. I could hardly sleep.” “Well, it did at least keep the bed dry while we were at hotels or staying with relatives,” Mom said. “Though it would have been pretty wasteful to use it at home when we had the ability to just toss everything in the washing machine easily.” I finally noticed that Mom was holding a glass with a couple of ounces of water in it. “We should give the pill a try tonight. We need to know if it is going to work before we can OK the sleepover,” Mom said. “Are you sure it is fine to use without talking to a doctor?” Grace asked. “Of course not,” Mom said. “I gave Dr. Mathorn a call this morning, and she gave the OK to have Maddy try the pills this weekend, and depending on how that goes, we can figure out the next steps during her appointment on Monday.” Mom had already signed me up to go to the doctor? My brain started to get fuzzy at the thought of being poked and prodded in an uncannily sterile room. “But… but…” “Dr. Mathorn helped us a bunch with your sister’s bedwetting. It’s not as though she is unfamiliar with the topic.” Mom handed me the pill and the glass of water. “I know you don’t like taking pills. But this one is nice and small, so let’s just get it over with.” I recalled that if I had been an actual bedwetter, I would have been eager about this new solution. I forced what I thought was a natural happy face as I tucked the pill under my tongue and rinsed it down with a swig of water. This was going to be a major problem. “And this is really important, Maddy,” Mom said. “Grace’s doctor was very clear that once the pill is taken right away before bed, you aren’t to have any liquids until the morning. He said that is necessary to avoid some other harmful side effects.” That sucked. I had only gotten half of the way through my water bottle full of disgusting tap water tonight. And the way Mom had phrased this request made it clear that disobeying it would be unwise. I assured Mom that I would avoid drinking any more water and excused myself to head back to my bedroom. I needed time to think through what I was supposed to do next. There were a number of things that I wanted. I wanted pull-ups to wear. I wanted to continue peeing myself. I wanted my parents to think I was a bedwetter. I wanted to have the sleepover with my friends. I wanted to keep the bedwetting a secret from them. I wanted Mom to think that the new bedwetting pills she was giving me were ineffective. I couldn’t think of a path forward that would allow me to accomplish all of that. There was no way I could stop wetting the bed, even temporarily, not when that would convince Mom that the pills were the solution to that problem. But if the bedwetting continued, there wasn’t any way Mom and Dad would sign off on a sleepover. Succeeding in convincing them that I was a bedwetter would only result in them stopping sleepovers unless I could somehow get them to consider pull-ups as a solution. At least with the latest information about my sister’s bedwetting, I was able to understand how she had avoided being made to wear pull-ups. My parents had found a way to handle her nighttime condition in a way that mostly worked without needing disposable undergarments, though in my opinion a pull-up would have worked better than a disposable, absorbent sheet on top of a mattress. Did they not know pull-ups were an option? Had Grace simply outright refused to wear them? Or perhaps they just considered it too expensive or wasteful compared to washing sheets every night? But the exact reason didn’t really seem to matter. What seemed clear to me was that there was no way my parents were going to get me pull-ups of their own volition. I realized now that unless something changed before the sleepover, I was going to need to do the unthinkable. I was going to have to directly ask my parents to purchase pull-ups for me. <><><> A few hours later, I found myself lying awake under the covers. I’d gotten better at staying up past my parents’ bedtime without feeling tired. I had been trying to pee for the past thirty minutes, but it was no use. I didn’t have the slightest urge to urinate. That little pill had worked extremely well. I should have at least felt a decent need to pee at this point, as I’d managed to drink half the bottle before Mom had instructed me very sternly to not have any more water. It was so not fair. The only thing that cheered me up was that it shouldn’t take more than three or four days to convince Mom that these pills weren’t worth the effort. I set an early alarm on my phone, putting in a single earbud so that I’d be the only person to hear the alarm in the morning. No matter how good the pill was, I’d surely have a need to pee in another six hours. I would let Mom wake me up to discover a wet bed again. And in a few days, with every other solution having failed, perhaps it would be possible to convince them that pull-ups were a palatable option. --- Links to all my stories can be found at https://abdlwriter.wordpress.com/ 
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