2011

About a week after we returned from our wonderful trip to the cabin, Betsy and I sat down with our parents to talk about our plans to move in together for school. It was a big step, and we knew they’d have questions—lots of them. Sure enough, they did. Our parents had plenty of questions—everything from finances to daily routines to how we planned to balance school and living together. Betsy and I explained that both of our schools were within half a mile of the apartment I’d already signed a lease for, which made things incredibly convenient. The location was perfect for both of us. We will be able to walk to the schools most days. Then came the financial questions. My dad asked how we planned to pay for everything. I told him that the house designs I sell bring in more than enough to cover rent and expenses, and I’d still be able to put money away into savings. Betsy’s dad wanted to know the exact cost of the rent. I told him not to worry about it—it was already taken care of. But he pushed back, saying Betsy should contribute to the cost. I explained that we’d already come to an agreement: she would cover household goods like groceries, cleaning supplies, and other shared essentials. He frowned and said that wasn’t enough. I looked at him calmly and said, Her school costs way more than mine, and we’re both happy with the arrangement. It works for us. There was a pause. The room was quiet for a moment, but Betsy gave me a small nod, and I knew we were on the same page. We knew we’d won over our dads—their questions had been answered, and they seemed to trust our plan. But now came the harder part: getting our moms on board. That was going to take more effort, more patience, and probably a few heartfelt conversations. They were protective in a different way, more focused on the emotional details, the day-to-day realities, and whether we were truly ready for this step. Betsy’s mom started off with the usual concern: Who’s going to make sure you’re in a diaper at night? And during naps? Betsy just laughed, her tone light but confident. The same person who’s been doing it for the past three months, she said, nodding toward me. He’s made sure I’m taken care of every night and for naps too. Then she added with a playful smirk, Actually, during those three months at the cabin, you only got me into a diaper once—and that was just because you wanted to see how much easier it was to change me after he shaved all my hair off. Her mom blinked, clearly caught off guard by the honesty and humor in Betsy’s response. But Betsy wasn’t trying to be defiant—just real. She was showing that she trusted me, and that we had a routine that worked. As Betsy continued talking to her mom about how I’d been the one taking care of her, my thoughts drifted ahead. In just about five weeks, we’d be living together full-time. That meant I’d be changing more than just one wet or messy diaper a day. On weekends, it could be four or five. It was a lot, sure—but I didn’t mind. It was part of caring for someone I loved, and I was ready for it. Looks like I’m going to need to go shopping for a new changing table for you, Besty’s mom said, half to herself. Betsy’s mom jumped in. We already bought the table, she said, matter-of-fact. Okay, what about a diaper pail? You’ll need one of those. Yes, Mom, Betsy replied with a small smile. We picked up a new diaper pail last week. Her mom wasn’t done. And all the supplies for your nighttime needs? You’ve got those covered? Betsy turned to her mom with a raised eyebrow. Mom, how long have I been wearing diapers? Her mom hesitated. Eighteen years. Exactly, Betsy said. I think by now I know what goes on my butt and how to buy it. Anything related to my diapering—we’ve got it taken care of. I couldn’t help but smile to myself. Sure, we didn’t actually have the diaper pail yet, but I had a feeling Betsy would love the one I had in mind. It was a sleek new model, and I planned to personalize it—with her name on the side in soft pastel lettering. My mom nodded, satisfied. Okay, I think it’s safe to say they’ve got Betsy’s diaper needs under control. She glanced around the room. So let’s move on—who’s going to be making your dinners? I grinned. Mom, remember when you and the others went on that six-week trip overseas? You didn’t hire a cook to come in every night, did you? She raised an eyebrow. No… Exactly. It was Betsy and me, every night, figuring it out together. And since we’re all sitting here talking to you, I’d say we survived our own cooking just fine. That got a good laugh from everyone around the table. Even Betsy’s mom cracked a smile, and for a moment, the tension in the room lifted. I mean, the place has a microwave—what more do we need? I joked, grinning. But then I got a little more serious. Actually, the kitchen is amazing. It’s got everything a chef could ever want—tons of counter space, modern appliances, and even a gas stove. And the best part? There’s a balcony with a built-in gas grill. It’s plumbed directly into the apartment’s line, so no need for propane tanks or anything. My dad raised an eyebrow and smirked. Alright, after you finish answering all the questions the women want to ask, you need to tell us more about the apartment itself. I nodded. Okay, Dad. I will. The next question from my mom was about discretion. How are you two going to hide Betsy’s diapers when you take them down to the laundry room? she asked, clearly concerned. I couldn’t help but laugh. Mom, no one’s going to see her diapers in the laundry room—because the apartment has its own washer and dryer. We won’t be hauling anything down the hall. I paused for a beat, then added with a grin, Now, someone might see them outside if I hang them out to dry in the sun… but that’s a different story. I glanced over at Betsy, and she gave me a look that said it all. If you want to live, she said dryly, I don’t think that’s going to happen. Everyone chuckled, and even my mom cracked a smile. It was one of those moments where humor helped ease the tension, and it reminded us all that we were figuring this out together—with love, patience, and a little bit of laughter. Betsy’s mom leaned forward and said, Alright, one last question—who’s going to keep the apartment clean? I grinned and said, Well, Betsy told me that you and my mom were going to come over every other week to clean it. I was hoping for every week, but hey, every other week works for us. Right, Betsy? Betsy turned to me, eyes wide. What the hell are you talking about? I never said that. Before I could respond, her mom shot me a look and said, It’ll be a cold day in hell before I come over and clean your apartment. The room burst into laughter. Even my mom chuckled, shaking her head. It was one of those moments where the honesty stung a little—but the humor softened the blow. It sounds like we need to start looking for some furniture for you, my mom said. I shook my head and smiled. No need—I’ve already picked out most of the furniture. If we realize we need anything else, I’ll let you know. She nodded, a little surprised but clearly pleased that I had things under control. It felt good to show her that we were prepared, that this move wasn’t just a whim—it was something we’d thought through. Betsy’s mom chimed in again. You know, with Betsy needing diapers in two homes now, I was thinking—we should make sure she has new ones to go with her new place. Betsy shook her head. Mom, I don’t need new ones. I’ll just leave a couple here and take the rest with me. Nonsense, her mom replied. A new home deserves fresh, white diapers to replace those dull, worn-out ones. I’ll give them to you as a housewarming gift. Betsy groaned. Great. I’m 18 years old, and for a housewarming gift, I get something a baby wears. Her dad raised his hand, clearly ready to change the subject. Okay, that’s enough talk about diapers. Let’s move on. He turned to me. Why don’t you tell us more about the apartment itself? I started off, It’s a two-bedroom, two-bathroom apartment. I’ll get back to those details in a bit. What you really need to know is that all the rooms are large—no, not just large, they’re huge. I could see their eyebrows raise, so I kept going. The kitchen has everything you could ask for. The refrigerator is even bigger than the one here at home. And the living room? It’s about the same size as this one. My dad looked around and said, That’s huge. I nodded. Exactly. And we’ve also got a balcony. Betsy’s mom chimed in, a little skeptical. Most of the balconies I’ve seen in apartments are tiny. You can barely fit two chairs and maybe a small table. I smiled. Not this one. You can fit a mid-size table with four chairs around it, and still have room for three or four people to stand comfortably. Plus, the BBQ grill out there isn’t some little portable thing—it’s a full-size, plumbed-in gas grill. That got their attention. I could tell they were starting to picture it—and maybe even getting a little excited for us. Now, I’ve saved the best for last, I said, grinning. More about the balcony. But first, I added, like I mentioned earlier, the apartment has two bathrooms. The one in the hallway has a bathtub with a shower—pretty standard. But the master bathroom? It’s massive. There’s a full bathtub and a walk-in shower big enough for two people to use at the same time. That’s when my mom, with a faraway look in her eyes, said dreamily, That reminds me of when your dad and I used to shower together… Before I could even react, Betsy’s mom leaned in with a mischievous grin. So, how many times did you drop the soap and bend over to pick it up? I knew exactly what she was implying, and when I glanced at my mom, her face had turned a deep shade of red. My dad cleared his throat and waved a hand. Alright, alright—enough about the past. Let’s get back to hearing more about the apartment. Everyone chuckled, and I took a breath, ready to steer the conversation back on track. Now, about the master bedroom, I said, leaning in a little. It’s so spacious that I bought a California king bed—and there’s still plenty of room to fit Betsy’s changing table with space left over. I could see their eyes widen a bit, so I kept going. There’s also a walk-in closet—big enough to hold at least fifty of Betsy’s diapers, her plastic pants, and all her supplies. And even then, there’s still room to spare. And the best part? I added with a smile. The master bedroom has its own door leading out to the balcony. That detail seemed to impress them. It wasn’t just a bedroom—it was a retreat. A space where Betsy and I could feel comfortable, organized, and at home. The balcony overlooks both a serene lake and a winding river, but the real showstopper is the sunset. From our seventh-floor vantage point, the sky transforms each evening into a canvas of fiery orange, soft pinks, and deep purples. It’s the kind of view that makes you pause mid-sentence, forget whatever you were saying, and just watch in silence. The water reflects the colors like glass, and for a few perfect minutes, everything feels still. Dad leaned back and smiled. Well, son, it sounds like you’ve got a nice place to live. We hope you both enjoy it. I’m sure we will, I said, feeling a quiet sense of pride. With that, Betsy’s parents stood up and said it was time for them to head out. There were hugs, a few lingering questions, and then they made their way to the door. As Betsy stepped out behind them, I gently reminded her, Hey, don’t forget—we’ve got that appointment with the seamstress. Make sure to bring the supplies I asked you to bring. She nodded, already halfway out the door, and gave me a playful look. I’ve got them. Don’t worry. The door closed behind her, and I stood there for a moment, thinking about everything that had just happened. The conversations, the laughter, the awkward moments—it all felt real. And it all felt like the beginning of something good and tomorrow is the start of it all.

I am not incontinent so I hope you don't mind my post that I woke up wet this morning and soon after out of bed, I messed my diaper. All is good because my Little Kings diaper did not leak, bedding is dry. My sincere admiration to those who are incontinent and continue to live a full life adaptively and courageously. My hat is off to you...or should I say my diaper is off to you.

Yeah… there's a couple of fictional brands that appear in most of my stories.   80. Missing You The next day was fun, but Tess kept remembering that she would be going home soon. She’d spent some time with her parents, and remembered how much she enjoyed chatting with Stanley about anything and everything; especially the crazy that was going on in his world. She didn’t know how much of it was true, but she didn’t really care. And now that Christmas was over with, she was counting down the days until her flight home. A week in San Lorenzo had seemed like such a long time, but now there were only days remaining. It was hard to believe it would probably be a year before she spoke to Stanley again. They went out during the day, and saw just how busy the city officials had been. One of the squares had become an ice rink, with some technological miracle allowing them to put a circle of ice in the middle of a paved area overnight. There was a show for the children, which combined elements of stand-up comedy, graceful skating, and slapstick; as well as a few jokes that Tess was sure would go right over the little ones’ heads. And then the rink opened to anyone who wanted to give it a try. Tess hired a pair of skates briefly, and fell a few times. She enjoyed herself as much as she would have expected. She was unsurprised to find Stanley reading a sign about how the rink had been created; and as they went to walk around some of the city’s parks he could give an entertaining lecture on the subject. One of his talents had always been turning information into entertainment, and that hadn’t changed at all. By the end of the day, it felt like they had been talking for an age; but there was still more to discuss before they went home. The conversation was interrupted only briefly while the family sat around the TV in front of Live From Palmerston!, almost the only time they had stopped for passive entertainment since Tess had arrived. “You know, Tess lives in Palmerston now,” her dad commented with a smile. “Palmerston, Oregon?” Stanley and Tess responded as one, both attempting the tone of surprise so familiar to anyone who had watched the show. They laughed, but Tess went a little quieter as the conversation continued. She had remembered how well Spike could quote all the catchphrases, so you could tell which character he was as well as the mood. And that reminded her just how long it had been since they spoke. She wished he could have been there. Her parents could tell there was something bugging her, but she didn’t tell them what it was, and they weren’t going to push her. It was Stanley who actually asked the question, while everyone was crossing paths on their way between the lounge, bathroom, and bedrooms. “Something bothering you, sis?” “That obvious?” “A little. We worry about you, you know.” “Like we worried about you?” “I guess. You got your own life now. Would talking about it help?” “Not much to talk about. Just… missing someone. Worrying if he’s okay, you know?” “Boyfriend? Or just a friend?” “No,” she started, shaking her head, and then thought again. “I don’t know. Somebody I care about. Like… I worry because his family isn’t… But I want him to be here too, I hate that it’s a week since we’ve spoken.” “I can understand that. How you feel when someone isn’t there, I think that’s a good way to know your feelings are real. He know you feel this way. I mean… it is a guy, right?” “Yeah,” she said, and smirked a little. “And we’ve talked about it. When we’ve got our own problems sorted out, then we can think more about what we mean to each other.” “Then next year you should invite him. If his family can’t do a good Christmas roast, I mean. He’ll be missing you too.” “I guess,” she smiled, and then wondered if there was something weird about sharing these feelings with her brother. This was the kind of boy-talk that she’d only ever imagined having with other girls, who could have been in the same situation. “Thanks. And it won’t be long before I’m back, right? I just can’t get him out of my head now. Hope I’m not bringing everyone down.” “If you’re thinking about him now, the way it makes you smile, you’re not bringing anyone down. Smile like that, I’d say he’s worth it. Introduce us some time.” “I think… Wait, yeah. You met him last year, didn’t you? He was there for Christmas dinner. Last year. His mum won’t do it, you know? Not now. I almost forgot.” Stanley paused for a second, staring into space as if racking his memory. And then he grinned too, finding some detail in his own memories which must have made sense to him. “Obsessively polite egg? Super careful about his hair, but a straggly little beard like he’s trying to convince everybody he’s a man?” “Better than yours was.” “Touché. Yeah, seemed nice. You should totally get together. If you get serious, maybe we’ll all come crash at your place next year.” “I don’t think we’ll be that serious,” Tess smirked. “Gabby hates him, don’t know why. Even letting him stay for dinner once, she treated it like some big ordeal. So… I think the next time we’ll have a Christmas together is if we can…” She stopped and blushed crimson. She was actually thinking about living with Spike, when he wasn’t even ready to consider being her boyfriend. And yet it felt right somehow, and she knew she was hoping that image could become reality. Stanley must have known that, because he ruffled her hair a little and smiled. Spoke first, so she wouldn’t have to confess the images that were filling up her mind. “It’s late now. We can talk more tomorrow, and it’s good you got your smile again. You want to go first?” He gestured to where the bathroom door was standing open. Tess knew she should go before bed, and she’d been putting it off a little too long. But the offer felt a little too much like a reminder; like if he didn’t say something she might forget and end up wetting the bed again. And she didn’t need that kind of patronising behaviour. She wanted to show that she could look after herself. “After you. I’ll get my pyjamas on first. See you tomorrow, right?” A few minutes later she was back in her room, contemplating the pack of diapers standing next to her bed. She didn’t need them, she was sure of that. She had only worn one last night to reassure her family; even if they didn’t know about it. Or to comfort the staff who wouldn’t have to clean up after her. All the lies she could have told herself didn’t seem believable at all. She told herself they weren’t for kids; they were just a sensible precaution. But the accidentally-packed pacifier sitting next to them on the little table didn’t really project an image of adulthood. “Bad dook,” she admonished Erminetrude with a half chuckle, as if it could really be the plush ferret’s fault she had been less attentive than usual about packing up her stuff. He was just a reminder of her mistake, like the offending pacifier. The surreal moment passed. She put on a diaper, and got changed for bed. It was comfortable. Somehow, the thickness of the padding under her butt made it easier to forget the possibility of embarrassment, or anything else that might go wrong. She’d gotten so used to it now that it was almost comfortable. Once she was dressed for bed, and all warm in her snuggly PJs, she picked up Erminetrude and have him a slow hug to apologise. She knew she was being silly; he was just a toy. But she was calm and happy, and she didn’t need to be so serious all the time. It did cross her mind that she was acting like a child. Was wearing diapers a childish act? She told herself it wasn’t, but something in her subconscious was still disagreeing. Perhaps that explained why she felt so happy now, every worry that was in her mind just drifting away. The hypnosis kicked in whenever she found herself acting like a child, and her feelings were hidden behind a mask of happiness. It should have been frustrating to find that happening, but she couldn’t think about it too much now. Instead she snuggled an orange ferret and let the worries disappear. Perhaps she was feeling little, when Gabby wasn’t even here to push her. But she was feeling good; that was the thing that mattered. And nobody was going to come in until morning now, so there was no threat of judgement over the way she treated her stuffies. All that grown-up stuff didn’t matter now, she could just sit on her bed, snuggle the softest friend she had, and not think at all. She was completely at peace. There was nothing that could possibly go wrong now. She could even feel how calm she was; adult thoughts drifting away, and the muscles in her back unclenching one by one. She hadn’t even realised she was tense, until she felt all the knots disintegrating. She was as comfortable as she’d ever been; until she relaxed a little too much. It took Tess a few seconds to notice, and then she couldn’t believe it. Had she really been so relaxed, focusing on letting go of every muscle in her body, that she had started to wet her diaper without realising? That wasn’t responsibility; that was acting like a real baby. She stopped it right away, but there was no way she could dismiss the feeling of warmth spreading through her diaper. Her cheeks quickly became just as hot with embarrassment; how could she have been so careless? “Oh, Ermine!” she yelped, and squeezed the stuffie as if he would give her some support. “I got to be a big girl! What happened?” Somewhere in her mind, Tess knew that she was acting like a baby. And that if she acted like a baby, she must want to be treated like a baby. But she knew right now that she had to choose. She could be a good baby and stop worrying, or she could be a big girl and take responsibility. But she wasn’t sure what would be the best thing to do now. Should she go to the bathroom, only a few minutes after she had… run into Stanley in the hallway on the way there, and then forgotten to go? She was even more embarrassed when she realised how careless she had been. She should have gone to pee before getting changed. She knew she should. But instead, she had put her snuggly PJs on, and been so relaxed that she let go without noticing right away. She needed to– “Tess?” a voice called from outside, and then the door started to open. For a second Tess started to panic, until she realised it was only her mum. “I heard a yell. Are you… Are you okay?” “I’m…” Tess stammered, trying to push all the traces of littleness out of her mind. It was hard to remember that Mommy couldn’t automatically make everything better, and that she had to keep to herself what had just happened. Even if she wanted to share, she couldn’t think of any way to explain without sounding like she was crazy. But there was one thing she was sure about, even if the rest of her thoughts were a little confused: “I’m not a baby, I have to sort it out myself.” She was sure that was the right answer. She didn’t need any help; she just had to clean herself up, change her diaper, and get ready for bed. There was no reason at all for anyone else to worry about her.

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I am posting, therefore I am wet and messy this morning in a Little Kings diaper. This heat wave is atrocious but the warm poopies in my diaper is sooo nice. 🫠😌