Sissy Room

BEFORE READING: DISCLAIMER: All characters in this story are of age (18+). This story is NSFW. DISCLAIMER: The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this story are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.   Elliot’s Accident    “Sweetie, It’s not a matter of age. 25 or not, you need diapers!” “Mom! Please keep your voice down, someone might hear,” Elliot’s pleaded, eyes darting around the empty supermarket, hoping to contain this embarrassing conversation between the two of them. “It was just a few accidents, the absorbent underwear works fine.”   “The Pulls-Ups have leaked three nights in a row and…”   “They’re not Pull-Ups! It’s absorbent underwear, it even says it on the package,”Elliot interrupted, desperately trying to salvage what dignity he had left.   “Oh baby, call them what you want but they simply just won’t do. You need something more to handle your bedwetting.”   Elliot cringed hearing his mother reference his bedwetting so casually. Did she have to be so brazen in public like this? Did she not see how humiliating this whole ordeal was for him? “Fine, but please let’s just get them and go,”Elliot said, his eyes now glued to the floor. It was obvious that this was a losing battle, best for him to just relent and hope to minimize the humiliation.   “Now don’t look so glum,” Elliot’s mother said cheerfully, resting her hands on her knees and crouching slightly to face her son at eye level. “This is not a punishment, just proper precaution. Why don’t you pick out a cute style, something fun”.   “I don’t care what style. Let’s just pick one and go.”   “Okay, Grumpy-Butt. So I guess we’ll just take these pink princess one’s and be on our way.”   “NO, not pink!” Elliot whined, his eyes shooting up from the floor. He scanned around only seeing plain diaper patterns and his mother stifling a grin.   She let out a giggle at his reaction. “I’m just teasing Elly, they have black, grey, or white.” she said motioning toward the limited selection. “Now pick before I call over an employee to see if they any cuter prints in the back.”   “Not funny,” Elliot said bashfully as he grabbed the box diapers, white print. He figured they were the safer the choice, although he had not put much thought to it. His primary focus was getting out of the supermarket and home before anyone could see him. Holding a box of adult diapers, his diapers, was mortifying enough but he needed to make sure as little people saw him as possible.   “Good choice, Honey. Now let’s get going, or should we get two just to safe? You have been extra leaky as of late.”   “Not true! I’ve just been stressed from job-hunting. Once I find something, I won’t even need these.”   “Oh if I had a dollar for every time I’ve heard that,” she said, reaching over his head and grabbing another box, placing it atop the one Elliot was already holding. “Always so confident, then comes the morning and it’s watery eye’s and wet sheets.”   “I remember those days,” a nearby shopper interjected. Elliot and his mother shifted their attention to stranger, both a little startled. The older woman stood behind her shopping cart with a warm smile, peering at the two through her bifocals. “It was always a fight getting mine in diapers.”   “He threw a bit of tantrum early but he is all settled now.” Elliot’s mother said warmly, patting his head.   Overwhelmed by the humiliation, Elliot returned his focus to the floor, wishing it would open up and swallow him whole. Most 25 year olds were well on their way to adulthood, meanwhile Elliott was cowering beside his mother, holding two packages of sorely needed adult diapers while the two women spoke as if wasn’t there. He felt the tears begin to form and, even worse, his nervous bladder began to ache. “M-Mom. Can we get going? I need to use bathroom,” Elliot said to his mother, placing the box of diapers into their cart.   “Just a second, honey. I’m talking to our new friend Margaret here” she said dismissively, never breaking eye contact with the older women.   Elliot did not bother to push any further and instead shifted his attention back to his feet, praying this nightmare would end soon. As he stood obediently next to his mother, he could not help but listen to their conversation. Throughout their chat, Margaret explained that she was caring for her granddaughter, Grace. Grace, like Elliot, had recently graduated college, was having trouble finding a job, and recently returned to diapers due to frequent accidents. Elliot perked up upon hearing another adult his age shared his nighttime struggles. Despite his mother’s constant assurances, he could not help but feel he was the only person his age who still struggled to keep his bed dry. As his mother and Margaret droned on for what seemed felt like hours, Elliot’s thoughts drifted away from his current humiliation to imaging what Grace was like, how she looked, and how she handled being a college graduate who hadn’t mastered potty training. Elliot’s short reprieve from embarrassment was interrupted as he felt a small spurt of pee escape him and dampen his underwear. He gasped in surprise and immediately looked down to inspect the damage. He was relived to find there was no visible stain but shifted uncomfortably as he tried to get used to dampness around his crotch.   “Are you okay, Sweetie?” his mother said, sensing his discomfort. “Do you still need the bathroom? Is it an emergency?”   Elliot felt another spurt release from him as he jumped a little at his mother’s question “N-No, i-it’s okay,” Elliot lied, mustering all his willpower to remain calm as his bladder begged for release. While it was most certainly an emergency, he was determined to maintain some dignity in front of Margaret, less any word of this get back to Grace.   “Well I will let you two get to it,” Margaret said, rotating her shopping cart as she prepared to leave the aisle. “I’ll be sure to give you a ring.”   “Oh please do, it was so nice meeting you. We should definitely set a date,” his mother’s said cheerfully.   “Certainly, it was nice meeting you,” Margate said, giving one last goodbye for leaving. “You too, Sweetheart.”   Elliot was barely able to process what either of the women were saying as he desperately tried to keep from full on wetting his pants. Once Margaret was out of their sight, Elliot dropped the act and immediately started hopping from foot to foot with his hands over his crotch. “P-P-Please Mom, b-b-bathroom.”   “Oh honey, you should have told me sooner,” his mother said. Sensing his urgency, she began speeding their cart through the store as Elliot continued his potty dance behind her. “Sorry for chatting so long while you had to go, we just had so much in common. I can’t wait to see her again next week and to meet Grace”.   “G-G-Grace?,” Elliot stammered.   “You weren’t listening? We exchanged numbers and are going to setup at lunch at her place,” his mother said enthusiastically as she spotted the bathroom at the back of the store. “She was so excited that Grace can finally have a friend that wears diapers too.”   “Grace is going to know I wear diapers!” Elliot shrieked, too focused on his aching bladder to care if others heard.   “Come on, there is no reason to feel embarrassed. Grace wears them too and  Margaret says she even wears them during the day at times,” his mother said casually, trying to ease her son’s concerns. “Who knows, maybe you two will hit it off. It will be a funny story to tell at the wedding,” she said jokingly, looking back, hoping her son could find the humor in all this.   Elliot had stopped anxiously following his mother, and instead fell to his knees, desperately clutching his privates hoping to stop the inevitable. The thought of Grace, a woman he has yet to meet, knowing he had been relegated to diapers, broke his concentration just enough to open the floodgates. The occasional spurts of pee were replaced with a heavy stream, soaking his entire lower half, and creating a pool around him that grew rapidly on store’s tile floor. He felt the warmth spread across his crotch, then down to his knees, and the uncomfortable stickiness of his now soaking wet pants. The tears came without warning as he began to cry loudly, hyperventilating as he reached out his arms for help. “M-mommy, help me please,” he cried.   “Oh my goodness. Ellie, it’s okay, it’s okay,” his mother said sweetly. “Accidents happen. Now let’s get you cleaned up, okay baby?” She said as she slowly guided him to his feet, walking him by his hand to the women’s bathroom, with a spare diaper in her free hand.   “Not here, not the women’s room,” he whined.   “Oh baby, no one will mind. This wouldn’t be the first time I changed your diaper in the women’s room,” she said, using her elbow to push open the restroom door. Elliot could only look to the floor in shame, gripping his mother’s hand, and hoping this nightmare would be over soon. “Now be a good boy for mommy and hop up,” she said, pulling down the changing table fixed on the bathroom wall, and lifting Elliot by his armpits. Elliot compiled, hopping back onto the unsteady table, letting his mother adjust him as needed. As far as twenty-five year old men go, he was certainly on the shorter side, but even he could barely fit on the changing table, his legs dangling awkwardly over the end. While Elliot stared up at the bathroom ceiling, lost in shame, his mother made quick work of removing his soaked pants and undies. Without a word, she lifted Elliot legs, and gave his thigh a gentle pat and, on instinct, Elliot lifted his bum momentarily, falling back down to the all too familiar padded sensation of a fresh diaper. He felt his legs part as his mother brought the front of his diaper to his belly button, and began applying the tapes. He looked away, attempting to avoid eye contact, only to catch his reflection in the mirror, his leg dangling helplessly, tear stains on his cheeks, and an impossibly thick diaper was all he had on from the waist down.   “All done,” his mother said cheerfully. “That wasn’t so bad was it? Now let’s get you to the car, you can wait there while I check out and tell a clerk about the mess.” she said, balling up Elliot’s soiled clothes and dumping them in the nearby trash before washing her hands.   “B-but I-I need my clothes. I can’t walk around in just a diaper,” he stuttered, his voice still shaken.   “I know it’s embarrassing sweetie, but we don’t have much of a choice. Your jeans are soaked, and I didn’t bring a change of clothes. Now be a good boy for mommy,” she said calmly, reaching out for his hand. “The sooner we get you to the car, the better.” Elliot hesitated, but thought better of pushing back. He just wanted to go home. He took his mother’s hand, and the pair began their walk back.   A crowd of confused shoppers had formed around Elliot’s puddle, talking amongst themselves. Upon the bathroom door opening, all eyes shifted to Elliot, specifically his diaper, as him and his mother hurriedly made their way through the store. Elliot’s shivered as the cool air conditioning brushed against his bare thighs. The diaper forced him to waddle awkwardly, and he began absentmindedly sucking on the collar his shirt in an attempt to soothe himself. The laughter from the crowd was deafening. While some tried to show restraint, giggling quietly before looking away, some unruly shoppers openly pointed and laughed.   “Aw, someone couldn’t quite make it to the potty.”   “Eww, so gross. He should have been wearing a diaper in the first place.”   “Be nice, he’s probably special needs.”   “They make diapers for adults?”   Elliot put his free hand to his face in a feeble attempt to hide his identity. He tried to tune out their comments, but they only echoed in his mind, bring on another flurry of tears.   His mother turned back to face the onlookers “Mind your fucking business,” she said forcefully, a tone that Elliot never heard from her. The shoppers quickly dispersed, both weary of the angry woman and bored of the unusual scene.   The walk past the checkout was made better only by the fact that most shoppers were outside of earshot. Once outside the store, and safely back to the car, his mother opened the backseat and guided him in. “I’m going to go back and pay for the rest of the diapers, okay? You stay here and be safe,” she said, enveloping Elliot into a big hug, and patting the his back. “Don’t listen to those assholes in the store. You are smart, kind, adult, and one accident does not change that,” she said lovingly, but she could tell that her words fell on deaf ears.

Looks like someone is going to need to get to the potty.   Hopefully we keep your undies nice and dry.  We get there and I go first because I have the same problem but don't have Pampers on.  While watching you fidget I decided I would take my time.  

I had goose bump through that whole trailer.  Seems more like a feature film in the making. 

I am interested if you want to role play. I love reading diaper dimension stories and plus on a AI app i play on character AI 

Emma is a young woman in a world that is inherently unfair to young women.   In this parallel universe, women develop their motor skills much later than men. If a young woman develops her skills early she can move out of the "specialised" women's classes in time to take her tests with the men, and have an entirely different trajectory for life. The question is: Will Emma get there in time?   Final exams are coming up and as desperate as Emma is, she's still struggling. Things are made even more complicated by the arrival of a guy who upends her world view. ---  I'm only able to write as much as I do thanks to the amazing support of my readers. Writing is my only income and I appreciate everyone who reads my stories more than you all can imagine. If you enjoy my stories and want to see updates a week before everyone else PLUS read 35+ stories only available on my membership sites please have a look at the links below. All support is very gratefully accepted ❤️ https://reamstories.com/elfy https://subscribestar.adult/elfy --- What Emma Wants By Elfy I slowly opened my eyes as the chirping of birds outside brought me out of dreamland. I grumbled as I rolled over wanting some more sleep, the thickness between my legs told me that it hadn’t been a dry night. It wasn’t much of a surprise; I think I’d had one dry night in my life and that had been sheer luck. My nursery was always the worst in the mornings. The overwhelming pinkness seemed to glow even brighter shortly after dawn, with the sun that was now streaming through the window making me squint. My pink curtains were so thin they were more for show than anything else. This had been my room for as long as I could remember, and it had hardly changed at all in the time aside from the furniture getting bigger. Here I was, one month past my eighteenth birthday, and my surroundings were the same as one month after my first. The one thing I had convinced my parents to do was add an extra bookshelf with some of my favourite books, a small concession to my actual age. I grabbed a frilly pink pillow and held it over my head in a desperate attempt to block out the real world for a few more minutes. It was no use. My senses were already waking up. I could hear footsteps, probably my younger brother, stomping up and down the landing. The smell of bacon, Dad’s favourite, sizzling in a pan wafted through the air. That was the duty of my mom, of course, to make sure Dad’s breakfast was cooked and his clothes washed and ironed before work each morning. It would be my duty too soon, no matter how much I hated the idea of it. I grumbled as I rolled on to my back. I kicked off the blanket that had felt cosy during the night but was now making me too sweaty to reveal my pyjamas. As pink as the rest of the room my sleepwear was very childish decorated as it was by pictures of sleeping bunnies. Underneath was, of course, my ever-present diaper. I didn’t need to reach down to know it was soaked. The bulky overnight padding successfully keeping my bed dry was as familiar as it was hated. “Morning!” Mom started talking before the door had opened but by the time she finished her singsong greeting she was already halfway to my crib. I didn’t say anything, nor did I uncover my face. The morning routine was set in stone, and my participation was not needed for most of it. Mom’s thin-wristed hand slipped between the thick bars of my baby bed and then reached down under the waistband of my pyjama pants to press against my diaper. I don’t know why she bothered with this part. It wasn’t as if I was likely to be dry. “Let’s get you changed and ready for school.” Mom said. The side of my crib came down and I finally pushed the pillow off my head. With another grumble I rolled sideways and then swung my legs over the side of my bed. I stood up and almost fell straight into mom. “Oops, careful.” Mom said with a chuckle. I didn’t find it funny. It was another in a long list of examples that I still wasn’t ready for what I truly wanted; to get out of these damn diapers and start to get taken seriously. I wasn’t optimistic about achieving that dream any time soon though. According to Dad it had taken years before Mom was out of diapers completely. Mom held my hand as we walked over to the changing table. I hoisted myself up and lowered my pyjama bottoms helpfully for Mom, any chance to show I could be responsible I wanted to grab with both hands. “Is this really necessary?” I asked as I rubbed my eyes and looked up at the glow-in-the-dark shooting stars that decorated my ceiling. “You know it is.” Mom’s hand patted the sagging round diaper. “You could at least let me TRY to potty train.” I complained. “Baby, you know that’s not up to me.” Mom said as she pulled the tapes on the diaper. I sighed and let my head roll dispiritedly to the side. No, it wasn’t Mom’s decision. It wasn’t even Dad’s. This was an argument we’d had on the changing table countless times; it was one I knew I couldn’t ever win. “Honestly, baby, I bet all your little friends don’t give their poor Mommies this much grief every morning.” Mom pressed some cool baby wipes against my crotch causing me to jump. “Well, maybe I just want it more than them.” I mumbled. “Emma, if you want to get out of diapers you need to find yourself a husband.” Mom said, “You know that. Any progress on that front?” “No.” I replied shortly. “You should get a move on, baby.” Mom said. God, I hated that pet name, “If you want to get out of diapers, you’ll need to find yourself a man to marry. You know, when your father took over changing my diapers from my Daddy it was a really romantic moment.” I stared at Mom with furrowed eyebrows. She couldn’t be serious. She seemed to notice my expression as she smiled and continued. “We were young and in love.” Mom said with a wistful far-off look in her eyes, “We were nervous and that intimacy of the first diaper change really helped bring us closer together.” I sighed and bit my tongue to stop myself from talking back. My legs were lifted and rolled back as the wet diaper was pulled out from under me. My feet were held in the air until Mom had flattened the new disposable and slipped it under my rear end. When my butt came back down it was on top of a fresh crinkling diaper. The sides were pulled up and taped closed with the speed of an expert who had been changing my diapers for eighteen years… which is exactly what Mom had been doing. “Alright, wait right there whilst I get your clothes.” Mom said. She put a hand on my chest as I tried to get up, “Don’t sit up. We don’t want you to fall.” Mom’s lack of faith in me was annoying. Sure, like ninety-nine percent of girls my age I had some trouble with coordination and could be a bit clumsy, but it wasn’t like I was totally incapable of looking after myself. When Mom turned to head to the closet, I decided to ignore her and sat up, I swayed a little as my balance tried to catch up to the movement but I didn’t fall of. Success. Mom came back over with my outfit for the day. I let out a deep sigh. None of my outfits were what I would describe as “grown up” but this one was particularly childish. A pink t-shirt with a picture of a unicorn flying through the sky, a rainbow trail coming out of the back of it. Over the top Mom had selected a denim dress that came up to the middle of my chest with straps that went up and over my shoulders. She helped me off the table and I didn’t need to look into the mirror to know that it barely covered my diaper. The in-built petticoat pushed the dress out in every direction. I tried to flatten it all down to give myself more cover and hopefully make the outfit look more mature, but it didn’t work, as soon as I flattened one bit another part would stick out. Mom completed my outfit with the fashion accessory all young women and girls had. A pacifier with a big latex bulb, a pink mouth guard and a long piece of rainbow coloured ribbon that attached it to a metal clip on the front of my dress. The pacifier bobbed against my chest ready to be pushed into my mouth as soon as a man had decided I had done enough talking. I was still trying to make myself presentable when Mom took my hand and led me out of the nursery. The fresh diaper crinkled loudly in the otherwise quiet landing, it was a sound I had almost tuned out having become so used to it but just occasionally, when I was particularly frustrated, my ears heard the tell-tale rustle common in every house with girls younger than their mid-twenties around the world. As I waddled down the stairs the familiar sounds and smells of breakfast came wafting down the hallway to me. The smell of eggs and bacon frying, for my Dad and Brother, of course, we women were expected to watch our figures so I knew it would be cereal for me. I could hear my brother talking, his voice only recently deepened by puberty, and then my Dad’s loud and booming laugh in response. Despite what it may seem I never hated my family, they were simply upholding the “natural order” of things. Once in the kitchen I made my way to my highchair. It was yet another point of contention that I had argued about for years, pretty much as soon as I was able to talk, I was protesting, but my family insisted. The most annoying thing was they were probably right. I did need it just like I needed help with so many other things. There is a fundamental and profound difference between women and men. No matter how much I despise or try to fight there could be no doubt about it. As we were all taught in our rudimentary biology lessons, girls simply developed slower and later than boys. Whilst boys would be out of diapers by four or five years-old girls most often needed them into their twenties. I believe the textbook said the average age of female potty training was twenty-five which meant I could expect another seven years in padding, a thought so horrible it made me want to cry. It wasn’t just potty training that separated the sexes though. Whilst the diapers might be the most obvious difference if you were to look between a boy and a girl of a similar age it was far from the only thing. Along with the delayed potty training came a big delay in developing fine motor skills. Basically, girls needed a lot of help with a lot of things. For instance, breakfast. Whilst I could eat an apple on my own there was no way I could handle a spoon without most of my cereal ending up down the front of my dress. That was just one example of a thousand. The practical result of these genetic differences was that girls were simply treated differently. We were essentially little more than babies until well into adulthood. The diapers seemed to inspire a certain amount of protectiveness from the men who would keep us in nurseries, dress us like overgrown toddlers and generally not trust us to do anything for ourselves. They weren’t nasty, for the most part, they were just doing what they thought was best to help. The “immaturity” of women had seeped into every aspect of life. Even older women, like my mom, who had been long potty trained were still treated as little more than children a lot of the time. It may have been obvious, but I HATED it. I hated being treated like I was different or less able. I was jealous of boys, like my brother, who could just get on with their lives. I loathed the fact that unless I was extremely lucky, I was going to end up like my mother. Married off and looking after the home whilst producing babies whilst my husband earned the money. I wanted more but I almost certainly wasn’t going to get it. What was really the most frustrating aspect of it all though was that I was capable of so much more. I was smart, at least for a girl, and I took pride in that. School was almost a waste of time for me, I had to try and learn what I could in my spare time. I would ask for books for my birthdays and Christmases. Dad clearly didn’t agree and thought it would lead to me “getting ideas” which was apparently a bad thing. For once mom got her way though, mostly because she was the one to head out to the store for presents, and at least twice a year I would unwrap a new book. But none of that mattered. I could apply to be taken out of the girl’s classes and put into an accelerated program, the only way for me to go to college and have a potential career, to escape my fate as a future homemaker but I wouldn’t be accepted. Whilst I may have had the intelligence to pass the requisite tests it was irrelevant because I still had the coordination of a toddler and in the world’s eyes that was all that mattered. Even amongst girls my age, I was behind the curve. “Nice dress, sis.” Ollie said with a smirk. I scowled at him. He knew about my frustrations and, like any good brother, poured salt into the wound when he could. What I wouldn’t have given to switch places with him… “Oh, Richard, dear.” Mom said to Dad as she made the cereal, “The Wilkinsons have invited us over for a little get together.” “Sounds marvellous.” Dad replied without looking away from his newspaper. I was pretty sure Dad had spent more of his life looking at the papers than he had me. I had hopped up into the highchair, nearly falling over in the process, and when Mom returned, she locked the tray in place and put my breakfast on it. I looked at the unappetising wet cereal without enthusiasm whilst Mom brought eggs and bacon for the men. My mouth watered just looking at the cooked breakfast. A piece of cloth fluttered down over my face to rest against my chest. My bib was to protect my clothes from any food that missed my mouth, mom never liked having to change my clothes before sending me off to school. Mom then sat down with her own cereal and two spoons. “Alright, baby, open up.” Mom said sweetly. “I’m not a-…” I started complaining but Mom simply shoved the spoon into my mouth. As I ate my lacklustre breakfast in silence Ollie started telling Dad about his latest sporting achievements. As if to emphasise the differences between us Ollie was very smart and athletic, popular too. It only made me feel worse about my own situation. We had the same abilities and yet he was going to get all the opportunities whilst I was going to get nothing. I hated mealtimes just because they took so long. In between my own mouthfuls I had to wait for Mom to eat and she liked to gossip to no one in particular leaving me waiting even longer. If it were up to me, I would eat as quickly as possible so I could get away from the highchair and go back up to my room. ---  If you want to see what happens next RIGHT NOW you can do so at one of the following links. Thank you, and all support is very gratefully received: https://reamstories.com/page/lpjgftb4y2/story/mf967rdsf7db10/chapter/mofj6wqga4681931 https://subscribestar.adult/posts/2460869