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By Lady Lucia · Posted
Part 48 This was exactly why I didn’t want Kate finding out. While I had already agreed to wearing diapers for a week, that was just to get her to hurry along with the changing process earlier. Seven days was obviously enough to parallel her latest insistence that I admit to a more vague timeline, as it’s not like I was going to have any more accidents like this, but I still didn’t like the idea of giving her a more indefinite window. But what choice did I have? Not only did this look really bad to my sister alone, but I absolutely didn’t want the others to know. In my desperation to keep this between just me and Kate, I nodded right away. “I need my diapers until you trust me to not have any more accidents.” It wasn’t quite how she had phrased it, but I had already forgotten most of the specifics. “Say it again.” I repeated the exact phrase, and then Kate added more for me to include. Blushing but still going along with it, I echoed her words. It took a couple of tries, since she kept adjusting the statements until she was happy with them. Finally, cheeks no doubt crimson by the end of it, I muttered, “I’m sorry for being an immature little brat, Kate. I promise to wear my diapers until you trust me to not have any more accidents in them.” It wasn’t lost on me that she was throwing several of my own terms back in my face. There had been plenty of times I had called her ‘immature,’ as well as ‘brat’ when we were younger. And it’s not like it was in a mean or bitchy manner. She’s just always been like this–things have to go her way or the highway, and she’ll whine and manipulate and do whatever it takes to achieve that goal. Acting like a perfect angel around our parents only to turn and smirk at me when she got her way was more or less the definition of being a brat. Only now, she appeared to be the older sister while I was the awkward, diapered tween. An ‘immature little brat,’ despite actually being the more proper and mature sister between the two of us. Kate smirked, back to her smug state now that she was clearly over the surprise of seeing me in sagging diapers yet again. “One more time, little Annie.” Swallowing my pride, I flatly said it again instead of arguing. “I’m sorry for being an immature little brat, Kate. I promise to wear my diapers until you trust me to not have any more accidents in them.” “Remember all that, sis. We’re going to go through it again soon. But for now, take off your shirt and lie down. I’ll be right back.” “But-” “Now, Annie.” Without a word, Kate slipped out of the bathroom. She was at least conscious enough about the situation to discreetly crack the door just enough to get herself through before closing it behind her. I let out a heavy sigh. Kate knew. After all my potential plans to handle this myself, I was right back to having my sister change my diapers for me. And, while there was no real reason for me to remove my shirt for something like that, I reluctantly took the hem and pulled it over my head anyway. The last thing I needed at this point was for her to snap at me for not listening. Avoiding Kate’s judgment was quickly becoming a theme for the weekend. One look in the mirror had me blushing all over again. In just a training bra and diapers, as well as all the other immature features, it was difficult to see the real Annelise in there. My frustrated little frown was still there, but that would be taken away as soon as I was pressured to smile again. The craziest part was, it would almost be easier to be Annie. Not that I enjoyed being demoted to a tween, but wearing used diapers as a twelve year old was certainly preferable to the same situation as a nineteen year old. That was Kate’s whole point, wasn’t it? She wasn’t currently present, but I still found myself caving to her logic. Pushing a smile onto my face, I gave myself an awkward little giggle and said, “My name is Annie.” Ugh, it felt so childish and unlike me. But at the same time, I needed to show Kate that none of this bothered me. In typical teenage fashion, the moment you tell someone that you don’t like something, they’ll be sure to teasingly and/or maliciously do that thing more often. Maybe leaning into the false reality was the better play. If she saw that I wasn’t being as affected by all the demeaning and mortifying parts of today that would continue through the end of the weekend, then it would be less fun for her. Hopefully. Belatedly remembering her second instruction, I kicked away the soft mat on the bathroom floor and squatted down to figure out how best to lie down in the messy diapers. At least my sister wasn’t here to rush me. Balancing back on my hands, I settled one foot at a time and slowly lowered myself to the floor. Despite bracing myself for it, I still winced in discomfort as I fully sat on the diapers again. Finally, I lifted my knees and splayed myself as best as I was able in the small bathroom. I could only imagine how this was going to look to Kate when she returned, but I had just been over this with myself. The best way to get through all this was to act like it was no big deal. I was wearing dirty diapers, and I needed to be changed. This was the most mature way to go about it–positioning myself accordingly, to expedite things when she returned. Similar to when I had the accident due to not being able to figure out the pins in time, I had no way to keep track of time. Kate still had my phone, and it’s not like the average household kept a clock in the bathroom. As I lay on the floor, uncomfortable for multiple reasons between the diapers and all the bare skin of my upper half being directly in contact with the cold, hard tile, it was impossible to tell how long my sister was gone for. I had been assuming she was merely going to get me some fresh diapers, but the prolonged time waiting for her to return made it unclear why she would be taking so long when our room was just down the hall. Or maybe it had only been a minute or two, and everything was just feeling like an eternity due to how I was awkwardly positioned. And it’s not like I could get up. Now that I had put myself in the embarrassing pose, I wanted to leave my diapers alone until Kate dealt with them. She probably assumed that I would listen and wait for her, as she had made no efforts to take my clothes away and leave me stranded. I wouldn’t put something like that past her, as she had certainly set up situations where I was toweled without clothes before. But seriously, how long was she going to take? It’s not like I could just stay like this forever, and the thought of one of the twins coming up to do whatever and knocking on the door sent a wave of nervousness through me. The door eventually opened without a warning knock, causing me to jolt a little bit on the off chance that it was one of our relatives assuming the bathroom was empty. Obviously they would have knocked with guests over, but the recent mental projection had me on edge. Instead, it was merely Kate, looking way taller than usual as she towered over my lying down form. “What a good little sister,” she smirked. Closing the door behind her and setting down an armful of things on the counter above me, she said, “Now, don’t freak out, but we’re going to take some more pictures this time around. Just a reminder of what an immature little girl you were this weekend. Don’t worry. As long as you behave, I won’t do anything with them.” My heart skipped a beat at that, before remembering that she had already had some pretty damning evidence of my legs spread with the pull-ups opened and displaying the first mortifying mess of the day. Although while I was slightly desensitized from it already happening once, it quickly hit me that diapers were visually different from pull-ups. As in, Kate would have proof that I had two separate accidents that a girl my age would normally never have one of. “But, Kate-” “But, Annie!” Kate pouted, exaggerating my tone, “None of this would be happening if you had simply asked me for help. Instead, what did you do?” She didn’t have to actually say it. While I had technically made it in time, and gone on a toilet, there would be no way to explain this in a way that would make her listen. I’d just sound like a girl making excuses, even if what I was saying was the truth. “So,” she continued, moving right along, “You’re going to behave, okay?” What else could I say? “Okay . . . ” I muttered, glancing away. “Good,” she nodded, “I don’t want to have to spank you, little sister, but I will if you don’t get your attitude under control.” With that, she grabbed her phone and a couple of diapers from the counter. Acting as if the threat of a spanking was no big deal, Kate knelt down and pushed my legs a little bit wider. Just like on the changing table, it felt so weird spreading myself despite this being far more gross and embarrassing rather than remotely sexual. I watched her take one of the pins for all of two seconds before she got on my case about it. “Head back, Annie. It’s harder to work when you’re staring at me.” With the recent mention of a possible spanking, I reluctantly did as I was told. Falling back on my recent decision to simply be obedient and argue as little as possible. Although I had already failed a bit in those efforts, it wasn’t too late to go for that approach. Until I was in fresh diapers, I couldn’t risk making a fuss anyway. Not with our aunt just downstairs and our cousins one floor lower. One by one, I could feel the pins being undone. Apparently Kate knew how to deal with them, which made sense. She was the one who put them on. Or maybe it was just easier from her angle, as I had failed spectacularly to get the job done from above. “You really are something, Annie,” Kate giggled, “I always knew you were a little girl, with your padded bras and daily heels. But this? Two seconds in diapers, and it’s like you need to start your potty training from scratch. Don’t worry, sis. I’ll help you out.” ------------------ Check out my website: www.ladyluciastories.com And read more of "The Road Trip" (Two complete arcs/105+ parts) and other stories on my SubscribeStar: https://subscribestar.adult/lady-lucia -
By Amixofthings · Posted
I don't live on my own and when I get padding (usually Goodnites) it's from a physical store rather than ordering online. And I then sneak them in. Sometimes I leave them in the trunk of my car and wait until a better time. But I have avoided doing this during cold weather. I know some elastic materials lose their elasticity when they get cold, but I don't know if this has lasting effects after they've warmed up. I'm planning to restock soon, and my region has been having a bout of particularly cold weather (lows below 0°F some nights), but I don't know if the cold will affect the Goodnites, especially the elastic. -
I'm looking for a few comprehensive opinions on them. I've only ordered the traditional ones, and had no problems. There might be a post on this, but I can't find it. Stay padded my friends, MixerOp -
By Little_Girl_Olivia · Posted
By chance I happened to bump into the owner of the winery and my face brightened, relieved to find that my trek out here wasn't going to turn out to be a wasted journey, fearing the vineyard could be shut. Indeed it was a common enough mistake amongst tourists visiting my native France, not to be aware that some rural areas particularly, there were no such things a fixed opening and closing times, with the local consumers simply becoming familar with the habits local shopkeepers regarding what hours they choose to keep. The only constant seemed to be bread. You always rose early if you wanted quality fresh bread or you went to supermarket later and bought the second rate commercial stuff. My relief at having encountered another human being quickly faltterd as we realised we didn't seem to understand one another. I lamely felt in a pocket for my tiny phrase book but I felt ill equipped for the quickly spoken string of Slovak words the man had greeted me with. In the end I didn't even bother taking the book out of my pocket. The man helpfully gestured to a cellar and I understood immediately. "Oui. Très bien." I praised the gentleman as I followed him down some stone steps into the gloom. I was a tall man and broad in my shoulders, so I found myself having to stoop to avoid the vaulted ceiling until I was seated. "Ah. Merci." I thanked the man as I was shown to the table and then I remembered that ought to be trying to speak Slovak, so I fished out my pocket phrase book and set it on thr table in front of me, flicking through the pages. "Ďakujem..." my finger followed down the page "Volám sa Joseph Jerome" although my name had a direct Slovak equvilant, spelt the same, my accident might have made it sound unfamiliar. "Vino... Prosim." I smiled and then looked pointedly at the bottles resting on the racks and the caskets ageing. -
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