Diaper References

It has been several years ago, but I have been in an actual (vanilla) store in a public mall that had a men’s section where they sold actual adult men’s size Osgosh (sp?) shortalls.  I looked but didn’t buy at the time.  Yes, the store also had a section selling the same thing in toddler sizes.  Last I looked Osgosh (sp?) was no longer selling them in adult men’s sizes.

Good Morning, walking around the outlets with my wife and Niece/Mommy and her partner Anna. She is pushing my wife wheelchair on one side and i was told to hold to hold on to the other so that i do not get lost among the people. I am wearing denim coverall that Anna cut the legs and crotch area and put velcro so that it would be easier to change my diapers when needed and i am wearing my favorite teddy bear onsie underneath. As we were walking looking around i was pooping my LFB POOPIE MONSTER DIAPER, it was a really big poopie soft but very full, i started walking with a little more waddle then usual. I was told that I would have to wait to be changed, glad we are outside, pretty sure more is to come as i had 2 baba's of breastmilk before we left the house. 

Really cool story binge in one day 

Chapter 6   Fifteen Days til Evergreen     Those boxes in the kitchen are still flat. I should really get on that.   I’m drawn back into my phone by the sound of Pineapple Banana Kitty. It feels like it’s been in every other video on my feed for the past three days, but somehow, it still makes me smile.   I’m lying on my couch face up, feet up on the arm. I’ve been doomscrolling since I got out of the shower. Again.   But it’s fine. I mean, I’m working on the most important task as we speak, right?   I use my other hand to give myself a few firm butt pats. I smile at the tiny thud-crinkle sounds my hand makes on contact. My sixth diaper. Still dry, though. I should probably get some water.   I jump off the couch and head towards the kitchen for a glass. I’ve been pretty good at wearing to bed every night…they’re still working like a charm in knocking me right out. I’ve been pretty cautious about how long I wear them, though, and haven't really gotten myself to put one on after I hop out of the shower.   That ends today! I really need to start wearing them for longer periods during the day. No urgent errands. Nowhere to be. Just me, the couch, and a great excuse to be a lazy bitch.   Another day, another band t-shirt and pair of sweatpants, but this time with a diaper underneath. If I do nothing else, dammit if I’m not wearing and wetting the HELL out of this thing.   __________     Fourteen Days til Evergreen     Fuck. I wet the hell out of this thing.   Like. A lot.   Like, way too much.   And now I have to do laundry about it.   I swear I wet yesterday’s diaper more than this, and with no issues. I’ve only been wearing this one for a few hours, but I was also lying on my back when I tried peeing this time…was it pee number four?    It took me a second to realize what had happened. The normal, spreading warmth was there, but when I laid back into my mattress, that initial damp feeling you get where the pee settles into the padding…it didn’t go away after the first few seconds like it usually does. I looked down in confusion, rolling to the side to find two giant wet spots on the bed underneath me, and then two more wet spots on my sweatpants, right where they met the seat of my diaper.   Hubris, thy name is pee pee pants.   I quickly jump off the bed and strip off my pants, leaving me in just my t-shirt and wet diaper, then I strip my bedding. There’s a small wet spot on the mattress itself, but I think I caught it quick enough.   I waddle my way to the living room, balled-up laundry in hand. Despite my annoyance, I can’t help but smile. That feeling of my thighs lightly rubbing against the soft plastic after I’ve wet a few times and the sag starts getting serious…ugh, there’s just something about it.   I toss my clothes into the washer and look down at myself. I guess I should take this off and get in the shower. Diaper number seven, I hardly knew ya.   As I press the one-and-done button on the machine to start the load, it suddenly hits me. I’ve written this EXACT scene before, to a T. Chapter 7, The Laundry Room. Experiencing déjà vu is one thing; having it over a smut scene you wrote two years ago is something else entirely. How in God’s name did I get something like this SO right before I had ever done it?    Jesus, has it really been two years since I worked on that?   Whatever. I need a shower.   __________     Thirteen Days til Evergreen     So it turns out ten diapers isn’t a lot when you’re wearing them every day. And I’m not even wearing them full-time yet. Here I am, standing naked except for the towel wrapped around my head, second-to-last diaper from the pack of Sunkiss now in hand.    Well, shit. One more thing on the to-do list: Order more diapers.   It seems like a slightly ridiculous task considering I’ll be at Evergreen in less than two weeks, and all this will be covered with my room and board. But at the same time, I’m definitely not where I want to be with the whole “pre-acclimation” thing. I’m still taking breaks. I still haven’t worn out of the apartment. There are…other thresholds I’ve yet to cross.   I fidget and squirm in place, and I can’t tell if it was the embarrassment that triggered it, or something else.   I sigh as I lie down on the bed, grabbing the powder I’m now keeping on my nightstand, completely unobscured. I unfold the Sunkiss and lay it underneath me before sprinkling a bit of powder over my stomach, inner thighs, and butt. I can’t believe how much powder has helped now that I’m wearing them for more than an hour or so. It’s almost like there’s a reason most people consider it a necessity, you dumb baby.    I tape myself into the diaper, then slide my fingers in between where the diaper meets my thighs to fluff out the leak guards. Another good tip I picked up from the internet that seems to have helped a ton. I wiggle my butt a little once I’m good to go. A tiny final ritual I’ve added to the process. Equal parts silly and cute. I’m so embarrassing.   I throw on some tiny sweatshorts that barely cover my diaper. Another no-errand day, but hopefully a check-some-other-shit-off day. I throw on another band shirt from the clean laundry pile, then make my way to my couch.   I catch the pile of still-flattened boxes in my periphery right before I sit down. Unfortunately I’ve got more pressing matters to attend to.   I pull up the app for TheNile on my phone. I still feel guilty about using them so often, especially after that whole failed bid for their new private island headquarters in the Caribbean to become its own sovereign nation. But hey, I need premium-brand adult diapers in less than twenty-four hours, so there’s not much I can do.   My fingers make a few clicks before landing on the Sunkiss Masterpiece product page again, but I pause before hitting ‘ORDER NOW’. Before I had made the BIG purchase on my first pack of diapers ever, I had done a frankly unhinged amount of research first. The price, the capacity, the fit, the aesthetics…I did a LOT of comparing and contrasting. There may have been a spreadsheet involved.    The research had clearly paid off. I was definitely a big fan of these and have barely run into any issues in my ten-diaper journey. At the same time, though, it had been a close call for the first purchase, and there were still a plethora of options I would love to try.    A few more clicks and I’ve got one of the close contenders pulled up. Trests are apparently the lambos of medical diapers: pure white, amazing plastic and fit, and a truly absurd capacity. Certainly pricier than Sunkisses, and very similar aesthetically, but by far the most glowing reviews I’d seen on the boards.   I add the Trests to my cart, but I don’t check out yet. There’s also…another option. I hesitate, but end up clicking away to something a bit more…over the top. I pull up the page and the name alone makes my brain stutter. PottyPants…fuck, I hate how hard that does things for me.   These ones are clearly made for people more into the little side of things who also have a solid penchant for humiliation. A cute, aesthetic design on the front: a blue teddy bear over large baby blocks. Words on the front saying OOPSIE that fucking disappear when wet. Another cartoon bear on the butt, holding his nose.   I’m squirming SO hard on the couch. There's absolutely no way I can handle those.    Right?   Fuck it.   I click the ADD TO CART button, then quickly check out before my anxiety has a chance to kick back in.   Huh. I guess options are good, right?   I squirm again. Maybe one more add-on, while I’m at it…   __________     Eleven Days til Evergreen     This was a fucking terrible idea.   With every crinkly step I take closer to the department store entrance, the harder my heart pounds. Jesus Christ, this thing is so loud. Everyone you walk by is going to hear it and know EXACTLY what you’re wearing underneath that dress. You should probably turn back now.   No. No no no. That’s fucking stupid.   You know the music they play in there is gonna overpower any small rustle coming from you. You know that even if someone did hear some hint of crinkle, an adult diaper would be the last thing that person’s mind would jump to.   You’re wearing a black dress with a long skirt. You’re wearing shorts underneath that just in case your skirt gets blown up by the gods themselves. You chose a huge department store in the next town over from school, all while most students aren’t even back from break yet.    Hell, you even saved your last Sunkiss for this. The Trests are a little thick, and the PottyPants…yeah, there’s no way I was wearing those out of the house.   You need to take the plunge. You need to get used to wearing them around other people. There is no way you could have made this easier on yourself, less risky, or safer. You’ve got this.   The self-pep-talk is enough to keep me from sprinting back to my car, but not quite enough to slow my heartbeat down, or to stop a few beads of sweat from forming on my lower back.    …You’ve got this.   I walk through the front door and instantly feel a blast of air conditioning that causes my dress to ripple. My eyes go wide and my hands shoot to my skirt. I remind myself again that it’s fine, that there are anti-wind contingencies in place.   I grab a cart as the store’s greeter barely gives a nod in my direction. I can feel myself tensing. He didn’t even look at me. Chill, woman.   I take a few breaths and start making my way to the home office section, taking my phone out as I do to pull up the list I made.   EVERGREEN — STUFF TO GET   (Riverton Superstore, NOT Newburgh)   STICK TO THE LIST. IN AND OUT. 45 MINUTES MAX.  (if you stop to look at records, I will fucking end you 😘😘😘)   PAPER/OFFICE Notebooks x3 (the GOOD ones. lined, not grid, I’m not an animal) Pens — the .5s, black. buy two jumbo packs, you WILL lose them Sticky tabs Index cards Highlighters???? (do people still?? get them anyway)   As I make my way across the store, I pass by the tech section. A massive kiosk for GameChanger AR Glasses takes up the majority of the section; the same freakin’ kiosk that’s in every department store, tech store, and office supply store from here to Timbuktu.   Would it be convenient to have an insanely powerful AR computer available to me at all times? Absolutely. Would it save me a ton of time, space, and energy to take notes virtually using the AR features on the glasses instead of using physical media like some archaic bog witch? Definitely.   But there’s something so satisfying about the tactile experience of putting pen to paper that AR could never replicate. Besides, giving them permission to bank literally every experience I have to live indefinitely at some data center in the Andes is a hard no from me.   But wait, isn’t that exactly what Evergreen is doing with their watch?   No, it’s fine. It’s all anonymized, unlike the GameChanger data, apparently. And it’s all going to researchers rather than corporate marketing bot farms…right?   I chuckle at my own rationalized cognitive dissonance.   I make it over to the row where all the writing supplies live. I turn the corner and see a college aged girl in her pajamas looking at some notebooks. I freeze, holding my breath without realizing it.    I shake my head lightly and take a few steps into the aisle before freezing again. Fuck, this crinkling is so loud. I stop and pretend to look closely at the poster board that lines the wall next to me until she moves on. Luckily, she walks to the other side of the aisle to make her exit once she’s done. I enviously glance at her comfy-as-hell-looking pants as she walks away.    My heart is still racing, but I continue into the now-empty section, to my actual destination.   I skip right past the garbage in the notebook section to the top shelf and immediately find one that calls to me…hardcover, cloth-bound in a soft, deep purple, a thick black ribbon marker sewn into the spine. I lift it up…umph, the heavy weight of it sends chills down my arms. I run my thumb across the cover, feeling the weave of it catch on the pad of my finger.   I flip it open and practically press my nose into the gutter. Glue, cotton paper, and something close to leather fills my lungs. I fan the pages once, slow, and let the whole thing breathe out at me.   The quality shit just hits different.   Twenty-eight dollars for a notebook. I don’t give a fuck.   I place it tenderly in the cart. Then I grab two more in different colors.   I can feel how wide my smile is as I pick through the shelves to find the remaining items I need. God, I never thought I’d be school shopping again in my life, let alone for writing supplies. My heart is fluttering, and for the first time in a long time, it’s not because I feel like I’m about to die.   The last of what I need from this aisle now in my cart, I pull my phone back out to see what I need to grab next.   BED/BATH/~*~*BEYOND*~*~ Sheets — TWO SETS MINIMUM (learn from your mistakes, bitch) Mattress protector ← ACTUALLY IMPORTANT, DON’T FORGET Towels (plz ball out. you’re allowed nice things) Robe Laundry bag Hangers (they never give you enough)   My eyes lock onto the second item in the next section just as I take my first step away from the aisle. A small rustling sound catches my ear, then echoes in my brain like a thunderclap. I look around to see no one nearby, cheeks burning as I do.   I make my way down the wide main aisles of the department store to the next home section. I only pass a few people on my way over, and end up holding my breath a moment every time someone walks by. Not a single person looks up from their phone as they pass.   I quickly settle on some higher-end items for basically everything I need, since I’ve still got those security-deposit savings I apparently don't need. High-thread-count purple sheets, fluffy purple towels, purple hangers, then a simple white robe and laundry bag (you can’t win ‘em all).   I come to the final item. The mattress protector. I learned quickly how necessary these are. In fact, I should probably throw one of these on my mattress once I get home. It is the landlord’s, after all…   So…two mattress protectors, just in case? No wait, three. No wait, that’ll take up too much luggage space. I can wash them, right? So one will be fine, I’m sure.   I grab two and throw them in my cart before anyone turns the corner and sees.   Ok, section down. What’s next?   TOILETRIES Shampoo/conditioner — the green bottle the stylist mentioned Face wash, moisturizer, the usual Toothpaste/brush/floss Hairbrush (seriously, throw the old one out)   I make my way over to the pharmacy section nearby for all the toiletries I need. The traffic is relatively low overall, but that god damn crinkle still echoes in my ears every time I pass someone by. I smooth my skirt out, then do a subtle double check to make sure it hasn't ridden up.   There’s someone standing right at the entrance of the first aisle I need to enter. I pause for a moment, then move past her slowly, carefully. A tiny “Excuse me” escapes my lips, barely audible, even more unnecessary given how wide the aisle is. If she hears my words or what’s under my dress, she doesn’t acknowledge either.   I burn my way through the aisle with ease. The products are all in the same places as they are in the store I usually go to, so grabbing everything I need is basically muscle memory.   Ok, what’s next?   ~~ M I S C ~~ barrier cream — the zinc one w/ the good reviews, NOT the drugstore stuff powder (unscented? scented? decide in the aisle) wipes — thick ones, aloe. school’s will be garbage   I feel my heart skip a beat, and not in the fun way.   Ok, it’s fine. You’re fine. These are all normal things that normal people buy on perfectly normal days. I take a step towards the…baby section. I swear, these stupid Sunkisses are getting louder and louder.   I pass the tech section again on my way over. As I do, something catches my eye that temporarily settles the pit forming in my stomach.   OH SHIT, VINYL RECORD CLEARANCE WHAAAAAAT.   I crack a smile and turn towards the music section before catching myself. Fuck. Nope. Don’t fucking do it. In and out, in and out. I throw my head to the sky and give a dramatic, audible whine, stomping my right foot once before turning back towards my actual destination.   I finally make it. After a quick glance to make sure no one will see me, I turn the corner.    Boxes of diapers. All different brands, floor to ceiling, forming literal walls around me.   Don’t look directly at them. Avert thine eyes.   I quickly make my way down to the perpendicular aisle. I come across the wipes first.   I may or may not have done a crazy amount of research when it came to all of the things I need from this section. Yeah, sure, Evergreen says they’ll provide the ‘necessary materials’, but I’m guessing they cheap out on what they provide. If this is gonna be our new life, we’re going for the good stuff.   You’ve gotta find the adult-sized wipes, but for the love of god get the unscented ones. The heavy aloe wipes are good for your skin, but they do NOT play friendly with inny-bits. Let’s try not to get a UTI the first week of school.   It takes me a moment to find the adult wipes: they’re a bit buried, lower on the shelf than the more popular baby wipes. I start to bend over before quickly snapping back up, looking around once again. I shake my head. Girl, your dress is long and you’re wearing shorts. No one is gonna see your fucking diaper if you bend over.   I bend over and grab the wipes, throwing them into my cart.   The powder is next. Easy enough. It’s on the next shelf over, and I know exactly what I’m looking for. Again, I know the school will provide something, but let’s be real, the lavender-scented powder is where it’s at.   I quickly grab the purple bottle of powder off the shelf before moving on. I make my way down the aisle, looking for the barrier cream on my list when I spot something low on the shelf I’m passing.   A tiny white box with green outlines.   FLEET Mini-Enemas 4 count   I stop dead in my tracks.   Pause for another beat.   I grab the box and quickly stuff it in my cart, right in between the towels I picked up earlier.   Then I move on.   It takes me a minute to find the barrier cream; there are only a few options in stock, and they’re slightly lower on the shelf they occupy. I need the kind with zinc, especially if I’m going to be wearing these for longer periods of…   I freeze as I hear someone approach from the aisle behind me.    Fuck.   My eyes go wide, and I see a taller guy in his thirties appear to my right, where I was just grabbing the wipes.   He looks right in my direction.   Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.   I can feel my back start to sweat. Heart pounding faster. Why is he looking right at me? Oh my god, he knows, he knows what I’m doing, why I’m here, what I’m wearing under my dress. Oh god, I have to get out of here, I have to…   “Excuse me,” the man says calmly, reaching just in front of me to grab a bottle of baby lotion on the shelf just above where I was looking.   “Oh, sure, sorry!” I say without even thinking first.   And just like that, he’s moving away, out of my sight within moments.   I grab the shelf next to me and take a few deep breaths. In for four. Hold for four.   I smooth my skirt out once again. You’re fine, everything’s fine.   The rest of the shopping trip goes off without a hitch, and before I know it, I’m walking out of the store, newly bought reusable bags filled with my purchases in the cart. I grab my phone out of my purse to check the time, see if I made the 45-minute goal.   Damn. 83 minutes. Almost double.   I laugh to myself in spite of it all. If anything, that makes me feel better. I just survived something I never would have DREAMED of being able to do even a couple of weeks ago. I spent close to an hour and a half walking by and existing within inches of complete strangers, all while wearing a diaper under my dress. No weird looks, no heads snapping up from the crinkles, no clumsily bumping my padded ass into some hot girl stocking the shelves and going down in a heap, skirt flying up over my head.   Just…a totally mundane, uneventful trip to a store.   Huh. How about that.   __________     Seven Days til Evergreen     I look to the pile of flattened boxes to my right. Shit, I REALLY need to get on that.   I wipe a few beads of sweat that have formed on my brow with the back of my right hand as I continue to mop the floor in my kitchen. I’m cleaning the apartment first so I don’t procrastinate it into the dirt, THEN I’ll start packing. This will be fine.   I’ve been jumping from cleaning task to cleaning task for the past couple of hours. The two extra-strength cups of coffee I brewed myself beforehand have definitely helped. I can still feel my teeth vibrating a little, but whatever works.   I look down to the black crop top I’m wearing, damp with sweat, but not exactly soaked. I definitely need a shower after this, and for once, it’s not because I’ve peed myself multiple times.   Though to be fair, that isn’t helping either.   I opted to ditch the pants for this bout of work. I tried shorts for a bit, but it’s not like they were covering much, anyway. The Trest I’m wearing isn’t exactly pristine at this point; like my shirt, it’s damp, but not soaked.   …or maybe I spoke too soon. As I’m finishing up the floor, I feel a pressure in my bladder. No worries. I stop mopping for a moment and start to relax my pelvic muscles, closing my eyes as I do so. I’m about halfway through the Trest pack at this point, and I know for a fact that I can safely put another full pee into this and then some.   I smile, letting out a small sigh as I feel the floodgates release. The warmth quickly begins to spread across the front of my diaper, the light, pleasant crackling of the expanding padding filling my ears. Almost twenty diapers into my new life and this feeling hasn’t lost its magic. I hope it never does.   As the warm stream ceases, I twist behind me and give myself a pat on the squishy butt. Not even close to leaking.   Trests are definitely my new favorite. I tried to stress test them a few days ago to see how much pee they could hold, and the freakin’ tapes started to give out from the weight of the sag before I could get it to leak. Between that, the fit, the AMAZINGLY soft plastic, the…ahem, ~squish~ factor once they’re a little wet…the Sunkisses were great, but the internet wasn’t lying, the Trests really are the lambos of the medical diaper world.   Smile still wide on my face, I set off to finish the task at hand. A few minutes later, I’m done, wiping my brow one more time with a look of smug satisfaction on my face.   I’m putting the mop back in the kitchen closet when I feel another pressure. Lower than before. The smallest cramp hits just above the same area. Before I can even blush, my mind jumps to something I wrote. That same piece that’s been collecting digital dust in my cloud drive. The scene where Jessica has a… different kind of accident… in her diaper, right in the kitchen, before she knows what hit her.   I bite my lip at the thought, my cheeks flushing right on cue.   Of course, my current situation isn’t nearly as desperate. The slight cramp has come and gone, and the pressure is barely noticeable without conscious thought. But my mind is racing now.   I grab my phone. It takes me a second to remember exactly where the cloud app lives in my sea of folders and icons, but I find it quick enough. A few more clicks, and I’m right at the chapter. The first time I’ve even opened my story in at least a year.   I laugh at the name of the folder that holds my precious, hidden work.   THE LUSTY BOSTONIAN DIAPER MAID   It’s a working title, okay?    I make my way over to the couch and scroll to the moment in the chapter I’m thinking of.   I squirm as I begin to read my own words despite remembering every line to a T. Is that a bit narcissistic? Eh.   I feel another tiny cramp. I look up from my phone. The pressure’s still there. Barely.   …Could I?   I climb my way onto my knees, my arms resting on the back of the couch, leaving my phone back down where I was lying. Unfortunately, the small amount of movement is all it takes for my body to tense up a bit.   It’s fine. Just relax. You’ve written scenes like this, too. You just have to relax.   I do my box breathing exercise. I can feel myself relax, my body getting softer.   But it’s like that pressure I just felt has completely evaporated into the ether.   Maybe it’s just the position. This one isn’t really all that natural, now that I’m thinking about it.   I switch positions slightly, bringing my feet up onto the couch, lowering myself into a squat. I feel my wet diaper shift under me with a light crinkle as I do so. I’m determined.   Again, I try to relax. I know it was just there. Where the fuck did it go?   Maybe it just needs a little…push. I bear down, try to see if I can force things along a bit. I push. I push more.   But nothing.   I exhale dramatically. This is stupid, anyway, let’s just go use the bathroom while we still have a chance…   No. We need to cross this barrier at some point. Let’s do it here where we have total control, total privacy.   I get up off the couch now. I was standing when I felt the first cramp, maybe that’s the key?   I stand there, eyes closed, breathing deeply, slowly. Trying to actively relax my body, actively relax my mind.   But nothing.   I bury my face in my hands and let out a frustrated, angry groan. Why won’t my body cooperate? I’m finally in a place where I can bring myself to do the thing I’ve wanted to do for YEARS. WHY?!   Small tears are forming in the corners of my eyes. I quickly wipe them away before pulling my hands away from my face. Fucking stupid. Fucking useless.   I tear violently at the tapes of my diaper, catching it as it falls, balling it up as I walk towards the bathroom, towards the toilet. I need a shower after, anyway.   __________     Four Days til Evergreen     God fucking dammit. Why did I take so long to start putting together these fucking boxes?!   This feels like the seven hundredth bankers box I’ve made today. I look to my kitchen ceiling and exhale dramatically as I watch the ceiling fan spin lazily around. At least the fan is now dust-bunny free.   To be fair, I don’t have THAT much stuff I need to pack from my kitchen. My coffee setup, a few mugs, dishes, and whatever bullshit has accumulated in my junk drawer over the past year.   I look back down, scratching the back of my head as I do so. I scratch my bare thigh with my other hand and exhale again. I don’t think I’ve put on a pair of pants in days. Maybe thirty total seconds of pants per day when I have to open my door to grab takeout I had delivered?   I HAVE been wearing diapers pretty much full time for the past couple of days, which I consider a huge win for me. I look down to the PottyPants I’m currently wearing, the OOPSIEs on the front panel long since faded. I give the front a quick poke, and can’t help but smile at the little squish-crinkle it makes. So dumb.   I stare at the doom drawer directly to my right. I sigh again.   But hey, you know what? It’s fine. I’ve still got time. Don’t need to rush too hard. I let the emotional synthpop I’ve got playing in the background ground me, envelop me.   Everything is chill. Take it slow, you’re ok.   I make it to my knees and open the doom drawer. Probably best to deal with this nightmare first, right?    The first thing that jumps out to me is not what I was expecting.   Shit. I forgot I threw this in here when I got it in the same package as the diapers last week. It’s still in a cute little sealed bag, oversized rubber nipple staring directly at me.   I slowly reach in to grab it, flipping it around. Nothing fancy, just a simple pastel pink finish, button, ring and all.   There’s a part of me that wants to shove it in the bankers box and move on, just like I did when it came in the mail. But no. I may have bought it a little impulsively, but there’s some reason I bought it at all, right?    I tear the top of the plastic wrapping encasing the paci and remove it. The pink plastic is perfectly smooth. The nipple is reasonably sized…not comically oversized like some of the other models I’ve seen online, but…just right.   I flip it over and stare at it for a moment. Then I pop it in my mouth, closing my eyes as I do so.    I’m expecting another rush of sensations. Burning cheeks, a spark of something as my tongue presses against the rubber, something low, deep, scratching into the dark recesses of my brain.   Instead, I get nothing.   Huh. Alright then.   I try to mess around with it in my mouth for a couple of seconds. It feels silly, sure, but not that same deep shame as…other activities I’ve experienced in the past few weeks.   I shrug, taking it out of my mouth, wiping the nipple against my shirt before haphazardly tossing it into the doom box.   I guess some things really ARE better on paper.   __________     Two Days til Evergreen     I look at myself in the mirror, up and down. I look so god damn ridiculous. Cute as fuck, but ridiculous.   Here I am, standing in just a black bralette and a diaper. Specifically, a PottyPants diaper. Even more specifically, a very, VERY wet PottyPants diaper.   I run my fingers down the front of the padding, where the OOPSIEs used to be. The fact that I made them vanish still digs at something deep in my brain, even after I’ve gone through an entire pack of them.   I turn to the clothes I bought, folded neatly and organized into piles on the bed next to me. It’s finally time to put these new clothes to the REAL test. I’ve put four good pees into this diaper, and now we’re gonna see which of these outfits can actually hide what they need to when I’m legitimately soaked.   Actually, scratch that: five pees. I feel a light twinge in my bladder. I don’t know if I’ve been hydrating better this past week or if wearing more often is just making me more aware of my body, but I’ve definitely noticed I’m peeing way more often than I was when I started a few weeks back. It’s probably both, right?   I’m a little skeptical that the diaper will hold up, but I can tell my bladder’s not THAT full, so I relax myself. I lean back just a smidge to make sure gravity helps the new intake find its way to the less saturated padding in the back of my diaper. I still smile at the warmth in spite of my vigilance.   Okay. Five pees in. The diaper is sagging down by literal inches. The soaked padding means the diaper has expanded significantly in most directions. If any of these clothes can hide this thing, they can hide anything.   The first thing on the pile is what I’m most hopeful to try: that same black dress I tried on in the fitting room, sans padding. Please work, please work.   I slip the dress over my head, the same way I did in the dressing room. I pull it down quickly. My stomach drops a little when I feel the material catch more than I expected as it hits the plastic of the diaper, but it slides down it a moment later without issue. I smooth the skirt out and look in the mirror.   Hell yeah. The black seems like it covers everything perfectly. That tiny bit of wiggle room around the hips and ass I accounted for seems to have paid off. I take a few steps. The volume of crinkle is absurd, but I can’t seem to notice anything under the dress visually.   I give myself a little arm pump of victory in the mirror.   But wait. There’s no way in hell I’m gonna wear a dress every day for the next two years, right?   Ok, so a win, but not a complete victory. I definitely need some more go-to options.   I shimmy back out of the dress, then fold it and put it into the suitcase I have opened on the floor in front of me. I’d love to say that it’s only the winner that will go in there, but unfortunately I procrastinated on this game of dress up a little too long, and I don’t think I’ll have time to return anything.   It’s fine. Maybe I can donate them once I’m there. Or maybe I’ll just keep things I can only wear in private.   I go for the next piece I want to try: a flowy, black midi skirt with an elastic waistband. Again, a little too long for my usual taste, but it’s still pretty damn cute, and it should work in theory.   I step into it and slide it up past the diaper. I have to hike it higher than I’d normally wear a skirt to keep the white plastic waistband hidden.   This one also seems like it works at first glance. I twirl around in the mirror, then try walking.   Fuck. When I walk I can DEFINITELY see it catch and shape around the intense bulk covering my butt.   But is that really a big deal? It feels like it, but maybe I’m just being extra.   I don’t love it, but it’s a solid maybe. I slip it off, fold it, toss it in the suitcase.   Next item: a pair of dark green wide-leg trousers. Let’s see if I can wear pants with these things.   I slide the pants up. They don’t seem like they catch on the diaper too much, the thighs are wide enough to give it some room even when it’s this soaked.    But then I zip and button the pants closed. I look in the mirror and spot it immediately. Fuck. The bulge against the crotch of the pants is…not exactly subtle. I guess this will still work with a long sweater or something, but that combo is only good for maybe half a year. Though I guess it might also work with thinner diapers?   Dammit. This is already way more annoying than I thought it was gonna be. I pull the pants off in haste, barely rolling them up before I toss them in the suitcase.   I grab a random pair of jeans in frustration, hoping to have some better luck. I step into them and quickly pull them up.   God dammit. I’m a fucking idiot.   I must have grabbed the wrong thing off the shelf. The jeans are dark, but they’re FUCKING LOW RISE. I try to tug the jeans up as high as possible, but the waistband ends at a comically low point. A solid inch and a half of bright white plastic diaper waistband blooms above them.   Frustrated, I glance briefly at the wooden chair I use for my desk, now directly behind me, huffing as I flop myself down on it to more easily get these useless jeans off.   As soon as the seat of my diaper makes hard, swift contact with the flat wooden surface, I gasp. I feel it immediately.   Wet. Warm. Spreading.   I freeze. My eyes shoot down. Two small dark circles have appeared right below where the seams of the jeans meet the thighs. I can see the circles slowly growing, spreading outward.   No. No no no no. Oh my god. I fucking leaked.   I can’t believe I just fucking did that. Twenty-two years old, sitting in my own…   I shift to jump up, and the movement presses the soaked padding against me, everywhere at once. Squishing. Clinging. Warm.   The breath I was about to spend on panicking transforms into something else entirely.   You stupid fucking bitch. You checked. You were so careful, and you still—   My hips move again. I don’t tell them to. The diaper squelches and crinkles under me, loud in the quiet room, and the heat of it blooms up through my whole body.   —still couldn’t keep it in. Like a stupid    little   baby.   The word lands somewhere it shouldn’t. Somewhere low.   That’s what you are, aren’t you? A stupid baby who can’t control herself. A naughty little girl who can’t be trusted in big girl panties.   I’m grinding now. When did I start grinding?   This is why. This is exactly why you belong in diapers.   “Oh my god…”   The pants are gone, my body on autopilot, kicked into my bedroom floor.    I look down at my diaper. The OOPSIEs are gone. All of them. And it’s all my fault.   My hands find the edge of the chair and grip in with a vice-like intensity. I press myself down into the ruined, soaked warmth of it…of my disgusting, leaky diaper. The chorus of squelching and crinkling with the light squeaking of the wooden chair fills the room, probably the apartment.    Awwww, such a desperate little slut, aren’t you? You don’t even need toys or hands, huh? Come on, baby, show me how much you love your diapers…   The more I rock myself, grinding, humping my diaper into the hard, cold surface, the more the soaked padding bunches together, creating more and more pressure against my throbbing, engorged clit. I can see two tiny pools of liquid forming where the leak guards meet my thighs, right next to my pussy.    Such a disgusting, filthy little girl. We’re going to need to get you some thicker diapers, since apparently these aren’t enough to hold your accidents…   I’m panting, sweating, my hips accelerating uncontrollably. I already feel it, the building pressure. Closer. Closer. Oh my fucking god.   That’s it, princess, show me how much you deserve to be in your baby pants. Cum for me. Cum in your disgusting, soaking, piss-filled diaper…   I scream out. The edges of my vision go black. My whole body shakes. Fireworks.   I collapse back into the chair, still panting heavily, still trying to catch my breath.   I open my eyes. I instantly spot the pair of piss-stained jeans I threw onto the floor in front of me.   I laugh out loud. Welp, guess I’m not returning those. Guess they’re mine forever now.   __________     One Day and One Sleep til Evergreen     I’m back in bed now, naked except for a towel covering my wet hair and a fresh, clean Trest snuggled around my butt.   I take a deep breath and smile, closing my eyes. I’m done, and a full day before the move. I can take tomorrow to just fucking chill. There’s probably something I forgot, something I’ll have to deal with last minute, but having an entire twenty-four hour buffer feels phenomenal.   I let out a sigh of contentment. I wiggle my hips. The tiny crinkle makes me smile wider.   Relaxation mode engaged. I’ve been so busy for the past week that I’ve barely been on my phone. I wonder if there’s a new chapter up for Back To Daycare?    I go to open my browser on my phone, but I pause, glancing at my office chair on the other side of the room. An image flashes briefly in my head of what happened earlier on that chair.    Instead of the browser, I open up the cloud drive app on my phone. Into the folder that holds that story that’s been sitting untouched for too long.   I create a new document in the folder. A new chapter. I know exactly how it starts. The words come faster than I can type them.   And for the first time ever, they’re inspired by true events.