Trading Post

went to Mexico in 2019 and had the procedure done as outpatient.   my diaper daddy sent me at the time I flew there and back in 1 day.  I am wearing and have been wearing 24/7 ever since, it was a success.

SQUISHY SUNDAY MORNING. My Fluffy Fly diaper is soooo wet and messy this morning, that I can't even begin to describe the cacophony of cascading sensations coursing through my body, just let me say ahhhhhh! 

It's been a while.  Most of you will recognize the start of this, but I've been working on its clean up.  It's not as bold in your face violent as it was last time I wrote it, but the violence is still quite there.  I have remapped how it starts again and this time, I've already got 50 chapters in, so it's not going away soon.  as long as I can check in once every weekend.  But yes, this one has been started over a few times... trying to get the feel of it.  I've found the few things missing and most importantly, I've found Kookaberry and the ghost which will start to explain one significant way this story is different, but rather than bore you with the details....   Chapter One The Unseen and the Way Unintelligible chatter filled a dark space with little pin lights on the black field. The sounds were muffled, but they seem to be getting louder. A familiar heavy dampness seemed to crawl all over the skin of the person seeing nothing. Clamminess, stickiness, warm wet told her that she wasn't safe. There was a scent, a powerful and shameful scent. Please… Not now. Not again. But she felt it. It wasn’t just under her butt. It wasn’t just against her crotch of her panties. It was all over her legs, her stomach, and her back. The chatter was still muffled and weird. It was definitely Roisin and Aoibhe, her sisters, that had beds against the two walls that she lay in the middle of on a white mat. She was a little kid--no, she was worse. She didn't get a bed because she would ruin it. The girl with her eyes still closed, seeing little pins of white on a dark field, was the one that had to be on her squishy white… was it her mat? She was wet. Her arms and face were wet. Gross. No, she didn’t pee on her face, did she? How? Cait tried to lift her left eye, but it seemed to pull the bottom of the eyelid with it, not giving in. She squirmed on the strange feeling mat. This wasn’t her mat. It was different. It was too firm, and it felt less floory. It was still sticky. It was still smelly. It was still clammy. “Uh!” Cait whispered in her dark state of being not understanding. “Come on, eyes. Open. She tried to turn. Something small but thick enough to make impact thudded on a carpeted floor. “Mom!” she tried to yell, but her voice felt like she was ripping it raw though to her dismay, it still sounded too quiet to be a shout even, let alone the scream she wanted to send through the house. “Help me!” but it came back just as quiet and just as useless. No one was responding. When Daddy sees this, the little ten year old was really going to get it. Aoibhe, five years old, doesn’t even wet the bed anymore, and Roisin doesn’t wet her pants in the daytime, but Aoibhe does. Still, Cait is ten, not five like Aoibhe and not seven like Roisin. And this was… it had to be all over the floor to be this bad! How would she explain to daddy that she didn't know? Cait’s eyes fluttered open. She felt a bump and her butt lift a little before landing on the dry hardened leather of the blue car seat. She was seeing the land flowing by her out the side window. She felt her arms, and they were sticky. They were clammy. They were sweaty. It wasn’t pee. Her face was hot. It was sticky. It wasn’t pee. She sighed. "Good" was so soft no one heard her lips move in the shape of the word. The noises she had heard now, were clear. They were coming from the front, from a radio as an announcer was talking about a horse race. The scruffy man puffing that annoying slender thing that kids are not allowed, was her daddy. The car was really hot. Two windows were partly down. There were only two doors to daddy’s 1970 big sled that he called "Ford." Cait wasn’t one who could tell her daddy he can’t name his car if he wants to. But why is "Ford" so good a name for a car? If you are going to name a car, why this one? It was beat up and dirty. "Cait" seems like a better name for it. That's a truth that Cait knew from the moment she could make sense of people. She was the dirty one, just like this car. “How much farther?” Cait asked her dad as he puffed on a long slender white thing in his mouth until the end glowed red. “Maybe an hour,” her daddy’s lips seemed to bounce the cigarette on his lips. “You can just go back to sleep if you want.” Cait sighed heavily and pulled herself into a sitting position, her hand drifting against the car seat as she did, just making sure. The seat was sticky and it felt like it was warm, but it wasn’t wet enough to be pee. She nearly always had to pee though, when she woke and right now, it seemed to be even more true, this very minute. But she was just asleep, wasn’t she? She was at recess. If she was going to pee, she should have done it before she woke up. That’s the rule. You pee during recess, not when you have to hold it. It was one of her failures that she couldn’t read a clock, and she couldn’t tell when so many minutes passed. She just had to try to judge by the space of moments in her head, and she definitely knew that enough time had not passed. The sun was still in the same place making her legs hot. The crayons that were on the seat next to her were still in the same place she saw them when she woke up. Her daddy’s cigarette was still too long. No time had passed at all. The horse race was still being announced. Dad seemed to be listening intently. He was saying things like “...(bad word) yeah! I knew it! Yeah!” A coupon was taped to the steering wheel of the car. It was a pink and white thing, and it had writing that even if Cait was close enough, she couldn’t read. But from where she was in the back, all she knew, was it was one of daddy’s gamble tickets. Mom was going to be mad.   Going into chapter two, I shall explain... yes, there are parts where it goes to first person.  If the story seems to get a little confused when it does, let me know, and I'll talk through it, how it was that first person was more right for that scene than the closely followed third, though the idea is still that it is from Cait's Limited perception and knowledge as a 10 year old going on 11 year old.   Chapter Two The Shell   Cait felt her legs pressing as much as they could. Daddy’s long thin puffy smoke paper was slowly shrinking. The announcements on the radio were replaced by some country and Western. The crayons were in my hands. Mrs. Evans gave them to me, last May, just before Mother’s Day. The box had my name on it. Each crayon had my name on it. I was so happy to have it. The box was in my hand.   “Daddy? How much longer?” I whispered up trying to be quiet about it so he could ignore me. If someone else asked, like Aoibhe, daddy would tell her that it was maybe as long as a Cinderella movie and that would shut her up for a while, and daddy wouldn’t be mad. He didn’t tell me like that though, and most of the time, he’d just tell me to learn how to read a clock. Still, I had to know. My knees were really pressing into each other. The in-flame-iting in my stomach didn’t like what was there.   I remember, once in February, when my older sister had to see a doctor. The doctor said she had in-flame-ited in her body, too, and she didn’t have any burns. It felt the same to me, that my insides kind of burned, but in an I’m going to pee sort of way? I needed to know if I could ask yet.   “Cait,” Daddy sighed. “I told you to go back to sleep.”   Daddy’s answer meets… Cait! You are bothering me. If you go to sleep, you won’t bother anyone. You are being… loud. You should already be reading the clock for yourself and I already told you. That’s what he meant, and Cait knew it!   The recess rule was made way back almost a year ago. Mrs. Evans told us that we were big kids, and big kids learn to manage stuff. They learn how to tell time so they can know if they should do something like eat and if they are bothering the lesson time. That’s what she remembered.   The clock on the car dash seemed to blur and the car faded into an abyss. There was a classroom, with twenty-four students in it. One bright-eyed redheaded girl with blue eyes and light freckles sat in her desk maybe a few days after fourth grade had begun. The teacher smile around at the whole class.   “I understand that some of you are still learning how to talk and how to behave in public,” Mrs. Evans smiled at not even me, but three boys who were a little loud in class at times. “...And that’s okay, but it is also my job to teach you social science. So let’s see what it means….”   Cait started to get lost with some of the words she used here. But she followed along the best she could until she realized that the teacher was saying that Public life and Private life are different. Even if they are, even in private life, families have rules. And you have to learn how to be good in public and in family, if you want people to like you.   “It’s not polite to waste people’s time,” Mrs. Evans had once told the class in September. “When you make the class laugh and you ask questions that you know the answer to, and you don’t let the teacher teach, you waste time. When you leave the class so the teacher has to explain things again, you waste time. When you come in late, and you try to leave early. It makes other people hate you.”   Cait had really taken Mrs. Evans seriously even in September, not because she knew her, but because Mrs. Evans shushed other kids when they knew her and a new kid didn’t and Mrs. Evans didn’t let the ones that knew her tell the new kids about her. She loved Mrs. Evans for not allowing kids to talk during lessons unless it was about the thing they studied.   Cait sat there trying to understand a round thing in the driver’s displays, a thing that she saw on the kitchen wall, and something that the school classroom had. It was a round coin like disc with two moving black arrow lines around a face with numbers. Could she count… especially to twelve? Of course she could. If time were just a matter of saying 2 for the little hand on a two and 11 for the big hand on the 11, telling time would be so easy. 11 after 2. But that’s not the way clocks work. Somehow, the hands have hidden meanings. The short one, you just say the number, but the big one, it did something to those numbers, it wasn’t like just multiplying by five. Someone had suggested that, but sometimes the eleven space was read fifty-five, sometimes fifty-three and sometimes fifty-seven. It never made sense to Cait.   Her legs pushed harder. Her stomach was hurting… in-flame-ited again. She felt her vision inside the round face dragging her back into September again. The class had just come in from recess. Cait was sweaty. Everyone had been chasing everyone else around, and she had had so much fun… but….   Children pushed, shoved, and avoided other bodies to get back into the classroom. Reading was right after Recess. Even the day before and a few times, little dribbles of “almost” pee pees wet my panties sometimes, but never enough that anyone at school called mommy or caused daddy to miss work so he could be mad. I think he knew, though, that there were “almost” pee pees sometimes. He takes mama to the laundry, so he’s seen my stains…. I just felt it let out some warmth sometimes in my seat, but when I stood up, no one could see. I’d done it last year. It was normal Cait stuff to me. I figured everyone had done that a little, sometimes, until I was made fun of for starting to wet again in April.   On this day, though, I had to stand up and read. The clock’s big hand had definitely moved some, but it was hard to tell where it was, and I didn’t remember where it moved from, so even if I knew how it worked, I couldn’t tell if it was forty if I didn’t know where the longer stupid stick started, could I?   We had read quietly for a bit in our seats, then the teacher talked to us about a new story we were reading as a class, and then, finally, we were taking turns… popcorn style.   “Popcorn!” Randy said after the end of a line. Giggling, he said my name, but when he said it, he added. “Cait, meow!”   “Very funny!” I whispered and everyone laughed… well, everyone but Mrs. Evans.   “Randy!” her face had that look. You know the one. It’s the face where you know she’s not sending you to the principal, and you know…. If she doesn’t send you to the principal for that, then, you are really going to get it directly from her! He was in trouble.   I hate reading. I looked down at the book and I missed where we were. “I lost my place,” I whispered.   “October…,” Mrs. Evans prompted.   “Um… Popcorn! Ralph,” I felt my legs suddenly react before I felt anything. They tightened down to my toes under my chair, my knees pushing together. I looked at Mrs. Evans.   “That’s not how it works, Cait, and you know it. Now, look down on page 87, the third line right after the period!”   I frowned. “Oc-tawb-er is tah ten-ith moth off tah yee-ah-r.” I was really trying. Reading. I don’t like it. I hate it.   Cait put her finger on words, pushed her memory to find some hint about the reading of the longer ones. The ones that she was corrected on more than twice, she started to see patterns. She didn’t have to read October. If it had an O that was big. If it had an r at the end and it was too long to read, October was a safe bet. She read October and it helped.   While she read through the paragraph, feeling the eyes of the room on her, she also felt the fire in her pants. The one that lapped flames at her stomach, the in-flame-ited pushing at her. She looked up at the clock, but it’s face had no meaning to her. She didn’t know if she could ask. She drizzled a little bit. It stopped. She stopped reading. Maybe no one noticed.   Lunch time was when the big hand touched the five. Cait knew that. If she could just wait for the big hand to hit the twelve, maybe that would mean forty minutes. Maybe if she just waited until the twelve. The time would be 12-12, if Cait decided how time worked.   It was 11-9 now. Just three more numbers with the big hand, and she would raise her hand. The teacher wasn’t exactly talking. They were doing worksheets. Cait’s right leg was bouncing up and down. Her legs were swinging in and out at each other. She was doing little hop in her seat, and she was sucking in her breath. Her face was red and sweaty.   “Mrs. Evans!” Wanda called for the teacher.   “Yes, Wanda?” But Wanda was too late.   Wait! Why was Wanda getting Mrs. Evans? Does she know? Cait shivered and watched with wide eyes hoping she wasn’t failing at following another simple rule.   “I need to use the toilet. It’s been forty minutes, hasn’t it?”   “You’re right, Miss Wanda, you know where the pass is.”   Cait muttered under her breath and looked down at her damp warm lap. “Stupid clock rules! That stupid long arrow is on the 10, not the stupid twelve!” She told some laughing ghost in her imagination.   “You know the rule,” said ghost echoed back at her. “One girl and one boy out of the room at a time! Or… the ghost seemed to taunt her. You can be a baby and cry about it while everyone watches you pee your pretty little skirt!” “No!” I whispered hoarsely and harshly at the taunting little devil in me. “I’m a big girl!”   Cait felt a little more warmth in her seat, a pushing little drizzle of fire through her body and warming in shame, her butt. She hoped it wasn’t as bad as it looked. The clock’s hands ticked slowly. Wanda left on the ten. She better come back before the twelve.   “You’re wet,” the ghost echoed in Cait’s head. “If you get up, everyone is going to see a big wet spot on your skirt. They’ll know!”   Cait frowned. It felt really heavy and wet back there. Maybe the ghost was right. Maybe she shouldn’t go. Maybe she should wait until lunch. At lunch, no one will care if she’s wet. They will be too excited to eat than to noticed if she does have a wet spot, then she could say she sat in something.   “Am I really wet?” Cait’s lips mouthed at the ghost in her head.   “Do you want to try to feel your butt while everyone is around you?”   Cait sighed. That would be a big give the cat out of the bag. She couldn’t do that. She felt some more warmth push into her panties. She sighed and she sat there….   The clock faded into the background again and Cait’s glassy eyes looked down at her lap. Somehow, though she felt a little drizzle wet her panties a little, the feeling to pee disappeared. She felt around the seat, but the daydream had not left her in a puddle. She was okay… now, for a minute. If it worked out, maybe until they got where they were going….   Yes, I do realize that there are a lot of mispellings and a lot of (Cait-words) not words as we know them.  If you sound them out and think like you are an undereducated ten year old, you should be able to work out the words... I think... and if not, you can ask.  I am more than happy to explain up to where we are here.     Chapter Three: In-flame-ited   Cait sighed as she looked at the crayons in her hand now that the crisis was over. Mrs. Evans was someone she’d really miss. Her first grade teacher… she didn’t really remember her. Her second grade teacher… he sent her to the nurse all the time. She hated that. Her third grade teacher… got mad at her for not doing the reading homework. Mrs. Evans? She started to let Cait stay in the classroom from time to time during lunch, she didn’t just give her a place to hide out until lunch was over, but she often worked with her helping her with math and Reading… mostly Reading.   It was the last day of school in December before Christmas break. Cait was struggling to read again, and this time, Mrs. Evans stopped by her desk before she took the kids to lunch. Cait’s panties were already wet again, but no one seemed to care or notice. She knew as long as she was careful not to wet fully all at once, and she didn’t look like she had to pee, no one really knew she was doing it.   “Cait, hon?” The teacher squatted by the chair and looked into the shivering little girl’s eyes. “I’d like you to come in at recess and talk to me if you can.”   “Am I in trouble?” Cait asked.   “No, Cait. I’m actually just a little worried about you getting behind. I think we should check on your reading together.”   “Okay.” But Cait was certain that what the teacher really was saying was that she was stupid, too stupid for fourth grade. It wasn’t something that would surprise her though. Cait could tell her reading was terrible compared to her classmates, and she knew she couldn’t do math to save her life. She should probably go all the way back to kindergarten maybe because she often got letters mixed up. She especially hated writing, in her case, printing the letters b, d, p, and q. Some of the other letters that sometimes gave her trouble, not the shape, but the sound, were v and f; w, r, and l; p and b; s and z; and the list seemed impossible as she thought about it.   “I want you to try reading a card for me. It’s just a quick short story no more than five paragraphs with a few questions. Can you try that for me?”   Cait’s shoulders rose to her ears. “I don’t read good.”   “Well, that’s why we are doing this, Cait. I need to do some pretesting of your levels before I call your parents in for a conference just before the holidays.”   “Why?” Cait looked up at Evans honestly wondering why she had to confirm that she was stupid. It’s not like she’d suddenly not be stupid or be able to read just because she had to take a pretest or because her parents were told. Her parents knew, didn’t they?   “Well, if I can pin point some of your problems, maybe we can come up with a plan where you can get help both at home and at school,” Mrs. Evans whispered and put a hand on Cait’s shoulder. “You do know I want to help, don’t you?”   Cait shrugged. Wanting to help didn’t fix anything just like wanting to go to the toilet at night didn’t fix wetting her pants on the way to the toilet or peeing in the bed. It was just something that was.   Cait came in. She would do anything Mrs. Evans asked of her even if she didn’t believe in it. Mrs. Evans? She was safe. She followed rules that meant that Cait wasn’t usually in trouble at school. Even if Cait’s panties were often wet on the way home, her parents didn’t know it most days.   Her panties were clammy and sticky even now, and she thought she smelled a little bit, but Mrs. Evans didn’t comment if she noticed.   Something happened though, and it wasn’t Mrs. Evan’s fault and it wasn’t Cait’s. It was because of the rule. It was because if Cait asked the teacher to break the rule, then Cait would be admitting she wasn’t a fourth grader at all. The rule that you wait forty minutes no matter what after recess meant you were a fourth grader even if you were bad at it.   The testing that Mrs. Evans seemed to do, was to have Cait read card after card with pictures that went with it, and the more she sat there and reading, the easier the reading got. Cait looked up at the teacher when she finished a card, finally, without even one hint from the teacher, though she did give her time to sound out or think about the words on it.   “Good job,” Mrs. Evans had told Cait.   The clock hands were moving during that time, and when Mrs. Evans had finished writing something down and was putting the cards away, she told Cait that she could go take a quick break, but as Cait went down the hall towards the bathrooms, she noticed out the window that the fourth graders were lining up.   “If you get us called in to the school again because of playing out on the playground,” Dad had said back in November when the school told him that she had not come in with the class, “you will wish you hadn’t even gone out to recess. I can’t afford to take time off work like that!”   Cait sighed. The door outside was down the other way from the bathrooms. She wasn’t even sure she had time to get back outside let alone use the toilets and do that. If she used the toilets and the teacher brought the class in before she got back… that would have daddy called on her for messing around at recess again. No. That was more dangerous than a puddle on the floor.   She gave a lost-cause wave at the bathrooms still half a hallway down, and turned and walked back towards her classroom. The teacher wasn’t in there. She was getting the class. She made the right choice. She couldn’t be not seen in the class line, and then not be in class when they got back in. She’d have to follow the recess rule.   “The House in the Big Woods,” Mrs. Evans read to the class while they sat in their seats. It was the first chapter of a series of books that followed a family that moved from civilization out west during the pioneering days. Cait’s stomach rumbled.   “Forty minutes, remember?” she told her stomach.   It’s response was immediate. A soft gurgle and a smaller rumble of protest, but it didn’t fight her. It just let her know. Forty minutes. That was the limit. Something bad will happen if it has to wait too long.   Cait looked at the clock. They came in when the clock has the little hand on the one and the big one on the one. Forty minutes… to be safe… she sounded counting the numbers on the clock. One, two, three… eleven,” she nodded her head at the big number on the clock. And around the clock again… 23 with the little hand on the two. Then 34 with the little hand on the three…. She realized that counting it out, she would have to wait until she was on the bus going home, if she counted that way. But it was the safest way to not get in trouble. She sighed. Gritting her teeth, she steeled her resolve. “When we get home, first stop is the toilet. You can’t go before then. We’ll get caught, otherwise.”   Her body protested with a gurgle again. Cait ignored it.   This Laura girl was brave and smart that the teacher read about. She was younger, too. Too bad Cait wasn’t like her. She wouldn’t be failing at being a fourth grader if she could be like that girl in the story.   Her stomach reminded her that it was still there. “Forty minutes,” she whispered hoarsely at herself. “Just wait!”   Her body in-flame-ited at her for a moment before it softly rested again. It wasn’t going to allow her to ignore it, but even if she couldn’t feel away from it, she couldn’t let it go right now. She really couldn’t poop. There was no toilet and in her panties? Gross!   Are these flashbacks needed?  I understand the slow frustration here, but when things start moving once you are in the middle of the story, you'll be glad to know why Cait does what Cait does....  So, yes, I feel as the writer they are important to you understanting Cait.     Chapter Four A Fraction of an Hour   The teacher went to the board and she looked around at the class until they started to put the drawing paper the teacher let them draw on away. They were allowed to draw as long as what they drew had something to do with the book she was reading. It was how she could tell the time wasn’t being wasted. That’s what she told Cait and her classmates, and Cait knew that she took wasted time if no one listened to the story, but how the teacher used this story… she still didn’t know if it was a waste of time. She liked it though. It let her rest a moment before she had to start really working again.   The teacher wrote a simple number on the board a line and a number under it. One with a line under it and a two under that. “How many of you have seen a number written this way?” Mrs. Evans was asking. Cait saw two numbers though so she scratched her head. Her stomach puffed at her. “No,” Cait told her stomach. “Forty minutes. We agreed.” That was said inside of herself.   A few other kids scratched their heads, too, so at least Cait wasn’t alone, but three kids rose their hands confidently while a few others rose their hands a little shakily. Twelve hands were raised with nine shaking. Four kids like Cait were scratching their heads. Eight kids didn’t raise their hands, but they also didn’t look as confused.   “This is a fraction,” the teacher told the class. “We call numbers that are not whole numbers, fractions. They tell us how much of one full thing we have. We use fractions all the time….”   Cait rubbed her stomach. “You have to wait,” she whispered to herself. “You have to. I’m sorry. The teacher isn’t going to let us go right now, and daddy will be mad if he has to bring us a clean set of clothes, again!”   “Cait?” Mrs. Evans called her like she had just called her several times. “What are you whispering about?”   “Oh, sorry, nothing. It was just… um… playing?” Cait decided if she said she was playing then Mrs. Evans wouldn’t say she lied about it.   “Well, you need to focus, Cait. I just asked you what you thought one third of this circle on the board would look like. Do you have an answer?”   She shook her head. “I don’t get it.”   A few kids laughed.   “We don’t laugh when someone doesn’t get something,” she told her class. “That’s not how society gets better. Cait might not get fractions yet, but you know, once she gets it, she might bring something to the table that even the smartest among us didn’t think about. We wouldn’t know that though if we didn’t help her, would we?”   The class seemed to stop and consider her words.   “Cait, come to the board, please.”   I held my stomach.   “No, Cait, you are not getting out of math like that,” Mrs. Evans said. “I know math is hard. Just follow with me for a minute. There will be no number writing right now. Just open your mind.”   Cait sighed and nodded. “I wasn’t going to ask to go,” I whispered to her. “I know. Forty minutes.”   Mrs. Evans smiled approvingly. “Okay, well, look at the circle again. Can you draw two lines that splits the circle into three parts?”   I frowned. “That’s it?”   “That’s it, no tricks.”   I shrugged and marked two lines as evenly spaced as I could apart inside the circle. “Like that?”   “You just made three parts,” Mrs. Evans said. “Right now, we have zero out of three parts colored. That means we have none of it shaded….”   I nodded. “Yeah… like three times zero is always zero means zero?”   “Good,” Mrs. Evans smiled. “Now, Let’s say I wanted to give two friends some of my pie and keep some for myself?”   “I color one piece for one friend, and another color for the second friend, and the last piece is mine?” Cait asked.   “Go ahead and color the two pieces, but we just have chalk, so you’ll just color them both in. Don’t worry about each color right now….”   My stomach gurgled again.   “You may take your seat, Cait.” and she turned to the class. “Miss Cait has just demonstrated two-thirds to us. So now, we are going to pass around some shapes and pieces to those shapes. I want you to look carefully at the parts and how they fit in the full shapes. Maybe we’ll discover something about the number one.”   Cait was in a small group with Wanda, Randy, and Tom.   “Why didn’t we see you outside at recess after lunch?” Tom asked Cait.   “Mrs. Evans wanted me to read some stuff,” I shrugged.   “You?” Wanda smirked. “Why would she have you read anything. Everyone in the class knows you are the slowest and dumbest reader. You know it, too, don’t you?”   I looked down. “Yeah. I don’t think it was that kind of reading though.”   “Oh! Well, why don’t you tell us what you read? Did she give you kindergarten books?”   I looked her in the eye. “Maybe. Maybe I read kindergarten books. So what? Why do you care?”   Wanda shrugged. “I don’t. I just thought….”   “You thought you’d be mean,” Randy said.   “And you weren’t? You called her a cat in reading like two months ago, and people are still meowing at her.”   Randy frowned. “I was making a joke about the sound of her name. It wasn’t meant to be mean. You… you are just being mean.”   Cait looked down at her lap. Did she cause this? She must have. Her name is the only common thing in their fight.   “Miss Evans?” Tom rose his hand. “Cait and I can’t work. Wanda is being mean and Randy is being loud.”   I shivered. “Now I did it!”   I felt pee pee pressing on me, but I knew how to manage that. I let a little bit out so it didn’t get so bad. But I made a mistake. When I did what I always do, and a little little itty bitty bit goes in my panties…. Well, there was a big puff, a small push, and more pee pee went than I wanted, but luckily it wasn’t enough in the cold December day to seep through the cotton tights, the extra long slip that was between the tights and my skirt, and well, the pee didn’t get all the way through. However…, It was almost worse. I almost felt my butt open. Okay, I can’t just leak in my panties right now. That’s a no go.   “I think Cait farted,” Randy giggled.   “What’s so funny about that?” Tom asked.   “Girls don’t fart.”   Wanda giggled. “How do you know? Are you a girl?”   “Well? Do you fart?” Randy asked.   Wanda’s face got red and she crossed her arms and said. “No!”   Oh, no. Randy doesn’t think girls fart. If that happens again, he’s going to tell people the wrong thing. I definitely can’t leak in my panties again.   After exploring the circles, the longer shapes, and other things for nearly fifteen minutes, Cait’s legs twisting round themselves under the chair, her stomach gassing on her, and her butt trying to push little ghost poops into her panties, Mrs. Evans walked around handing out worksheets to the small groups as she engaged them in small questions and answer sessions about what they noticed about the shapes and the parts.   “Cait?” Mrs. Evans addressed first at her group.   “T-yeah?”   “What did you notice about the parts and the bigger shapes?”   “They fit?” I looked down. I knew it was the wrong answer, but I had to say something, didn’t I? And they did fit.   “They do fit, don’t they?” Mrs. Evans smiled as I dared to look up at her. I felt myself leak into my panties covered by thick cotton pink tights that had little holes in them from being a little too told, and they were actually a bit tight on me from being a little small on me. But they were warm, and they trapped the warmth of the pee against my panties and I felt another push of air going out of my butt… only… it wasn’t air. It was…. My face got red and I froze for a moment, looking around, scared that someone noticed. Mrs. Evans discussed something about the shape and the parts with Wanda, but my mind muffled the discussion. My body shook and I felt another squirt of pee go into my cotton tights. It was really warm, more warm than usual. It was slimy-like, sticky, and wet. And I could only move forward a little, leaning in on my paper like I was concentrating on a problem, but that wasn’t even the reason I was leaning. I felt it. Another little pushing as a little more slipped out of my butt into my panties. I was doing it. I couldn’t control it. It was coming out when IT wanted, not when I wanted, and every time it did, some more wet followed from peeing. I was shivering inside, my eyes darting left and right ready for when someone would notice and tell on me.   Once again, the girl’s memories slipped into the dark again, and she found herself squeezing the box of crayons in her hand. She looked down at her lap and felt the back of her skirt. She had really damp underpants on. She didn’t feel any significant change to the pee already in her panties from wetting earlier in the trip and in her sleep during the drive. There wasn’t any noticeable wetness except the floor of the car had pee all over it that dried and her paper tablet was ruined when she fell asleep and peed on it. The car moved off of the road and onto a dirt road that passed a mailbox and maybe drove a hundred? Two hundred? A little bit up to a place where it curved around to the front of the house.   As they pulled to a sliding, rock crunching stop, she could see a tall fat man standing by a farm tractor out by a large truck and then a smaller car. He had white curls that came from a darker gray line of hair just in the base of his head. He had real lines that were like grandpa lines. When mama said cousins, she imagined features like mom and dad, but this man’s lines could be seen from ten feet away, or however far away she was from the car to where he was watching from the tractor.   Dad looked back at Cait. His eyes were raised in a way that didn’t show anger, but more just a warning.   “You better not be wet,” and then he got out and shut the door leaving me there a little longer.   The window down because the air conditioner in the old car didn’t work, I could hear them talk as he approached. The words were louder, much louder, than the near whisper he warned me with.   “How was the drive?” the elder man asked. He was old and fat, but there was a strength about him. I could imagine him lifting heavy fire place logs on his shoulders without so much as a grunt from lifting them.   “As it should be,” Daddy said. “Hot and miserable. The air doesn’t work, you see, so the only thing we could do is roll the windows down. That has its own discomforts traveling at highway speeds.”   Daddy pushed his foot on the tractor that the man was leaning against.   “Seven hours in a hot car is no joke,” Daddy was still talking. Then I heard it, the door on the other side of the car was opening, and a woman standing them, tall, elegant, and dressed in a simple but nice brown dress with an apron over it.   And that brings us to chapter 4... for this weekend.  I do have 50 chapters, but I've also noticed that chapters 3-4 might have blocks that feel less like Cait, so I might double check chapter 5 to get Cait's voice back somehow.   Until next weekend... and I do hope to share a couple of chapters a week unless I get too confuddled with life again.   

Maria's Perspective:   The three of us sat in squeaky wooden chairs outside of Eveline’s office. I felt frustrated that things had gone down this way. That we had been caught in a moment where it looked like I was misbehaving.    “Maria, come in.” Eveline said, “It's time we figure out what happened.”   I stood up, my eyebrows tense with sadness. I hung my head as I walked into the office and Eveline, the daycare owner, guided me to sit in a chair.    She walked around and sat at her desk. “Maria. I want you to tell me why you think it's ok to hit other girls?”    “That's not fair! Echo hit me first!” I shouted    “I also understand you hit Lina.”    “Lina said some gross stuff about Echo’s husband.” I mumbled.    “First of all, there's no words that make it ok to hit someone. Secondly I want to know What Lina said about Echo's husband.”    “Echo and Lina have been having a lot of playdates at Echo's house. Chord watches Lina during those hours.”    “There's nothing wrong with that.”    “She said that he plays with her… In the grown up way.” I cringed.    Eveline looked at me with a concerned expression. “While that's unprofessional for a babysitter to do, Lina is 23 years old. It's not out the question for-”    “Chord’s a good man.” I blurted out, “He wouldn't cheat on Echo and he wouldn't have sex with a regressee.”    “Echo is a regressee.” Eveline pointed out.    “No she's not. She comes to daycare because she has an anxiety disorder.”    “But she wears pull-ups.” Eveline said.    “On trumped up charges. She got demoted over dribbles. She's really fine to wear panties.” I explained.   Eveline changed the subject, “If you hold such a high opinion of Echo, why did you hit her?”    “Like I said she hit me first. And I don't start fights, but I'll finish them.”    “Maria, that's not good.” Eveline said disappointedly.    I bowed my head and looked away.    “Why do you think Echo hit you, Maria?”    “I don't know. I was just defending her husband's honour. Lina was saying all this gross stuff and being really perverted. She's not even allowed to say all those words.”    “So Lina said something gross and you hit her and then Echo hit you?”    “No. Lina hit me first. They both hit me first. I was a good girl, I don't hit people. I know better.”    “And yet you're the littlest one of the group.”    “What?” I was stunned.    “Your mental age was assessed to be three years old, correct?”    “Yeah. But it's not even true. I'm a big girl. I was a top model in Toronto.”    “Immature Personality Disorder can get anyone any time, Maria. You may have had a good career, but you're a toddler now.”    I crossed my arms and slumped back in my chair, pouting. “Hmph.” I said.    “Alright, I've heard enough. You can head back out to the hall.” She said as she stood up. I stood up too and she put her hand on the small of my back, guiding me out of the office.    Lina's Perspective:    I sat in a squeaky wooden chair next to some juvenile delinquents. As a university graduate with a Masters Degree I knew better than these infants. Nevertheless I was on the chopping block for the same crime.    Maria stepped out of the hallway, pushed by Eveline, the daycare owner.    “Lina.” Eveline said, “I'd like to hear your perspective next.”    I stood up and straightened my grey skinny jeans before I walked into the room. Eveline motioned for me to sit in a chair across from her at the desk. As I did she sat behind the desk and looked at me coldly.    “I understand you've been making some sexual remarks about Echo's husband.” Eveline said.   “It's not as bad as it sounds. I was just recounting my weekend at Echo's house. I'm an adult and things with Chord and I did get… passionate.” I paused to find the right word. “We're both adults and Echo didn't mind, plus I needed to feel better down there.”    “Watch your tongue little one. I agree you should be allowed to have sex, but talking about such filth in the presence of a grown up should be done respectfully.”    “So you think it sounds like filth too? Listen, I don't know if you've heard, but I have a masters degree and something I learned from university level sociology classes is that not every culture is as buttoned up about sex as us westerners are. In much of the world sex is regular, it's healthy and it's just good fun.”    Eveline sat there looking more and more enraged the more I spoke “Do not talk down to me, little girl. You had a masters degree before you got demoted. Now you're working on toileting.”    “Hardly. I may be in diapers, but it's made up bull honkey. I didn't really have enough accidents to end up like this.”    “That's right, you got demoted by a psychologist who thought that this was the correct level for someone with so much toilet anxiety. It says on your Northwind profile your OCD thinking, your desperate need to use the toilet every half hour. You were constantly worried as to whether or not you were going to make it.”    “Yeah, but I always did make it, until they took away my privileges.” I pouted.    “It seems to me if someone was truly potty trained they wouldn't be so frequently worried about making it.”    I slumped down in my seat, feeling tears well up in my eyes.    “So Lina, Maria says that you hit her before she hit you. So I want you to tell me why you hit her.”    “Maria… Said I was a dumb baby and that I wasn't mature enough to be doing stuff with men yet. She told everyone I was a virgin EVEN THOUGH I’M NOT and she kept saying it. So I bopped her one on the cheek and she just came at me with everything. She had. She was out for control.”    “Well Lina, that changes the story, but someone spreading embarrassing lies like that about you and insulting you doesn't make it ok to hit them.”    “Yeah, whatever. I just… it's embarrassing. I was a university graduate, from an Ivy League school. I was gonna be biochemist and then it all got taken from me.”    “Because you weren't mature enough to handle it.”    “But I am!” I shouted. “I am.” I trembled as I whispered it.    “No, Lina, I can tell even now. You're just a kid.”    Just then I couldn't help it, the defeat and devastation was to much. I peed myself and soaked my diaper.    “I can hear you trickling, Lina.” Eveline said, then she stood up and walked to the hallway. “Spencer, can you take Lina, she needs her diaper changed.”    I started to cry, then Spencer came in and picked me up straight from the chair, he threw me over his shoulder and carried me back out to the hallway.    “Fuck you, Maria.” I said through tears as Spencer swatted my butt.    “No swearing!” He said sharply.    “Owiiieee.” I whined, helpless in his strong arms.”    Echo's Perspective   I was sitting in a really uncomfortable chair for a long time after getting in a scrap with two of my besties. They were taken in to be questioned first while my ADHD ass had to sit here bored out of my mind.    Spencer had his eye on me and wouldn't let me take out my phone, every time I tried he'd say, “Phone away, little one. You need to think about what you did.”    Spencer was called in and walked out with Lina on his shoulder. He carried her back into the main daycare area, then Eveline, the daycare owner called me in. “Echo, I wanna hear from you next.”    “Yup.” I said as I hopped up and walked confidently past the tall blonde lady.    I sat in the chair in front of her desk, this wasn't my first interview. Then Eveline went around and sat behind the desk.    “So Echo.” She said, “Can you tell me why you three girls were fighting?”    “I wasn't really fighting.” I explained, “I was just trying to stop Maria's tantrum. She was being super mean to Lina and me.”    “In what way was Maria being mean to you and Lina?”    “Oh, she was like saying stuff about how Lina's a virgin and really immature and how Chord was kind of a bastard for being sexual with her. That was actually when I hit her. I punched her in the back of the head. No one insults my husband.”    “Do you not feel Chord’s actions as Lina's babysitter were inappropriate?"    “No, of course not. Chord’s a true gentleman. When he babysat me for the first time back when I was 19 he didn't make any moves. I had to basically drag stuff out of him.”    “The fact that he could be seduced by an immature personality disorder sufferer…” Eveline trailed off.    “I don't have immature personality disorder. I have an anxiety disorder that makes me not wanna stay home alone. I come to daycare because I like it here. I'm allowed to leave any time.”    “So Chord's not your legal guardian?”    “Not at all.”    “And what of Lina? She has IPD.” Eveline said.    “Yeah, but it's kinda made up. Like that psychologist was really talking out of his butt. What she needed was an OCD diagnosis. If I can be blunt I think he was just one of those regression freaks. The guys that get off on forcibly regressing adult women.”    “That's your opinion, but he is a licensed professional.” Eveline said coldly.    “Not every person with a licence to do something should be doing it. That's why we have malpractice lawsuits.” I smirked, expecting her to laugh, but she didn't.    “Echo, did Chord sleep with Lina?” Eveline asked.    “As far as I know. But I don't really care. Chord and I are open. We don't hold each other back from casual hookups.”    “So it seems pretty cut and dry, Maria was telling lies and making Lina feel bad. But then you two made it physical? Is that how you'd put it.”    “Hey, man, we just popped her one each. She's the one that went hog wild on Lina. I was trying to pull her off.”    “But you still punched first and that's not good girl behavior.”    I shrugged, “So what are you gonna do, put me on time out? Give me a spanking? Not give me lunch?”    “We're gonna have to call your grown up, Echo.”    “Wait.” My heart sank, “Y-you're gonna call Chord, here?”    “Yes and he'll have to take you home, but I have some questions for him first.”    “Please don't call him.” I begged, “He'll punish me for hitting a girl. This'll be my third fight in four months. He said if I did it again he wouldn't let me watch MMA anymore.”    “Let you? I thought you were a grown up?” Eveline lifted an eyebrow.   “I-I am, but I still listen to him. I know we're equals but he's big and strong and he makes me feel safe. He's like, he's like my dom. Like in an ABDL relationship.”    Eveline grimaced at me. “Well as long as he's in charge of you he's still the right grown up to call. You can head back out and sit in the hall.”    “Please don't call him.” I whimpered.    “Go!” Eveline said sharply and as she pointed out the door I stood up and hustled out.    Chord's Perspective   Owning your own coffee shop is great! You get to make your own menu and only serve the customers and drinks you like to serve. I like to create a nice atmosphere here! Everything’s peaceful, calm and jazzy.    I heard my phone ring so I pulled it from my pocket “Life Long Learners Adult Daycare? What could they want?” I asked outloud, then answered the phone, “Hello?” I asked.   “Hello, is this Chord Wake?”    “Oh, hello Eveline! Is everything alright?”    “I'm afraid not. It seems your wife got in a little bit of a scrap with some of the other tots here and I need you to come here and pick her up.”    “Oh jeez. Yeah, I can absolutely do that. I'll lock up the shop and head right over.”    “Also, if you wouldn't mind answering a few questions while you're here?”    “Not a problem.” I said.    “Great.” With that Eveline hung up. I turned off the heat elements and walked out the glass door, locking it behind me. I hopped in my Subaru Outback and drove just 10 minutes to get to Echo's daycare.    I parked the SUV and walked straight in and up the stairs. I rang the bell and looked through the window to see Echo and Maria sitting in the hall.    “Oh no. Did Echo fight Maria? Maria only has the mind of a 3 year old.    Eveline walked out of her office and straight up to the door. She opened it up. “Thanks for coming, follow me.” She said then she started walking down the hall.    “Hey sweetie.” I said as I walked past Echo.    “Chord I'm so sorry.” Echo looked so scared.    I grabbed her shin and kissed her cheek, “It's ok little one. You're fine.” I smiled as I walked into Eveline's office.    “Have a seat.” She said    “Can I have the swivel chair?” I asked.    Eveline raised an eyebrow, “Sure.” She said.    I sat behind Eveline's desk and Eveline sat in an uncomfortable wooden chair across from me.    “So Chord your wife was in an altercation with two of the other girls at daycare today.”    “Who was it?” I asked, spinning in the chair.    “Maria and Lina.”    “Oh that's a shame. They're usually such good girls.”   “I agree. But still this behaviour is unacceptable. I want to know what you plan to do with young Echo when you take her home.”    “Who knows?” I said, still spinning around and around, “Maybe I'll make her clean the coffee shop for a week. Make her my little work horse instead of sending her to daycare.”    “That sounds like a great idea.” Eveline said.    “Now, I'd like to get to the bottom of a rumour that's been spread around about you and young Lina.”    “Yes I babysat her last weekend and she was such a little trooper. She skinned her knee and she cried for just a few seconds until I kissed it better and she was so strong when I put the rubbing alcohol on her.”    Eveline sat back and took it all in. ”This sounds like very good caretaking.”    “Thank you, I kinda have my own tot at home most days so I have some good experience with that.”    “And did you do anything else with Lina that weekend?”    “Of course! We coloured, we watched Pokémon, I even took her to the park with Echo.”    “But you didn't?” Eveline didn't finish her question.    “Didn't what?” I was incredibly curious.    “You didn't make love to her?”    I burst out laughing uncontrollably. “No! Hell no! Now that's dumb! Lina's a baby! A total virgin, I bet she doesn't even know what sex is.”    “Then why was she saying you did?” Eveline asked.    I stood up, “Come on.” I waved for her to follow me, then I walked confidently through the hall and into the main daycare area. I saw Lina sitting at the Lego table in nothing but a diaper and sleeveless blouse. “Hi Lina!” I said.    “Chord!” She got up and hugged me.    I knelt down to be at eye level with her, “Lina, can you tell Eveline what you think sex is?”    “Duh, of course I know what sex is! Sex is when two grown ups kiss each other and play super fun games together all day!” She put her hands on her hips looking very proud of herself.    “Alright Mr Wake, I suppose that solves that.”    “Sure does. So I'll take Echo and head out?” I asked.    “Go right ahead.”    I walked out to the hallway and approached my wife. “Come on little one.” I said.    She gave me her hand and looked away as I guided her out of the daycare.    Spencer's Perspective.    I stood in the main daycare area, keeping an eye on Lina, one of our brightest little diaper girls. She was playing with Lego and being incredibly cute.    Chord, one of the grown ups for another big kid came in and asked Lina a very strange question. I felt unsure as to whether I should step in or not, but my boss Eveline was there so I allowed things to continue.    Lina gave an unbelievably cute answer, it just goes to show that these Immature Personality Disorder kids are just as innocent as any other kid of any age.    Chord left looking smug and Eveline turned to me, “That solves the issue of the intercourse, but we still have to deal with the fighting kids. We should call Maria's dad and Lina’s mom.”    “I suppose that's pretty sad.” I said, “Those girls are so cute. It always stinks when they fight like that.”    “Now that I think of it,” Eveline said, “You were in the room when they started fighting. Did you see how things went down?”    “Oh yeah. The girls were goofing around in the play corner then Echo tripped on a toy, toppling Maria on top of Lina then they were too immature to understand what was happening so they started wrestling to be the first one to stand up. I had to separate them and help Maria stand up because she's only a toddler.”    “And there was no mention of sex?” Eveline asked.    “Who can understand what they're saying through all that baby babble? They could've been talking about Athenian irrigation systems for all I know.” I shrugged and walked away.   

First Aid