A short chunky woman picks the girl up. "Oh honey are you OK!? That was a rough spill! Come on we will get you fixed up." The woman is a motherly type with very kind eyes and honey in the voice.

21.             Each day of the trip was a struggle. In some ways it was monotonous, as the highlights of a baby’s day involve being changed out of nasty diapers and mealtimes of unpalatable mush and bottles of who knows what, neither of which merited excited anticipation. He was left in Anne’s care for at least part of each day, even when Katie wasn’t, and she continued to taunt him within the restriction of treating him as a real baby, pre-wetting each diaper she taped on him when they were alone and several times adding her own “girl juice” to his bottles. At least once or twice each day he was brought to the day care center, even if just to be breastfed.              The routine became so boring he yearned for some sort of excitement to enliven his day, but he spent hours puzzling over what form that would take that wouldn’t involve extreme embarrassment on his part. The contradictory desires of remaining as anonymous as possible and wanting something to happen to break up his day muddled his thoughts. Before coming to the resort, he feared being exposed to a large number of strangers and having to endure their looks and comments of curiosity, amusement, or distain. That never happened, which should have been a relief. But the fact that he’d been fed, changed, and paraded around in front of hundreds of women, none of whom showed any sign that he was anything but an ordinary baby, bothered him, and the fact that it bothered him annoyed him even more. Was it better to have his adult self acknowledged beneath his dirty diapers and frilly dresses even if it meant being humiliated or to be treated as if he’d lost all claim to being an adult and was now perceived as nothing more than a true infant in every respect? And another thought niggled at the periphery of his mind. Virtually everyone he interacted with at the resort, whether strangers or the women at the daycare center, were thrilled to see him and often showered him with complements and affection, a reaction that never happened to him as an adult. What did it mean that their attitudes toward him gave him a least a brief feeling of happiness? He shuddered at what the answer might reveal about himself, and pushed the thought to the depths of his brain.             As the week drew near its end, he was no closer to any answers and his mind shifted to wondering how his home life might change once they returned. Was Amy so used to his full-time infantile status that she’d insist it continue? That would be a problem. He’d still been allowed some of his adult status even after the unfortunate surgery that rendered him incontinent, although that had begun to be eroded slightly with mild incidents of public exposure and the women of the family losing any modesty about going topless in his presence or using the toilet while he was in the tub. Another question to ponder: How much will other people’s perception of him affect how he sees himself? Put in the context of his increasing failure to know that he’d wet himself, it was a worrisome issue.             It was easy to lose track of time when every day was like every other day and naps and nighttime sleep ran together in his mind. It was only when he overheard Amy and Lily talking about packing up the car the next morning that he knew that their time here was coming to an end.             “Are we going to bring the girls to tonight’s farewell bash on the beach?” Beth asked her sisters. “It might be nice to all be together for our last night even if it means keeping them up past their bedtime.”             “And the other guests might want one more chance to interact with Kristie,” Lily added. “You know that several asked about getting a picture with her.” She chuckled. “Probably simply because she’s so darn cute and the outfits you designed for her are to die for, but maybe also as a not-so-subtle threat to their men back home.”             “I don’t see why not,” Amy said. “It might help to have our babies there to keep us from any temptations with all those scantily clad or naked nymphettes that’ll be there. I’ve heard it gets pretty wild sometimes.”             The three sisters exchanged glances before dissolving into a fit of giggles. “I’m going to pass and order room service,” their mother told them. “So if they cramp your style and you need to bring them back to the room, I’ll be happy to watch them.” Her daughters laughed even harder.             Anna dropped by to say her farewells then stayed to put makeup on Kristie that made her look like a doll, finishing up by applying a light pink nail polish to her fingers and toes, to the women’s delight. Amy pulled out a calico dress and matching diaper cover for her with an identical dress for Katie, causing Beth to give her a huge hug. Checking to make sure they had enough supplies for the babies, they ventured out the door.             The beach was already crowded when they arrived, and not a single guest had a stitch of clothing on. Several couples made out openly, causing Chris discomfort but mere curiosity among the adults. A naked disc jockey spun music at one end of the beach while food trucks serving tacos, wraps, seafood, and more lined the other end. The smell of the food drifted over to the area around where the family spread their towel. Chris knew it was too much to hope for that he'd be allowed to eat anything being served there. He’d seen Amy pack the diaper bag with two large bottles of formula and plastic containers of glop room service had delivered.              Unlike his first trip to the beach, this time they had to squeeze in between other groups of women, so matter which direction Chris looked in there were large numbers of nude women pressed close together. Try as he did, it was impossible not to stare. Unfortunately, this didn’t go unnoticed.             “I assume seeing all of these boobs is making you hungry,” Lily said loud enough for the women on either side of them to look their way and snicker. “We can take care of that.” She pulled out one of the oversized bottles from the diaper bag and fastened a drool bib around Chris’s neck.             “Oooh, would you mind if we fed your baby?” a voice from nearby chimed in. “If it’s okay, we’d all like a chance.” Chris risked a glance over in the direction of the voice, where three young women, a blond, a brunette, and a redhead, eagerly looked at Lily in anticipation. He couldn’t help but notice how busty each of them was and prayed that Amy would intervene. She did.             “Of course not,” Amy said. “Although she might be a little shy. Or a lot stinky,” she added with a giggle. “This stuff seems to encourage her to make a mess pretty quickly.”             “Not a problem,” said the blond. “My niece is the same way. If that happens, I’d be happy to handle it for you.” As she spoke she took a cloth diaper Amy handed her and spread it over her arm, then helped her guide Chris over across her lap. Chris’s face was immediately buried deep into her cleavage and he could her titters from all around. The woman soon freed him enough to accept the bottle’s nipple into his mouth.             “Such pretty nails,” one of the other women commented. “Does she always, um, look so girly and infantile when you guys go out?”             “We’re still in the early stages of her transition,” Amy replied. Chris’s ears perked up. “So it’s been a slow process. But ultimately our goal is to erase the line between perception and reality, so that she won’t just look like a baby girl, she’ll be one. So to answer your question, yes I think the nail polish is here to stay, and when we get home we’ll be moving into more age-appropriate clothing around the clock, hair styling, and diaper changes will occur where convenient for me, not for her. And,” here Amy’s voice dropped to a whisper, “she’s already on a course of medications to move her in the right direction, gender-wise. She may never move up to training pants, but a training bra is definitely in the future.”             Chris was shocked and stopped suckling, which the blond took as a sign to move him over to the waiting lap of the redhead. He barely took notice of the conversation that was going on around—and about—him, even as he was again passed to the brunette to finish feeding. He began sucking air and broke out of his trance just long enough to hear Amy say, “Really? All three of you? That’s only ten minutes away from our place.”             The two groups by this time had merged together. Beth and the redhead took orders before heading off in the direction of the food trucks. Amy stuck a pacifier in Chris’s mouth and gave him some soft blocks to play with as she and the neighboring women continued their conversation. He tried to tune them out, afraid of what he might hear, but the words “babysit” and “playdate” got through anyway.             When the food arrived and the women started to spread out plates and pass drinks around, everyone stopped and looked in Chris’s direction. He had no idea why until he saw Beth pull the back of Katie’s diaper back, sniff, and shake her head ‘no.’ Only then did her realize what he’d done.             “I won’t let Miss Smelly Pants spoil your dinner,” Amy told the group. “I can take her back to our room to change her.”             “Don’t be silly,” the blond said. “This is fun for me. My niece is potty training and I kind of regret seeing her get older. I insist. Give me Kristie’s food and I’ll take her against the wall over there to feed her her dinner, then I’ll change her myself.”             Amy put up an obviously token resistance, and soon the blond woman was cradling him in her arms while she shoveled various colored mush into his mouth while she kept up a constant chatter of baby talk. Twice a blob of food fell onto her breast, and rather than scoop it up with the spoon she raised her boob to his mouth and had him lick it off. Every once in a while she’d manage to take a bite of her taco, giving him a short reprieve.             “Can’t really taste my carne asado,” she told him with a smile. “Its flavor gets masked by the fumes coming from your rear. What do you say we take care of that diaper?” She laid Chris down on the beach towel, set his diaper cover off to the side, and got to work. She’d barely begun to untape him when her two friends joined her, one on each side of the dirty baby. The brunette took ribbing from the other two as she constantly turned her head away to gag as the cleaning process took place.             “It looks so tiny,” she said as she helped clean his penis with a wipe. “No wonder she never said anything about having a baby of her own. I’m guessing it’s less embarrassing to have strange women clean poop off it than to expose it for the first time to a woman you’ve met on Tinder and expect to have sex with.”             “If that was even possible,” the redhead added. “But I guess that’s moot now. She’s as sexless as any other baby, at least until her boobs come in.” She giggled at the image in her head. “That should be interesting for her mommy. I wonder if she’ll go through puberty.”             “Well, she’s already wearing protection from all the nasty things coming out of her body,” the blond said as she grabbed the powder. “And like any other girl, has pretty much a lifetime of that ahead of her. Oh, look. The poor thing is crying.”             Chris rejoined her family just as fireworks began appearing over the water. Pondering what he’d heard that night, he cuddled close to Amy and nuzzled his head on her shoulder. He was confused and his head was spinning. His initial reaction when he heard Amy’s plans for him was anger and resentment, but then he saw the pride and love in Amy’s eyes as she spoke. He should have been upset at having his diaper changed by three strangers and by their commentary as they wiped him clean, but he also felt their acceptance of his status—no, that wasn’t the right word, it was their affection, something he never felt from anyone other than Amy in his adult life. And there was that question again he’d tried to bury. He wanted to resist his treatment, he thought he wanted his adult life back, but did he really? Was it really all that wonderful? The next thing Chris knew, he awoke in his crib as the women scurried around in the next room to pack everything up to leave.  

The longest I ever stay in a single diaper without a change is when I am sleeping and that can be up to about 10 hours at the max.

I wet in my sleep every night. I also frequently have pooping accidents in sleep. Unless I wake up when the accident is happening, I just continue sleeping in my wet and messy diaper.

Part 6:   The car had barely stopped in a parking spot when Cara was ripping off her seatbelt and jumping from the car. The force of standing, however had been all it took to convince her bladder that it was safe to release. Not caring that she was a grown woman in the middle of a crowded parking lot, Cara thrust her hand back into her crotch and pleaded with the gods to stop the flow that had started. By whatever grace, she could feel it ebb as she awkwardly ran towards the building ahead of her. She could feel the fresh warmth in her absorbent underwear and knew that this was much worse than the tiny leaks of the morning. Those had been mere dribbles where this was a legitimate loss of control. She knew that the only thing standing between her and complete disaster was the pressure she was still holding with her hand. It was like all of her body’s defenses had been breached and now the only thing in the way of the flood was her right hand. Even so, she could feel small spurts escaping into the padding with each step.    “Comeoncomeoncomeon!”, Cara willed herself as she felt even more pee seeping into the padding with each step up to the front doors to her salvation. The joy of reaching the front doors was quickly dashed as she was forced to pull open on the handle, not even thinking about reaching with her dominant hand.    “No!”, she squeaked, as the removal of her last defense and the effort of pulling the heavy metal door open combined to spell her fate. She couldn’t help but feel a physical sense of relief as her bladder released completely into her pull-up, even as she tried with all of her ability to stem the flow and her face turned the deepest shade of crimson yet.    Here she was, 21 years old and peeing her pants in the doorway of a rest stop, families and strangers flowing by as her pee flowed out. Speaking of, things felt different in her pull-up. And she hated that she had the experience to compare it to, but this felt… wetter than earlier, she could feel a puddle of pee soaking into her padding and it seemed to be coming out faster than the padding could absorb.    Panicking, and afraid to move lest her pull-up leak, she stood there, holding the door open, seemingly ushering others into the building where they, unlike her, could relieve themselves like proper adults in the restroom. She shook her head at the woman who offered to take the open door from her, cringing as she asked again, saying, “Don’t you want to go find your mom, sweetie?”, as though Cara were a child, lost and waiting on her mommy.  She did the same to the older man who offered, and she blushed bright red at the little old lady who patted her on the head and called her “such a sweet little girl”.    By the time her family got to the door, she had stopped wetting herself, not of her own ability to regain control, but rather because her bladder seemed to have emptied itself fully. Thankfully the padding was catching up to the task as well.    “I thought you were in a hurry?”, her dad asked, looking quizzically at her stationary form in the doorway as Ryan said, “thanks”, and walked past, phone in hand, texting.    “I-I…”, Cara stuttered, not really sure what to say or do. She wanted to casually check on the state of her shorts, but with her parents right there it would be too much of a giveaway to her predicament. “I-I…I was waiting for you guys”, she said lamely, taking her first step since the wetting had started in the now-swolllen padding, and wincing as her dad held the door open with one arm extended over Cara’s head.    Her mom, bringing up the rear, it seemed, just gave her a sympathetic look and took her hand. “She was just waiting for Mom, John”, Patrice said, with a look heavy with meaning, patting her large purse, currently serving as Cara’s diaper bag. “Actually sweetie, can you do me a huge favor and grab me something from the car?”, she said, leaning back towards her husband and whispering into his ear. Still trying to adjust to the overly full pull-up, and using her free hand to subtly feel her butt, Cara couldn’t hear what she was asking, but she was more concerned with the way her mom seemed to know what had happened without her saying a word.    Once her hand brushed against her butt, she knew immediately how her mom had known and she felt her face turn redder still.  The padding seemed to have swelled dramatically and worse was the damp patch she could feel at the edge of the pullup in the back.  How many people had walked past her and could see that?!  Had Ryan seen?!     “Alright ladies, I’ll be back in a jiffy”, her dad said, smiling sympathetically down at Cara, who was doing her best to turn her back away from the open door while still being held by the hand by her mother.    “Come on, sweetie, let’s get you changed”, Patrice said, mercifully using a quiet voice.  The walk through the dining and shopping area was excruciating. Cara was forced into somewhat of a waddle from the swollen pull-up, and her mother, with her regular underwear and much-longer legs was moving much more quickly, leaving Cara to be pulled along by the hand like a little girl who couldn’t be trusted to walk alone.    As they approached the ladies’ room however, Cara suddenly overtook her mother as she made her way straight for the doorway… until she felt herself being pulled back and off to the left. “Mom, what the hell-“ Cara shouted, before noticing a third sign she hadn’t realized was there before. ‘Family Restroom’, it said, with a small symbol of a few stick figures, including one in a wheelchair, and a baby being changed.    Cara felt like all the eyes in the building were on her, a grown woman, being led by the hand into this room. And it felt like they all knew exactly why she was being led in here, exactly which stick figure was her, and exactly what was in her mom’s purse.    She was so lost in the humiliation of the moment, she didn’t even protest her mom taking control, locking the door before setting her purse down on the counter. She didn’t protest, that is, until she saw her pulling out a pack of baby wipes, and another offensive flower-adorned pull-up.    “Mom, no! I don’t need that!”, Cara whined at her mother, who was still digging in her bag.    Looking unimpressed, one eyebrow raised and glancing down at Cara’s waist, Patrice said simply, “Cara, we aren’t playing this game. You are standing in a leaky pull-up right now, young lady. Imagine if I had let you wear your panties?!  Wouldn’t it have been more embarsssing to have an accident like this without your pull-up?”     Her pullup. Cara imagined how much more humiliating it could have been, peeing her pants in the doorway to the rest stop, pee soaking through her shorts and quickly streaming down her thigh, her calf, before dripping into her socks and sneakers, pooling on the tile so that everyone could see. Having to find someone to clean up her urine, The small wet patch on her shorts felt much less horrific just then.    “B-but it won’t happen again!”, Cara whined, regardless of her internal admission. She wanted, more than anything, to keep this embarrassment private, to avoid showing up in a pull-up to see the rest of her family. She only saw them twice a year, and she already had to work to be viewed beyond her childish mishap of last summer. Showing up padded? That would be even worse.    Sighing, Patrice set her bag down on the counter and strode towards her daughter. It seemed, from her sympathetic face, that she was going to cave in, give Cara her way like she usually would. Instead, she shook her head and said, “you said that this morning and I bet you’re glad I didn’t listen.  Now, are you going to cooperate and get yourself changed or am I going to have to do it?”     Crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at her mother, Cara wanted to scream. She thought her whining, “Moooom! I’m not wearing them again, you said it yourself, we’re only like an hour from uncle Luke’s. I can hold it!”, was actually quite calm, considering.    Her mother didn’t seem to share this opinion. Stepping forward she began to wordlessly unbutton Cara’s shorts, easily swatting away the small girl’s attempts to block her access. Cara’s protests became meeker when the shorts were slid all the way off and her mom handed them to her, pocket-side first, to see the damage first-hand.    “Cara, this isn’t a discussion I’m having with you. You are wearing pull-ups for your own good”, Patrice said gently, turning back to her bag on the counter and pulling something out. Cara was too busy blushing to focus on that as she stood there in her soggy pull-ups, staring down at the two huge half-moon wet patches that were so large now they nearly met in the middle. Glancing down she could see how much the goodnite had swelled in the front, poofing out and forcing her thighs a bit further apart.    Looking up at the mirror was even worse. As her mother busied herself with something near the counter, Cara did her best not to be obvious about it but she couldn’t stop looking at herself in the mirror and blushing. The pullup had definitely yellowed and as she shifted uncomfortably, she watched her reflection as a golden droplet trickled its way down her inner thigh to soak into her sock just like she had imagined earlier.    She looked like an overgrown toddler standing there in her flowery, soaked pullup, baby blue tank top, and sneakers. Like she was fully dressed. Cara cringed at the horrifying realization that with a big stain on her shorts she might just be that! Even if her mom was making her wear another stupid goodnite, she wouldn’t be able to wear those shorts with the big pee spots on the butt. She couldn’t be expecting Cara to walk back to the car like this, could she?!   “Mommmm!”, Cara whined, not even trying to sound calm. “What am I gonna wear?!”, she gestured to her bare legs dramatically.    “Calm down, Cara, I have fresh pullups for you, you’re not going to be stuck in those any longer. Now it’s gonna be easier for me to do this for you, can you stay still while I get you cleaned up?”, her mother asked, arching an eyebrow like she didn’t fully trust her adult daughter to behave for a diaper change. Considering the experience that morning it was, perhaps, fair. Not that Cara would admit that.    “Y-yeah but-“, Cara started, but she was cut off by her mother’s firm, “no, Cara, no buts. Except for yours staying still and letting me get you clean”.    So Cara stayed quiet as her mother fiddled with the side of her pull-up before tearing it open, the cool air hitting her and causing her to shiver despite the heat creeping down her cheeks and neck. The same was done for the other side and soon Patrice was pulling the saturated garment out from between her legs, balling it carefully then leaving Cara there to drop it into the garbage can in the corner of the room. Returning to the task at hand, Patrice set to work pulling baby wipes from the container on the counter and using them to thoroughly cleanse Cara’s legs where the urine had dripped and down to her ankles.    Next she set to work on her butt and front, embarrassingly asking Cara to bend over or spread her legs to get better access to clean her up. “A bit more, Cara, baby”, she said while cleaning her most sensitive parts. “You know I always hated these pull-up diapers. It doesn’t make sense, it’s just so much easier to clean a baby up laying down on a proper changing table”, she said, and Cara took this as a reason to widen her stance and even bend her legs a bit to make sure this was easy enough that her mom wasn’t going to change her mind, make her lay down on the marble slab set against the wall.    When Cara was fully scrubbed and declared, “all clean”, her mother turned away and rejoined her daughter with not one, but two pull-ups in hand, both opened up and stuck together. “Let’s get you dressed, yeah? I’m sure you’re sick of standing around naked”, Patrice said, smiling sympathetically.    And on the one hand, she was right. After the embarrassing cleanup process, Cara would take almost anything her mom offered that would cover her up, and the idea of a new dry pull-up had become almost a positive somehow. But two?!   “Mommmm, but… why two?!”, Cara whined, even while stepping obediently into them one leg at a time as her mother threaded them up her thighs.    “Because”, her mother began, working the first pull-up up over her bottom, then the next, “you just leaked all over yourself and we don’t need a repeat of that. Clearly these aren’t absorbent enough for you but I don’t have time to stop and look for something that is”. Cara’s lower lip jutted out a bit as she felt her mom adjusting the leak guards on both layers.    “B-but isn’t it the same thing? It’s just another pull-up on top, not like making it more absorbent really…” Cara hedged, hoping reason would win out here.    “Nope, mommy cut some holes in the first pullup so once that one is wet your peepee will have another layer to soak it up rather than your pants and socks”. With that, Patrice patted her daughter on her bottom with a muted “thwack thwack”, and kissed her on the head. “All dry, pumpkin. All better”.    Cara took stock of her situation as her mom cleaned up the counter, repacked her bag and washed her hands. She could feel the added thickness even standing still in how it forced her thighs apart, similar to how it had felt to wear the wet pull-ups earlier, only more stiff. It was weird to admit that she preferred the former in a way. It had at least been warm and conformed a bit. This felt a bit too stiff, a bit too tight. It was nice that it wasn’t sagging like the other had when her shorts came off but-   “Wait! Mom! What about my shorts?!”, Cara snapped herself out of her thoughts with the realization that she WASN’T a toddler, fully expected to wander around like this in public. Her mom couldn’t expect her to do that could she?!