What are your favorite panties to wear?

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Daddy comes over and tickles him   "You said wanted Daddy, remember? Daddy came to get you"

Chapter 31: Saved for Later I was fairly certain that I had brushed my teeth, flossed, washed my face, and used the toilet. But I wasn't one hundred percent sure. I also didn't recall putting the pull-up on either, but there it was, snug around my waist as I stood in front of my dresser. The differences between it and the pull-up I had desired all these years felt a little less pronounced now that I had worn these generic bedwetting pull-ups to bed four nights in a row. It wasn't the same. But it was still pretty good. The past half-hour had been a complete blur. I was extremely grateful that my siblings had been too distracted to wander back downstairs because I had stayed and cried on Mom's shoulder for several minutes before I managed to calm down slightly and catch my breath. I still wasn't sure how I had managed to find my way upstairs and get ready for bed while my brain was still in a fog. The sniffles still hadn't gone away, and my eyes now felt irritated from how much I had been rubbing them earlier in unsuccessful attempts to quell the tears. However, my mind was finally beginning to feel clear enough to begin to assess what had just transpired. It almost felt like it would have been better if my parents had simply been angry with me for getting bad grades. But they never really got angry with me – or any of my siblings. Disappointment was a reaction to times of more serious misbehavior. But how they had handled the news about my end-of-year grades – instead of making me feel better – only made me feel worse. I had done so poorly that they couldn't even be mad or disappointed. My performance had been so bad that nothing but a complete intervention of help would do. I didn't like the insinuation behind my parents' offers of help that there was something wrong with me. I'd just had a bad time with this semester. I could try harder next year. I still wasn't really clear what exactly they wanted to do about it before school started up again in several months. But assurances that I would try harder weren't enough for my parents. And now, a summer that I felt had been perfectly planned out was about to be ruined less than a week in. It just wasn't fair. I did try to do well in school. I had plenty of other classmates who goofed off and didn't pay attention. But they didn't seem to have any issues with getting good grades when it came time to turn in assignments and take quizzes and exams. I probably just hadn't tried hard enough; that, at least, was something I could admit at times. I grabbed a nightgown from my dresser. While it was long enough to easily cover the pull-up, it was a thin enough material that I wouldn't be uncomfortable in this summer weather. As far as I knew, Grace remained oblivious to the fact that I was now wearing pull-ups to bed. I'd finally worked up the courage to directly bring up that topic with my parents earlier in the week when I had a chance to be alone with them, and they reassured me that they wouldn't. It helped that Grace was gone for her summer job by the time I was out of bed in the morning. That made it easy for me to toss the wet pull-up in the garage trash bin without fear of it being seen in the process. That left the question of what to say if Grace asked whether the bedwetting was continuing. Thankfully, she wasn't usually that nosy and had shown a reluctance to bring up the topic of her own accord around me, likely because it brought up memories of her own years as a bedwetter. Which was good for me. Mom, Dad, and Dr. Mathorn were the only people who needed to know that I was wearing pull-ups to bed at night, and I didn't see any reason why I wouldn't be able to keep the secret limiting to just them. I was so emotionally drained that even wetting the pull-up didn't sound all that appealing. I didn't feel like attempting to stay up late to wet my pull-up in the bathroom like the past three nights. But that was fine for this evening. I didn't doubt Mom's sincerity in her threats to cancel the sleepover if the pull-ups leaked at all, so perhaps it was best to just completely play things safe for the night. <><><>  I woke up to the unusual sensation of a dry pull-up between my legs. I had grown used to waking up to a full pull-up the past three mornings, as I had always chosen to wear the pull-up back to bed after wetting it in the bathroom. There was enough light coming through my windows that I knew I had slept for a long time. Which was fair, as I had a lot of lost sleep that I probably needed to catch up on. Then I remembered why I had been so exhausted last night that I hadn't bothered to wet the pull-up and the conversation with my parents about my extra poor grades this semester. I didn't want to dwell on whatever plans they were drawing up for me this summer, but I couldn't keep the worst-case scenarios from flooding my brain after having a night to mull over what might be in store for me. Could I end up stuck in summer school, forced to get on the bus every day to in a musty, warm classroom that lacked adequate air condition to protect from the summer heat? Suddenly, the last, mostly boring, week of being home alone was suddenly not bad after all. Then I remembered something else that put all of that out of my mind. Today was my birthday. I was now officially a teenager. And I was having a sleepover tonight. Technically, as my parents and older sister liked to remind me. I wasn't going to officially be thirteen until 7:14 p.m. this evening. That didn't seem fair to me. I deserved a full day to celebrate being a year older. I wondered what my parents had planned for a gift for me, but presents were usually reserved for the party, and that wouldn't begin until later in the afternoon as Angie needed at least a little bit of time to recover from coming back from the road trip she had been on with her family. And now that I was thirteen, Angie and Emma wouldn't be able to get away with teasing me about being the baby of our friend group. Maybe Grace would take me a little more seriously with us both being in our teens. I did feel a normal urge to pee. If I hadn't had the threat of not having a sleepover hanging over my head, I perhaps would have given into that urge to let my bladder go right away, despite the high likelihood that the pull-up would end up leaking all over the bed. Then I decided that it was for the best that I hadn't wet the pull-up. I realized something that I hadn't considered earlier. Since I had kept the pull-up dry all night, there certainly wasn't any point in throwing it out. Mom had said that I should toss even the unwet ones each morning. She had said something about how just sweating at night would make it unhygienic to wear the same pull-up for multiple nights in a row. I really didn't see the harm in it. Besides, if I kept it, I wouldn't be wearing it to bed again. I'd just be getting it out Monday morning to wear for a few hours in the day before I actually wet it. Still, it wouldn't do for Mom to realize that the pull-up count was off in my dresser on the off chance that she was to check it. She did sometimes put clothes away in my bedroom if she had purchased anything new for me or if any of my things had gotten mixed up in her laundry. I removed the dry pull-up from underneath my nightgown. The drawer beneath my bed, where I kept the old magazine and ads I had saved over the years, would be the perfect spot to hide it away until Monday arrived. I had just reached down to grab the handle of the drawer when my bedroom door burst open. I twirled around quickly, keeping the pull-up behind me and out of sight as Jackson burst into the room. A few seconds earlier or a few seconds later and it would have been a disaster as I likely wouldn't have been able to keep the pull-up out of sight. "What the heck?" I yelled. I didn't understand why he didn't get it. The rules with my bedroom were really simple. Knock. And then enter when I say you can. I mean, I understood that about Grace's room when I was Jackson's age. "Happy birthday!" Jackson yelled in response as he continued to speed toward me. It was clear that he wanted to give me a hug. There was, of course, absolutely no way I was going to allow that to happen. I had the pull-up head securely behind my back. I couldn't risk moving around, much less allowing him to wrap his arms around me. "Shoo!" I said, still keeping a tight grip on the pull-up with both hands behind me. "You shouldn't be in here. You have your own bedroom." My lack of enthusiasm for his rude awakening at least caused Jackson to stop short of throwing his arms around me. "Dad says you need to get up for breakfast." I sighed. There probably were a bunch of things waiting for me down in the kitchen that I didn't really feel like eating. I usually wasn't hungry until I'd been awake for several hours. Explaining that to my parents still didn't stop them from being aghast at all the times, I would skip eating anything for breakfast. I hated the types of birthday surprised which were more my parents attempting to get me to do something they would think is fun than something that I would actually think was fun. A massive breakfast in the morning, when I would be judged for not trying all the food they had made for me despite the fact that my stomach wasn't ready for anything yet, wasn't exactly my definition of fun. "What are you hiding?" Jackson asked. He started to lean to the side, so I shifted as well, keeping my hands and the pull-up out of sight. I tightened my grip on the pull-up. "Nothing." "Then show me your hands." I inched backward so that I was standing right up against my bed. With my legs together, the pull-up wouldn't be visible directly behind me. I dropped it onto the mattress and displayed both of my hands. "See. Nothing. Now shoo. You shouldn't come in without knocking." He ran off. But, of course, he didn't even have the courtesy to shut the door behind him. The second I heard his feet start to race down the stairs, I turned and hastily stuffed the pull-up deep in the drawer. That had been way too much of a close call. I wasn't worried that it would be found in that location. Mom didn't have any reason to go into that drawer on the rare times she came into my room. And my friends usually didn't spend much time in my bedroom during normal sleepovers. We would sleep in the living room to avoid disturbing everyone else upstairs. And even during normal hours, there wasn't as much to do in my bedroom. I didn't bother changing out of the rest of my pajamas. I could do that when I hopped in the shower after breakfast. Maybe if I was lucky, there would at least be bacon. --- Links to all my stories can be found at https://abdlwriter.wordpress.com/ 

I tried the link at RUBBER PANTIES'R'US and got the old 404 - Not Found

I found this article pretty interesting. I was talking to my therapist today and brought up this article to her.  She is the only person IRL that knows I'm an ABDL and has been really supportive in me accepting it.  After going over the cliff notes, I could see her wheels turning.  Either she is about to do a deep dive on the available literature or I'm about to end up as a case study, which is fine my me.