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Chapter One "It's a big decision," Claire's mother worriedly commented. "Are you sure it's something you want to do at your age?" she asked, knowing that the answer would be the same as last time, and every time before that, ever since Claire had informed Kathy of her intentions six months ago. "Ugh, yes mum," the nineteen-year-old whined from the other room, exactly as Kathy expected. "Besides," Claire continued, lowering her voice to room temperature as she lugged a box into the kitchen, "It'll only be sixth weeks at a time, at least at first." Claire dropped the large brown cardboard box on the table with what she hoped would be a conversation-ending thud, but was disappointingly a merely a muffled comma. Her mother looked up from her rapidly cooling cup of tea, and was about to begin a new tack when Claire cut her off: "Anyway, it's not like they don't have the internet in Germany! And you know I'll always be a few hours flight away." It was the trip of a lifetime, and what's more, it tied into her studies at university, and so would even count towards her degree! She certainly wasn't going to let her neurotic mother get in the way. Kathy had always been more than a little nervous about Claire's various escapades, even something as little as a sleepover with school friends. Of course, Kathy had a little more reason to be worried than most parents. Claire had been, until the age of about 14, what they used to euphemistically call a 'bedwetter', but in the last few years had become known as 'wetters'. As it became clear that the new generation was increasingly likely to be only fully out of diapers by five, and a significant minority of about 20% were in need of night-time diapers until mid-adolescence, new phrases had begun to creep into common usage. The Government initially used the term "incontinence sufferers", but this was rapidly thrown out by the younger generation as patronising. They then moved onto "those who use toilets less", until settling for the simple, catch-all phrase "diaper wearers". Never one to miss an opportunity, of course, the diaper industry had thrived with this increase in marketing potential. Claire remembered the old "Drynites" brand vaguely, and shuddered at the thought of the unfortunate souls who had to wear them. Flimsy, low-capacity and small, they were quickly replaced by increasingly large sizes of baby diapers, and by the time Claire had finally outgrown her bedwetting, most large supermarkets sold tape-up diapers all the way up to a 32" waist, with capacity and print variations to suit plenty of tastes. Kathy's concern for her daughter was more of a hangover from the perceptions of bedwetters from her day - Claire would always tell her not to worry, as usually at least one other girl would be in diapers at any sleepover. Kathy, however, worried nonetheless, and Claire was quietly grateful. It was better, she thought, to have a mum who cared too much, instead of too little. So, 5 years free from diapers, Claire was here, packing for her first big trip abroad - six weeks working at the University in Cologne! Claire opened the large brown box and began placing its contents on the kitchen table. Books, pencil cases, protractors, notepaper - it was all here, stationary she hadn't needed since school days, neatly packed away by Kathy. Kathy, oblivious to Claire's silent thanks, began to fuss, "Well don't get it all out here! Take it up to your room, that's where your clothes and suitcases are!". Knowing she was right, Claire grunted in annoyed approval and began to quickly place the items back in the box. As she threw in the last pencil case, she felt her hand brush up against a familiar surface - a sort of fine cotton - but ironically she couldn't quite put her finger on what it reminded her of. Eager to escape her now irritated mother, she bustled upstairs, trying hard not to drop her now unbalanced box of school things as she went. Laying the stationary out on the slightly dusty floor of her bright, modern bedroom, she began to make piles - "take", "keep", and "throw away". Ikea pencils went in "throw away", treasured teenage doodles went in "keep", and her best pens went in "take", ready to packed off to Germany. As she reached the bottom of the box, having filled the "keep" pile far larger than her mother would have liked, Claire's hand again brushed up against that family fabric. Curious, she looked into the box. There, at the bottom in the corner, was a solitary diaper. It was clearly unused, and it was clearly hers - first, it was covered in a little blue flower pattern, and second, it looked about the size and thickness of a small parcel, certainly big enough for her 24" waist. Her heart beating imperceptibly faster, Claire reached down and picked it up. First, she went to put it into the throw away pile, "After all," she reasoned to herself, "No one would want one old diaper, and I certainly don't need it". But she stayed her hand, and placed it down in the "keep" pile. "Who knows," she though, "I might need it in the future - maybe I'll get the flu, and won't be able to make it to the toilet". She stood up, and was about to go downstairs when the blue and white diaper, perched on a pile of half-used school books and potentially useful post-it notes, caught her eye one more time. "Well, if I am going to be in Germany for 6 weeks, why wouldn't I need it then? Besides, I don't know what exactly the diaper situation is over there, so it may be the only thing I can find." To be on the safe side, then, she moved it to the "take" pile, ready to be packed. But first she went down stairs for a nice cup of tea.

My wife keeps mine stocked with the necessities. 2 diapers for changes, 1 pull-up if we want more discretion,

i have always loved the pee smell from wet too dried pee, i also love the baby powder fresh wipes etc, when i am in the mood i will pee on my extra bed, and lay and play in the pee. never got into the poo smells.

"You've been wetting your pants like a baby, so you're going to be in diapers for awhile," Lorli told her. "And currently you're whining like one. You need to lay down and get some rest. Come on, walk to your room." She knew with the thick diapers she wouldn't be able to walk.

Hi everyone, yes I too wake every morning in my M4 Abri's soaked I always wear a pair of terry cotton training pants over my diaper and then my high waist rubber pant's, Mommy put them on me every night and like I said I am soaked and love it, can't get enough wearing and wetting. Smiles

Chapter 3 The drive to Gatwick Airport was shorter than usual, perhaps in part by their early start. Though her flight wasn't until noon, Claire insisted they leave at 6, to give plenty of time for delays on the M25, delays at check in, delays at security, and the all important (though less emphasised to her mother) shopping at duty-free. As the roads were clear, they took the turnoff for the airport at about 7, pulling past an almost comically large billboard as they did so. Claire was transfixed - on the billboard, taking up most of the space, were two youngish-adults, a girl and a boy both about 20 years old, hugging and smiling in pajamas. From the shape and size of their bottoms, both were clearly wearing diapers. In big, bright, bubbly letters, the caption on the billboard read: DELITE

Chapter Two Packing quickly - her flight was tomorrow at noon - Claire double, triple and quadruple checked she had everything she needed for her first six weeks living and working alone, in a foreign country. Her German phrasebook she cautiously placed in her hand luggage, despite her strong command of the language, she had only spoken to native speakers once, nearly six years ago, on a school trip to Berlin. Even then, she spent most of her time giggling with her school friends than actually speaking the language, despite her teacher's protests. "Better to have it, and not need it," Kathy interrupted Claire's reminiscence from the door to her bedroom, "than to need it and not have it!". "Umm, I think I speak enough German to get through an international airport, thanks Mum," Claire shot back with feigned exasperation. As her mother wandered away, humming out of tune, Claire pondered her choice of phrase: that was something that Kathy had said to her frequently as a child, but never about phrasebooks. It was always about diapers - when Claire had been dry at night for two or three days, she would occasionally plead with her mum to let her try a night without them, but her mother would never have it. "Better to have it and not need it..." she would start, and Claire would echo back, "than to need it and not have it." These moments of rebellion became rarer and rarer as Claire got older, in part, she thought, because of the increased visibility of wetters, and perhaps because she acquiesced to her night-time needs. Though she'd never told her mother, there had been rare occasions where, on waking up early in the morning with a full bladder and a dry diaper, Claire had 'accidents' that were perhaps more preventable than she made out. Whilst she was daydreaming, Claire had been almost automatically packing the last of her things into their respective bags. Reaching down for the last piece of clothing, she felt nothing much but soft carpet, and smiled to herself, realising that she could get an early night after all. She went to zip up her two large, pink suitcases, and then moved over to her oversized handbag - perfect for packing every last thing into hand luggage on a plane. Looking down, she realised she had placed her solitary diaper in her hand luggage, and not in her overstuffed suitcases as she'd planned. "That's odd," she thought, "I must have been away with the fairies!". She did not, however, move the diaper. Part of her reasoning was that her bags were already neatly packed and organised, and taking everything out would take at least another half an hour, but another part of her heard her mother's words about the phrase book echo in her ear. After all, she thought, those airport queues can get dreadfully long. Her packing finished, Claire wandered out onto the landing to half-shout a goodnight to her mother, and went about her evening bathroom routines. Teeth and her long, brown hair brushed, she washed her face with a new facial scrub, and after that, delicately perched herself on the toilet, occupying her mind by flicking aimlessly through Facebook. After a fair amount of time, Claire considered herself finished, stood up, and walked over to the floor-to-ceiling pine cupboard in the corner, absent mindedly opening it and reaching down to the bottom shelf. Shaking herself awake from her autopilot routine, Claire realised there wasn't any reason to be opening this cupboard - at least, not any more. When Claire was younger, that was where her mother would keep her stacks upon stacks of diapers, ready for Claire to put on at the end of her nightly routine. Of course, there weren't any left there anymore, just a few bottles of bleach, and what looked like a dead bluebottle. Bemused, Claire shut the door to the cupboard and made her way to bed. As she was drifting off, she pondered the few odd moments that had happened that evening. "Must just be the stress of moving to another country," she thought, before the warm embrace of sleep took her away. Claire awoke the next morning with a tremendous feeling of anticipation, but along with it, another feeling - she very much needed to use the bathroom. Throwing off the bed clothes, Claire hopped out onto the landing and towards the toilet, hurriedly pulling down her cotton pajama bottoms as she went. She just managed to set her petite bottom onto the seat before her muscles matters into their own hands, and the call of nature took it's natural course. However, instead of the now-familiar tinkle of pee against porcelain, Claire felt a warm sensation spreading between her legs. Looking down, she saw the source of the problem - in her drowsy haste, she had forgotten to remove her panties. They were thoroughly soaked through, and though she tried to clench her muscles, the stream remained in full swing. She felt the warm wee trickle down her legs, and though some of it had made it's way into the toilet bowl, most seemed to be soaked up by the absorbent cotton of her snug underwear. Eventually, the stream subsided, and Claire was able to clean herself up, removing her sodden panties and carefully wiping down her pussy and legs. As she got on her knees to clean up the small puddle of wee that had made its way onto the floor, she heard her mother call from the other side of the door. "Claire? Darling? Is everything okay in there?" Kathy cooed, ever helpful, but rarely wanted. "Yeah Mum everything's fine, I'm busy!" came Claire's worried reply, as she tried to make wiping up wee somehow less noisy. "Okay..." Kathy's voiced trailed off, not without an air of uncertainty. Claire quickly finished cleaning the toilet seat, and hopped in the shower, cursing her sleepy head for making another problem on such an important day. After toweling off, Claire collected her soaked underwear from the floor, and put an ear up against the bathroom door. Not hearing any signs of life, she attempted to tiptoe out onto the landing, but standing right there was her mother. "Oh!" Kathy exclaimed, clearly as startled as Claire, before wrinkling her nose and glancing down at the clearly wet panties bunched up in her daughter's hand. "Oh dear, Claire. Did you wet the bed again? Should I get some fresh sheets?" Kathy asked, with genuine concern and not a hint of disappointment. "Ugh, no Mum!" Claire replied, just as soon as she'd got over her shock. "I'm fine, I'm not a wetter, I was just half-asleep and I forgot to pull my panties down when I sat on the toilet!" "Oh, well if that's the case I'll pop those in the washing machine for you," Kathy said with almost business-like professionalism, "But you know if there's anything wrong, you don't hesitate to tell me. Anyway, it's not like something I haven't had to deal with before!" "Nothing's wrong Mum, I was just tired and barely awake. I'm going to put my things in the car - we need to get going if we want to beat the queues at the airport." Claire replied, but not before gingerly handing her panties over to her mother.