Leaderboard

The Ballet Slippers - Chapter 46 The rest of the evening much the same as the prior. Isabelle found comfort in the routine of it all; after they dropped Becky off at home, Isabelle and her mom returned to the comfort of their own house. Jane had chided Isabelle for having yet another accident, but Isabelle hadn't been bothered; she had tried to go at school and didn't need to, and then needed to go later in the car, and so did. Isabelle didn't see the problem. Dinner was smooth, and bath time had been less of an ordeal than the night prior as Isabelle was less confused when her mom had entered the bathroom with her. After Isabelle's bath, her mom had made her sit on the toilet for nearly half an hour. Isabelle had whined and complained the whole time. She had been bored, and didn't need to go. But after the full half hour, Isabelle found herself peeing. "See?" Jane had said in a 'told-you so' kind of voice. "Told you that you needed to go. Mommy knows best." Isabelle had been irritated by her mom's decision to mock her. "I didn't need to go when you made me sit down! You've just forced me to sit here, for like, forever!" Isabelle cried out from the toilet seat, as her mom bent over to help her wipe. Jane wasn't particularly fond of Isabelle's decision to raise her voice, but it was past the girl's bedtime, and Isabelle was obviously cranky. "Okay cranky pants. Up on your stool and brush your teeth. You took so long to pee its already past your bedtime." Isabelle complied, before her mom lifted her up back into her room, into her night diaper, and off to bed. As with her night, Isabelle's morning passed much the same as the prior morning had. Isabelle, unsurprisingly, woke up to a very wet diaper. Isabelle was growing used to the squishy padding underneath her in the mornings. In fact, she looked forward to it. Something about her night time diapers just made things easier. 'I feel rested in the morning. I can sleep without worrying about accidents. It just frees my mind up for more important things.' Isabelle had decided. And Isabelle had important things to focus her mind on that day. Yesterday had been positively too much fun, and Isabelle later regretted that she had allowed herself to become so distracted by her fun day at preschool that she hadn't even consulted her investigative journal once to further her new magical theory. 'Today I'll be more focused,' Isabelle decried. But even as she thought it to herself, her mind was racing to other subjects, such as what Miss Deena would have planned for the morning class. More and more, Isabelle was finding herself more easily and happily distracted. 'It's kind of nice,' Isabelle realized, as she shimmied herself to a more comfortable position to allow herself to freely pee into her already sodden diaper. As Isabelle's pee tapered off, she decided to make her way downstairs herself that morning. As she climbed down the stairs holding Rabbity, Isabelle could feel her diaper drooping between her thighs, the warm comfort of her recent wetting pressing against the inside of her leg with each step she took, all the way to the bottom. Isabelle turned toward the kitchen, where she spotted her mom. Isabelle couldn't help herself as she ran toward Jane, wrapping her arms around her moms legs. "MOMMY!" Jane couldn't help but smile. After breakfast, Jane helped Isabelle get dressed for the day, first by removing her soaking wet diaper, and wiping Isabelle clean, before changing her into a fresh pullup. Moments later, Isabelle was downstairs in a simple pair of leggings and a t-shirt, and today at least, matching socks insider of her light up running sneakers. Just like that, Isabelle was off to preschool with a smile. Isabelle arrived to class early, leaving her mom in the dust as she jaunted into class, looking for anyone and anything to play with. Jane could only laugh as she set Isabelle's backpack with her lunch into her cubby, before waving goodbye to Miss Deena, giving the teacher a 'fingers crossed' sign for a better potty day for her daughter. Miss Deena nodded back in acknowledgment. As Isabelle explored the preschool that morning, she found that she had arrived earlier than she had yesterday, and there weren't many other kids around. Those that were there, Isabelle was unfamiliar and unsure of, so Isabelle looked for something else to do. Not long later, Isabelle found herself pre-occupied in one of the reading nooks by herself, where she had taken a nearby picture book with her. Isabelle sat down and flipped through the book. Based on all of the images on the pages, Isabelle concluded the book was about a fairy princess. But Isabelle was still not able to read any of the words on the pages, though she recognized a good number of the letters. So Isabelle decided to invent a story, turning the pages as she recited aloud to herself. Isabelle found herself giggling away at one of the pages where she had decided that the fairy slipped on a banana peel when she felt the need to pee to use the potty come on. Isabelle looked up to see if Miss Deena was nearby, but she wasn't. Isabelle looked back down at her book, struggling with herself to decide what she should do. Part of her knew that she was supposed to go find a teacher, or even just go to the potty herself. But part of her questioned if that was the right thing to do. After all, she was in school to learn, and right now, she was learning how to read - or at least that was what she told herself. 'Wouldn't it be more right to sit here and continue to learn, than to stop my reading lesson for something as silly a the potty?' Isabelle questioned 'After all, mommy put me in a pullup so that I can have accidents,' Isabelle thought to herself, as her stomach rumbled again. Isabelle was not sure what to do, and her head was hurting just thinking about it. Fortunately, the decision was made for her. "Good morning Isabelle!" Kelly called, as she sat down in the plastic chair opposite Isabelle in the reading nook. "I see you are doing quite a lot of story telling this morning. This looks like so much fun!" Kelly turned her chair, to see where Isabelle was, and followed along as Isabelle told her about her nonsensical story of a fairy princess. Kelly looked down at the book, seeing what it was actually about. 'Not even in the ballpark,' Kelly laughed to herself. "Why don't we put the book down and take a potty break?" Kelly proposed, as both Kelly and Isabelle heard the little girl's tummy rumble once more. Isabelle nodded; it wasn't that she necessarily wanted to go to the potty - it was simply out of convenience. Kelly was already there asking to take her - 'I might as well just go at this point.' Isabelle stood up and took Kelly's hand, following her into the potty. The process in the bathroom was much the same as the day prior with Samantha. Isabelle did her business, and half-heartedly wiped herself. Kelly had apparently been given a heads up about the brown streaks in Isabelle's pullup the day earlier, and intervened before Isabelle could get off the potty. "Nuh-uh sweetie. That wasn't a very good job wiping. Let Miss Kelly help you." Kelly proceeded to stand Isabelle up and bend her over, wiping Isabelle's bottom clean. 'If she insists,' Isabelle thought to herself, as she happily exposed her butt for Kelly to clean her up, before pulling her pullup and leggings up her legs. "Isn't that better sweetie? Going to the potty like a good girl?" Isabelle wanted to shrug. She wanted to not react at all, in fact. Isabelle was beginning to question whether it really was the more mature decision after all, thinking back on how this process interrupted story time twice in two days now. But Isabelle knew there was a right answer to Kelly's question. "Yes Miss Kelly." Plus, there was one added bonus, Isabelle recalled as she washed her hands. "Do I get a sticker now?" Miss Kelly smiled and confirmed that yes, Isabelle would get a sticker, pulling out a "WAY TO GO!" sticker with a unicorn on it. It really was one excellent sticker, and Isabelle happily placed it next to her name on the potty chart. Isabelle smiled, before making her way back into the main preschool area where she found Becky and Julia. Isabelle went to her cubby quickly to retrieve her sippy bottle of water, when she saw that Jess was leaving, and waved goodbye to her, as Miss Deena started class for the day. Isabelle took a seat on the big comfy run in the center of class as Miss Deena explained the morning activity. "Today we are going to have such a great day everyone." Isabelle could feel Miss Deena's energy. Isabelle believed her too - it was going to be a great day. Isabelle couldn't help but turn to Julia and smile, lifting her cross legs off the ground, unable to quell her excitement. Isabelle was practically bouncing. "Miss Kelly is going to go around and give out the exact same wooden blocks to everyone - there is no need to take anyone else's blocks," Miss Deena emphasized. "And its important that you all have the same blocks in order to be able to build the shapes we are going to build together." Isabelle's curiosity picked up, her attention squarely on Miss Deena, as Kelly was going around and handing the blocks out. "What we are going to do today is use our blocks to build various structures and shapes. Miss Kelly and I will build a shape in the middle for everyone to see, and you will all try to build the same shape. Doesn't that sound fun?" Isabelle wasn't even able to process whether she thought it sounded fun or not - she did - and found herself nodding rapidly, just as Kelly handed Isabelle her blocks. "Now, let's start by all counting together how many blocks we each have in front of us, okay? All together now!" Isabelle found herself picking the blocks sitting in front of her up one at a time to help her count. "One...Two......'Freee," Isabelle started, as she picked up to rectangle blocks, and one cylindrical block, "....Four......and uh.......uhhh....." Isabelle missed calling out the number "Five" with the rest of the class as they all did, the number having temporarily escaped her memory. 'Of course! Five!' Isabelle thought, as she thrust her pyramid shaped block into the air. Isabelle did her best to mimic the shapes as Miss Deena and Kelly built all sorts of structures in front of the class. At first, it was easy; the structures only involved stacking two or three blocks. Isabelle, Becky, and Julia were all able to easily follow along as they first watched Miss Deena and Kelly put their blocks together, and then did their best to copy them. Sometimes Isabelle's structure would topple over and fall. But Julia and Becky's did the same, and it Isabelle found herself giggling as the blocks tumbled. As the morning went on, however, Isabelle found herself struggling to build the structures that Miss Deena and Kelly were. It started when Miss Deena introduced a fourth block into the structure. it had taken Isabelle some time to figure out how the pieces went together. "Like this Isabelle," Kelly said, as she helped Isabelle turn her rectangle on its short side, fitting into the other pieces. "Oh," was all Isabelle muttered. It seemed so obvious now that Kelly put it together. But even when Isabelle knocked it over to try herself, having seen Kelly do it up close for her, she was unable to finish it the same way. When Miss Deena started including all five pieces, however, Isabelle found herself getting incredibly frustrated. Isabelle could barely follow along as Miss Deena and Kelly twisted and turned the blocks into strange and complex structures. No matter how hard Isabelle tried, she kept failing. Isabelle simply couldn't figure it out, and she felt like crying. Isabelle fought off some tears, and turned toward Becky to see how she was faring. Isabelle was comforted by the sight of Becky all together having given up it seemed, smashing her blocks together and making dinosaur noises instead of doing the exercise. But when Isabelle turned to Julia, Isabelle saw that Julia was succeeding. It angered Isabelle that Julia could make the structures but she couldn't. 'She's just a stinky diaper baby,' Isabelle thought to herself, before realizing how mean that was. Instead, Isabelle took a deep breath and decided to ask for help. "Julia........" Isabelle started, barely whispering, but catching her friend's attention. Isabelle lifted her finger and pointed toward Julia's tall, strong structure. "Can you show me how to do that?" Julia nodded and crawled over to Isabelle, gently guiding Isabelle's hands as they held the blocks into the right spots. After about five full minutes, Julia backed her hands away as Isabelle set the final block in their last exercise. It wasn't perfect like Kelly's but it was a lot closer to what they were aiming for. 'Thanks Julia," Isabelle compassionately offered, as she hugged her friend, not realizing that she was releasing her bladder whilst doing so. "No problem Belly!" Julia exclaimed, as she hugged her friend back. Becky, not wanting to be left out, decided to get up and join the group hug as well. Isabelle felt warm and fulfilled, as her pullup was warmed and filled. ****** The afternoon had passed very much like the day prior. After lunch, Miss Deena very publicly determined that Isabelle's pullup could last her through her nap. Isabelle was not really bothered by the declaration - she was only with Julia and Becky at the time, or so she thought. One of the older girls named Brandy who was nearby snickered as she overheard Miss Deena talk about Isabelle's accident. Brandy was in big girl panties -she had more stickers than anyone at preschool, a fact she like to remind everyone of. It made Isabelle feel a bit guilty for having had an accident. Miss Deena's assessment had been accurate, but just barely. As Isabelle rose from her nap, she could feel a larger than normal squish underneath her. Kelly went about changing Isabelle into a fresh pullup - "this one was hanging on by threads," Kelly had announced to no one in particular as she sprayed a generous amount of powder on to Isabelle before pulling the fresh pullup up her legs. After nap time, the preschoolers went through rotating activities in groups. Groups were put together alphabetically based on the letters of your first name. Isabelle found herself in a group with a Henry, a Justin, and luckily, Julia. Isabelle moved with her group to various stations; first her group was assigned to a rubber band station, where the team needed to work together to try and build a rubber band ball. Next, Isabelle rotated with her group to a table with a set of train tracks with Kelly. Kelly removed some of the tracks, and the group needed to work together to fit the pieces back into the track, before moving the train in a big circle. After the train station, Isabelle's group was told to go to the individual reading nooks where they were told they could color or pick out a book if they wanted. As Isabelle was making her way to the bookshelf, intent to continue her fun game from the morning of inventing stories, something pulled her back. No, it was not her bladder, though she did need to go having finished another bottle of water. Instead, it was something else. Something chewing at her. Something she was supposed to do.. "My journal!" Isabelle exclaimed. It stunned the sweet girl that she had almost forgotten about it again, getting lost away in the day's activities. Isabelle turned around and darted toward her cubby, where she found her backpack. Isabelle opened it up, and retrieved her investigative journal from where she had packed it that morning, carrying it over to an empty reading nook. Isabelle had just sat down when Miss Deena had made her way over. "Isabelle, do you want to try and go potty?" Isabelle groaned. She hadn't even been able to open her book to develop her theories, and already Miss Deena was interrupting her. "Miss Deenaaaaaa I don't wanna. I wanna colooorrrrrr." Isabelle responded. It was true - it was her intention that morning to focus on one aspect of her new theory - finding a rogue mage, or witch, to help her cast the spell that would ultimately turn her back. Miss Deena could see Isabelle's body language change, the happy girl now sulking. But Miss Deena could also see Isabelle's feet bouncing underneath her. Miss Deena had been at this for too long - she wasn't going to give in to the toddler. "Come on Isabelle," Miss Deena said as she picked the sweet innocent girl up. Miss Deena wasn't interested in dragging Isabelle across ther room, only to get to the potty too late. "I know a potty dance when I see when. Let's go quick, and maybe you'll get back in time to color." Isabelle didn't. It wasn't for lack of trying. Isabelle was peed the second Miss Deena had placed her down on the toilet - "See, you barely made it sweetie! You need to pay more attention to when you need to go tinkles!" Isabelle ignored the remark, pulling her pullup back on without so much as bothering to wipe, and eluding Miss Deena's arms before dashing to the sink to wash her hands - "Isabelle - you forgot to wipe sweetie...ugh.." Deena sighed. 'At least her pullup is still on, but this girl is a LONG ways from big girl panties.' But despite all of her efforts, as Isabelle was turning her journal to the next empty page, Kelly rang the little farm bell indicating it was time to rotate to another activity. Isabelle couldn't help but groan loudly - she had missed her chance it seemed, now for the second day in a row. 'But what can I do about it?' Isabelle wondered, as she reluctantly swept her investigative journal off of the desk, and took it with her. 'Miss Kelly rang the bell,' and made her way to her next activity. Fortunately, Isabelle's sour mood quickly changed as she found herself playing dance freeze next with Miss Deena and one other group. Isabelle laughed and tumbled around as she did her best to stay frozen in place as the music stopped and started. With just one activity, her missed investigation for the day was forgotten. Isabelle was relieved as she heard her mom's voice behind her. Isabelle ran over to her mom, jumping up into her arms. "MOMMY!" It was the best part of her day, being with her mom, no matter how much fun she had at preschool. "Hi Baby! Did you have fun today?" Isabelle nodded, as Miss Deena came over to give Jane the report for the day. "Hi Jane," Miss Deena started, as she patted Isabelle on the head. "We did just okay today. Miss Kelly had to remind Isabelle to poop this morning, since she looked like she didn't notice she had to go,' Miss Deena started. "But she made it, even if Miss Kelly needed to wipe for her. We had a couple of wet accidents in the morning and afternoon, and someone was very soggy after her nap. But Miss Deena took you to the potty in the afternoon, and it was a good thing I did - you almost peed before you sat down!" Miss Deena recited playfully, referring to herself in the third person. "So just okay," Deena repeated, before addressing Jane more directly. "She does seem to be struggling to recognize when she needs to go. She may need to start wearing diapers for her nap too - Kelly mentioned that the pullup she had on was practically leaking. Though I don't know if it makes sense to keep her in a diaper just for a nap. Either way, we'll just keep encouraging her this week and see how it goes." Jane nodded. 'There was no reason to deviate from the plan,' Jane thought. "Go and get Becky baby, we're going to be late. You start ballet this afternoon." Isabelle's eyes went wide, and a smile ran across her face, at the mere mention of ballet class. 'Oh. My. God. YES!!' Isabelle was screaming inside. She had no idea what ballet class would be like, but whatever it would be, it would be great. "Okay mommy. I'll go get her right now," Isabelle called back, nearly running into a wall as she wasn't looking where she was going." "OH God!" Jane nearly screamed, watching Isabelle just nearly crash, before laughing nervously and turning to Miss Deena. "This girl is going to be the end of me!" ********* Isabelle was practically skipping as her mom helped Becky out of the car, and on to the ground next to Isabelle. Jane made her way to the trunk, before retrieving two ballet bags - one for each Isabelle and Becky - before taking each of the girls' hands, and walking them toward the front door of the building they had parked in the lot for. "Now I want you two to be on your best behavior, okay? This is a big girl ballet class, and you are to listen to the ballet teacher!" Isabelle nodded. "I will mommy. I promise. I promise promise promise promise!" Isabelle couldn't contain her excitement, it was all just too much. Jane smiled. She was happy that Isabelle was excited. Miss Deena had suggested a dance class for Isabelle, as she was quite elegant in her footwork, even at a young age in the preschool. Jane had always considered it an option as well. Even for her age, Isabelle seemed to have a good grasp of rhythm and music. She would twirl and dance around their living room at home with ease and grace. She was a natural. 'Where she got that from, lord only knows," Jane thought, being so uncoordinated herself. It had actually been Lola that had shared the details of this class with her when they had gone out for one of their many lunches together a few weeks back. Jane had then told Jess, who agreed they should sign their girls up together. "She told me that one of her friends works as a teacher there, and that she's very nice," Jane had told Jess. "She is an extraordinary ballerina herself - top of her class at Higgins, so I think we can rely on her advice." Jane was hoping Lola had relayed accurate information. Jane made her way in with the two girls, pulling them up to the front desk to check-in. They were early, but that was just how Jane wanted it. Jane knew she not only had two girls to get dressed and ready, but she also wanted to say hello to Lola's friend before the class had started. Isabelle's eyes wandered with amazement and disbelief From the moment Isabelle stepped inside the studio with her mom and Becky, it was as if the air around her started to shimmer and sparkle. The walls were adorned with posters of ballet performances, showcasing graceful dancers in breathtaking poses. The faint sound of music played softly in the background, adding to the enchanting atmosphere that captured Isabelle's every attention, as her mom wrapped up signing the two girls in. "Yes, for the 4:30 class. That's right. Where can I get them changed?" Jane said, though Isabelle was barely listening. Isabelle stood at the entrance, taking in the sights and sounds. Further into the studio, Isabelle spotted wooden ballet barres lining the walls, waiting patiently for her little hands to find their grip on them. Mirrors covered the studio's walls, reflecting the room in a thousand different angles, as if inviting Isabelle to step into a world of a million dance steps, her every move captured for miles at end. Jane took Isabelle and Becky's hands, leading them further into the ballet studio. As they did, Isabelle noticed a group of young dancers - older than her, but not quite teenagers - wearing their leotards and ballet shoes, their hair neatly pinned up in buns. She watched in awe as they practiced their pliés and tendus, their movements flowing with grace and precision. Isabelle's eyes sparkled with excitement, Isabelle couldn't help but wiggle her toes, imagining herself wearing a leotard and ballet shoes for her own class. Isabelle wanted to look like the other dancers in their elegant routines. She turned to Jane, her face beaming with anticipation. "Mommy, I want to go dance now!" Jane smiled warmly and knelt down to Isabelle's level. "Of course, my dear," she replied. "Let's get you and Becky dressed first." Jane guided the girls to a corner of the room, where Jane opened each of the two ballet bags. "I'll have to tell Jess to get you changed at Miss Deena's on Thursday. They don't have a dedicated space for it here sweetie," Jane explained, as she pulled out two sets of delightful and colorful leotards, tutus, and ballet slippers from the bags. "Now let's pick out the perfect outfits for our little dancers," Jane said, a glimmer of excitement in her eyes. Isabelle and Becky eagerly scanned what Jane had pulled out, their small fingers tracing the fabrics as they made their choices. Isabelle pick up the sky-blue leotard adorned with sparkling silver stars her mom had packed for her. Isabelle couldn't help but imagine herself soaring through the air like a graceful swan. Becky, on the other hand, had a vibrant pink leotard that made her feel like a blooming flower, ready to pirouette and twirl with joy. "Before we get dressed, does anyone need to use the potty?" Jane asked. Each of Isabelle and Becky shook their heads no. "Are we sure girls? There will be no taking a potty break during class?" the girls confirmed their certainty. Jane considered forcing Isabelle to go, but if Isabelle couldn't be mature enough to tell her, then maybe she just wasn't ready. 'I want to trust her,' Jane told herself. 'Maybe she really doesn't need to go.' Jane gently helped the girls slip into their outfits, fastening the buttons and ties with care. It took some attention to ensure that Becky's tights pulled up and over her diaper, which was extremely prominent in nothing more than the leotard, tights, and tutu. For her part, getting the tights over Isabelle's pullup was a little easier, but a bulge was very much still present. Jane couldn't help but notice that the front of Isbaelle's pullup was a little damp as Jane pulled her daughter's tights up. "probably just a few drips," Jane thought. As the girls stood up, Jane helped each of them into their ballet slippers; first Becky, and then Isabelle. Isabelle's shoes were decorated with little ribbons that went up her ankles, more typical of pointe shoes. But Isabelle was far too little for pointe shoes, and the ribbons on her slippers were merely decorative. As Jane tied the last ribbon around Isabelle's ankle, Isabelle was overcome with a sense of pride, of joy, and of overwhelming confidence. Isabelle felt great all dressed up in her ballet clothes. But most of all, she felt at home in her slippers. It was as if all of the world's problems disappeared. There was no need to worry about investigations. No need to worry about the stress and challenges of the day. It no longer mattered that Isabelle struggled with her numbers or with building blocks. It was not important that Isabelle couldn't read. And most of all it was irrelevant that Isabelle was starring at herself in the mirror, smile from ear to ear, wetting her pullup. In fact, Isabelle didn't even know. She was too busy being happy, being home, being with her slippers once more. "Now you girls are ready for class," Jane said, as she finished pinning Becky's hair back. "I think I see your teacher. I am going to say hi, and then take a seat on the side. Your mommy will be here to watch you too Becky, she's on her way." Isabelle nodded and returned to examining herself in the mirror. She was pleased with the leotard her mom had selected for her. 'If I want to jump as high as the stars, I might as well wear them on my tummy to help lift me!" Isabelle and Becky laughed and played as a few other toddlers made their way into the class. Jane meanwhile had approached the ballet teachers, to introduce herself. "Hi, you must be Emily. I am Isabelle's mom," Jane started. "We're so excited to be in the class, thank you for taking the late signups." "Oh its not a problem, we're excited to have your daughter. We love having new dancers in class, and I see she is here with a friend too" Emily responded. "And you should know, your daughter comes highly recommended," Emily explained in a joking manner. Nevertheless, the comment caught Jane off guard. "I don't understand, who recommended her?' Jane asked, through a nervous laugh. Emily laughed in return. "Oh don't be nervous. My assistant mentioned that her friend knew Isabelle or something of that nature. Here, let me introduce you to her." As Jane connected the dots - "Of course, yes. Lola mentioned her friend was a teacher here, but I didn't realize she would be teaching Isabelle's class with you" - Emily waved over a teenage girl that had been speaking to another parent. Jane watched as the tall, very fit ballerina turned around. The girl's shimmering copper hair, tied neatly in a bun was mesmerizing. But as the girl turned to face Jane, Jane was shocked at how absolutely stunning the girl was. "Where do they find these girls, and how do these girls find each other all the time?" Jane asked herself, thinking of Dani and Lola now both. 'I don't think we looked this good as teenagers,' Jane began asking herself. The red-headed girl made her way toward Jane. The girl's body was a work of art - she was strong and delicate at the same time. She looked the part of a true athlete. The girl's facial features were soft; her skin was looked smooth and delicate, and her green eyes were striking. Jane was not that experienced with competitive dancers, but there were striking differences between Lola and Dani that stood out to her. Whereas Lola packed a lot more muscular on her legs - and generally had a curvier body than this girl - this dancer seemed the more delicate type, her movements graceful and fluid even as she crossed the room to greet Jane. For whatever reason, Jane felt intimidated as the girl came right up to her. "Hi, it's so nice to meet you," the girl said in a bubbly and happy tone. Her voice immediately put Jane at ease, even as she moved toward Jane to give Jane a very surprising half-hug. "Lola has told me so much about you!" She started, before backing off and adding something Jane wasn't ready for. "And if you don't mind me saying, way to go bagging Mr. Hayes - he's a looker," the girl said with an embellished wink. Jane started turning red at this teenagers remark. 'Apparently Lola has been telling her friends about me.' Jane did her best to collect herself, but didn't manage much more than a "oh...uhh...yah thanks....Yes I am Jane." Jane felt completely disarmed by the girl. 'I just sounded like a blabbering idiot in front of this teenager.' "And that's your cutie over there, the blonde one?" The girl asked. Jane simply nodded. "Yes, that's my Isabelle. Or Belly. She likes Belly,' Jane added. 'Just stop talking Jane,' she told herself. "Well," the redhead continued, "I'll be sure to keep a special eye on her. Who knows? She could be Lolzers little sister one day!" The girl said gleefully, without a hint of discretion about her. "Oh, and I'm Dani by the way. It's so nice to meet you." And just like that, Dani skipped away to the group of little classmates, engaging with them and getting them organized "Sorry about her," Emily said, making her way after Dani toward the class. "She can be a lot. But I assure you, she's an excellent instructor." Jane smiled back, content to be out of the situation "Let's get started," Emily announced, joining Dani in the middle of the studio. Jane made her way to the side of the room, finding Jess and sitting in the empty seat next to her. "Did I miss anything?" Jess asked curiously. Jane took a breath. "You mean other than me sounding like an idiot in front of a teenager? Nope. Not a damn thing." Jess returned a curious look, before laughing at Jane and handing her a latte. Jane accepted it, as she fixated on one thing Dani had said -'she's right I guess, they could be like sisters one day.' ******* The class started with a gentle warm-up, as Dani led the toddlers in stretching their little bodies. "Let's all go ahead and reach for the sky, up up up!" Dani held the position, encouraging the students to do the same, as a few tumbled over. Isabelle reached as high as she could, even going on to her toes. "And now down to ground, down down down!" Dani sang. Isabelle had been awe-struck when Dani had approached her and Becky, introducing herself. Isabelle couldn't believe it - she had missed her friend so much. So when Dani reached out to shake Isabelle's hand, Isabelle practically swatted it away and jumped on Dani, hugging her tightly and fighting off a tear. Isabelle was under the impression she had been home in her slippers. But a home was just a series of empty rooms. Dani was home. Lola was home. Isabelle recalled her commitment she had made the weekend prior - she was never going to take time with her friends for granted again. "Oh well hello there Belly, so nice of you to give me a hug," Dani had responded. "You know, I actually heard from Lola that you give some pretty amazing hugs! Did you know that Lola and I are best friends?" Dani asked. "Of course I know!" Isabelle practically shouted. She wanted to shout that she was their best friend too, but the thought only came to Isabelle a little too late. "Well okay then," Dani responded, thrilled about the girl's enthusiasm. 'The hardest part of the class is always dealing with the stubborn kid. Thank god this one - especially this one - seems good.' Dani knew how important it was to Lola that Belly enjoyed the class, and made a mental note to be especially nice to her. "Are you excited to start your first ballet class Belly?" Dani asked the girl. Isabelle couldn't contain herself. Not only was she excited, but the fact that her class was going to be with Dani? "I CANT WAIT!" Isabelle had shouted, just as Emily made her way over to start the class. Isabelle continued through the warm-up routine with ease, each movement feeling new, but easy to master. It felt great to feel like she was succeeding at something for a change, Isabelle noted. Preschool had been a little tougher that day, even if it was still a lot of fun. But time and time again, Isabelle found she was only ever at peace dancing. After the warm-up, Emily and Dani started to introduce the toddlers to basic ballet positions. It had been Dani's idea to shift away from concrete numbers for the positions when teaching and instead to use simple and fun visual cues to help the toddlers understand how Emily and Dani wanted them to move. "Imagine you are a beautiful flower growing tall," Emily called out, as Dani went around the class helping the students get into first position. "Very good Isabelle, you're standing perfectly," Dani relayed as she passed by. Isabelle couldn't help but beam; her friend thought she was doing a good job!, Emily continued "Now like you're a bird spreading its wings," she called, as the students worked to transition into second position. Isabelle found the flow between first and second position very natural, even if a number of the other students were struggling with it. Emily was quick to spot Isabelle as standing out, as her eyes sparkled with excitement and energy. 'Even that Becky had been doing a pretty good job,' Emily thought to herself. 'Certainly better than some of the other students who were already showing a lack of discipline. But this class is also about fun," Emily would need to remind herself, as the toddlers eagerly tried to mimic the poses Dani and Emily would do, nearly all with their little diapers or pull-ups showing through their tights. The class continued with playful games and activities designed to enhance their balance and flexibility. Dani showed the dancers how to correctly hop over imaginary puddles, pretend to tiptoe like fairies, and leap with joy as if they were butterflies fluttering through the air. Dani showered all of the students with praise - but especially Isabelle. It was clear the girl had some natural talent. 'She could probably study at Higgins one day, if she wants,' Dani found herself thinking. Toward the end of class, Emily and Dani emphasized the importance of creativity and self-expression with dance. "Dancing, and especially ballet, is about showing us who you are," Emily explained. "Dance is a way to communicate, and share with others how you are feeling," Dani continued, "whether that be happy" - Dani said with a leap, "or Sad," Dani said, as she contorted her body to fall limp and toward the ground. "Or even.....SILLY" Dani called out, as she winked at Isabelle and did a silly series of bourrées. The whole class laughed, but Isabelle the loudest of all. "So, we are sending you home with a little homework," Emily continued. "On Thursday, at the end of class, we want you to show us who you are though ballet or dance. You can think of one dance move, or ten, whatever you want. And when you come back to class, everyone will get to show their classmates how they feel they can express themselves through dancing. Does that sound fun?" 'It really does sound fun,' Isabelle thought, as she chanted along with all the other dancers in agreement. "Well, that's class for today. I can't wait to see you all on Thursday," Dani called out. Isabelle was sad to hear class was already over, but couldn't contain herself. She had just had the best time, laughing and dancing with Dani once again. Isabelle didn't want to wait until Thursday to show Dani how dance - and how Dani - made her feel. And so Isabelle ran up to her and hugged her once more, this time refusing to let go. "Thank you Dani. That was the best." 'This is why I do this,' Dani reminded herself about her part time job. "Aw sweetie. You're welcome. You were very good," Dani said, hugging the Isabelle back, patting the toddler's very wet pullup. "With a little training, one day you might even be better than me. Or even better than Lola!" Dani exclaimed. "I can't wait to see you again on Thursday, but for now, I think your mommy is waiting for you. She looks like she's really proud of you too - why don't you go to her while I clean up?" Isabelle turned her head enough to see her mom beaming with pride, pride directed at her daughter. Isabelle didn't want to let go, but she knew it was time. It was enough to know that she would see Dani again on Thursday. 'In any event - I have some dance moves to think about to show how I feel," Isabelle remembered. 'This could take some thinking,' Isabelle thought, as she ran over to her mom, who picked her way up into the sky, like Isabelle was one of the stars on her chest.

I was a chronic nightly bedwetter growing up and wasn't reliably dry at night until my early 20s. I can honestly say my bedwetting never bothered me. I couldn't see what all the fuss was about. I slept in Terry nappies and plastic pants until I was about 8 or 9 years old. Then our distrctrict nurse insisted my Mother took me out of nappies as she was sure if I felt uncomfortable I would soon stop wetting in my sleep. Being in nappies at night was never going to get me dry. Well it didn't work. I just had to get used to a damp and smelly bed. Then they tried a bedwetting alarm. I just slept through it and wet the bed while everyone else was woken up. They soon gave up on that idea. Rewards and treats offered if so stayed dry. Followed by punishments for being wet. Then gradually my folks just gave up and accepted I wet the bed and probably always would. Then finally my Mother dragged me off to our doctor insisting something done about her teenage son that still wet the bed almost every night. I was refered to the fledgling NHS continence service who were great and issued me with a "Sandra" fitted waterproof cover for my bed and big blue disposable nappies and later some plastic pants. The nappies leaked but so didn't care. My folks no longer seemed to care that I still wet the bed and seemed happy something had been done. I put my own nappies on and dealt with the inevitable wet ones every morning from being about 15. I continued to wet the bed most nights until just before my 22nd birthday and then it tailed off very quickly and by my birthday I was dry at night. ALL the time I lived at home my bed always had a waterproof cover on it and there was always a bag of nappies by my bed.

Here is the first chapter of my brand new monster-based ABDL story - Parum Mortis! Hope you enjoy it! Set in the same universe as Infernum Infantem, a woman finds herself somewhere she wasn't expecting to be. I can't say any more than that without spoiling it, so I'll just say that if you enjoyed Infernum Infantem, you should enjoy this. Just a heads up, there's some slightly dark topics in the first chapter, after that it's a lot less morbid. But even then, it shouldn't be too bad. Expect lots of my usual humour, MDLG fun, and cute pet names, as well as a few twists and turns and reeeeeeeeally mean cliffhangers. So... my usual story. This isn't a sequel to Infernum. It's got a brand new main character, though you'll be seeing a lot of returning characters from my other book. It's more... one story in the series. Please leave likes and comments and all that fun stuff, I love reading them! Especially with this being a new book, I'd really love some opinions! And as usual, if you want two weeks early access to chapters of Parum Mortis, you can sub to my Patreon. You'll also get access to my discord server to discuss chapters there and stuff. And also to tease me apparently. Grr. Also, please link to my stories rather than posting them as files when sharing with others! Chapter 1: Mr Crumpet Parum Mortis – LittleFallenPrincess I sat there on the pavement, in complete shock, as my whole world came crumbling down around me. How was I supposed to react to this? What would happen now? Where would I go? What if I stayed? I twiddled my thumbs as the world came to a standstill around me. My heart felt like it was racing. My eyes darted everywhere, watching every bit of carnage that surrounded me. An eerie silence filled the air and I felt… alone. No one could hear me. No one was moving. Nothing. No one. It was as if… “Oh for fuck’s sake, seriously?” I heard behind me. Turning around, I didn’t know what was worse, the scene I had just turned away from… or the fact that my childhood teddy bear was now six feet tall, holding what looked like some kind of scythe, and was examining itself, swearing at no-one. Like… he looked just like my bear from when I was six. That was like… over twenty years ago. Because it had been twenty years since I lost him on a trip with my Dad. Now here he was… five feet taller than I remembered him, looking like he was in pristine condition, wielding a deadly weapon. “Seriously? You had no-one?” He asked me. “I… I’m sorry… who are you?” I replied. “No, this won’t do. I need a better image. Come here... I’ll have to do this the old fashioned way.” Mr Crumpet waddled over, scythe in hand, to where I was sitting. I wasn’t sure if I should run or what, but my body made the decision for me and I quickly found I was unable to move. Stopping just in front of me, he bent down and looked me in the eyes with his… glassy… beady… teddy bear eyes… which totally wasn’t creepy at all or anything… and put his scythe down on the ground. “I… what… What do you want?” I asked, fear in my voice. “I’m sorry, honey. This is my mistake. Don’t worry, I’ll fix it.” He said, taking his soft, plushy arms and putting them on either side of my head. “This won’t hurt. Just close your eyes.” For some reason, I felt like… I felt like I could trust whoever this person was. Or whatever he was. Because he can’t damn well be my childhood toy! So I closed my eyes and felt the soft, plush hands of his become less plush… more… human. Like I could feel the bones in his hands now. There wasn’t much muscle in his hands, but it was definitely human now. “That’s better. You’ve got a few rattling around up there, but I’m not sure which to use. They’re all similar in importance, so I’ll just take this one for now.” He said… sounding more feminine suddenly. More… familiar. “You can open your eyes now, honey.” I slowly opened my eyes, nervous as to what would be in front of me now… to be greeted by a face I had not seen for a long time. “G… Grandma?” I blurted out, covering my mouth with my hands in surprise. “Oh sweetie…” She said, taking my hands in hers and pulling them down, rubbing the backs of them gently like my Grandma used to do. Problem was… my Grandma died ten years ago. “It’s okay, honey. It’s all going to be okay. Just breathe.” “Why do you look like my Grandma?” I asked, pulling my hands away from her. “Sweetie… I…” “Stop! Tell me, right this instant!” I snapped at her. Gran never called me sweetie. She had her own little name for me. “Look around you. Who do you think I am?” I took another look around me. I knew what had happened. I had a pretty good feeling where I was. And I had a damn good feeling who this person was, pretending to be my Grandma. But I didn’t want to admit it. I didn’t want to look at the car with the front half wrapped around a lamppost. I didn’t want to look at the shattered glass that had littered the pavement. Nor did I want to look at the brown-haired figure with freckles on her youthful, round face… crumpled up a few feet from… no… please… no… “That’s you.” Grandma said, pointing at the crumpled mess on the grass. The crumpled mess that wasn’t moving. I went to stand up, before ‘Grandma’ grabbed my hand and pulled me back down to the pavement. “Trust me, you don’t want to look, sweetie.” “Can… Can you stop?” I sighed, deciding that maybe this person was right, maybe here was the best place for me right now. “Stop what?” “This whole ‘pretending to be my Grandma’ thing. Just reveal your true self.” “You couldn’t handle that. But okay, I’ll pick a form you’re not familiar with, if that would help?” “Please. I loved my Grandma, and this just makes me… uneasy.” I blinked and suddenly my Grandma was gone. Not replaced by a giant childhood toy again, but by a beautiful blonde woman… no, wait… man… no I was right the first time… was I? I… I wasn’t sure what they were, but they were beautiful. Looking somewhat masculine, but also feminine… but at the same time… neither. This being incorporated everything into one person. “Wow…” Was all that I could utter, still staring at them in awe. “That better? Haven’t used this form in a long time.” They said, examining the clothes they were wearing. “Are these decade-appropriate? I’m normally good with human fashion, but the sixties and seventies made a bit of a diversion, and now the eighties… wow… of course Cassie predicted this. Only she could have, I suppose.” They looked down almost in disgust at their outfit. I looked them up and down… and yeah, they were pretty on point with their choice of fashion. And considering who they were… I hadn’t even contemplated that they had experienced all those other decades… seen all those other fashion trends as they met each and every person… Wearing a blue denim jacket with the sleeves rolled up and matching denim jeans with the cuffs rolled up, along with a white t-shirt and white trainers… They looked just like any of my friends. “You look fine…” I commented. “You think? Thanks. Sorry, yeah usually I just wear whatever I wear when I…” “Steal the faces of our loved ones?” I interrupted. “I… I don’t steal. I borrow… aspects of them. Not my fault you ignore the differences and focus purely on the similarities. Typical humans. Look, I’m trying something new. Sorry if I don’t get it right the first time.” “Why though? What made you want to change?” I asked. “Why do you want to know? It’s not me who’s lying over there, lifeless.” “Humour me.” “Because… I… look, I had big jobs before. I remember the plague. I remember Rome burning. I remember every huge, historical event where my presence was needed. But the war…” “Ah…” Was all I could say. “That… that made me realise I needed a bit more… humanity. Haha… like I ever saw myself ever saying that! Anyway… figured the old robed me needed a retirement. So I take on the appearance of those you found most comforting. At least a general likeness.” “Oh, so like a celebrity impersonator?” “I… yes, I guess so? I would have said someone you saw on the street that looked like someone who you hadn’t seen in a while, but yeah that works too. It can’t be the exact same… stupid copyright laws…” They took a second to breathe before looking at me again. “Problem is… you’re torn. The person you normally find most comforting…” “Don’t.” I shut them up instantly. I didn’t want them saying it. “I…” “Don’t say anything. I understand.” “Okay… Well yeah, because of that I had to go with a second option. Which ended up being Mr Crumpet, your Grandma, or your father. And your father isn’t dead yet and would have freaked you out even more, so…” “And you went with the giant fucking teddy bear over my Grandma?” “Again, still relatively new to this. So apologies in advance.” “So… that’s me, huh?” I asked, nodding over to where I lay. “I’m afraid so, sorry hun.” “You’re awfully nice for a… what are you exactly?” “I… oof. Err… that’s a complicated question that people have been theorising for millenia. Let’s just say… guide? But thank you. How… how are you holding up?” “I mean I just found out it's all over, so… been better.” “We can sit here as long as you want.” They put their arm around my shoulder, trying to comfort me. “What if I choose to stay here forever?” “You don’t want that.” They looked at me, looking serious all of a sudden. “I don’t?” “Look, if you want to go haunt a house or a certain person, or you want to take over a creepy doll and terrorise people… be my guest. I can arrange that. Some people can’t move on, and whilst sad… I will allow a small number of people to stay. But not here. Not at the scene.” “Why not?” I asked. “Because if you do, you’ll lose what humanity you have left. Just… for now, take your time. Take it all in. Then I’ll take you where you’re supposed to be.” “And where is that?” “Well I suppose I can tell you now, as you’re heading there soon anyway, but you’re going to Heaven.” “I was… a good person?” “Yes, Susan. You were a good person.” They replied. “But I…” “One mistake doesn’t doom you to an eternity in Hell. And you don’t believe in reincarnation or anything, so Heaven it is for you, sweetie. I know you weren’t technically a believer, but you were raised in that faith and had a small bit of hope that that place existed, so that’s where you go.” “Still… I feel bad.” I replied. “How so?” “It’s my fault. It’s all my fault.” “I’m sure that’s not true.” They shrugged. “You’re all knowing, right?” “Not really, but I know a lot, yes.” “Then you know I’m right.” “I’m not saying…” “See, that’s basically confirming it. I fucked up. I…” The cold winter’s air made my skin feel tingly. “How can…” “The cold is setting in on you over there.” They answered. “Ah. I suppose that makes sense. Whatever little sense all this makes anyway. So… what happens now?” “I take you up.” “Right now?” I asked. “When you’re ready.” There was something on my mind. Figured this was the last chance I’d get to ask… so I took a deep breath, not that that even mattered right now, and asked… “Can…” “I swear, if you’re about to ask me what I think you’re going to ask me…” They rolled their eyes at me and sighed. “Please?” I begged. “Why you humans care so much about this, I will never understand. But sure. Only because you’re cute.” They tapped my forehead and everything went dark. ------------------------------------------------------------ “WAIT, WHAT?” I awoke, screaming and yelling. “I’m not going to let you sit around for a week and watch it all. I’ve got a timetable to keep. You’re lucky I’ve got a little bit of a break at this exact time, after moving a few things around, to let you play out this… whatever this is. The reason I can get around to so many people is the whole freezing time thing. So when we’re not freezing…” “So when you’re not freezing time, you’re not out there helping… ‘guide’… people?” I asked, feeling slightly guilty that I was holding them up for this silly request of mine. “Exactly.” “Thank you then.” They looked at me, bewildered, as if they had never been thanked before. “You… you’re welcome, sweetie. Now, you’ve got about ten minutes to watch. Then I need to send you on. I’ll have to catch up a bit on those I should be guiding. And no, people can’t see, hear or sense you. So don’t try to go talk to them, it’s a waste of time.” They explained. “Ten minutes. Got it.” I looked ahead, from the bench I was sitting at with this beautiful blonde figure, towards the thing I so desperately wanted to see. I don’t know why I did, call it morbid fascination. But I wanted to see how many… and more importantly, who… showed up. The cold winter morning caused the priest to wrap up in his thickest robe. The grey sky drained all the colour out of this morning… not that there was any colour at a funeral. Black clothes, some flowers… and a whole lot of crying. At least it would be, normally… I sighed. “I’m sorry.” They whispered to me. “I… was expecting more people. I was at the very least expecting…” “Your Dad turned up…” They said, trying to find the positive in this shitty situation. “And… that’s it. No friends. No other family. No…” That’s when Death turned to me and wrapped their arms around me, surprising me as they brought me in for a hug. “I’m sorry hun.” They whispered in my ear. “I… it’s okay… maybe I… maybe I wasn’t worth…” “No, shush. You are worth every second of your life. You are worth so much more than this. I’m sorry people didn’t take the time to come to your funeral, but I promise you, you won’t be forgotten.” I cried into Death’s black denim jacket, which was appropriately changed to match the black dress code of the funeral. I hadn’t bothered to look at what state I was in now I was a… what… a ghost? Trapped in between life and death? I wasn’t sure what I was right now… but whatever I was, I finally took a second, wiping away the tears, to look at what I was wearing. I was still wearing the same dress I wore that night, albeit scuffed, ripped and bloody… Which means ghosts wear whatever they died in… ‘Thank fuck I didn’t die at one of those nudist beaches…’ I joked to myself, trying to lift the mood. Because that’s totally going to work at my own funeral… “It’s okay, hun. You’re going to be okay. You’ll be going to a better place now. I remember sending your Grandma there.” “Really… You remember her?” I asked. “I remember every soul I send over. Every face. She was a special woman. I can see why you looked up to her.” “I missed her…” “That’s why we should get going…” Death said, pointing towards the empty graveyard, empty except for my Dad and the Priest at my graveside as the coffin was lowered into the hole in the ground. “So… that’s it? A few words by the priest, I’m lowered into the ground… and that’s it? Isn’t anyone else mourning me? What about…?” “I’m sure people are mourning you elsewhere. Not everyone can make it. Your friends are no doubt having to work. They’ll show up for the wake later.” Death replied. “Fine. Whatever. I’m done with this. Let’s just go.” I sighed in frustration. “You sure?” Death said, standing up and offering their hand out. “I’m sure.” I replied, grabbing their hand and accepting the help up onto my feet. “So what… like… beam me up?” “Something like that…” They said, smiling softly at me and gently brushing my cheek with their hand. The grey sky turned into a blinding light suddenly. This… this must be it. Well… it was a nice… nearly thirty years on this planet. Shame I had to go and do something so stupid to cut it short. Maybe I… The light stopped suddenly. “Huh?” I said, confused. Death started looking around, looking as confused as I was. When suddenly… a portal appeared. A glowy, blue portal… like you’d see in those sci-fi movies. “NO!” Death screamed, like a banshee. “What… what is going on?” “DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE! I WILL FUCKING FUCK YOU UP YOU FUCKING FUCK!” Suddenly Death didn’t sound so… dignified. They went to grab my arm, but as they got closer, I felt a pull, like a magnetic pull… towards the portal. The strength drawing me towards it was more than I could resist as my feet left the ground and I was launched straight towards it… my last memories being that of Death reaching out to grab me… …Before everything went dark. ========================================================= New story! I know it's only the first chapter but... whatcha think? 😊 There's a lot to unpack from the first chapter! I hope everyone enjoys this chapter! Please leave likes and comments and all that fun stuff, I love reading them! Thank you to all my patrons for their support! Don't forget, the remaining chapters are available on my Patreon which can be found here if you go for the second tier. New chapters of Parum Mortis every Wednesday/Sunday! Also just a quick note: I don't mind people saving this story for personal reading. But I'd appreciate it if people didn't post it elsewhere, even if you're just suggesting it to other people. If you want to show others, please send them a link to the first page of this post! Thanks!

This is a sequel to "Pranks & Punishments" which I have linked at the bottom of this description. I don't believe it is necessary to have read that to read this one but it may enhance your enjoyment since some characters that appear in this story were in the first one and it would provide some context. You can find Pranks & Punishments here: https://www.dailydiapers.com/board/index.php?/topic/83594-pranks-punishments/ --- If you enjoy my stories and would like to help support me writing them then I kindly ask you to check out my Patreon. I post all my updates a week earlier for patrons and there are 47 stories EXCLUSIVELY on my Patreon page! All the money on my Patreon goes towards paying bills, buying food and generally keeping a roof over my head and a nappy under my butt. Thank you to everyone who has a look at my Patreon and a special BIG thank you to those who choose to support me. It means the world. You can find my Patreon here: https://www.patreon.com/Elfy88 --- Anthony is miserable and he has every reason to feel that way. Following his twin children's poorly thought out prank he had found himself forced into a baby role by his wife. The twins have gone off to college but for Anthony the punishment continues. His wife, Jane, is tired of just looking after a baby and wants a real man much to Anthony's chagrin. --- The Cuckolding of Baby Anthony By Elfy Anthony sat in the playpen miserably. It was Sunday, he should’ve been sitting in his armchair and watching football. He should’ve been sipping on a beer having enjoyed a lovely Sunday dinner cooked for him by his loving wife. The only thing he should’ve had to worry about was returning to work on Monday morning. Even that wasn’t so bad, Anthony was a doctor at a local practice and enjoyed it. At least he had before everything changed. Now he was sat amongst baby toys in nothing but a diaper and a t-shirt. Everything had changed about six months previously. Anthony enjoyed an affluent lifestyle and what seemed like a perfect family. Then his twins pulled a prank on some kid they knew at school and everything had been flipped upside down. It was Jane, Anthony’s wife and the twins’ mother, who suggested putting them in diapers as a punishment. Anthony had agreed but wanted as little to do with it as possible. Anthony found the punishment weird but for the most part it didn’t affect him. That was until Jane learned that the twins had used Anthony’s access to medical records to find out about the pranked kids disability. It was obviously against the surgery’s guidelines and the law to leave these records unsecured at home. Before Anthony knew what was happening he found himself joining the twins in their baby treatment. It was humiliating, embarrassing, mortifying and every other word you could find in a thesaurus connected to shame. For the twins the punishment had ended. They had been suitably humbled before going off to college. Anthony expected his own punishment to end then as well but Jane apparently had other plans. Now here he was several months later still in diapers and still being treated like a baby. The problem he had was that Jane had developed a liking for this new dynamic. She felt she had always been used as a doormat by Anthony even though she earned all the money and did all the chores. Now she was getting her own back. Anthony’s diaper was wet but that wasn’t anything unusual. He was reluctantly playing with his toys, more accurately he was pushing a little fire truck backwards and forwards and trying to stop his bored brain from turning to mush. Jane was elsewhere in the house, probably upstairs getting ready to go out or something. It didn’t matter much to him, he knew he wasn’t going anywhere. As Anthony leaned forwards to grab another of his toy cars he felt an aching fullness in his bowels. It was all he could do to not subconsciously react to the feeling with an immediate push down from his tummy. He had been in diapers for months, he couldn’t even remember when he last used the toilet, and it had had an effect on him. Whilst not incontinent by any means he found it distressingly easy to use his diaper no matter where he was or what he was doing. He now had to actively work not to just let go as soon as he felt the need. Anthony was never going to be able to hold it for long though. There was little point anyway, no amount of begging or pleading would allow him to go to the bathroom. He had tried in the past but Jane never relented. Having to beg for the most basic of adult luxuries made him feel even more pathetic when he inevitably lost control. With a groan of resignation Anthony pushed himself up so that he was in a squatting position. Almost immediately his sphincters started to relax and he could feel the process of soiling himself starting. It wasn’t a feeling he was used to even after all this time. The soft poop logs started squeezing out of him. At a steady but constant rate the fecal matter started emptying into his diaper, the warm mush quickly filling the space between his butt cheeks and spreading out. Anthony shivered at the feeling. “Baby, I’m just go-… Oh.” Jane walked into the room from the hallway. Anthony moaned as he was interrupted in this most quiet moment. He couldn’t face his wife like this. He turned away from Jane and grabbed hold of the bars of the playpen. He grunted as he pushed and felt more of the poop entering his disposable. The diaper started to sag and he was sure the back was bulging out. A shiver went down his spine as his bladder released as well. He closed his eyes in shame over what he was doing. “Honestly, I’m running late.” Jane said. She sounded bored, “So if you could hurry up and finish…” “This is yo-…” Anthony was going to talk back to his wife but stopped himself. It wouldn’t have done him any good. As the diaper expanded it crinkled noisily. Anthony pushed down one more time and felt one final tiny little nugget finish the soiling. He took a long shuddering breath as he finally felt himself done. He slowly stood up and turned to face Jane. “Come on, I don’t have all evening.” Jane said as she opened the playpen’s gate. Anthony looked up from the floor to see that Jane was all dressed up. She was wearing a very nice long red dress, her make-up was immaculate and she had some expensive jewellery on. He sniffed back more shame and inadvertently got a whiff of his own smell. He suspected he knew what Jane was doing but that didn’t make it hurt any less. Jane led the way for Anthony up the stairs and into the nursery. It had at one point been the room converted into a nursery for the twins but now it was Anthony’s. Everything in there felt like it belonged to him and that was an embarrassing fact to admit to himself. The changing table on the far side of the room was where he headed. “Come on, let’s get this over with.” Jane said impatiently, “I have a date.” The words cut Anthony like a knife. He visibly winced and paused for a second before continuing his waddling journey on to the changing table. As he laid back and stared up at the ceiling he tried to will the tears that were threatening to overwhelm him away. Jane meanwhile was getting out a fresh diaper and changing supplies, this was a well-practiced routine. “Is… Is it with…” Anthony stuttered quietly. “The same guy as last time?” Jane finished her husband’s question for him, “Yes. We’ve been getting on very well.” Anthony found himself pouting. This was perhaps the worst part of his new status. The diapers and baby treatment were humiliating and awful enough on their own but the fact that Jane was actively dating someone else was even worse. Anthony wasn’t man enough for her and so she had gone out and found someone who was. It was the not knowing that pained Anthony as much as anything else. He didn’t know who this other man was, he didn’t know what they did on these dates, and he didn’t know if they had… sex. Even the thought was enough to make him feel pathetic. Here he was, supposedly a grown man and he was not only letting his wife demean and degrade him but she was actively going out and looking for someone better. Would he be cast away like trash if she found that man? Anthony had no idea and at this point knew better than to try and ask. “Hold still.” Jane warned Anthony, “If you get any of that mess on me and I have to change you’ll get a spanking so hard you won’t be able to sit for a week afterwards.” Anthony knew that this was no idle threat. He remained as still as possible as the front of his diaper was lowered. The smell immediately seemed to fill the room but it was one that both he and Jane were used to by now. He simply stared up at the ceiling and tried to forget that this was all happening. What he wouldn’t have given to go back to a world where he was just a normal man… It took several humiliating minutes for Jane to wipe Anthony clean. By the time the messy diaper was pulled from underneath him Anthony just wanted to be put into his crib so he could go to sleep and hope to dream of a better time. “Since it might be a while before I come home I think we should double up.” Jane said as she pulled a second thick diaper from underneath the changing table. Anthony let out a low moan. If one diaper was bad two diapers were even worse. With doubled up diapers Anthony would find that walking was a challenge. He would be down on his hands and knees crawling around with his giant rear end stuck up in the air. It also meant that Jane didn’t expect to be home any time soon and the implications of that wasn’t something Anthony wanted to think about. “Jane… Mommy… M-Maybe we should…” Anthony’s voice was small and pathetic. He wasn’t even sure what he was going to ask for. To stop the baby treatment? For Jane not to see other men? To go back to how things used to be? Maybe he was going to ask for all of those things, as futile as it was. “Hmm?” Jane grunted as she unfolded the two diapers and placed them in position, “What was that?” “Nothing.” Anthony sighed. He’d asked those questions a thousand times before and the answer was always the same. “Good boy.” Jane smiled and tapped the side of Anthony’s thigh, “Lift up.” Anthony did as he was told. His hips left the padded table and Jane slid the freshly prepared double diaper underneath him. When he lowered back down he could instantly feel the thick padding on the table top. It was like laying on a pillow, his waist was forced up higher than the rest of him. The first diaper was lifted up between Anthony’s legs and taped closed. Normally that would be the end of it but this time the second diaper came up over the top of the first one and was also tightly fastened. He tried to squeeze his legs together but the massive amount of absorbent material between his thighs prevented it, he couldn’t even touch his knees together. The humiliation wasn’t over though. Anthony slowly sat up as Jane walked across the bedroom to the closet. He looked down at his crotch and blushed when he saw just how much it was bulging out in every direction, he reached down and prodded the padding as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “Here we go.” Jane said as she unhooked something from one of the hangers. Anthony slipped off the edge of the table and wobbled slightly as he looked over to his wife. She was holding a dark red onesie, it was one of her favourites. Anthony would be lying if he said it wasn’t one of his favourites as well. The white cuffs around the edges made it fit very well and the material was extremely comfortable. Anthony dutifully lifted his hands as Jane pulled it down over his arms and head. “Hmm, I didn’t count on these extra thick diapers.” Jane said as she crouched down in front of Anthony and pulled the flaps of the stretchy material. Anthony felt the onesie getting pulled down and was embarrassed that the clothing designed to go over people’s diapers was struggling with his extra thick padding. Eventually and after pulling on the front of the back of the onesie enough to nearly rip it the poppers were pushed together. Anthony was then turned by the shoulders towards the crib. “But it’s so early…” Anthony whined as he looked out the window at the light that was still streaming in. “Well I’m not going to be around to put you to bed later.” Jane said as she patted Anthony’s thickly padded rear end. Anthony was scowling as he climbed into the crib and sat against the far side bars. He watched unhappily as Jane lifted the side and locked it into place. She smiled as she looked through to Anthony. “I’ll see you soon, baby.” Jane said as she placed a large bottle of juice next to the mattress, “Don’t wait up!” As Jane left the nursery Anthony could only watch on helplessly. He felt like a prisoner at the best of times but when left in his crib like this it felt more like he was in solitary confinement. He listened and heard Jane’s phone ring downstairs, she answered and after a small pause was laughing. He couldn’t help wondering if she and whoever she was dating was sharing a good laugh about him. After a few more minutes a car honked their horn outside followed by the front door opening and closing. Anthony was alone in his baby bed with only some stuffies for company. --- If you want to read what happens next RIGHT NOW you can find the next part of the story here: https://www.patreon.com/posts/cuckolding-of-85806377

After dinner is finished. I walk into the bathroom where my wife has already drawn a warm bath for me. The first thing is to clean me up them she uses J&J baby shamppoo to wah my hair. after all cleaned up I walk over to my changing table in the bedroom. The first thing is to rub me all over with rubbing alcohol. Then after that my wife slips a diaper underneath me. For the past few weeks my wife has placed a baby powder bottle near a cool/cold area of the room to give the effect of coolness to my body. She then sprinkles it on me and closes my diaper and placed me into a onsie for the evening. A baby bottle and then paci are then given to me for the remainder of the evening

'Your call is important to us: Your wait time is 3 changes"

That's right big bro! It can be extremely fun.😁 My favorite girly diapers are diapers with flowers on them with a pinkish diaper design. And a pink diaper design but with stars on them instead. It makes me feel so little and babyish. I also like girly footie jammies and onesies and girly boyish clothes, like a pink shortall.😁😃♥️💖

My wife knew what my day had been like as I slumped into the passenger seat of her car. “Rough day at work?” She asked as the car pulled out of the parking lot and headed home. “You have no idea,” I replied. “It’s like no one believes that I can just, do my job competently. My car being stuck in the shop doesn't help either. Thanks for picking me up honey.” “Well, you can’t blame them,” My wife said. “After all, you are still Mommy’s little diaper wearing sissy. A little sissy diaper baby. Who’s Mommy’s little sissy diaper boy?” She said, her voice dropping into the teasing, mocking tone of baby talk. “Who’s Mommy’s little sissy diaper boy?” She asked again, looking over at me when I didn’t respond to her initial question. “I am,” I said, picking up at her words. “Yes you are. Yes you are. So smart, so smart. Such a smart little sissy diaper boy,” She continued on. “Do you need your diapers? I bet you need your diapers tonight, don’t you?” “Yes please, Mommy.” My wife smiled, and the rest of the drive continued on in an excited silence for the evening to come. Before we went home my Mommy/wife decided to stop at the grocery store. “I think I will make a nice yummy steak for myself tonight,” She said as we grabbed a cart and entered the store. “And we will make a nice, yummy smoothie for my little sissy. A steak is far too hard for a little sissy to eat. You need something soft and nutritious.” I tried following my wife around the store as she shopped, but, worn out from work, I began lagging behind her. About halfway through shopping, Mommy turned and sternly said to me, “That’s it little sissy, hands on the cart. If you aren’t going to be a good boy and stay with Mommy I am going to make you keep your hands on the cart so you don’t wander off and get taken home by some mean domme looking for a new sissy to punish.” Embarrassment from her words and having to keep my hands on the cart like a child was the final shot I needed to shake off my exhaustion from the office and be ready for the night ahead. When we got home, Mommy ordered me to bring my high chair up from the basement, water the garden, and bring in the mail before joining her in the bedroom. “In that order, sissy.” She made sure to emphasize. I understood the reason for the ordering when I entered our bedroom. My time outside had given her time to get ready for the evening, without me hearing her shuffle through the deep recesses of our closet for the items she had laid out on the bed. "Arms up baby," Mommy ordered as she came over to me. She had slipped into a retro 50's style dress while I was watering the vegetables and flowers. It was her go-to outfit whenever she was feeling dominant. It only took her a moment to unbutton my shirt and pull it off my body. Another minute and my socks and shoes were tossed out of the way. A third and I was stepping out of my slacks and underwear, pooled around my ankles. I was then gently laid on top of the old, pink blanket we had found at a garage sale that served as my changing mat. I watched as Mommy slid a latex glove over her hand and poured some lubricant on it. A gasp slipped past my lips as one of her fingers penetrated me. She slid it slowly in and out. In and out, gently preparing me for what was coming next. Just like she had with her finger, Mommy lubed the anal beads, then gently slid them into my asshole. Each bead felt more pleasurable than the last as it popped inside me, and I moaned as Mommy forced the last few beads in my rectum. The sensation as they entered, and the pressure against my prostate, felt wonderful. Then the sensual pleasure of the beads was replaced by a shiver as Mommy used a baby wipe to wipe off the excess lube and my sweat from the day. She grabbed the diaper set aside. The pattern had princesses wearing pink dresses and standing next to ponies. She unfolded the diaper, then roughly folded and mashed it, breaking up the tight packing of the absorbent material. This made the diaper thicker and more poofy. Satisfied with her work, she gave me a single word command, "Up." Dutifully, I raised my legs and grabbed my ankles, holding my feet aloft. Mommy then slid the diaper underneath me, and manhandled me around until I was positionedhow she wanted me. I let out another contented sigh and babyish coos as I smelled the scent of baby powder and felt it sprinkled across my skin. These soft coos quickly turned to lustful moans. Mommy always made sure the baby powder was thoroughly rubbed into my dick and balls. She finally decided she had done an adequate job of protecting my gentle sissy skin when my body was bucking in time with her ministrations. The front of the diaper was then folded up and the tapes were tightly pulled so the diaper was snug across my body, providing the sensuous comfort and cradling that every adult baby and diaper lover craves. Mommy then helped me to sit up on the edge of the bed. She slid a pair of white, frilly ankle socks onto my feet. She then pulled my pink, "Crybaby" onesie down over my head. After helping me stand up, l felt Mommy closing the crotch snaps. She then made me hold my hands out. Leather bondage mittens soon encased my hands. The snap of two heart shaped padlocks meant that I would wear all of my babyish attire until mommy decided it was time to take it off. One of my giant pink pacifiers was slipped between my lips and clipped the strap to the bib of the onesie. Lastly one of my frilly bonnets was set on top of my head and tied tightly underneath my chin. Mommy then had me lead her back downstairs to the kitchen. She always enjoyed watching me toddle down the stairs in my thick diapers, and me leading meant she didn't have to miss a moment. Once we reached the kitchen, Mommy helped me step up into my highchair, locking the tray and by extension me in place. The living room is visible from the kitchen, and Bluey was soon playing on the tv. I was also given a doll to help occupy me while I waited for dinner. I did my best to be a good sissy and wait patiently for dinner. I had already watched the episodes of Bluey Mommy had set the TV to several times though, and there wasn't much I could think to do with just a single doll. So, it only took about five minutes for the soft cradling sensation of the diaper against my dick and balls combined with the anal beads rubbing on my prostate to make me a horny little sissy in my highchair. After a couple minutes of my highchair squeaking from me trying to somehow get off by humping in place, I attracted Mommy’s attention. Mercifully or cruelly, depending on your point of view, she gave me a magic wand. It felt good, but confined as I was, I couldn't get the vibrator into the right position to do more than edge myself. Trying to cum before Mommy decided it would be more fun for her to take the vibrator away, I wet my diaper hoping the thicker padding would let me apply more pressure. It didn't thanks to the tray and my own thick thighs. Mommy giggled at me as she brought dinner over. Her steak smelled delicious and was making me salivate. I'd also only succeeded in making myself even hornier with the vibrator. Needless to say, I was frustrated at this point and didn't appreciate her laughter as she took the magic wand away from me. I glared at her, but with my pacifier and bonnet my glare only made her laugh at me more. "Oh, I see someone is a fussy baby diaper boy," Mommy said, setting her steak down on the table. It looked as delicious as it smelled, and a small amount of drool slipped past my pacifier and down my face as I looked at it. Mommy left and returned with my dinner and a bright white bib. Mommy tied the bib tightly around my neck and adjusted the tray so my arms could not get out from underneath it, while I examined my dinner. Mommy's baby food dinners for me were best summarized as eccentric. The peaches and cream had been palatable. The baby food jars of yams and green peas mixed together made me retch. I wasn't quite sure where this fit on that scale. My meal was three semi mushy purple balls in one of my baby bowls, with a baby bottle filled with water to wash whatever it was down. Mommy pulled her chair out and sat down. She took a few bites of her steak, and commented on how tender and juicy it was. She then pulled the dummy out of my mouth, scooped a large helping of the concoction up, and stuffed it into my mouth. I swallowed the spoonful and opened my mouth for more. My dinner, as it turned out, was vanilla ice cream blended with several different berries, and it was delicious. Mommy gave me a second spoonful before putting the nipple of the baby bottle to my mouth to suckle at for a bit. We kept this pattern until both of our dinners were finished, her taking a few bites of her steak and a couple sips of wine, before feeding me a couple bites and letting me suckle from my bottle. When we were both finished she wiped my face off with the bib before untying it from my neck and sticking my soother back into my mouth. I was left to sit, suck, and wonder what was next while she tidied up the remains of dinner. When Mommy returned she reached down under the tray and poked at my diaper, feeling it fuller than before she said, "Awe, such a good baby sissy diaper boy, using your diapers just like you should. Now, our you ready for a nap?" I glowered around my pacifier and underneath my bonnet at that. I didn't want to be put to bed so early in the evening, and without cumming. My expression made mommy say though, "oh, that definitely proves that someone needs a nap. Now come on." She undid the tray, and helped me down from the highchair. She led me upstairs to our bedroom and laid me down on top of the bedspread. Mommy then took one of the lengths of ribbon we kept in the nightstand and tied my mittened hands to the headboard with it. She told me to be a good baby and stay put while she was gone for a second. I looked after her confused about what we were doing. I understood what she meant by nap though as she returned to the bedroom, magic wand in hand. Mommy unzipped her dress and pulled it off, revealing the lingerie she had been wearing underneath. She then plugged the magic wand into the outlet and climbed on top of me. She rested her crotch above mine, pressing her lacy panties against the padding of my diaper. She then stuck the magic wand between us, and switched it on. She ground her hips into the magic wand and my diaper, humping and thrusting as she pleasured us. Well, more accurately, she pleasured herself on top of me. The vibrations of the magic wand weer still intense enough to stimulate my dick though, and each time she humped the vibrator on top of me she drove the anal beads against my prostate. Soon we were both on the verge of orgasm. I came as soon as I felt Mommy’s legs squeezing me. She always tightened her legs as she was coming, and that drove the vibrator straight against my cock, the vibrations and pressure sending me over the edge as I released inside of my diaper. She came soon after, shutting the vibrator off and crumbling into a ball next to me. We laid like that for a while, basking in our post-orgasmic glow. Mommy recovered before me. She got up, gave me a kiss and headed into our bathroom. I heard water running, but I was still too out of it from my orgasm to register what exactly she was doing. Five minutes later though she returned, and freed me from both the headboard and the bondage mittens. She gently undressed me, untying my bonnet, peeling the ankle socks off of my feet, unsnapping the crotch snaps and pulling my onesie off over my head. Last she undid the tapes of my diaper and unceremoniously tossed it in the trash. Mommy then took me to the bathroom, where she had prepared a bubble bath for me. I eased into the tub. The bubbles and warmth of the water were absolutely wonderful. Mommy left me to push the mounds of bubbles around for a few minutes by myself. She returned with a baby bottle of cool water. For a while we sat and enjoyed the presence of each other, me sucking on my bottle and playing with the bubbles while she sat on the toilet reading a book on her phone. When I finished my bottle she put her phone down and began bathing me. I relaxed even further and began to feel sleepy under her ministrations. She tenderly massaged my scalp as she shampooed my hair, and rubbed away aches and pains as she lathered my body with a soapy washcloth. I was fighting off yawns while she rinsed me off, and it took all of the willpower I could still muster to keep my eyes open as she wrapped a warm fluffy towel around me to dry me off. When finished, Mommy led me back to our bed where a fresh diaper awaited me. I was powdered again and this diaper was taped tight against me. This time a pair of plastic panties were slid over the diaper. Mommy decided to put me in a new outfit for bed, a frilly purple diaper cover and pink ballerina shirt. The oversized binky was returned to my lips, and Mommy slipped a pair of headphones into my ears playing an audiobook for me while I fell asleep. She then kissed me on the top of my head and headed back to the bathroom to take a shower herself. I was already softly snoring before She reached the bathroom door, reliving this wonderful evening in my dreams. The End.

I have an unexpected opportunity to connect to internet this morning, so you all benefit with the next chapter! Chapter 35: Scenes I FOUND MYSELF walking inside Destiny Hall, where my mom had sat thirty years ago. The lecture hall and building had been relatively new then, so age had definitely taken a toll on the hallways. Inside, it seemed like they must have undergone a recent renovation, though, as paint and furnishings seemed as updated as the classrooms I’d been in. I’d run into Ava and Amy on my way inside, and we sat about four rows back in the auditorium. The room filled with about a hundred students as people took their seats. “What is this class?” Ava whispered to me. “Propaganda 102,” I replied. “My mom always described this class as being one session after another about so-called Little Rights, but really being about you’re better off turning yourself over to Student Services to be adopted.” Ava made a face at me, “Adopted? Really?” I nodded, “We’ve already had a few students go the hard way. Noah definitely was sent to probably an orphanage or etiquette center,” I whispered to her. “What’s an etiquette center?” she whispered back. “We can’t talk that openly here,” I told her, “But think of a brainwashing clinic plus surgeries to make a perfect forever baby.” She looked horrified, “Why did you come here if you knew all of this? I never believed any of the rumors!” “Well, I was Betweener size back home!” I reminded her. “The tech was worth it, though?” “I’d go home right now if we could,” Ava said nervously. “Don’t even suggest it,” I told her just as Dean Northrup made her way up to the front of a podium, and an enormous holo-screen behind her flared to life. ‘Welcome Back, Griffin Chicks!’ it read. “Not condescending at all…?” I heard Ava mutter. I elbowed her gently and said, “Shh!” “Good afternoon, boys and girls; I hope you had a great Winter Break from studying!” Dean Northrup said. “This is our second semester of Little Seminar for you freshmen, but we have a brand-new group of Chicks here from several other dimensions! Would those exchange students please stand up, and everyone else, please give them a warm Griffin welcome!” I begrudgingly stood with Ava and Amy for a second before sitting down, growing taller with the booster on the chair than I had been standing! “We know it’s a big transition for most of you to our dimension with the larger size of everything than you’re used to, but we’ll do everything we can to help you settle in!” The screen changed to ‘Updates’ and featured a picture of a pile of Pull-Ups and some diapers. “Today’s seminar will be shorter than normal, as today we just want to make sure you are aware of some updates and remind you of some rules since you returned. First, we’ve received many complaints from your nest mothers that we haven’t been stocking enough options for our smallest Chicks. With that being said, we have struck a deal with a couple companies to start stocking Pull-Ups in Little sizes that should fit down to those of you who are only forty-four pounds. We also have a dozen more prints and brands of diapers for those of you to give you a variety of more fun options. Your nest mothers will have a brochure for you to look at tonight, and you all may select up to four more products per person to have stocked in your rooms.” ‘How exciting! More options for diapers!!!’ I thought sarcastically. A glance at Amy, though, showed she was actually kind of relieved. Only then, as she squirmed and her skirt flashed up, I remembered she was stuck in diapers with no other options. “Next, we have completed a renovation in three buildings, Marconi, Euler, and Kilby, with new changing facilities if you need a diaper change. We’ve partnered with our AI department to create a new HoloCare Center in each! Each center is capable of caring for eight Littles needs simultaneously in each of those rooms. Changes are generally possible in two minutes or less! We hope to reduce the need for you to travel back to your nests as often. Of course, the care center will return any information for your potty charts to your nest mother.” ‘Of course!’ I thought. ‘At least they probably won’t abuse you,’ I thought. ‘Kelly changing a diaper certainly would not be a friendly person,’ I shuddered at that thought! “There are eight different caregivers in those centers with their own personalities; we hope you’ll find yourself comfortable there when you visit!” Warning signals were going on in my head then, but of course, I kept quiet. Some squeaking of the folding lecture hall chairs signaled the discomfort of the other Littles. “Two more things, and then we’ll wrap up for today. First, the university is looking at reducing the number of accidents in Pull-Ups before we mandate better protection. A survey of professors and nest mothers indicates a lot of leaky garments last semester that resulted in fabric cleaning needed on chairs in classrooms and other areas. The student government will vote on the proposal during the elections next week. The move would change the current three wet accidents per day, or fifteen per week, to two wet accidents per day, or eight per week. Poopy accidents would change from two per day, or five per week, to two per week.” There was a good amount of grumbling at this change. “Now, I know no one likes having fewer chances, boys and girls, but we have to look after the health and safety of the campus! We do want to make it fair, though, so it’ll be a proposition on the ballot next week. Make sure you vote how you feel there, and the rest of the student body will as well!” She paused for a second, “Remember, normally, after eight weeks, you are allowed to try again to regain your Pull-Ups or big kid pants, but we do insist on a cooling-off period for everyone once you are asked to wear more absorbent garments.” I kept my mouth shut, and almost everyone else did too. “Eight weeks?!?” Someone shouted, “I have to stay in diapers for eight weeks because I’m getting poisoned by someone?!?” I turned, and I could see a boy from our exchange group on the other side of the lecture hall. Luca wasn’t someone I had interacted with much in the last week, but the puffiness of his pants showed he was back in diapers. “It’s okay, little one; you’ll get another chance.” “This is fucking bullshit!” he said. I watched simultaneously as Dean Northrup’s eyes narrowed, and she seemed gleeful. “Would you please come up here, Little boy?” “No!” he said. I sighed, counting the demerits in my head already. “I won’t ask again,” she said coolly. “You have until the count of three to be moving up here! One…” I looked over at him and saw he was planted. “Two…” He started moving; I hoped he was showing some sense. Then he turned on the spot in the aisle and walked up the aisle away from her. “Three!” She sighed, “Bring him up here, please,” she said. Only then did I realize at least a few of the nest mothers were present. Madelyn roughly grabbed him and took him up to the front of the room with him kicking, screaming, and cussing the whole time. Despite the physical fight she was engaged in with the small boy, she was smiling sadistically the entire time. His struggling did no good; even with Luca being bigger than I was by more than a foot-and-a-half, he was like a preschooler fighting with a mother at best. She easily held him, and his kicks to her side and stomach did no damage. “Well, that escalated rather quickly,” Dean Northrup said as she approached him. I watched as she found a chair to the side and sat in it, motioning for Madelyn to hand him over. Northrup yanked his pants down as the giant woman pulled him over her knee. The rip of the diaper tapes seemed amplified, and I watched as even he struggled that she calmly handed it to Madelyn, who balled it up and looked on with glee. Seconds Dean Northrup’s hand began hitting Luca’s bare butt-cheeks, making everyone jump in their seats! Each smack was so loud I worried he wouldn’t have a rear left when she was done! BETH WAS GLAD to see Reila was doing okay and ran into Cassie as she left the dorm to head to the Matisse center for her next class. “How were your classes so far today?” She asked her. “Haven’t had one yet,” Cassie smiled at her. “All late classes today?” “Yeah, it kind of sucks that they go till nine tonight, but it still beats waking up for a morning class!” Beth nodded, “I bet that would be nice!” “You?” Beth shrugged, “This is the semester from hell, I’m afraid; my workload is nuts!” “I saw your schedule; I believe it!” “Yeah, I’m hoping this next class will be fun, at least!” “This is your film class?” Cassie asked. “Yeah, I knew a couple juniors who took it last year and said it was their favorite elective class. It’s a serious class for the film majors, but they open it up to non-majors to have more than enough people to do the projects.” “This is the one they actually film movies in, right?” “I don’t think they’re full-length, but yeah. What do you have now?” “Watercolor I,” she smiled. “I’m also getting one non-serious class for the semester.” “Should be fun,” Beth said with a smile. They had to pass the daycare on their way to class. She felt her blood grow cold as she noticed Dean Northrup walking beside one of the nest mothers carrying the sobbing form of a Little with the bottom half of their uniform missing. They still wore their uniform coat, but she knew what that walk meant. As they passed, she smelled that the diaper needed to be changed, too, even as the boy said, “Just let me go home! You can’t do this to me!!!!” Or at least that’s what Beth interpreted his sobbing snot filled speech. When they had gotten far enough past, she said, “Poor guy.” Cassie nodded, “Sounds like one of the Portal Littles. Glad it wasn’t Connor.” “Me too; hopefully, he’s smart enough not to push things that far!” Beth walked with Cassie into the building and found her way into the large projection hall used for the lectures and planning for this course. It featured stacked levels of seats and desk chairs behind tables to spread out notes on. She noticed a certain head of long blonde hair and smiled. “I didn’t realize this was the class you were talking about?” She said to Connor, who was just climbing on his booster seat. Connor turned towards her, and a frown became more of a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, “Hi Beth, I guess I never asked which film class you were taking!” “May I sit next to you?” She found herself asking. “Sure,” Connor said, moving his bag to the other side of him from her on the table. “What’s wrong?” She asked quietly. “What do you mean?” “I’ve only known you a few days, but it’s obvious something’s wrong?” Beth insisted. “Just got to watch another of our dimensional exchange group bite the dust,” Connor said with a shrug. “One, I know?” Beth asked, even though she really didn’t want to know. He shook his head, “No, I haven’t hung out with him at all. He was in one of the other nests because he was closer to six-feet tall.” She nodded, “So they are arranged by height?” “They said they’re not, but it would be an awful coincidence otherwise,” Connor told her. She nodded, “Yeah, it would be. So how was your morning class? Didn’t you have another film class?” He actually smiled then, “Yeah, screenwriting. We’re actually writing the scripts that will be the projects for this class.” “Oh? That’s cool!” Beth said genuinely. “What are you writing about?” I WAS ABOUT to fill Beth in on my idea when a professor stood at the front of the classroom, and the lights went out. A really cool Holo-Movie sequence suddenly filled the room with light, and the sound from the speakers literally shook my lungs with the bass. “Cool!” I couldn’t help but exclaim! I watched a sequence of images come together into an apparent studio graphic used by the university film program, and the lights returned to their normal setting. “Good afternoon! Welcome to Cinematic Narratives; I’m Professor Wyler! This is one of the first major courses for our Film students and a great introductory course for those of you who might be in other majors. Our philosophy here at Emerson is there is absolutely no way to teach you everything you need to know about filmmaking in a semester or even a four-year course of study. So, we’ve chosen to make Cinematic Narratives a crash course in film. This class will explore the latest industry cameras for holo-productions, directing, creating scenes, sound effects, and basic acting coaching.” I felt like that was too much for a single course already! “Now, the cool thing about our course is that we are not operating as a stand-alone course but as a collaboration with several other courses and studios through the university. This morning students in the Screenwriting class were given a project to write the scripts for their first projects to film. They have until Thursday to complete an outline and storyboarding and then another week to have a completed script for a forty-two-minute pilot TV episode or short film. That prevents you all from having to write your own scripts!” He paused and smiled; the beard on his jaw was white and highlighted his face. “Unless, of course, you’re taking both courses! I know we have nine of you who are doing so. Can I get you all to stand up, so everyone can see who they can use for resources?” I stood then and turned to look around. My blood turned cold when I realized Kelly was in the class too! She saw me notice her and winked at me. I turned forward, sat back down, and listened to the next part of his speech, talking about the other related courses. Apparently, the theatrical department had a makeup and costume studio set of classes that would be helping us with costumes and makeup for actors. When we completed our films, there was a film music composition class that would create musical soundtracks for the films. It was more like the real world than expected in a college setting! “So, you may be asking yourselves, what’s first?” He smiled, “Well, first up for you has got to be an introduction to the ideas behind framing a scene...” Fortunately, I had taken three semesters of photography and a semester of Intro to Cinematography back home, so I was pretty comfortable with the basics he taught. The main missing piece for me was how these Holo-Cameras worked and how you focused everything with lenses on focusing your eyes properly with the Holo-Lenses. He wasn’t kidding when he said it was a crash course because there were probably three semesters of photography shoved into one ninety-minute lecture. “Now, on Thursday, during the second half of our class, we will be focused on practical hands-on applications of the concepts I have just been teaching you. We’ll divide you up into your groups at that time as well. Eighty of you are in this course, and we’ll be creating four ‘studios’ for your projects. I know many of you will be asking to be with a friend or something, but keep in mind we have already picked these groups based on skills we know you have. Those groups will be posted along with your modules on the course site in about an hour. If you don’t have any other questions?” He paused, “Very good! Have a good evening!” “I have a feeling this is another heavy workload course…?” Beth sighed as we stood up, and she stretched. “This’ll be the fun one, though?” I said. “At least you’re not in the screenwriting class too!” She smiled grimly, “Yeah, I don’t envy you there. What are you up to now?” “Was planning to return to the dorm and get some dinner?” “Want to skip the dorm and have an early dinner with me? The dining hall will be opening about now.” I looked up at her, “Sure!” I paused, “Let me message Miss Mackenzie, though!” I received an okay message, and the two of us enjoyed having dinner with each other. I learned more about Beth and her siblings as we sat there. Soon we were joined by Cassie, Livy, and a new friend of hers, Reila. Reila wasn’t there long before she and Cassie headed off to late-night classes that Littles would never be allowed to register for! By the time I reached the dorm, I only had two hours remaining before lights out, so I focused on cramming for my morning classes and anything that wasn’t done. I also managed to get the final work done for my math class, and with just about fifteen minutes left, I scrambled to write my screenplay outline. I was only two scenes away from finishing the basics when Mackenzie said, “Okay, Kits, go use the potty, brush your teethers, then come see me for your nighttime diapees!” I wasn’t the only one who groaned then. Still, I saved my work, shut down the school computer I’d been using to create the outline on their software, and headed to the bathroom with a small caddy. I brushed my teeth first since all the stalls were taken, then rotated in to go to the bathroom. At the changing table, she said, “Oh my, Connor, you managed another day of perfect stars!” I blushed, “Thanks...” She held me up to the chart to put my stars up, and I couldn’t help but note that Liam no longer had a potty chart. “Where’s Liam’s?” I asked quietly as she laid me down. “Oh, silly boy, he doesn’t need one anymore,” she said with a smile. “No need to have one since he’s just using his diapees!” “Oh,” I said. I thought back to my memory of the potty charts and how many frowny faces and poop stickers were on most of the charts. If they went through with that proposed change for standards to be moved to diapers, I felt I would be the only one not in diapers in my nest. I wasn’t the final one in my pod that night, probably only the third to be put to bed. From my pod, I watched Mackenzie quickly diaper and dress the rest of my nest mates. I couldn’t help but note it seemed like she took more time on me than the others. Liam was the last one that night, and it was clear the diaper was not only wet when it came off. “Poor guy,” I thought and turned away from the clear outside to give the guy some privacy. ‘I can’t believe it’s only been two days of classes!’ I thought as I closed my eyes and attempted to get some much-needed sleep! ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ I'm still traveling with limited privacy, so I may not respond to comments as soon as I normally do. Please leave the comments and likes though, so I can smile when I do get on next!!!!! The next chapter will be posted next Friday evening, thanks for reading!

For those that wet the bed growing up what always it like? How often did you wet? Did you have to wear diapers? When did you stop wetting? What age were you when you started diapering yourself if ever?

Sarah's mom is a strict disciplinarian, with rules for anything and everything. When the 14-year-old girl begins to wet her pants again, will she be able to avoid getting caught in the web of all her mother's rules? Her mother is currently attempting to potty train Sarah's 3-year-old sister, Emilia, and it's been a disaster so far. Her mother has instituted a strict regimen of potty-training rules for Emilia, and as Sarah begins to experience an ever-increasing amount of daytime and bedwetting accidents, she must navigate school, sleepovers, cheerleading practices, and a new friendship while attempting to keep her condition a secret. --- Links to all of my stories are available at https://abdlwriter.wordpress.com Chapter 1: Crime and Punishment Christmas was my mother’s favorite time of the year. Can’t say the same for myself. I mean, don’t get me wrong. I liked Christmas as much as any other kid. Racing down the stairs at the crack of dawn to get the first glimpse of the surprises beneath the tree. Decorating cookies. And candy canes. I absolutely loved candy canes. But Mom took it to the extreme. And by extreme, I mean that I’d just stepped off the bus to the sight of her at the top of a ladder stringing lights across the front of the house. It was the first week of October. I did my best to keep a straight face despite the giggles coming from my friends Desi and Samantha. They knew the drill, but it didn’t make the situation any less funny to them. At least this year, Mom was not putting up Christmas-themed Halloween decorations. Skeleton Santa, anybody? Yeah, no thanks. I try not to make eye contact with Mom. I swear she was always trying to come up with new ways to embarrass me. She had on the absolute worst Christmas sweater, which was saying a lot because she’s got a closet full of them. It was unusually chilly for a fall day in New Mexico, and any excuse to wear a sweater was a good one for her. Walking quietly up the driveway, I nearly reached the front door - Christmas wreath on it and all - without catching her eye. Like I’d ever gotten away with that. “Sarah,” Mom yelled. “Make sure to check up on your sister before you start your homework. It’s been about thirty minutes.” “Sure thing, Mom,” I reply, followed by a sigh that was too small for her to notice. I might be turning fifteen soon, but any noticeable back-talk or back-anything meant risking some hard swats to my bottom. Having been an only child for the first eleven years of my existence, I was so thrilled when Emilia was born three-and-a-half years ago. I had helped decorate Emilia’s nursery, picking out all the colors and accessories. I even arrived at the hospital all proud with by big sister shirt on. That thrill had lasted all of three weeks until I graduated from adoring older sister to unpaid babysitter. And don’t tell me it builds character. I’d heard that cliché more than enough. I opened the door to the sound of “I’m dreaming of a White Christmas” serenading through the house, followed by the pitter-patter of bare feet scrambling across the wood floor. “You’re home! You’re home,” Emilia yelled as she rushed around the corner and gave me a hug around my waist. I mean, of course, I’m home. Not like Mom usually let me go anywhere else after school was out. Fourteen might be old enough to babysit my sister, but Mom didn’t think it was old enough to do things like sleepovers. Emilia was dressed in a pink Minnie Mouse t-shirt with a matching pink Minnie Mouse pull-up. If you were wondering what Mom had asked me to check, let’s just say my latest responsibility was being conscripted into the great potty-training war. This was our third attempt. Unfortunately, Mom hadn’t found my jokes about “World War Pee” to be particularly funny. We had made two heroic attempts at potty-training already: once when Emilia had turned two and again after her third birthday. We tried every tactic we could think of. Stickers, charts, rewards, special “big-girl” panties, potty-training toilets in every room of the house. There was a week where we had let Emilia just run around naked. That was such a mess. Mom had even half-joked about having me wear pull-ups to model good potty-training behavior for Emilia. I’m so glad she didn’t go through with that. This time around, though, we needed to succeed. There weren’t any other options. Emilia would be kicked out of her preschool if she wasn’t toilet trained by her fourth birthday. Mom threw a fuss with the daycare, but I don’t blame them. Who wants to be changing a four-year-old’s dirty diaper? I sure as heck didn't. Our most recent strategy was for Emilia to be wearing a special potty-training watch that went off every thirty minutes to remind her to go to the toilet. We’ve given up on those plastic potty-chairs - such a pain to clear up after - and had instead settled for a toddler seat that could be quickly placed on the toilet in our lone bathroom. “Guess what? Guess What?” Emilia clamored while giggling. “I’ve been dry all day.” I’m a bit skeptical of that statement. Emilia isn’t very good at noticing her accidents. What was that phrase Mr. Higgins had taught us from that president recently in history class? Oh yeah, “Trust, but verify.” Emilia smelled good, at least, so she hasn’t done a number two. That was a relief. The last thing I needed right now was a poopy pull-up to change. I checked the front of her pull-up as well, and the wetness indicators were, surprisingly enough, all still unchanged. Guess she was dry after all. At home, Mom never let Emilia wear anything to cover her pull-up. She wanted to always be able to know right away whether it was dry, wet, or messy. Beep, beep, beep, beep. Well, Mom was right about the timer needing to go off. “Come on, kiddo, it’s time to get you on the potty,” I said, grabbing Emilia by the hand. This was followed by her usual, drawn-out protestations: “I don’t have to go. I don’t. I don’t have to. I... I don’t.” Then she stomped her feet and started to pout. Emilia wouldn’t have dared to do that with Mom, but I’m the good cop after all. On other days, I might have attempted to gently cajole her into cooperation. Today I wasn’t having any of it. I grabbed her under the armpits with both hands and hauled her off to the bathroom with her whining all the way. A few minutes later, it turned out that she had needed to pee after all. With the potty-training out of the way - for half-an-hour at least - I raced off to the kitchen to get an after-school snack. A few minutes of looking through the cupboards, fridge, and pantry left me feeling less hungry. There isn’t junk food of any type in sight. Mom had been on a health binge recently. I settle for a bag of veggie chips instead. I take a look at my own watch. Thankfully, it didn’t come with a timer telling me when I had to go to the bathroom. But I had to start doing homework at 4:30 p.m. That’s another one of Mom’s rules. So that gave me just about twenty minutes or so to relax. I wasn’t the only one getting a break. Mom was in the living room as well, showing Emilia how to put together a simple puzzle - of Minnie Mouse no less, cause that was my sister’s thing right now. I had barely been on the couch for just a couple seconds when Mom interrupted me. “Did you wash your hands before you started eating, young lady?” she asked. Mom had certain ways of saying things. Young lady means she knows full well what the truthful answer was. Any attempt to fib your way out of the situation would be futile. “I’ll do it right now,” I replied. I didn’t want to outright admit how close I had come to breaking one of her rules. “Remember, twenty seconds,” Mom yelled after I had already headed off to the bathroom sink. When I came back to the living room, I wanted to take over the TV. There had to be something entertaining on. But I knew better than to interrupt what Mom was watching - home videos of our previous Christmas mornings. Look, most families videotape their Christmas mornings, and then that’s the end of it. They might upload it to YouTube or let the tapes collect dust in a cardboard box in the basement. But my mom, she loves to go back and watch them. It gets her in the Christmas spirit. I grabbed a library book instead and picked up from where I had left my last bookmark. “Why is Sarah wearing a pull-up?” Emilia interjected suddenly. I was confused at first. I mean, I had panties on, after all. Then it dawned on me. Bless young children and their questions. I looked up from my book to the video playing on the TV. The slightly grainy footage must have been about six years old. But there I was, clear as day, opening presents next to the Christmas tree while wearing no clothing other than a pull-up adorned with a colorful assortment of flowers and butterflies. The pull-up was sagging between my legs and clearly soaked. I looked at the screen awkwardly for a few more seconds as felt my face go flush red before turning back to intently looking at my book. Yes, I used to be a bedwetter, and my mom had ample evidence of it for all posterity. That was not something I liked being reminded about and was certainly not a subject I cared for my blabbermouth of a sister to be aware of. OK, this was too embarrassing. I hopped off the couch, tossed my empty bowl into the sink, and walked toward my bedroom. Getting an early start on homework was better than watching videos of myself in pull-ups. By my room, I really meant our room. Cause three people in a two-bedroom house means someone ends up sharing. Which was why I’m stuck in a room with my little sister. Sharing a room with a baby, or for that matter, a toddler that isn’t toilet trained, sucks. There was always that lingering, hard to describe diaper smell that seems to persist despite the mighty powers of the Febreze can I keep in the top drawer of my dresser. I opened my backpack and pulled out the new book we were studying in my AP Literature class, “Crime and Punishment.” Earlier today, I had struggled not to laugh when Mrs. Whittleworth passed out copies of the Dostoevsky novel. Crime and punishment. That was the story of my life, if there ever was one. Mom was big on rules. That was kind of her thing. And not just the normal rules a kid might have, like “no curse words” or “eat your veggies before your dessert.” My life was highly regulated. If I ever got a grade on any school assignment, that was less than an “A.” Well, that’s a spanking. My butt still hurts when I think about the one time I got a “D” on a test. With rules, come punishments, and I’d experienced every one known to childkind. Time-outs. Getting grounded. Having my mouth washed out with soap. And spankings. That was Mom’s favorite. She cherishes her grandfather’s wooden paddle like it was an actual family heirloom. Once I logged into the computer at my desk, I made sure not to go to any sites that weren’t educational. Yes, Mom tracks where I go online, and, yes, if I waste time watching cat videos on YouTube I’ll likely not be allowed to touch the computer for the rest of the week. I logged into the website our school uses to let us track homework assignments and grades. “Shit!” I said. I didn’t like what I saw, and I was glad Mom was far enough away not to hear me. Stupid Mr. Higgins had given me a “C” on that quiz on President Reagan from earlier this week. What could I have gotten wrong? Getting a “B” wasn’t too bad, especially if it was a “B+.” But a “C?” That wasn’t going to make things fun tonight. I did, however, have something going for me. Mom had one means of grace. If I’d broken a rule, and I told her rather than try to hide it or make her wait and find out herself, the punishment was usually a lot less. Mom did check my grades every couple weeks, but I would have heard it from her already if she’d seen it. I’d gotten better at avoiding spankings recently, but I didn't think I could get Mom in a good enough mood to talk her out of them for that bad of a grade on an assignment. But I didn’t have to decide immediately. There was not any chance she checks my grades from the living room couch. Instead, I grabbed “Crime and Punishment” and jumped onto my bed, only to be greeted with a loud, crinkling sound. So irritating. Normally, I wouldn’t pay attention to the crinkle coming from the plastic mattress cover on my bed. But after the video, it was just another awkward reminder of my bedwetting phase that I’d really rather put behind me. It wasn’t that Mom had been mean or strict about it, but it had still just been such a humiliating experience. What was funny about the bedwetting was that Mom was nicer, a little, about nighttime accidents. I’d heard that the condition - I forget the medical name for it - was hereditary, but no way would I ever ask her about it. I had wet the bed nearly every night until I was about nine. Mom never made too much of a fuss about it besides making me wear pull-ups every night and keeping a plastic cover on my mattress. I had to stay dry a whole month before I was allowed to stop with the pull-ups, but no matter how hard I asked, the plastic sheet was there to stay. That, and the reminders every night that I go potty before bed, you know, just in case, like I wasn’t a fully toilet trained teenager. The rules Mom was more stringent on were the ones about daytime potty-training. It almost made me feel bad for my bratty sister. Almost, but not really. The potty-training rules were as follows: No big girl panties unless you’ve gone seven straight days with no accidents. Any accident, no matter the reason, meant you were back in pull-ups. If you had two accidents in the same day, you’d be back in diapers for all the next day. Once every thirty minutes, you had to sit on the potty for three minutes. No lying about whether you’ve had an accident. Yeah, it’s strict, but I mean, I was potty-trained during the day before I turned two, according to my mom. And Desi and Samantha’s younger siblings, who I think were around the same age as Emilia, all were perfectly capable of using the toilet on their own. Who knew what was wrong with Emilia? I flipped through the first few pages of the book. I hated AP Lit. This book was going to be the death of me. I’d only got five weeks to read and then write a report on it. Maybe I’d ask Desi for help. At least she can get onto CliffsNotes without her parents caring or noticing. As I read through the opening chapter, I couldn’t help going back to think about my own impending punishment. After fifteen minutes and only three pages, I decided that I may as well get it over with. I set the book down and headed back toward the living room. I tried to be calm as I walked into the room. I really did. But Mom must have some sort of sixth sense cause she caught on right away that I was apprehensive about something. “Sweetie, what was wrong?” Mom asked. Sweetie, now that’s another one of my mom’s keywords. She does that when she suspects I’d done something wrong, but doesn’t know what. I could still back out now, tell her that everything was OK and hold off for another day. But though I had walked into the room determined to get the spanking over with, the words just stayed stuck in my mouth, refusing to come out. Mom gets what was going on. “Do you have something you need to tell me?” she asked. I nod and walk up to her. I know the drill. This scene had played out hundreds of times before in my life. I could recite it as well as any of the lines from my school play. But just like in real life, when it comes time to go before an audience, I always mucked it up. “Mom, I broke your rule about getting good school grades,” I spat out, garbling all the words together. “No, say that slower and enunciate your words.” “I got a ‘C’ on a quiz in my American History class,” I said crisply and clearly, with my eyes pointing down at my feet. “No, young lady, you look me in the eye while I’m talking to you.” I matched my mom’s eye and felt my face go full red. Oh, I hated how I had no control over my blushing. It just always seemed to amply the shame that I felt. I repeated about how I had gotten a ‘C’ on the quiz. “And why was it wrong for you to get that grade?” “Because I need to be an ‘A’ student so I can get a good scholarship and go to college.” “And what is the punishment for getting a ‘C’ on an assignment?” This was trickier, you see. While my mom had punishments, they weren’t always consistent. Make it too easier, and she might go a lot harder on you. But if you gave yourself too much of a punishment, well, you were stuck with that as well. I decided to play it cautiously. “A spanking.” Mom gave me that look. And I knew right away I had given the wrong answer. “And just how many spankings was that punishment going to be,” she said. I hesitated, which was bad. I’m always bad at thinking on my feet. I spat out the first number that comes to mind. “Twenty.” Bad, bad, bad idea Sarah. Twenty was more than I’d gotten when I’d burnt dinner and set off the fire alarm. I probably could have gotten away with just five. But Mom didn’t object, didn’t say that seems like a bit much. She just gave a soft smile and stood up from the couch. It was so unfair. “Hold still and lift up your shirt a little,” Mom said. I complied without saying a word. The shock of impending spankings was still fresh. Why, why, why did I have to suggest twenty of them? I pulled my shirt up just enough to reveal the top of my jeans and my belt. I felt Mom’s hands as she undid my belt buckle and then pulled the entire belt loose. Next, she unbuttoned my jeans, pulled them off my hips, and let them fall down. Mom sat back down on the couch. She didn’t have to say what I was to do next. I already knew. I stepped out of the jeans, leaving them in a pile in front of the couch and carefully lay on the couch facedown so that my bottom was directly on my mom’s lap. My head was facing the TV, which only added to the humiliation. The video was paused right at an angle where you could fully see how wet the pull-up was. Yellow and saggy. Why couldn’t Mom have changed me out of it before opening presents? Emilia had stopped building her puzzle, which was about halfway done, a look of puzzlement on her face. It had been a while since I’d been spanked. Who knows, maybe she doesn’t even remember having witnessed it before. I sure as heck didn’t want an audience for this. “Emilia,” Mom said. “Go get the black bag that was in mommy’s closet.” I should have known I wasn’t going to get away with her not using a paddle. We live in a small house. It shouldn’t have taken even Emilia more than a minute to grab the bag. But it felt like an eternity. Why did I have to get a stupid “C” on that quiz, anyway? All I had wanted was to get the spanking done and over with quickly, but it kept getting drawn out. The pitter-patter of Emilia’s feet signaled that she had at last come back to the room. The plain, black gym bag was what Mom used to keep all her disciplinary supplies in. Several types of paddles. Non-toxic soap to wash out mouths. Lotions and ointments for treatment after a spanking. The next choice Mom makes would greatly determine my level of discomfort. Please, please, please don’t use the wooden paddle, I prayed silently. After Mom had finished rustling through the bag, I saw Emilia come back into view, sitting on the floor next to the coffee table where she had been working on her puzzle. But she hadn’t gone back to playing. She was facing me with a curious look in her eyes. My face was burning now. Why couldn’t Mom just send her away? Without any warning, Mom pulled down my panties to expose my bare bottom. Oh great, this was it. She held the paddle against my bottom to line it up. And she had chosen the wooden one. I’d gone a year without getting a wooden paddle spanking. Smack. The first whack knocked the breath out of me. I was barely able to squelch a sob. The strikes proceeded likely clockwork every five seconds. One after another. Left. Right. Left. Right. I was able to hold out for the first few swats. But the tears and cries of pain were inevitable. Emilia watched the entire time. And that brat even started giggling. Suddenly, as quickly as they had started, the spankings came to a stop. The only sound in the room was my heavy breath and receding sobs. A cool sensation covered my bottom as Mom rubbed a lotion into my skin. Despite the relief it was giving, I knew sitting would be a pain in the you know what for the next week. Mom pulled my underwear back up and helped me sit on her lap. Her hand took a firm grip of my chin as she held my face steady with hers. “There, there,” she said. “Now, what lesson have you learned from this?” “I’ll study harder and get good grades. I promise.” I couldn’t help it. All the pent-up emotion, pain, and tension had to come loose again. The floodgates burst open, and I cried and cried and cried into Mom’s shoulder as she rubbed my back. It was over. Thank goodness it was over. Another beeping found filled the house. But it wasn’t Emilia’s watch. Mom quickly set me down on the couch. “Put your jeans back on and help your sister clean up her toys while I get the casserole out of the oven,” she said. Just the effort of sitting up and pulling on my jeans was enough to remind me of how sore I was going to be. As I finished pulling on my jeans, the sight of Emilia sitting in front of me gave me an idea about how to teach that brat that it was not nice to laugh when your sister was getting spanked. I reached down and ever so gently gave her the slightest of tickles, enough for her to feel my touch, but hopefully not enough to blame me for what was about to happen. If there was one way in which my sister and I were most alike was that we were super ticklish at even the slightest touch. I knew all her weak spots. The result was exactly what I had hoped for. Emilia jumped up with a little squeal and placed both hands on the front of her pull-up. I didn’t even need to look at the wetness indicator to know what had just happened. “Mom,” I yelled, doing my best to keep the satisfaction out of my voice. “Emilia just had an accident.” Karma may not be a bitch, but it certainly was a wet pull-up.

Love wearing diapers and I have been thinking.about princess print and pink what do you think?

Hello all! So WIshberri (Formerly Jam-Jar Monster) on deivnatart made an ABDL themed card game, and my avatar is a character! Specifically, the teddy bear warrior version of "Alex." I just wanted to share it because I love the art. (Also, posted with her permission) It seems poor Alex's role is to take other people's punishments and humiliations. Can he ever get a break? Also, i have a bunch of art from different people, usually as part of trades for stories. Would there be any interest in sharing it here?

This story is amazing both as an ABDL piece and as historical fiction. I was eleven years old in 1968, aware of the war, the protests, and in general how things were going over there. I've also seen just about every movie ever made set during the war...but I really did not know precisely what was happening and why. Thank you for writing a story that is so enlightening.

Part Twelve No one else interrupted the homework session that Noelle had seated me down to do, but I counted two more of Paige’s friends arriving by the sounds at the front of the house. Pretty standard for my sister. Not just because it was her core friend group, but also because that was the size of their team for whatever game they played all the time. I didn’t really know anything about it, save for the fact that it was better for them to all be in the same room together when possible. Made sense, considering that was ideal for most things in life when it came to communication. I had already been outnumbered when it was just Paige and Noelle. The last thing I needed was four other girls leaning into the lie that I was Paige’s troublesome little sister. What I did need was my bedroom. The more I worked on Miley’s summer work, the more I settled on making that my primary goal post. Running off had too many variables, especially the later it got. No one answered the door right away, and it was also Friday. Any number of our neighbors could be away on vacation or out to dinner, and every second counted if Noelle was actively chasing me as if I was a bratty teenager trying to get away from her babysitter. The risk wasn’t worth it. The kitchen clock was behind me, so I had no idea how long we had been sitting there by the time I finished the last problem on the back side of the worksheet. Noelle set aside whatever she had been working on herself and checked my answers against the answer key she had. My thoughts immediately jumped to how the real Miley would be tempted to steal the answers and breeze through the rest of the assignments. Cleverly cheating, and intentionally going for a passable grade. That’s what girls like her and Paige would do. My sister was smart enough to get away with all kinds of things, but not willing to pair that intelligence with the hard work required to excel in her academic endeavors. “Looks good, Miley,” Noelle said. She passed the sheet back to me, then asked, “Do you want to keep going? Or take a break?” Why did such a simple question feel like a test, or a trap? While the brunette wasn’t malicious like my sister was, she was certainly dead set on handling Miley beyond just keeping her in the house. Attitude adjustment, homework before anything else, and probably a number of other layers I hadn’t pinned down yet. Would it be a mark against me if I obsessed over my room like an immature teenager would? She had already laid out the rules, so maybe it was foolish to hope that I could bend them. Noelle hadn’t shown much of a reaction to my 100% correct assignment, so my fleeting plan to leverage that success no longer felt like the best play. “A break would be nice,” I said. One way or another, leaving the table was a good first step. Paige’s friend Violet had already seen me toiling over Miley’s work, and I’d rather avoid any of the other girls getting that visual of me. And, as always, I tried to maintain my proper way of speaking to continue hinting to Noelle that I was older than thirteen. More mature, too. “Paige also forgot to get me a bra.” I had to try. But I wouldn’t outright ask. /‘Take the bait. Please take the bait.’/ My sister had company over. Pulling her away from her friends for something so simple? No way. Noelle nodded. “Alright, let’s go find you something.” ‘Got you, bitch.’ I didn’t care if she escorted me up there. All I needed was ten seconds in my bedroom to prove that I was actually Alyssa. Trying to contain my excitement, I remained seated until she got up herself. Couldn’t seem too eager. “Thank you,” I replied. Aside from wanting to show her that I wasn’t Miley, I was also serious about needing a bra. She had me lead the way, in that same way where it ensured she could keep an eye on me. Since she couldn’t see my face for the moment, I found myself smirking a little as I ascended the stairs. Paige was fucking dead. Obviously Noelle couldn’t spank her or anything like she did with me, but the tall brunette was fierce enough that she could give my step-sister a good tongue lashing in front of all of her friends. But honestly, I was mostly just ready to have my weekend back. As we approached my door, Noelle reminded me that this was going to be quick. I was just here to grab a bra, nothing else. Whatever. There was no way she was going to get on my case for slightly straying from my path and, if she did, I’d turn around and show her what I needed to. My graduation robe. My ID. Any number of things with the name ‘Alyssa’ on them. Not even Miley would go so far as to deck her room out with stuff like that in the name of tricking a babysitter. Noelle would have to believe me. The moment I stepped inside, however, I could sense that something was wrong. It took me a moment to place it. Then I realized what was off–my photo wall was entirely empty. It was literally just a wall. My jaw actually dropped as I processed the fucking audacity of what was clearly Paige’s handiwork. It would take forever to recreate how it looked before, and . . . “Oh, my God,” I murmured. Because it was more than that. As I started looking around the room, I noticed other things that were missing. My backpack. Pretty much everything from my desk. All the framed photos that had been strewn around the room in addition to the ones pinned on the wall. Paige hadn’t just taken the things that would easily identify me as the girl I really was; she had also removed all the images that would point towards my recent high school career. What the actual fuck?! This was too far! This was MY room. “Something wrong, Miley?” Noelle asked. Since she had never been in here, obviously there was no reason she would think anything had shifted from the way it was before. No longer thinking as clearly or as patiently as before, I snapped, “I’m not Miley! And Paige took my fucking stuff.” Storming over to my desk, I yanked open one of the drawers. Empty. All I needed was one document or assignment with my name on it. Unfortunately, my organization was suddenly my enemy. Since I kept pretty much everything in my desk, it had clearly been easy enough for Paige to just grab everything at once. “Ugh!!” Groaning, I crossed the room and opened my closet. Not only was my graduation robe gone, but a number of my prettier dresses had been pilfered. Adding insult to injury, there were a few outfit pieces I didn’t even recognize. I wouldn’t be caught dead in such bright colors, and the style/cut of the few tops I noticed right away were the type that a girl Miley’s age would wear to church or a family brunch or something. Did Paige have her friends bring these over? They weren’t mine, and I couldn’t imagine her younger self wearing stuff like this. Noelle cleared her throat. “Miley. Come here, please.” ------------------------ Check out my website: www.ladyluciastories.com And read more of "The Babysitter" and other stories on my Patreon: www.patreon.com/user?u=73056590

Hello there I’m new to this so just wanted to say hi

I am so sorry to hear of your stress, but I'm glad to hear my work has helped. Hang in there! <hug>💜

Just be extremely tired and try to act like a adult and not fall asleep. Then try to prove someone you aren't tired 😂. Oh don't have your doctor be the person you are trying to prove it to 😅 Insomnia is a pain and if you try to prove to a doctor you are fine after a month of not sleeping and loosing conciousness just to have a seizure and come to with your head threw the wall and blood in your mouth. They tend to ignore your adult side 😂 Ever been told "You aren't going home unless you take a 2hr nap, it's either that or I'm admitting you to the hospital for about 2 weeks." ? Yea I.. I.. I'll take the nap 😭

I have an aunt and uncle who expatriated from Seattle to B.C. and quite love it there. But man, the brush fires are ridiculous! Hope any of you who are Canadian are keeping both COVID safe and brush fire safe.

I recall this from Psych 101. You figure out how many personalities you are dealing with, the age and sex of each personality, etc. You look for the trauma that started it all off, which is generally something in childhood like abuse of some kind. What looks different here is that Ian's trauma occurred as an adult on the battlefield. Or is it? You've told us nothing about his family history. Is it possible that he has different personalities as a result of both traumas as a child and also in combat? That would be mind boggling!

sorry-- wrong answer I believe that this is the right answer. It can't be drugs because what's in use today didn't exist back then. Hypnosis was probably in use, but it would just be a way to get the subject talking. Electro-shock therapy went out of style when they closed the asylums in the mid-60's, and dumped the inmates in the streets. Some ended up in jail, and some became the first homeless. The Viet Nam vets in this story are sort of a second homeless generation.

A. Eletro-shock Therapy

It's the @spoonchicken Anthem!

even if youre not sissy, its fun to wear pink or girly diapers as a boy. it can be humilating, it can be thrilling. think of it as playing dress up!

I'm going to be 100% in the present on this one🤓. I wish it wasn't so damn hot out 😂. I think the heat fried my dog's brain, here it is 85⁰F and she covered up in the heavy winter blanket I used as a couch cover 🙄.

I wet the bed just about every night until I was 17, almost 18. My mother didn't diaper me, she just washed all my bedding every day. I always had a bed protector on my mattress. When I was young it was a rubber sheet that just covered a square where I slept. Sometime when I was older they started making vinyl fitted sheets which she put on under my bottom sheet. I have always rolled around in my sleep and I like to be warm so some days I would wake up soaked and find myself wrapped up in my top sheet, blanket and bedspread and they would all be soaked. They used a "Wee Alert" generously donated by a friend's mother because his younger sister wet the bed and it worked on her. It worked on me too eventually. I would have preferred to remain a bed wetter because the alarm breaks your sleeping pattern. I have a small bladder and almost never slept through the night again because the alarm teaches your brain to wake you right up as soon as you feel the need to pee. It is so efficient that even now when I go to bed securely diapered I still become conscious of my wetting at night. I am able to just fall back to sleep instantly but it's still annoying. Hugs, Freta

A COMEDY OF ERRORS Sarah closed the file, and stared up at her mother. “All those years … was I simply blind, or were the two of you that skilled in deceiving me?” “It was probably a combination of the two,” Sofia conjectured. “But what you need to understand is that I rarely had to discipline your father. We rarely disagreed about anything important, and when it came to raising our daughter, we were very much on the same page. If he disagreed with my decision, I always listened very carefully to his objections. I welcomed his counsel. Sometimes I took it, sometimes I didn't. But it was always my decision. Even when he was certain that I was wrong, he obeyed me. That is the essence of a D/s relationship.” Sofia pulled up a chair, and sat alongside her daughter. “Now I have questions, more or less for the record. Let's go right to the heart of the matter: do you love him?” “Yes.” “And does he love you?” “Yes.” “Does he respect you … trust you?” “Absolutely.” “Do you respect and trust him?” Sarah thought hard about how to answer the question. “I trust him implicitly. And I respect the man, but not his judgment. He is deeply principled, and I am going to have to learn to respect his boundaries. But he is punishing himself, and I am going to put an end to it. I WILL NOT ENABLE HIM! I will be the mommy that he wants me to be. I'll change his diapers, and clean his messy bottom. I'll nurse him at my breast. I'll do all these things and more because I love him, but Ian and I both understand that this relationship will endure only if he submits to me … gives me total control.” “Then a D/s relationship … a contract … will work for you. Do you want to use mine as a template?” For the first time since she had come home, Sarah's smile was heartfelt. “Thanks, Mom; it turns out that I really am your daughter. And I want the same relationship with Ian that worked for you and Dad. Your contract will do just fine.” . . . . Victoria smiled down at her beautiful baby, and ruffled her unruly mop of hair. “Do you love your mommy?” Ian nodded, but he remained silent. Silent, and expectant. “And does Ian love Sarah,” she continued. Ian frowned, not understanding the question. “We know that Princess Poopy Pants loves her mommy very much, but does the princess think that grown-up Ian loves Sarah?” Finally getting it, Ian smiled. “Yeth, Auntie Vickie; Ian wuv Sarah sooo much!” Yes! Vickie gave herself a mental pat on the back. She wanted to condition Ian to see himself as Princess Poopy Pants, and to think of his adult personalities in the third person. She reasoned that the Princess might be able to talk about the trauma that the Major and the Professor so feared. But do they have the same memories? Or will this be another dead end? “So tell me, Princess, where is Professor Grady? I don't see him anywhere!” Ian laughed. “Professor Grady sits at that desk and grades blue books, auntie Vickie.” There was genuine merriment in his voice as he nodded in the direction of the desk on the other side of the room. There was a neat stack of thirty-six blue books to one side, and an untidy pile scores deep littering the rest of the surface. “In this room, he exists only when you will it.” “And who are you the rest of the time?” “I'm just a baby, auntie Vickie. I wuv my crib and my ba-bas ...” “I know, baby, and you can have them for as long as you like. But what about when you go home? You have no crib at home. Will Princess Poopy Pants be going to bed with her mommy, or will Sarah be wrapping her arms around Major Grady?” “I don't know, auntie Vickie; I don't know. I want to be whatever mommy … whatever Sarah … wants me to be. I wuv her sooo much!” “Well, right now, I want to speak with Major Grady about his time in Hue. Can I do that?” Vickie continued to tousle her hair. “Only if you promise to get me something to eat, aunt Vickie. Princess Poopy Pants may be able to get by on breast milk, but Major Grady is really in the mood for a thick steak, medium well, with all the trimmings. Breast milk just doesn't cut it!” “Well, then, Princess Poopy Pants should be delighted to settle for turkey with all the trimmings,” she laughed. Vickie was scrambling to conceal her amazement. She had been schooled to look for triggers when working with split personalities, and it was rapidly becoming clear that Ian didn't need them. “What I want to know is whether Major Grady really exists. I'm still not convinced that there's anyone in this room with me except Princess Poopy Pants!” “I don't understand, aunt Vickie. Why Hue?” “I want to find out whether Princess Poopy Pants and little baby Ian have the same memories as Major Grady. And as it happens, we have a Vietnamese nurse on staff who remembers the Major from his time in Hue. You will be meeting her shortly. I want to hear the Major's perspective on what she has already told us happened during Tet. Later, I will check to see if Princess Poopy Pants remembers any of this.” “Can I stay here, aunt Vickie? I really like the way you cradle me.” “Hmm. Normally, I would refuse, but you have been such a good girl today that you deserve a treat. Sooo … you told Phil that you were with Special Forces in Nha Trang; what were you doing in Hue?” Even as Vickie concentrated on building a mental diagram of Ian's personality matrix, she was sliding her fingers under one of the thigh bands on her vinyl pants. She was not at all surprised to discover that she was already quite damp. With breast milk now the mainstay in her diet, she calculated that she would soon need twelve to fifteen diaper changes a day. In fact, she was confident that she would need another poopy diaper change before they adjourned for dinner. More diaper changes meant greater dependence, and greater dependence was a lever that she intended ruthlessly to exploit to ferret out the truth. She had already decided for the time being to stay far away from little baby Ian because he was uncomfortably close to the Major and the Professor. She would use him as a buffer, and leave it to Sarah to choose the infantile personality that she wanted to mother. Diaper rashes are nasty, Princess, but they are also unavoidable. Vickie's fingernails were tracing lazy circles on the Princess' thigh … Spankings and foreplay aren't the only tools in my arsenal by any stretch of the imagination! . . . . “Tet was a comedy of errors-- a nationwide engagement for which neither side was prepared because they ruled the ground by night, and we ruled the air by day. We crushed them on a hundred different battlefields, only to find out that we had lost the war in the only theater that really mattered … the one in people's living rooms back home. We didn't know it at the time, but Tet was the beginning of the end.” “All I know is that Tet was the Lunar New Year, and that an armistice allowed all the soldiers to go home and celebrate with their families.” “And the North violated the armistice.” The Major completed Vicki's thought. “Most of the ARVN … the South Vietnamese army … was scattered all over the country. Only a few of their senior officers heeded our warnings and kept their units intact. But down in Saigon, MACV did have its head in the game.” “MACV?” “Sorry … Military Assistance Command Vietnam. General Westmoreland and friends. Anyway, MACV didn't believe that the truce would hold, so they wanted to take advantage of the lull to reposition our forces for the big offensive that the North was obviously planning. But where? There was a raging debate going on in Saigon that started in the ballroom of the Huong Giang hotel in Hue; it's a beautiful old colonial hotel on the south bank of the Perfume River, in what's called New City. The government buildings, the university, one of the biggest and oldest hospitals in the country, the radio station … and our own MACV compound … they were spread out along the shore, facing the ancient Citadel on the north bank, which was the symbolic heart of Viet Nam, and almost totally undefended. There were about a hundred Americans inside the compound, a few more manning the boat ramp and the radio tower-- and thirty-two of us inside the hotel … intelligence pooh-bahs all, except for a couple of techs who handled our communications gear. We were there to try and make sense of all the reports coming in about massive enemy troop movements.” “So you were what … a spy? Some kind of James Bond in a uniform?” Ian chuckled, amused by the very idea. “Nope. I was the youngest officer in the room, but the only one who spoke the language. There were only three of us who had been in the field, working the villages, and out there I kept the fact that I was fluent very much to myself. It's amazing how much you can learn when the other side is convinced that you can't understand a word they're saying. And what I learned, in more than thirty villages, was that the Viet Cong were everywhere, that they were well armed and utterly ruthless, that they were coercing peasants who just wanted to be left alone into submission. I argued that we needed to fight with bulldozers … level the villages and tear up the ground. I knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that we would find weapons caches in every village from the DMZ to the Delta, but no one in the higher ranks wanted to hear it because most were chasing medals and slots in the Pentagon, and you needed to win big battles to get a seat on that particular bus. By the time the first shots were fired in the wee small hours of Feb one, the debate was pretty much over. Saigon had been notified that it was the DMZ, either Pleiku or Khe San, and the marines were on the move ...” Ian suddenly started coughing, and he didn't stop until breast milk was running down his chin. Vickie grabbed a diaper off the nearest shelf and mopped up the mess, which had dribbled onto her baby's gown. “Going forward,” she smiled, “you're going to need a bib. And I'm going to start burping you after each bottle. That should be fun for both of us.” Yeah, about as much fun as a root canal. Now, where was I? Oh, yeah ... “Or rather, it was their equipment that was on the move! The choppers were hauling everything north … everything but the marines. It's called pre-positioning-- first you move the goods, and then you move the guys. Long story short, the North caught us completely flatfooted. And in Hue, we had nothing to fight with except small arms and the odd grenade. At 8 AM we could see the VC flag flying over the Citadel, and we figured we'd be dead before noon. But there was no movement on the bridge carrying Highway 1 across the river, and no movement in the streets to our south. We lucked out because the North's command was as inept as ours. So as the sun went down there we were, a bunch of Davy Crocketts defending a Vietnamese Alamo. We just had to find some way to hold on until Sam Houston could ride in with the cavalry, in the form of the 1st Marine division. The guys were south of the city, but a big chunk of their equipment had gone north. Anyway, we did hold, and on the sixth we knew that we'd made it because the North blew the bridge. It took another three weeks for the marines to clear the city, in the aftermath of which we counted more than ten thousand Vietnamese civilians dead or missing. That hospital I mentioned? Within easy walking distance of the hotel? It was a charnel house.” He's talking, but it's all textbook stuff. And I'll bet anything that this was not, repeat not, what all those faculty wives and girlfriends on the prowl wanted to here at dinner parties. What were you doing, Ian? For six long days and nights, what were you doing out there? Were you chasing medals? “How did you survive? I mean, you must have been badly outnumbered..” “Mostly by keeping our heads down ...” “No. Stop right there. Princess Poopy Pants will be crying herself to sleep tonight because she is going to be spanked … spanked hard … and all because you just lied to me. Get this, and get it good: if Professor Grady misbehaves, Princess Poopy Pants gets spanked. If Major Grady lies to me, Princess Poopy Pants gets spanked. She is your responsibility. Now, let's try it again, Major; how did you survive?” “I told you the truth,” Ian protested. “We kept our heads down ...” “No, you didn't. I know for a fact that you were wounded on three separate occasions during those six days, so stop lying to me!” “Okay, okay! You win, all right? You win!” “We only found out what was happening long after the fact, from prisoner interrogation. Two battalions of the North's best, the 1st and 2nd Sapper battalions, were supposed to hit the compound and the hotel simultaneously at 04:00, while three more battalions of regulars were tasked to seal off the whole south bank-- two crossing the river to the west of us and a third coming up the river from our southeast. But they had no heavy weapons … nothing more than what they had hauled in on their backs over the Ho Chi Minh trail. 2nd Sapper hit the compound right on schedule, but for some reason decided to retreat as soon as the guys returned fire. 1st Sapper didn't show up on our doorstep until 05:00, which gave us plenty of time to organize a defense. The two battalions to the west didn't cross the river until 04:50, and the one that was supposed to come up in support for 1st Sapper actually got lost! If you want to know the meaning of surreal, try imagining a battalion commander pounding on the door of a gas station at five thirty in the morning to ask for directions! In retrospect, it's easy to understand why they never tried to lauch an all-out assault on our positions-- nobody, and I do mean nobody in this farce, had ever fought in city streets. The landscape? Broad boulevards, lots of parks and plazas, and plenty of tall buildings. We scrambled to find places that we could use as sniper nests, which is exactly what the other side was doing. Every time you peeked out from a window or around the edge of a building, you were taking a chance. Donnie Freeman went down out in the open; we lobbed smoke grenades, and then I went out to drag his ass to safety. Only somebody got lucky and put a round through my shoulder … clean through. A simple patch job. Then they clipped me with a ricochet … can you believe it? A ricochet! But hey, when you're fighting in buildings with cement walls, just put your trusty AK-47 on full auto and pump thirty rounds through the window. What the Hell; you're bound to hit something, right?” Ian suddenly sat up and stared across the room, but Vickie knew that it was Hue that he was seeing, not the desk and its scattered blue books. “By the last day … we had never been resupplied, so we were pretty much out of everything. I mean, roast rat was beginning to sound like a real treat. And then the North blew the bridge. Well, someone had to go out and assess the damage … see whether there was enough clearance in the channel for PBR's to reach the boat dock.” “PBR's?” “What we called the brown water navy. We used patrol boats a lot, including for things like resupply. Anyway, guess who got the short straw? Why, it was yours truly. Coming back, I took fire, and one of the rounds tore up my left shoulder pretty good. My third and last visit to the compound, where Vietnamese doctors and nurses fleeing the hospital had set up shop for the duration. I gave them a fair amount of business.” Ian turned his head and looked her straight in the eye. “Happy now, aunt Vickie?” Vickie winced. It wasn't the anger in Ian's voice-- she had expected that. It was the bitterness in his eyes. If the eyes are indeed a mirror to the soul … and they're powder kegs, all of them, just waiting to explode. We got off easy with Phil, but Don … Vickie checked Ian's diaper once more. He was wet, but she decided to postpone his change until he pooped. And I hope that Rita's got her shit together. . . . . Vickie looked up when the door opened, and was relieved to see that Rita and their Vietnamese co-worker had arrived. Ian had shut down so completely that she wasn't sure what personality she was dealing with. The silence had become oppressive. Rita and Bian quietly approached, but Rita held back when Bian stopped at Ian's side, gazing down on the diapered patient whom she had nursed so long ago and so far away. It was odd to see a man who had so adamantly refused to wear a combat diaper sitting on the floor in the real thing. She reached out and lightly ran her fingers over his left shoulder, wondering if it had properly healed, whether the pain had finally gone away. No one fleeing the hospital had thought to carry supplies, so they had had to make do with what was available inside the compound. And they had run out. Unbidden, tears began to well up in Bian's eyes. Eleven years had passed. She had stood over her husband's bullet riddled corpse. She had fled her country on a leaky boat. She had built a new life in a strange country whose customs mystified her, and whose language was a constant challenge. But nothing that she had experienced afterwards could dislodge the horror that had gripped her on the fifth and sixth of February, in the year that Christians called 1968. Operating without morphine or any other anesthetic. Sterilizing with alcohol, the bottles carried from the hotel bar by heroic men braving sniper fire, risking their own lives for those who had fallen but might yet be saved. The two days had been hard, but the nights had stretched into eternity. He never went home, she suddenly realized, looking at the ugly scar on his left thigh, knowing with certainty that it had not been there when the helicopter had evacuated him. He stayed, and he continued to fight … Bian knelt on the floor before him, and reached out to take his hand. And now he fights a new war … new, yet somehow the same. Will it ever loosen its grip? “Hello, Captain Grady. Bạn có nhớ tôi không. Do you remember me?” Bian's voice was little more than a whisper. For a long moment, Ian was certain that he was dying, the vivid memories of a later life nothing more than shadowy dreams meant to ease his passing. And then he remembered, and he opened his eyes. “Hello, Mrs. Nguyen. And yes; I remember you very well. Và vâng. Tôi nhớ bạn rất rõ” He covered her hand with his own, a deep sense of warmth flooding his body. “We must fight again, to save the other soldier. Bạn đã sẵn sàng chưa?” “Đúng … I'm ready.” “Rita will explain.” And kneeling at their side, Rita proceeded to do so.

I don't think there's a paradox at all to why stories focused on minor characters in diapers is frowned upon, especially when posted on an 18+ site. Correlations does not equal causation, but there is definitive room for skepticism when someone writes a story about a child wearing diapers, on a site primarily focused on diaper fetishism and the audience is 18+ in age. True, nobody here suddenly became ABDL when they turned 18. I was looking up stuff on 18+ websites as early as 14. I've heard others started lurking around when they were even younger. I think it's valuable to have that experience, to see that you are not alone, that you're not the weirdest person in the world, but I also think we have a responsibility not to interact, to portray our actions as those of reasonable adults, and that the same door will open to them once they come of age. It is not our place to "protect" vulnerable minors who have an interest in ABDL. Many will tell you that is the excuse of those in the community who preyed on minors. Teenagers who know nothing of the ABDL community, finding it, and then an adult says "you need to be protected, we'll take care of you"? Put politely, that sounds like creep central. You can reductively call it an "extra twist" or whatever, but there are real consequences about that "extra twist", not just for yourself but for the people who own the websites you post that "extra twist" on. And honestly, you shouldn't be concerned with minor authors on a website that doesn't allow minors to begin with. And if the story authors where you go are minors, and the website is 18+, you should be letting the mods and admins of said websites know for the safety of said minors and the safety of the website denizens.

You'd been grounded. Grounded. For a month. Like some kind of fussy kid who talked back to mom. And, well...that description isn't exactly wrong, except that you were old enough to rent a car and you'd talked back to Mommy. And unlike 'Mom', Mommy had no problem playing her punishments dirty. You couldn't go out, not for anything fun. You could go to work, and come home, and that was it. The parental controls she put on the wifi, that was another matter. You could text, you could call, but the internet was a tool only accessible through her laptop, and only with her supervision. Even the TV was blocked; Mommy had changed her Netflix password. The real punishment was the chastity - she'd locked you up on day one, and outside of carefully supervised cleanup times, you'd have to say a long goodbye to your naughty bits. Worst of all, though, was Mommy's solution to make sure you were obedient when she wasn't there to watch you. The honor system wouldn't cut it. Mommy wanted to know for a fact that you didn't leave the house while she was away. She'd floated the idea of a shock collar, but found it too restrictive - what if there was a fire? An accident? No, she needed something better. Her solution made you wish she'd gone with the shock collar. It was simple, really - When Mommy needed to out on the weekends or in the evening, to run errands, or to spend time with her friends, or just because she felt like it, she'd take you to the bathroom, lay you down, and flood your bottom with a double-dose of fleet enemas. Then, once your bottom was well and truly full, she taped a diaper snugly around your hips. Then, to truly prevent all tampering, she put on the locking cover. You couldn't hold it, and you certainly couldn't make it to the potty. If you left the house, even a little, everyone in smelling range would clock your mush tush in an instant. But, that was the point - You weren't supposed to leave the house. You'd been grounded. ... Threw this together on a whim - I hope you enjoyed! Support the creator.

The girls smiled and introduced themselves Sarah, Liza, and Penny. Penny the obvious ring leader of the group looked at Lucy and smiled. "We were gonna go play dress-up I'm the mommy. Sarah is the teacher and Liza is the big sister... you can be the doctor." The girls started pulling out dress up play clothes pulling them on over their clothes and began playing pretend. About 30 minutes later the teacher began collecting students one by one to check and change their diapers.

Part Fifteen Margot came to the same conclusion. “We’re going to have to take off your costume to get to the pull-ups, Cassie,” she said. The way she said it made it clear that she didn’t know the extent of the issue–in Margot’s eyes, it was simply a matter of Cassidy taking off the leotard so the babyish underwear could be accessed. Since Audrey had informed her sister about the stitching that had been done, however, Cassidy knew it wouldn’t be quite that easy. Similar to the way she fessed up about being wet, she knew the only way forward was honesty. Anything less than that, and things would be more complicated and uncomfortable. Plus, Margot was a stranger. Cassidy would never see her again. While the personal humiliation was there, there was no long term risk to laying things out as they were. “Umm,” she mumbled. She pulled her hand free of the other girl’s, and then blurted out, “They’re part of the costume. I mean, the underwear . . . ” Cassidy definitely couldn’t bring herself to say ‘pull-ups’ herself, “ . . . My sister stitched them into the leotard.” “Oh! Hmm. Never seen that before,” Margot said. She paused to give a good look to Cassidy’s simple fairy costume. “Here, why don’t you get started with the skirt and the wings? I’ll be right back.” The moment Margot disappeared around the end of the changing screens, Cassidy let out a heavy sigh. How was this possibly happening to her? Somehow, over the last half hour, she had been reduced to an accident-prone tween who needed babysitting. Without her phone or wallet, Cassidy didn’t have the means to prove her real age to Margot or anyone else. This was the first real bit of alone time Cassidy had been given since she arrived at the faire with her sister, but she couldn’t even do anything with the solitude. Climbing over the nearby fence would be possible in a casual outfit, but with fairy wings, a tulle skirt, and bulky underwear? Maybe not. And what would be the point? Audrey had the car keys, and all of Cassidy’s other possessions as well. She groaned in frustration and annoyance. There really was no way out of the kids’ zone, or whatever cheesy fantasy name the large tent had. Cassidy hadn’t been paying attention on her way in. “Fucking bitch,” she muttered to herself, in regards to Audrey. Getting home meant waiting for her sister to check her out. And getting out of the sagging pull-ups meant letting Margot see her naked. Accepting her fate, Cassidy pulled down on the skirt first. It didn’t take much to get the stretchy waistband over the padding of the pull-ups, and gravity did the rest of the work. Kicking the girly pink tulle material off to the side, not really caring about potential grass stains, Cassidy got right to work on her wings. The last thing she needed was to not be done by the time Margot returned, as that would no doubt lead to more patronizing help. It was awkward enough when Audrey carelessly manhandled her that morning to get the wings on. Since Cassidy hadn’t been given the chance to figure them out the first time around, however, it took an awkwardly long time figuring out how to loosen and untangle the straps that were mostly designed to be adjusted around her upper back. After a minute or two of blind tugging and guesswork, she just barely managed to get the glittery wings off by the time Margot made it back. The dark haired girl didn’t seem to notice that it had taken the whole time she was gone for Cassidy to deal with the costume pieces. That, or she chose not to say anything about it. “Sorry that took so long, Cassie,” she said, “It took me a minute to track these down. Lucky you; someone had a pair we could borrow!” The sewing scissors in Margot’s hand were no doubt from one of the nearby artisans. No wonder the girl had taken so much time. “It’s fine,” Cassidy replied. As badly as she wanted to be out of the dirty underwear, the next part wasn’t going to be fun. Getting right to it, Margot instructed, “Okay, Cass. I’m going to need you to take the leotard halfway off so I can get you sorted out. Want to turn around, maybe?” Obviously, Cassidy wanted that. The last thing she needed was Margot seeing her boobs. Cassidy had never been particularly proud of her chest, especially after Audrey’s completely unfair growth spurt. Normally, it was fine. Cassidy would wear outfits that accentuated her smaller curves, or sometimes wear bras that gave an illusion of a slightly bigger chest through the cleavage created. Wearing the leotard without a bra had been bad enough. But her bare chest? As much as she hated to admit it, Cassidy was sure it would sell the tween image even more after the costume, bangs, and pull-ups. She pivoted 180 degrees and slipped her arms through the holes of the leotard after making triple sure that no one was even remotely in her field of vision outside the fence. Though no one was outside the faire in such a way, as the large canopy tent sat at the edge of the grounds, Cassidy was still paranoid about her potential exposure. She pulled the tight pink material down a few inches, then decided that was enough of her own efforts. “Okay,” Cassidy said. Cupping both of her small breasts with her hands, she glanced over her shoulder. Margot picked up on the nonverbal request. Since Cassidy’s hands were busy covering herself up, Margot stepped forward and pulled the leotard the rest of the way down the petite girl’s upper half. “Hold still for me, Cassie. Hopefully this will just take a minute.” Wincing at both the nickname and the summer air now brushing a lot more bare skin than it normally would, Cassidy did as she was told. ------------------------ Check out my website: www.ladyluciastories.com And my Patreon: www.patreon.com/user?u=73056590

Hello everyone, I hope this sparks discussion about what helped shape our "Sissy" side. I know for me, this was a big tipping point. I wanted to make this thread to share specific memories or stories about your Sissy side. I'll share some of mine, starting with the following. This is the most open I've ever been with any of my friends growing up about panties and sissy things. When I was about a Sophomore in high school, i would stay the night at my friend Jim's house from time to time. We'd known each other since kindergarten and were really close. We both had younger sister's as well. Well, one Saturday after midnight, he and I were sharing our favorite "adult" videos with each other on his computer. We'd been a little "worked up" and both went to the bathroom (separately) to finish the job. Afterward, we were relaxing in his room and I half jokingly, asked "Have you ever wore Mel's (his sister) panties?" He said "No dude, and i don't think i'd fit haha" "Have you tried Ashley's (my sister)?" Nervously I said "Yes, sometimes when i'm home alone i "play" in them." He was immediately curious "Wait, you fit?....how do they feel? Are they soft?" We both wore generic store brand boxers at the time. His sister was almost the same age as us but on the "plus size". I knew she had a cute selection of panties from the many times I'd hung out at their house. She'd always bend over, showing her Hanes or Old Navy panties. Always with bright colors or cute sayings on them. My sister was a few years younger and more petite. I had spent many hours (when home alone) modeling her panties in the mirror. She was more subtle with simple polka dots and stripes from Gymboree or Gap. I told him "they barely fit, but they're so SOFT!!! and it feels amazing to 'finish' in them" "i know i could fit in Mel's just fine" It was too late that night to do anything, but we began to plan. I told my friend he needed to try panties as soon as possible. He was apprehensive but agreed. Just a few short days later, he sent me a text with a picture, "Dude i'm home alone which ones should i use" attached was a photo with 2 pairs of panties on his sister's bed. One was plain white with a very small pink bow on the front. The other was lime green with orange flowers. I replied "use the green ones, ones with patterns are so much more fun" He replied roughly 10 mins later "Dude!!!! holy crap that felt so GOOD" Later that week, i was home alone and sent him a similar message. The photo showed 2 pairs, one with rainbow polka dots and the others (and older smaller pair) with cinderella on it. He replied instantly "o you have to use cinderella!!!! will you fit in them?" I squeezed my butt into the cinderella pair and 'finished' almost instantly. I texted him back "i almost ripped them but it worked!!!!" We would play this game for a few months, quickly learning our entire sister's panty drawers and which pairs fit and felt good. Then one day he texted me and said "....would you ever want to wear Mels?" Sheepishly i replied "....ya...they look so freaking cute....would you want a pair of Ashleys?" "....ya.....if it's not weird..." "...no dude it's cool...just our secret man...promise...?" "ya of course man....totally.....when should we trade?" we waited a few more weeks, then found the perfect excuse, we needed to study for finals. He came over after school and my parents left us alone to study. We had the whole house to ourselves. I asked "Do you still want to do this, we don't have too?" "Ya man i;ve been thinking about it all day" Jim replied. "what kinda panties do you want? I asked. "The girlier the better dude" I excused myself to my sister's room and selected the pair. It was all cotton. Red with white polka dots and 2 little white bows, one on each hip. They were the largest size, so i hoped he would fit. When i returned, he told me to close my eyes. I heard him unzip his backback and place some soft fabric in my hand. I opened them and my heart started racing. They were bright blue with tons of white and pink stars all over. The waistband was bright pink and the on the butt they said "outta this world" I showed him the pair i selected and we both got tense. I told him to go first, if he wanted. He walked into the bathroom and shut the door. I could hear his shorts hit the floor. Then him shuffle to slide into the panties. "Wanna seee....just for fun hahaha" he asked. "Sure" i said. He slid the door open. He was barely contained by the small cotton panties that stretched around his waist. "dang those look good on you hahaha" "thanks man...these feel incredible...my sister doesnt have ones like these." He closed the door and 'finished' in them. then i went in. I couldn;t believe it. I was going to wear a real girl's panties!!! I practically jumped in them. "wanna see?" i said after i had modeled them to myself in the mirror. They fit like a glove. better than any pair of boxers or tighty whiteies i had as a kid. I felt magical. I opened the door and Jim said "whoa those fit you so well man!" I blushed and said "thanks." I then closed the door and 'finished' in them. We then realized we had 2 pairs of "dirty" panties that we didn't know what to do with. After a bit of deliberation, we decided to throw them in the dumpster behind my parents house. We both really wanted to keep them but realized it would be impossible to explain if we got caught. We never exchanged panties again but we would send pics and make each other choose which ones to "play with" throughout high school. A couple times he even had his cousin visit who was a year older than us and how thongs and PINK brand panties. We went to different colleges and soon only would reconnect on spring break or other holidays. We never spoke of the panties again. Recently he moved out of my area and got married. we only reach out to say "happy birthday" or send christmas cards.

Chapter 34: Teetering I WATCHED AS Kelly thankfully moved to the back of the room. As others filed in, I couldn’t help but think a few of them looked at me like predators! Fortunately, I kept up a conversation with Will, and I had some hope for a few relatively normal people to be in class with. Even if those normal people were three times my height! Doctor Gibney eventually got our attention and began class, “Good morning, everyone! Welcome to Screenwriting I!” He smiled, and a holo-presentation started, “Here in the Emerson Film department, we pride ourselves in as hands-on of an experience as possible, so this will be a very practical-based course. Throughout this semester, you will have three projects you’ll be responsible for creating.” I saw a projection of three sets of words standing on a facsimile of old film reels. “Unlike most of your classes, we’ll begin with the longest project first.” I noticed some of the class make sounds at that, which he seemed prepared for based on his chuckle. “Because of how this class works, by Thursday, you need to have at least an outline of a script for a forty-two-minute pilot episode for a show.” There was a collective gasp in the room, “Yes, that is a significant length for the full script, but for an outline, we’re not going to need all forty-two-plus pages of the script yet. For the outline, I expect the overall plot to be visible, characters listed and described, and between twenty to forty shots and scenes storyboarded.” I felt my head pounding at the storyboarding; that alone would take way too much time! “Now, the reason for this rush on this project is the third Thursday of class; you must have this turned in via the online submission portal. That weekend the Cinematic Narratives class will begin selecting which scripts they would like to select to shoot for each of their groups. That class will be responsible for bringing your creations to life with support from our makeup and costume studio classes.” “This is going to be impossible,” someone behind me breathed. ‘This is going to be insane, but also really cool!’ I thought to myself as he went into more detail on the requirements for the project, as well as listed the information for the short film that was our second project and the thirty-second commercial that would be our final project. “Any questions on the projects?” He asked. I heard a familiar voice, “Any restriction on what we can write?” Kelly asked. “Nothing that would be illegal would be my request. From past experience, the scripts should avoid being too controversial if you wish for them to be selected to be filmed. Films should primarily feature college-age students or older for groups to think they’re attainable enough to choose them.” A few other questions passed, and I wondered what Kelly would want to write…? We had about eighty minutes left in class when he explained the projects. So he began going into terminology, style, and other information we should incorporate into our scripts. I knew most of the formatting and concepts from my studies back home, but it was good to hear his perspective and expectations. I also appreciated that he walked us through some specialty software available, including figures and artwork easily manipulated into storyboard boxes. I breathed a sigh of relief when I realized that was something I wouldn’t have to hand sketch! All of that was crammed into the first ninety minutes. As we were nearing the end of class, I definitely began feeling like a potty break was needed as soon as class ended! It wasn’t bad enough. I wasn’t worried about wetting my pants yet, but I suspected that state was closer than I would like! BETH LOOKED OVER the syllabus for Signals and Systems and couldn’t help but note this was yet another math course! It was Fourier and Laplace analysis items, z-transformations, and more. It seemed she would never get away from Calculus and other advanced math equations this semester. Given that the other students in the room probably felt the same, she figured she’d get through it. ‘At least I have that filmmaking class this afternoon; it should be fun!’ she thought as she stood from the room and walked out. Reila walked beside her, “That class is going to suck,” she said. There was a squeak then as Beth looked ahead and was surprised as she turned to see Reila suspended in the air by an extra tall Big girl. The girl was probably her mother’s height and had Reila easily in her grasp, with the skirt of her dress flying up into the air to show off her dark blue panties. “Little girl, you do not cuss!” the girl admonished her. “Please put my friend down; she’s not a Little,” Beth told her calmly, seeing that the girl most definitely wanted to spank Reila. “She might as well be!” the girl countered. “She’s not, though, and if you proceed to assault her like I think you’re about to do, I’ll be forced to make a complaint to the police. If you don’t put her down, I’ll call them in five seconds.” Beth did not like getting into it with Bigs but couldn’t let a friend get beaten. The girl stared her down as Beth reached for her phone and started to dial. “Fine!” The girl said, roughly pushing Reila to the floor and walking away. “What the hell is wrong with that girl?” I heard another Tweener ask from the side of a doorway they appeared to have hidden in. “Time of the month?” Beth suggested. “Hope she doesn’t come across any Littles; we could still report her if you want, Reila?” She looked again at Reila and realized she was crying and encircled her in a hug, “It’s okay, Reila,” she told her sobbing friend. “I’m so tired of this crap!” She complained a few moments later as she sniffled and got herself back together. “I know,” Beth told her. “Let’s head to the restroom and give you a chance to get your face back together.” Reila nodded, and the two of them found a nearby restroom that was thankfully empty apart from them. Beth stood guard over the door as Reila went into a stall, “Oh no!” Beth heard her cry from the stall. “What’s wrong?” “No!” Reila quietly hissed. Beth put the pieces together, “Do you need a new pair of panties?” “This isn’t fair!” Reila complained. “No, it’s not, but I have a spare pair in my bag if you need them?” “Really?” she said. “Really,” Beth said. Reila came out, and Beth was grateful her friend had worn a skirt that day, so after a quick change of panties, she was fine. “What should I do with these?” Reila asked, embarrassed. “Throw them,” Beth advised, “Last thing you want is to have them in your bag if someone checks!” Reila nodded and redid her makeup quickly before asking, “What are you doing now?” “Heading to lunch; you want to join me?” Beth said. “Please…” I LEFT CLASS as quickly as possible and had to dodge a few giants to make my way out of the room. I had gone from needing to go to desperately needing to go pee in the span of five minutes! I hadn’t felt this close to peeing my pants since I was a kid out at a camp playing capture the flag and not wanting to waste time going to the bathroom. That day I had wet my pants, and I worried that would be my fate this day as well! Each step seemed harder to control my bladder, and I was beginning to wonder if I would make it just as the door to the bathroom was suddenly in front of me. That’s when my feet suddenly left the ground! “Where are you going in such a hurry, Little boy?” I heard as my body was manipulated onto the hip of the last giant I wanted to see. “The bathroom,” I said. “Well, let’s see if you’re even still dry now!” Kelly smirked. “You looked like you were doing the potty dance pretty well during class!” With one hand, she ripped apart the snaps on the pants I was wearing all the way down to my ankles showing off my blue Pull-Up, which still had its fade when wet designs showing at least. “What cute whittle baby panties you’re wearing!” She cooed at me. “If you wet them, I can put you into a nice dry diapee instead!” I saw her hand begin to go towards tickling me when I heard a clearing of a voice, “Um-hmm!” I looked over and saw Doctor Gibney. “Umm… Hi, Professor,” she said. “Hi,” he said. “Now I need to go to the restroom, and I think that’s where this young man was on his way to before you tried to interrupt him. Why don’t you put him down, and as long as he doesn’t have an accident, I won’t make you have one when you fail my class?” I was gently sat down, even as I was barely holding it still. It was physically painful to hold it in as I managed to shove past Kelly, open the door, and look at the too-tall urinal. I pulled down my unsnapped pants and Pull-Up, but before I could contemplate my step-stool, a strong pair of hands lifted me in the air high enough to reach just as my bladder burst open. I sighed in relief, even as I wondered who was holding me up like a toddler to the potty. When the stream finally ran out, I heard, “All good?” I was sat on my feet and pulled my Pull-Up back up to avoid being naked in front of Professor Gibney. I blushed solid red, “Yes, thanks for the help.” “No problem; you need a hand with all those snaps?” He asked me. I blushed but shrugged, “I guess? You don’t have to, though?” “Nonsense,” he said, picking me up and setting me down on the bathroom’s diaper change station. “Even managed to keep your Pull-Up dry through that little witch’s stunt; good for you!” I sat still as he closed the many snaps that Kelly had ripped open to get to my Pull-Up. When he was done, he carried me over to the sink and held me there to wash my hands. “Thank you, Professor,” I told him. “It’s no problem. One of my grandsons never reached past the Little height mark, and I despise anyone who picks on you all like they did him.” “Well, thanks…” I awkwardly said, “I’ll see you in class Thursday.” “See you Thursday,” he agreed and walked towards the urinals for his needs as I opened the door to walk out. ‘That was a close one,’ I couldn’t help but shudder as I walked towards the dining hall for lunch. With only a couple hours until the dreaded Little Seminar began, I decided to eat in a corner and hope to get some studying done. I found a booth that was one of the mixed ones. With the aid of the booster from my bag, I could easily reach the hamburger and fries plate I had, and my computer and I began scratching together some ideas for this screenplay I had to write. ‘All of this in two days?!?!?’ I worried. I sketched out an idea using some of the stories Grandma had told me from the weekend about an autonomous project she’d been involved with, starting the Mars colonies that were now a small thriving city in this dimension. Tessa had been tweaked for several years to prepare her for the project. Grandma’s advancements with nanites and AI had allowed nearly single-handedly her part of the project to build the facilities for that colony before a single human had to be involved. I decided that could be a fun beginning of a plot line but going to Io instead. The crew arrives to discover the AI holograms have taken on a true life of their own and have no clue what to do with the humans. It was sort of a horror and comedy sci-fi twist, and I thought it would work well in my head, at least. I had finished the last of my fries and was creating a timeline and my fifteenth scene when I realized someone was sitting across from me. I looked up to see it was Mackenzie. “Umm, hi,” I said. “Have you been there long?” She laughed, “Like five minutes? Do you always get so lost in your work?” I shrugged, “When I like what I’m doing?” “What are you working on?” “Homework for Screenwriting, our professor gave us an impossible assignment to have completed by Thursday. Hoping I can get most of it done today, though.” I looked at her, “Honestly, the early lights out time will put a crimp in getting everything done as easily.” She nodded, “I’ve heard that complaint. The other side of it, though, is that if you have more rest, you can be more effective and work faster and more accurately?” I shrugged, “I guess. Did you need something?” “Actually, I needed two things. One, I received an email from your Screenwriting professor informing me that you had been the victim of an attempt at bullying. He said a girl, Kelly Danvers, attempted to prevent you from going to the bathroom?” I blushed, “That’s what it seemed like, I guess…” She nodded, “He was certain of it, so he’s put in a complaint to Dean Northrup. She’ll be warned by the university, but I have been told to make sure you notify us of any further issues from her. She’s already been on the radar because of her friend over there,” she tilted her head towards the Amazon ‘Little’ sitting in an overgrown highchair. I noted the pink bib she was wearing seemed to be covered in baby food that her nest mother was spooning into her mouth and intentionally missing. “Okay,” I said, nodding. “The other thing?” “I have permission to keep you out late for my night off tomorrow night. There’s an event at the Union for a spicy eating contest?” “And you want me to hustle a bunch of Bigs?” I smirked. “Maybe…?” “What do you get out of it?” “Time with you, and I’ll make some bets on the side?” “My end of this?” “Swimming each day not enough?” I nodded, “True, okay, deal!” “You really can eat spicy food, right?” She asked. I laughed, “Yeah, I’ll be fine, I’m guessing.” “Well, I’ll let you get back to studying then. See you after your classes.” I watched her leave and looked at my watch. I only had a half-hour before the seminar, so I hopped down, put my booster away, and hit the restroom before finding my way to Destiny Hall. ‘I wonder if the propaganda is the same as when Mom was here?” BETH HAD WALKED with Reila to lunch at one of the other on-campus restaurants. She thought she needed something besides the dining hall and treated her friend to a soup and sandwich combo place Beth liked. “I’m so sick of being seen as a Little all the time,” Reila vented. “Do you get that often?” Beth nodded, “Sometimes… I mean, I’m taller than you, but I’m still the size of a first grader? My siblings are probably the worst about picking on me about my height, but at least they’re not doing it to be really mean.” “And they’re not likely to put you into a diaper?” “That shouldn’t happen to you either, Reila,” Beth assured her. “I’m afraid my luck will run out soon here. Yes, I’m bigger than a Little, but I would certainly fit into a preschool class without any problem. Then they can have their potty-training failure dummy to point at…?” Beth shuddered, “Just keep an eye out where you’re at… and don’t draw attention to yourself by swearing. That girl should have realized you didn’t have the Little’s uniform on!” “I think it might actually make it harder to be adopted if I was a Little,” Reila said. “Huh?” Beth asked, truly perplexed. “How in the world would it be harder?” “Have you noticed all of the law reforms that have been passed all specifically tailor themselves to Littles? I think we have fewer protections at this point!” Beth had never really considered that. “But we still don’t have the auto-adoption laws in place for Littles?” she countered. “Mark my words; in the next few years, I bet we see just as many Tweeners being adopted.” “I hope you’re wrong,” Beth said morosely. “Me too,” Reila said as she finished the last of her food. “Thanks for lunch, Beth… and for helping me; you didn’t have to? That was risky to help me!” Beth laughed, “I couldn’t look at myself in the mirror if I had walked away. We just both have to hope we can avoid any more attention! This semester has already been way too much excitement for my taste!” “You heading back to the dorm by chance?” “Yeah, for a little bit to work on homework before my next class.” “What’s next for you?” “Cinematic Narratives – it’s like my only fun class for the semester.” “Cool!” Reila said as they walked back together, “Thanks for lunch.” +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Thanks for reading! Please press the 'Like' button and consider leaving a comment!!! I really appreciate all of you who do so regularly! Due to my traveling at the moment I'll be most likely be without internet to post next Friday. I will try and post late Sunday night my time next weekend if I'm awake enough! Thanks for your patience!

Holy thats amazing! I want them all

Love the character development and that others are in on the plan too.

Chapter 33: Mornings I WOKE UP the next morning as Mackenzie opened up the ‘pod’ and lifted me out. “Well, good morning, sweetie,” she said to me. I wanted nothing to do with the giant manipulating my body like a baby. Still, I managed to grumble, “Morning,” to her. She moved me onto her hip and squeezed me a moment later. “Ready for your swim?” I nodded, “Please, it helps me wake up!” She smiled as she sat me upright on the changing table and began unzipping the sleeper I wore. I blushed and jumped at the intrusive diaper check as she exposed it. “All dry still!” “Good, that’s the way I should be,” I told her, noting she was only wearing a bikini right then, and her breasts were far too close to my face right then. I turned red thinking about that! “Well, yes, you are a big boy after all,” she managed to sound both supportive and completely condescending at the same time. She pulled me completely free from the sleeper and picked me up off the table, placing me naked except for the diaper on her hip. “Let’s take you to the potty; I’m sure you need to go!” I nodded, as it was actually pretty bad too! I was placed down on the floor by the potty, and she pulled the tabs of the diaper free before picking me up to sit me down on it without giving me a chance to do it myself. I blushed as she stared at me as I went, but I released my bladder directly into the juvenile toilet while trying not to look at her. ‘Something about having someone like her watch you go potty all of the time has to be a tactic to desensitize us,’ I guessed. When I was done, she left me no opportunity to wipe myself, instead reaching to take care of it quickly with a wad of paper. “Okay, let’s put your swim diaper on, then we’ll get you downstairs!” she said with a smile. I followed her directions mostly without giving her much reaction as she dressed me into the swimsuit. My hair was placed into the swim cap, and we were out the door with me clinging to the mostly naked nest mother! ‘Somehow, I bet she thinks she’s getting skin-to-skin bonding time out of this,’ I nervously thought. Fortunately for me, the rest of the trip down to the pool was harmless, and I was in the water and swimming for a good hour before she caught my attention. This time she carried me back up to the room without talking to anyone else. I was feeling self-conscious when she carried me in when I saw several of my nest mates staring out their pods. At least a couple of them looked… jealous. ‘Probably want to use the potty,’ I thought from a couple more pained expressions. She sat me down and dug through my clothes, handing me a uniform minus the blazer already hanging from my chair. The juvenile Pull-Up was at the top of the pile, and I couldn’t help myself from blushing. ‘At least it’s not a diaper,’ I reminded myself. ‘Not that I’ll probably be able to avoid that forever!’ Mackenzie followed me into the bathroom and took the swim diaper from me. She threw it away after looking at it, “No poopies!” she said with a smile. “I don’t know if you’ve looked at your potty chart, but right now, it’s definitely the best one in the nest!” “Umm… I hadn’t, but thanks,” I told the tall nest mother. My whole naked body was blushing, and I felt like I had a fever! “Of course, at the rate, the rest of the nest is going, you’ll probably be the only one still wearing big boy pants next week. Can’t believe how many accidents everyone else is having! And no one except you has had a dry diaper the past couple of days at night.” “Huh,” I said passively. I was awkwardly moving towards the shower. “I’m going to take a shower; maybe someone else will be dry when you get them out of bed in a moment?” “Maybe,” she agreed. “I doubt it, though; I heard the other nest mothers talking about there being more bedwetters this semester in their nests already too.” She shrugged, “Enjoy your shower!” Finally clear of the giant staring down at my naked body, I quickly hopped into the shower area! As I showered and prepared myself over the next hour, I watched several of my nest mates look confused. Apparently, bedwetting was new for most of them, and they didn’t understand why they started now in their fourth semester? We walked together to the dining hall for breakfast. I ended up at a table with Ava and Amy, which Grayson and Elijah joined. It was undeniable that Elijah was crushing on Ava, and I couldn’t help but trade a few comments with Amy quietly about it since she sat beside me. “So… umm… I have kind of an embarrassing question?” Ava asked. “Huh?” I found myself saying with a couple other voices. “Do they like put something in the food all the time?” “What do you mean?” Amy asked. “I haven’t wet the bed since I was three years old, according to my parents, but I’ve now wet the last three nights without waking up?” Elijah shook his head, “Probably not in the food,” he looked around to see who was about, “I think they put some sort of devices in our pods or something. I’ve never had the problem unless I just couldn’t hold it because Mackenzie left me there for extra time. Suddenly I’m not waking up and just going in my sleep?” Grayson looked at me, “You haven’t had one yet, though, have you?” I shook my head, “No?” “I wonder if it’s just because he keeps getting Mackenzie to let him out early to do whatever they’re doing together in the mornings?” Elijah asked semi-accusingly. “She’s just taking me to the pool to go swimming. When we had our orientation, they mentioned that if you were good, some nest mothers would take you to exercise in the mornings…?” “First time I’ve ever heard of that happening,” Grayson said while Elijah nodded. “I bet she’s picked you,” Elijah said. “Picked me?” I asked. Ava and Amy looked on silently while Elijah ensured no one else was around. “It’s not a formal rule or anything…? And they’d deny it if anyone ever made an accusation. Still, when a nest mother graduates with their graduate degree, they get to take their pick of the litter, so to speak.” “You’re saying Mackenzie has picked Connor?” Ava asked. “What do you even mean by that?” “That she’ll want me to be her ‘adopted’ Little,” I replied for him. “I’d kind of already guessed that.” “You had?” Grayson asked. “I’m not stupid, but I also know the longer she is happier with me, the longer I can avoid getting any sort of penalties to force me that way. I’m not without some resources if there’s no just cause,” I added. “Like?” Elijah asked. I nodded at where Beth walked in with Cassie, “Beth’s dad is one. Apparently, our parents were friends in college.” “Why does that do any good?” Ava asked. “Her dad is a Supreme Court Justice,” Grayson said approvingly. “You are connected, I guess.” “We’ll see if that does any good, though?” I shrugged, “I will say if I end up getting stuck here, Mackenzie wouldn’t be the worst mommy.” “No, that’s definitely Madelyn’s honor,” Elijah said. With a look in his eyes, I realized the nest mother was sitting at a tall table, and several of her nest were all in high chairs around it. One of the Littles was sitting in her lap and facing her… “She’s breastfeeding Everly?” Amy squeaked. “You’re with her, aren’t you?” I asked. She nodded, “She’s been pushing things like pacifiers and having me leave our diapers uncovered when we’re in the nest… I didn’t… she can’t…?” Amy nearly had a panic attack then. I reached over and grabbed her in a side hug, “Just don’t volunteer for it,” I said. “You do not want to start drinking that,” I added, “it’s addictive to us, and you will lose all of your continence.” She hugged me back for a second, “Thanks for caring. I’m screwed,” she said. “Huh?” “I bet that’s the special milk she gave me in a baby bottle last night,” she said quietly. “Oh,” several voices joined. Right then, Mackenzie appeared, “You doing okay, boys and girls? Are you all friends? Maybe we can set up a nest playdate this weekend?” Her words came quickly, and it allowed some distraction for Amy. Ava said, “Sure, that would be fun!” “I’ll see what I can do; you’re with Miss Kaylee, right Ava?” “Yes, ma’am,” she said. “I know Madelyn would enjoy it too, so we’ll see what we can do! You all have fun at class today; make sure you pay good attention in class!” We all nodded. “Well, what do you have for classes today?” Grayson said to switch the subject. Thankfully, that was a better topic until we mentioned we had the Littles Seminar together later. “You’re not freshmen; why are they making you take that?” Grayson asked. “Probably so they can be aware of their ‘options,’” Elijah answered. I nodded, “That was my guess…?” “What is that?” Amy asked. “Basically, a class to make you aware of how much better your life will be if you give up the college dream and volunteer instead to be adopted through the university services,” Elijah told her quietly. “If I ever get within two demerits from going out, though, that’s my choice,” Grayson said darkly. “Fortunately, I haven’t had a single one this year.” “What?” Amy asked. I looked at the time and said, “I’ve got to get to my first class; if these guys don’t explain it well enough, I’ll try and fill you in later. I’m sure it’ll be obvious within five minutes of the seminar, though.” “Where are you heading?” Elijah asked “Matisse Center?” “Oh, art class?” Elijah looked surprised. “Screenwriting this morning,” I replied. “I have another class there after lunch for Cinematic Narratives.” “Cool, good luck!” “Thanks,” I said, shouldering my backpack and getting stopped by Mackenzie on my way out. “All dry still?” she asked as she knelt before me and felt my Pull-Up through my pants. I nodded, blushing, “Yes, Miss Mackenzie.” She smiled, “Good boy! Have a good day in class! I’ll see you when you get back today.” “Thanks,” I said, “Umm… you too.” Her face brightened, and I wondered if that was the closest to politeness or affection she’d gotten for some reason. BETH WAS FINISHING her breakfast when she noticed Connor look towards her for a second. She and another dormmate Reila were having breakfast together that morning. Yesterday she’d discovered she was taking the same Signals and Systems class with her. Reila was a shorter Betweener, closer to her dad’s height when he first arrived at Emerson. She was about six-foot-three, so she was always on the watch for Bigs deciding she was close enough to a Little to be used as one. “So, I was at the store with my parents, and this stupid lady threw the contents of a water bottle on me!” “Seriously?” Beth asked. “What did you do?” “Well, she immediately was like, ‘Uh-oh, did the wittle girl make tinkles in her panties?’ I knew I was in trouble, especially because it smelled like pee!” “Wait! She actually…?!?” Reila nodded, “It was sooooooo gross!!!” She squirmed in her seat. “Thankfully, the store had cameras, and my dad was nearby. Since he’s ten feet tall, they at least listened to him say watch the video before letting her kidnap me.” “What did they do then?” “Well, the woman tried to run as soon as they agreed to run the cameras, but the security officers for the store held her. Once they saw what had happened, the police officers took her into custody and charged her with attempted kidnapping.” “What did you do then?” “Well, the manager was kind enough to bring me a set of clothes to change into.” Beth noticed her blush and asked, “But…?” “Ugh! They were like for a preschooler! And they,” she looked around and whispered, “brought me a damn princess Pull-Up for panties!” Beth couldn’t help but laugh then, “Sorry, Reila, that sounds horrible!” “You have ever been that close to something?” She asked. Beth squirmed now, not about to share her truth with this girl she was only casually friends with. “Unfortunately,” she said, adding, “Nevaeh over there is in the Littles dorm for that one…?” “Huh?” She looked over, “Oh, is that why a Big got demoted?” Beth nodded and told her the story before they threw their trash out. She headed to Marconi Hall for a class she knew would be yet another brain-buster this semester! IT WAS A pretty decent trek to get to the Matisse Center on campus. It was on the other side of the quad from any of the main science and engineering buildings. I felt sick as I walked and realized I would have to pass the campus daycare each of these days! There were Littles outside ‘playing’ on the playground equipment. Most seemed to be crawling around, but a few toddled back and forth. Not wanting to seem interested, I kept my head moving forward and soon found my way to a normal-looking classroom. About fifteen minutes early, I decided to skip back to the bathroom. I quickly used a urinal with my step stool, washed my hands, and returned to find an older gentleman setting up a presentation upfront. “Oh, hi there,” he said kindly like he was talking to a kindergartner, “I’m Professor Gibney. Are you lost?” “Good morning, I’m Connor Slane,” I smiled even though I hated that voice. “This is Screenwriting, correct?” “Why, yes, it is?” “Then I’m in the right place,” I said. Not wanting to invite help, I found my way to the front of the first terrace in the classroom, placed my folding booster on the chair, and climbed up. It was still pretty tough to see over the long table that extended around the front row in front of me, but I figured I could make do. “I’ll have to remember to ask for a Little chair here to help you out, Connor. Unusual to get a Little in this class.” I smiled, “I’m sure it’ll be a great class,” I told him. He smiled back and thankfully got back to whatever he was setting up. I pulled out my university tablet and found a note-taking app I’d discovered. I was simultaneously watching people enter the room. It was quite an eclectic group of students entering what would apparently be a larger class for me. I quickly counted chairs and figured we’d have around twenty-six students if it was a full class. I didn’t see anyone less than a Betweener’s height, and most of them seemed to be typical Bigs. Some of the people who walked in looked like they would fit in well with the business world back home. In contrast, others looked like they were trying to outdo each other with outrageous hair color patterns, piercings, and the coolest tattoos I’d ever seen! One guy was carrying his jacket in his arms and, despite the cold room, showed off his bare arms with his short sleeve shirt. I found myself entranced by the tattoos on one of his arms. There were several, but the largest featured an eagle swooping in at a fish. The art was so detailed and colorful that it would probably have been considered amazing back home. Still, this one was actually moving and swooping in! It was like some old-fashioned GIF but on his skin. This particular guy seemed to be almost as tall as Beth’s mom. He sat down next to me and noticed me staring, “Hey, I’m Will,” he said politely. “Hi, I’m Connor,” I responded, “your tattoo is really cool.” He smiled, “Thanks, Christmas present from my girlfriend.” “Cool,” I said. “I’ve never seen anything like it before.” “Huh?” “I’m not from here,” I started to say, realizing I recognized one of my classmates. She and I made eye contact at about the same time, and while I grimaced, she grinned like a cat swallowing a canary. “Well, we meet again, little boy! We’re going to have so much fun in class this semester!” The girl who I thought was a prima donna, Kelly, was in my class. ‘Shit!’ I thought to myself. ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Thank you for reading! Please press the ‘Like’ Button for this chapter! Comments are always super appreciated as well! I appreciate those of you who pushed the chapter to the required likes this past weekend! I'm starting a couple of weeks of vacation and travel and will post the next chapter probably on Saturday if I had to guess. After that, I'll be in a remote area without internet for a good week. I'll hopefully get you all a chapter the day I make it back to civilization and resume normal Fridays after that! As always, your support through likes and comments means a lot to me. If you’ve enjoyed this or any of my other works, consider supporting me by purchasing copies of them on Amazon Kindle! (And if you do so pretty please consider leaving me a 5-star review (you can leave the stars, and no public reviews are viewable then!))

Without knowing or waking up and finishing I pee my nite diaper at least every other nite, I didn't use to . But since I am 24/7 I am more at ease, so my mind must be relaxing again like when I was a young kid.

They look nice, but it's only footed Pj's for me.

I wish we had an abdl daycare where we can all go and hang out and play in our diapers with other abdls.

My first day of college, my first class was English Lit 101. Today we didn't have much to do but to read the first 4 chapters in the book. There was a cute girl sitting next to me. "Hello, my name is Christine Bennett, but my friends call me just Chris." As she extend her hand to me. "William Sanders, I go by just Willy as well." As I shook her hand. "Are you from here in Greenmore?" Chris asked? "No, actually I'm from Harrisville, about 3 hours from here." I said. "I know Harrisville, we go through there I have family down in Wilhite!" She said. "I know Whilhite, I used to go there for sports, like football, wrestling, baseball, track, stuff like that." I said. "Are you you living at the dorms, are you playing any sports here?" Chris asked? "No to both, I'm living with my Aunt, Uncle, and Cousin while I'm here. I wasn't really good enough to make any team here." I said. "What class do you gave next?" She asked? "I have Reading, then Mathmatics, then Gym." I said. "Really, I have Reading and Math but then I have Statistics, I'm avoiding Gym as much as possible. I do have my reasons. I'm a dweeb when it comes to physical activities, I'm about as coordinated as a Yak in heat! She smiled at me and she had a beautiful smile! I'm a lot more academic minded! I always wasn't that way, there is a lady here in town, she taught me how to study better, I wasn't Validictorian, but I was the Salutitorian!" She said! "I missed that by one, I was third! Tell me was it Kathy Mortensen that taught you?" "Yes! Do you know Kathy?" "Sure do, to me she is Aunt Kathy. She really isn't my Aunt. My mom and her were best friends from like Kindergarten all through University here. Mom met a guy and married the guy and they moved to Huntsville. Where I came along. Then another sister and brother. I've came here several times and Aunt Kathy, Uncle John, Cousin Evelyn, and John Jr. came and visited us in Huntsville several times." I said "Then you must know what your Aunt, Uncle, and cousin wear, at nights and daytime, then don't you?" Chris asked as she blushed and lifted her shirt and I seen her disposable diaper. "Sure do!" As I flashed my disposable, as I had wet my bed again last night and was in a disposable today. "After Statistics for me and Gym for you what class do you have?" She asked me? "I have study time." I said. "Great, meet me at the Student Union Building, we need to talk some more!" As she gave me that beautiful smile again!

That evening at the dinner table. every time I looked up, Evelyn was staring at me. She would give me a smile when our eyes met. I would smile back. The time came, time to get our diapers on. I have and have not been dreading this all night. Aunt Kathy took Evelyn and I and she cleaned us, powdered us up, then diapered us. Evelyn was first. I stared up at the ceiling while Evelyn was diapered. When it was my turn, I looked and Evelyn had lifted her upper body up on an elbow. She was watching Aunt Kathy diaper me! Aunt Kathy and Uncle John left the livingroom and Evelyn cam and put a hand on my diapered front. Being a guy and not knowing if she was going to squeeze me there or not, I grabbed her wrist and removed her hand. "I can feel your man thing through your diaper!" Evelyn stated. "Evelyn please don't touch me there,I, I am over 18 and what you want will get me thrown in prison. You are only 17 years old!" I said. "I will be 18 in three months from today though!" She pleaded! I started thinking, yep three more months. "You can watch when mom diapers me, John Jr. used to." "No I can't, Aunt Kathy would cut my testicles off and poke my eyes out" Evelyn smiled and said "Yeah she would, wouldn't she! Willy just so you know I have always had a crush on you. I looked foreward to your visits here or ours to your place, they were always the best!" "Don't tell anyone but I have always had a huge crush on you, you were always the most beautiful girl I knew by far!" I told her! "You noticed me! With John Jr. being so sick, everybody seen him, I was an afterthought! You took me and I got to see you play football and play tag and other games John Jr. couldnt! The worst day of my life and the best was the day he died, does that make sense?" "Evelyn believe it or not it does, I understand it. On one hand you lost your brother the only one you had, on the other people started seeing you, mainly Aunt Kathy and Uncle John!" "That's it, that is exactly it! Thank You!" Aunt Kathy came back, "What are you two up to, as if I didnt know! Did he kiss you Evelyn?" She asked? I was shocked! "No mom, he is 18 and scared of repercussions with the law, and you." Evelyn said. "Me? Willy your mom and I we always thought you two would be perfect for each other!" "You did?" We both said. Neither one of had heard this theory before. "Go ahead kiss her!" Aunt Kathy said. At first I looked at Aunt Kathy like she had three heads. I took Evelyn and I kissed her. I kissed her for another 10 seconds. Aunt Kathy had said "That's enough, that's enough" about 3 times. We broke Evelyn had a huge smile on her face, "Wow, that was better than I imagined it would be!" Aunt Kathy said "I guess I will have to keep an eye on you two!" Evelyn went to her room and I went to mine. Evelyn now knows how I feel about her! I though. Aunt Kathy brought me a glass of warm milk. She waited for the glass I drank it down. 20 minutes later the milk did it's job I fell asleep. My dreams were of Evelyn and I getting married, it was heaven. I awoke needing to pee like crazy! I went to go to the toilet, dammit I was wearing a diaper, a cloth diaper. Even if I could get it off I could never get it back on again. I looked at the clock 5:43, breakfast was almost an two hours and half away at 8:30am. No way I can last that that long! I remembered how disappointed Aunt Kathy was that I was dry yesterday. I started trying to wet the diaper, my toilet training was strong, my bladder wouldn't let a drop out. I wasn't peeing in a toilet. I got an Idea I went and stood in front of the toilet, I was good until I felt the warmness of my urine spreading inside my diaper. My brain said "Hey wait a minute it's not supposed to feel like this!" My bladder shut down again! "I began to say it's okay I'm wetting my bed!" My brain said "Is that all?" My flow started again. I was done and my brain said., "Hey wait a minute, were not a bedwetter!" If I hadn't of been done, I knew that a single drop wouldnt get out now! I went back to bed my penis was encased in a nice warm, but damp cocoon. That was my last thought before when my alarm went off and I got up to eat breakfast. Aunt Kathy checked me and found me wet, I had to pee about 5:45am. She looked pleased and disappointed at the same time. After breakfast Evelyn and I were released from our diapers. With it being Saturday we cleaned the house top to bottom. Evelyn and I had a few more opportunities to steal a few kisses.

Wearing diapers again was like uncomfortable. I haven't wore them I thought since I was 3 years old, 15 years give or take a few months. The weirdest thing was at about 4 years old I found my diapers I had been out of for over a year. I figured out how to put them on and wore them, I guessed I missed them. Here it was 14 years after that and I was to macho to be wearing a diaper! But I still had the hots for Evelyn, I would walk through glass to get her. If wearing a diaper is all I have to do, sign me up! I thought you dummy you already are signed up! I smiled at my self. Evelyn I thought, how would it be to be still wetting your bed at going on 18 years old? I mean I thought most people stopped wetting their beds in their teens. I used my phone and looked up Adult bedwetting. Oh my gosh, I never knew that some kids, then teens, never grew out of bedwetting. I just thought everybody outgrew it by about 15 years old. But about 2-15% never stop wetting their beds. Willy fell asleep and was awoke by Kathy. Willy came down and Kathy checked his diaper. "You're dry!" She said sounding almost disappointed. I saw the disappointment and I thought I will try harder tonight! Tonight? I am not a bedwetter, never have been one. Why would I start? I think. Because of the look that Kathy and Evelyn gave me, that's why! But I don't want to be a bed wetter do I? When I found my diapers and baby bottles, I wet them! I missed being a baby. Here I am diapered, and I didn't wet them. Probably because I'm 18 not 4 now.

This is the final chapter of Bottoms Up. I wanted to thank everyone who has read, liked, and commented on it along the way. Fifteen: Grown-Ups Two things had happened. First: Grace had gone before CALM during their next weekly meeting, and had given an impassioned speech about trusting the adults of this city to do the right things with their personal lives. If someone wanted to buy diapers - and it didn’t harm anyone else - was there really a need to make a big deal about it? CALM could do greater things, she reminded them. Predatory banks. Shady car salesman. Telephone scammers. Businesses that actually forced their way into people’s lives and caused harm. A handful of members agreed with this. The rest still thought the diaper store was a boil on the ass of the devil. Grace stepped down as the chairwoman and as a member. And as she explained this to the rest of the group, she pissed in her diapers. She had been hoping to do more - but she hadn’t quite reached that level of comfort yet. Second: the remaining members of CALM, with their new spokesman - the loud and boorish Gregory Handscomb - took their argument to the city council, as scheduled. They pleaded their case - Gregory listing the potential concerns he saw with a store that catered to ‘our neighbors inflicted with the curse of infantilism.’ But there were no charts. No studies. No proof of such trauma or troubling behavior in the years since Bottoms Up had opened. It likely would’ve been quickly dismissed anyways, though councilman Hamish Bellenourt still made a point to call out the organization for wasting the council’s time. “We pride ourselves on not being the thought-police,” Bellencourt had said. “And until anyone can show me certifiable proof on how this business adversely affects our city, then I say that this business is a welcome part of our local economy.” There were rumblings within the group that Grace had gotten too close to the owner of the diaper store. He had charmed her, or at least paid her off. Not that it mattered. CALM would be shuttered soon after. -- “What is that?” Harper asked, walking into the kitchen, exhaling the last drag she had taken from the vape. “Dinner,” replied Syd with a grin. “Dinner? Like...you’re cooking?” “I’m growing,” they said. “Trying new things. Finding new and exciting ways to burn my arms with hot cooking oil.” Harper sniffed at the air. “I’m catching notes of...garlic, onions, tomato, basil, and...something I can’t quite put my finger on. It’s stronger - the strongest, really. I want to say it’s foul. Like...absolutely putrid?” “That’s not a very nice thing to say about my cooking,” Syd said with a smile. Harper got closer and kissed Syd on the cheek before orbiting behind them so she could pull open the back of their pants and look inside. Diapers hadn’t been an everyday occurrence between the two. Usually once a week one of two things would happen: Syd would find a diaper waiting for her on the bed after a morning shower; or half a day would pass before Harper realized Syd had surprised her with a little extra bulk in her pants. “Ah, I see the problem,” she said. “You have something else cooking back here.” “I...was going to tell you about that.” “Oh yeah? When? Because I could smell your diaper before I could smell the pot on the stove.” “Who do you think you are?” they asked. “My mommy?” “I think that’s exactly who I am, and you know it.” She wrapped her hands around Syd, leaning in to kiss their neck before playfully swatting the odourous diaper in their pants. “Well I need to watch this pot and make sure it doesn’t burn,” Syd said with a shrug. “It’s not like I can leave it for a diaper change.” “You’re so difficult.” Syd shrugged again. “Fine, finish cooking. But I’m warning you right now, if you’re telling me that you don’t want a diaper change now, you don’t get to come ask me for one later. You’re staying in that stinky thing until I decide you need to be changed.” “Suit yourself,” Syd teased. “I’m sure you’ll want my bottom nice and clean for dinner.” “That’s where you’re wrong,” Harper shot back. “I think it would enhance the mood knowing that you were sitting across the table from me while sitting in your own filth.” “We have company coming over,” Syd said, stirring the deep red sauce vigorously. “That wouldn’t be very nice.” “Normally I’d agree. But this company? I’m sure they’d understand.” “You know, for someone you divorced, I still feel like we see an awful lot of Layne.” “Too much, you think?” “I’m kidding. Though…I definitely feel like you two are closer now than back when you were hitched.” “Life is funny like that,” Harper said, musing on that strange new reality herself. “Besides, the boy needs a Mommy. And Grace is no more a caregiver than he is.” “How do you think they even function when they’re together?” “I just imagine them rolling around on their backs sobbing because nobody’s there to change their diapers. But what do I know?” The house had been sold. The divorce was finalized. But the most extreme changes were the good ones. The friendly ones. The weekends they set aside so that Harper could dote on her favorite babies - all 3 of them. She was just as clueless as Syd was on how Layne and Grace’s dynamic worked, but she had come to terms with the fact that she didn’t have to care. She liked the smaller world she cared about now; the one where she and Syd lived together and were falling more in love everyday. -- “Excuse me, miss?” “Yes?” “I’m looking at these two and...I’m not sure which is better. Do you have any...recommendations?” Effie smiled. “Well, these ones here - The Ultrafluffs - they’re known for being quite absorbent. Quite possibly the most absorbent diaper on the market, as far as ones made for giant babies like yourself go.” The young man - barely out of his teens, with an ill-advised goatee and haircut combination - blushed a little at this remark but said nothing. “If thickness is your thing - or if you’re planning on wearing the same diaper all day - you really can’t go wrong with the Ultrafluff. But these other ones? They may just be my personal favorites.” “Really? W-why?” “The Buttercups are a little less absorbent. A little less thick. But, I mean, it’s still a diaper made for big babies. You’re going to feel that bulk. And you could easily fit a two-liter of Coke in there. Y’know - if you had to. Plus, there’s something about the design that I just really like. It’s cute and innocent and it just feels like...good memories.” “Good memories?” The young man scratched his head. “Or, I have good memories associated with them. Feel free to make your own memories.” “Can I, uhm, ask what your favorite memory of these diapers is?” “You cannot. I admire your boldness though. I’m sure that was hard for you to spit out.” “I’ll...take these,” he said defeatedly, flopping the thick pack of Ultrafluffs up on the counter. She wondered if she could’ve sold him on the Buttercups with a story about getting an enema. “These are probably the better choice for you anyways,” she said. “You look like a baby who wants to stew in his own juices for a while.” It wasn’t until after the young man paid for his purchase and left that Layne turned around. She was impressed that he hadn’t butt in once during that entire transaction. “That was good,” he said. “Though I can’t decide if it’s a perk or not to have my manager insulting the customers.” “He loved it,” Effie said, shrugging. “He’s going to go home and cream his diapers while thinking about me.” “You’re happy with that?” “We sold him some diapers, right? And he’ll be back.” “Fair enough. Oh, and, uh, memories? What memories do you have associated with Buttercups?” “I admire your boldness,” Effie said again with a smile. “But...I just made that up.” It had been months since she had first spent time with Margaret - back when she had ulterior motives and didn’t just want her bottom paddled - and she had yet to tell Layne what had happened. It had been a little bit of a relief to see that it had still mattered in some small way - she liked to think she had contributed to the dissolution of CALM - though time had proven that she cared less about that than she thought she did. She suspected that Layne had suspected something. Maybe he didn’t know exactly what she did, but it was as if he knew that she had helped in some way. He had been nicer to her following that night she threatened to quit. And then, just a month ago, he gave her a promotion to Associate Manager, along with the promise of a budget that would allow for her to hire someone herself - in addition to making a few changes around the store, as she saw fit. “Just a reminder that I won’t be in on Saturday,” she said. “Yeah, that’s right,” he said. “I can take over that day. What were you doing again?” “I just have an appointment.” That usually worked. He never cared for elaboration when the a-word was dropped for fear of stumbling into an awkward conversation about the nature of that appointment. “Right, right.” She made a mental list of the things she’d need to pick up before Saturday. She wanted a new pacifier. Maybe that new onesie with the flower print. Probably another pack of Buttercups too - you can never have too many. “Alright,” he said. “I’m heading out. I’ll be driving down to Morristown tomorrow, and I probably won’t be back in the store until Friday. If you need me, text me. Don’t burn down the store. Don’t let anyone poop in here either.” “Haven’t seen Hanson in months,” said Effie. “A shame too, because I would’ve loved to yell at him again. You know, as a manager.” He shrugged. “Maybe you did such a good job yelling the last time.” “So this Morristown thing is happening?” “We’ll see,” he said. “I like the location, and we’d be getting a pretty good deal on the lease there. I guess I just need to decide how much I want to operate two of these damn stores.” “Well you’re not alone,” she said. “I got your back, no matter what you choose.” “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me. Hurry up and say something snarky, or else I’m going to think you’re getting too soft.” “Hurry up and get out of here, Baby-Man. And don’t forget a diaper when you go - it’s going to be a long drive.” “That’s the stuff,” he said with a calmed sigh. -- “I wish you were coming with me,” he said, kissing Grace’s lips. “I wish I was going with you too. But maybe it’s for the best that I’m not.” “You think?” “It’s getting cold out,” she said with a shrug. “So we’d have to keep the windows up. And can you imagine that drive with two full diapers sitting next to each other?” He laughed. “Well, it’s not like you’re doing nothing.” “I’m nervous,” she said. “Really? Why? You’re a great public speaker. I still remember that time I dropped by that CALM meeting and heard you speak. You almost convinced me to hate my own store.” She gave him a playful punch to the arm. “You don’t have to butter me up anymore. You’ve got me.” “I prefer you buttered,” he said. “It tastes better that way.” He kissed her lips again. “Well thank you for the morale boost.” Grace was back to volunteering and speaking about issues that mattered to her. Except her platform had changed a little - this would be the first meeting for AKAF, the Alliance for Kink-Aware Friends, a small group that hoped to advocate for fair treatment of alternate lifestyles. “You’re going to wear a diaper while you speak?” “Should I?” He shrugged. “I’m not saying you have to use it. But I bet it’d make you feel better. I thought I heard that once - the secret to public speaking is to have a secret that nobody else knows. It’s a power thing.” “Well that’s about as much power as a diaper gives you,” she mused. “But let’s talk about tonight.” “Oh right - dinner at Harper and Syd’s?” Layne nodded excitedly. “Never thought you’d be so happy to see them.” “Syd’s cooking, so I’m not as excited for that. But…” “You need some motherly love?” “Don’t you?” She nodded slowly, her cheeks becoming a little rosy. “Let’s pick out some diapers and get ready.” “And you’re going to change your pants too, right?” she asked. He looked down at his heather-grey sweatpants. He smiled and kissed her again. “One of these days,” she said, “one of us is going to have to learn how to grow up a little.” “Why the hell would we do that?” She didn’t have a good answer for that. -- The door opened, jingling the bell. Just one woman. Dark skinned with tight curls atop her head. She looked familiar. “Well, well well,” she said. “If it isn’t Baby-Man himself.” He stood up straight and ran a hand through his hair. He couldn’t believe his eyes. “Kiwi?” “Kiri,” she said with a smile. “You’re still a smartass, I see.” “We’ve tried everything,” he said. “Drugs, therapy, electro-shock. As it turns out, it can’t be cured.” “Every once in a while, I like to drive by your store,” she said. “I’ll peek in through the front window and see who’s there. It’s always the girl.” “Effie,” he said with a nod. “She’s a manager now.” “Does that mean you’re here even less now?” “That sounds judgmental.” “Good.” “What can I do for you today?” he asked. “I have a need for diapers.” “Well you’ve come to the right place. We have a few here.” “I see that.” “You know, Effie would’ve been happy to have sold you some diapers. You didn’t have to wait for me.” “I got it in my head, I think, that I had to get them from you,” she said, starting to meander through the store, looking at the shelves of diapers and infantile supplies. “Because of my amazing personality?” She laughed and shook her head. “There was something about you that I really liked. That night we met in the bar all those months ago? You told me these humiliating things about yourself in a way that felt so normal. I guess I really appreciated that boldness. It’s something I’ve strived for myself.” “I also might have been tipsy.” “It’s possible.” “Probable,” he said. “Anyways, it’s been a good thing that I haven’t seen you here. I’ve been working up the courage to tell my boyfriend I wanted to experience some fun with diapers. I’ve been dropping little hints here and there, but I don’t think he’s put it all together. And, I thought, for as long as I didn’t see you in this store, I didn’t actually have to buy diapers and show them to him.” “But here I am,” he said. “The day has come.” “Yeah,” she said, laughing to herself. “I guess so. Time to be a grown-up, buy some diapers, and then beg my boyfriend to participate.” “Do you want to try a diaper on?” he asked. She tilted her head a little. “I’m getting the mental image of a communal shared diaper that you let everyone try on.” “I’m sure there’s someone out there who’d like that very much. But, no, I just have a nursery in the back. More of a closet, really. But it’s got enough space for a curious woman to slip into some thick padding and get a feel for it.” “Is the room full of secret cameras?” “Ah damn,” he said. “You know something? I never thought of that.” “The diapers aren’t for me,” she said. “They’re for him.” “Oh?” She pointed to some diapers - the Carnivals. There was a hand-drawn sign next to them, courtesy of Effie, that proclaimed them to be ‘The Best-Sellers!’ “Is this true?” she asked, referring to the sign. “They’re my personal favorites,” he said. “The problem is,” she said, “it’s hard for me to pick out diapers without being able to imagine what they look like on him.” “I could give you a sample or two, if you want. Free of charge. Take them home and have a ball.” “That’s not a bad option,” she said. “Or…” “Or?” “Baby-Man, what do I have to do to get you into a diaper today?”

Chapter 6: Bad Dreams I dreamed a distorted conglomeration of the previous days’ events. In history class, Mr. Higgins again denied a student her God-given right to go to the bathroom. But instead of Lisa, this time it was me. Both hall passes were gone as I begged him continuously to leave. I wiggled constantly in my seat as I tried to calm my bladder, but he wouldn’t budge. “Just pee yourself,” he said. “Just pee yourself, pee yourself, pee yourself,” the class chanted back at me. Tears in my eyes, I hobbled toward the door with my knees clenched together. “Oh, come on, just pee yourself,” Lisa shouted after me. Samantha and Desi laughed as I fumbled to get the door open. My dreamed turned me back to my bedroom. Then the urge to pee struck harder, just like it had yesterday evening. I turned to leave my bedroom and get to the toilet, but Emilia was already in the bathroom. I knocked and knocked and she wouldn’t open the door. “Just pee yourself,” Emilia shouted at me through the door. You can just go in your pull-ups. “I’m fourteen. I don’t wear pull-ups.” But I looked down and my pajama shorts had been replaced with my sister’s pull-ups. They somehow fit. Minnie Mouse was grinning up at me. I swear she winked. I went back out to the hallway, but instead of my home I was again back at school in my cheerleading outfit. I was running through the school hallways, but I kept finding that each bathroom door was locked shut. The echoes of my classmates’ chants just wouldn’t stop. “Just pee yourself, pee yourself, pee yourself.” At last, I made it to the locker room, which, surprisingly enough, was unlocked. I raced to the toilets. Relief was in sight. Then the tiles beneath my feet turned into the hands of the girls on my cheerleading squad. Those hands gave way, and I was falling, falling, falling, falling. No end in sight. “Just pee yourself, pee yourself, pee yourself.” I continued falling. The urge to pee was no longer present. I landed awake in my bed. The nightmare over, I looked up groggily at my alarm clock – 6:37 a.m. – couldn’t I have gotten another seven minutes of sleep. I rubbed my eyes open. That was such a strange dream. I felt something heavy against my back. Oh great, Emilia was in bed with me. Mom isn’t going to be pleased. As I tried to move into a more comfortable position in which to spend my last few minutes asleep, I felt a wet and slightly warm sensation. Emilia’s diaper must have leaked all over me. Yuck. Now I had to do laundry as well before getting ready for school. May as well just get on with it. I pulled the cover and sheets back to reveal a much larger wet spot than I had expected to find. I examined the bed. There was no question as to what had just happened. The wet spot was directly beneath me and covered way more of the bed than a diaper leak could possibly have done. I gave Emilia’s bottom a quick pat. Yep, her diaper was still on. That meant only one thing. I had just wet the bed. I had actually wet the bed. What in the world? The urge to pee hadn’t just been a dream. Those dreams about needing to pee were the ones I had always had when I was younger. Back when I had been a bedwetter. How did this happen? I remembered last night. I had chosen not to go to the bathroom before getting into bed. I guess going over five years without any nighttime accidents had made me a bit careless. Well, I wouldn’t be making that mistake again. I gave Emilia a slight nudge. Still asleep, she didn’t stir at all. That gave me some time to figure out how to extricate myself from this predicament. What to do? What to do? I couldn’t dare let Mom find out. If she discovered that I’d wet the bed that would be the perfect excuse for her to forbid me from ever going on a sleepover ever again. Why hadn’t I just gone to the toilet last night like I normally did? I could have avoided all this trouble if I’d just done that. Whatever I did, I wanted to do it quickly. The sensation of the wet clothing sticking against my skin was becoming uncomfortable as it cooled. The fact that Emilia had snuck into bed was my saving grace. I could just tell Mom that Emilia’s diaper had leaked and that would be the end of it. Emilia’s nightgown had gotten wet enough on the outside that it would be a believable excuse. For me, at least. Mom wasn’t going to be happy with Emilia. I didn’t want Emilia to get in trouble, but in this case, it wasn’t going to be avoidable. Normally, if she had crawled into my bed when she had been told not to leave the crib, I might admonish her gently, but I would still put her back in the crib without telling Mom what happened. Of course, that’s what probably lead her to believe she could get away with it again tonight. I wondered what Mom would do when she found out. Probably a spanking. Hopefully, Mom wouldn’t be too hard on her. I gave Emilia a gentle shake until she at last opened her eyes. “Come on sis. We need to get you up. Your diaper leaked. You got me and the bed all wet.” I didn’t bother changing Emilia into a clean diaper and outfit yet. I needed to make sure Mom saw the evidence. “You know what Mom said about staying in your crib.” “But I had a scary dream. Mommy never stopped making me wear diapers.” I hugged Emilia as she began to cry. Potty training was getting on her nerves as much as it had been getting on mine. “Don’t worry. We’ll get you potty trained. But you’ve got to obey Mom as well. We’ll need to go tell her what you did.” “Please don’t tell. Please.” “But Emilia, your diaper leaked. How am I supposed to explain to Mom that my bed was all wet? I’m too old to do that anymore.” Well, until this morning I was, but Emilia didn’t need to know that. She started to walk toward the kitchen with a resigned look on her face. My little sister just couldn’t avoid getting herself in trouble. “Emilia, you know Mom’s rules. Babies don’t walk. They have to crawl.” Emilia got on the floor without protesting, but from her pouting face I could tell she was unhappy with me. Whatever. I’d just saved her from the additional punishment that she would have gotten had she gone walking into the kitchen out of line with Mom’s rules. “All I want for Christmas was...” It’s not even 7 a.m. yet, and that’s what Mom had playing on the speakers as she was cutting up grapefruit for breakfast. All I wanted was for Mom to forgot about Christmas. At least until November. At the sight of Emilia and her wet nightgown, Mom accepted my explanation for the wet bed without any questioning. I hurried to take the sheets to the washing machine before Mom had a chance to realize that the wet spot was far larger than what would have come from a leaky diaper. The morning shower felt better than normal. It felt so good to get clean. Even with the water rushing down on top of me in the shower, I could still make out Emilia’s crying as Mom administered a spanking. I felt bad for Emilia, but at least this would teach her to stay in her crib for a while. I was looking forward to the idea of having a few nights in bed to myself. --- The fact that I had to start my school day with my least favorite class sucked. AP Lit was a bore. The only redeeming factor was that Mrs. Whittleworth was incredibly easygoing and lenient. Not nearly as bad as the horror stories I’d heard about other teachers for advanced placement classes. If only the material were as easy. I sat in the front of the class with Desi and Samantha. We’d spent the whole bus ride to school planning out every detail of the coming sleepover. It was going to be awesome. I’d told them that nothing was set in stone yet, but they assured me that they would be flexible to host whenever Mom was OK with allowing me to come. I was hopeful that I’d have a decision by tonight. The urge to urinate began growing about halfway through the first period. Good grief. I’d only had a glass of orange juice and half a grapefruit for breakfast, nothing different from the usual. It’s OK, only twenty-five more minutes left. No reason I can’t make it that long. The clock at the front of the class moved at an agonizingly slow pace. Tick. Tick. Tick. This was Samantha’s favorite class, so of course she had to insist that we sit in the front row. If I left now to go to the bathroom, everyone would see me. So embarrassing. I wouldn’t have even considered the possibility of a daytime accident had it not been for what had happened yesterday evening, when I had wet myself in my room. I would have just continued to sit in my seat and hold it in, confident that my bladder of steel would hold out until the bell rung. But now there was doubt creeping in. Having experienced a moment where I had lost control, I couldn’t be completely sure it wouldn’t happen again. Wetting myself? In front of my friends and the class? That would be worse, so much worse than the awkwardness of leaving to go to the toilet for a few minutes. Twenty minutes till the class was over. Has it only been five minutes? That isn’t possible. I took a glance back at the hooks next to the door. Both hall passes were still hanging there. Mrs. Whittleworth continued to prattle on about “Crime and Punishment.” Couldn’t I just read for fun? Why did every single detail have to have meaning? Ugh, I bet everyone can see how I’m squirming trying to keep my bladder from exploding. I didn’t have a choice but to get up and go to the bathroom. An accident in school would be the end of me. Desi gave me a quizzical look as I stood up and walked by her desk. I fought the urge to run and walked at a steady pace toward the door. The girl’s hall pass was still there. Thank goodness. Lisa was sitting in her normal seat in the desk closest to the door. She had almost started to get out of her seat. Did she want the hall pass as well? Too bad. I couldn’t help but recall how my dream had interrupted what Mr. Higgins had said to her the other day. “Just pee yourself, just pee yourself, just pee yourself.” No. I’m fourteen. And I’m not going to pee my pants. I stepped out into the hallway and glanced both directions. No one was there. The coast was clear. I did a quiet semi-sprint down the hallway to the bathrooms. Getting up and running had only hastened the urge to go, as if my bladder knew the moment of relief was approaching quickly. The bathroom doors weren’t locked. I pulled down my pants and underwear and collapsed onto the toilet seat in a single motion. It turned out that I hadn’t given myself a moment to spare. A second later and I would have had a wet pair of pants that would be extremely difficult to explain. I didn’t hurry back to the classroom immediately. I mean, if I was going to go to the trouble of taking a hall pass to leave AP Lit, I may as well get the full eight minutes out of it. I was just about to pull the bathroom door open when someone on the other side pushed the door open hard and knocked me onto the floor. Ouch, my butt was still too sore for that. It was Lisa. Mrs. Whittleworth had let her out? Without a hall pass? “Sorry. Sorry,” Lisa said, stepping by me. Lisa hurried into an empty stall without so much as stopping to help me up. I guess when you gotta go, you gotta go.

Chapter 5: Eureka Mom was the only one of us enjoying dinner. I unenthusiastically poked away at the taco casserole. Was Mom really capable of making anything other than casserole? Despite the heavy workout from earlier today, I just wasn’t feeling all that hungry. Mom’s constant babying of Emilia was getting on my already stressed out nerves. I had been potty-trained young enough that I had no recollection of ever wetting myself during the day. I was both relieved that I’d managed to avoid Emilia or Mom noticing and perturbed that it had even happened. “Choo choo! The spoon train was coming through,” Mom cooed at Emilia, who was sitting in a highchair with a bib around her neck. I caught myself just as I was starting to roll my eyes. It’s a spoon, not an airplane, train, or boat. Mom slid a spoonful of casserole into Emilia’s mouth, wiping it against the top of her lip as she pulled the spoon out. Since my three-and-a-half-year-old sister was back in diapers for the time being – most likely through tomorrow night – she wasn’t allowed to do anything herself. I’d already had to endure ten minutes of Mom making cutesy faces and noises as she coaxed Emilia into eating her supper. I didn’t get the point of what Mom was doing. So what if Emilia had a couple of accidents at preschool today? Putting her back in diapers and treating her like a baby was still interrupting the progress we had been making toward potty-training. There had been a couple times in the past few weeks where it felt like we might be on the verge of a breakthrough. Now, I worried that Emilia might become too discouraged to even try. At the beginning of dinner, Emilia had thrown a tantrum about being fed like this, but the threat of another spanking, which would be her second for the day, was now keeping her in line. I watched as Emilia squirmed in her seat. Though I’d changed her less than an hour ago, the diaper was almost certainly wet again, at least a little. Even while potty-training, she’d only been able to last about a half-hour before needing to go. But while in diapers, Emilia was only getting changed about every two hours, which at this point meant she’d remain in the same diaper until her pre-bedtime bath. As Mom laughed while feeding Emilia, she seemed genuinely happy with babying arrangement. With Mom in as good of a mood as I’d seen her be in the past week, now was my time to strike. The revelation that I hadn’t actually deserved the spanking I’d received last night would hopefully be enough to get Mom to do me a favor and allow me to go on my first ever sleepover. “Mr. Higgins handed back our history quiz grades today. I found out I actually had gotten a perfect grade on that quiz I told you about last night. He told me that he’d just made a mistake when he had posted the results online.” “So?” That’s all she had to say? Not, “I’m sorry I gave you the worst spanking of your life.” Not, “What can I do to make it up for you?” This was not getting off to a promising start. “So... I was thinking you might be able to make it up to me by letting me go to a sleepover at Samantha’s place.” Desi would be there as well, but Mom viewed Desi as a bad influence, so having Mom know about that wouldn’t increase my odds of success. “It’s not my fault you told me right away about the grade rather than checking with Mr. Higgins first. You need to be more careful next time. And I’ll let you go to a sleepover when you were old enough to, not any sooner.” “But he’d never posted my grades wrong before. How was I supposed to know it wasn’t right?” “And he’d never given you a ‘C’ before. That should have made you want to double check.” Mom wasn’t budging. Every last one of my arguments was defeated. I had gone into battle with the perfect plan and couldn’t stomach the thought that I would be forced into a retreat. I’m not usually one for thinking quick on my feet, after all, that’s what had gotten me into that mess last night in the first place, but if there ever a time to say that a metaphorical lightbulb had gone off in my head this was it. I’d stumbled across the magic phrase that could make Mom do a complete turnaround of her opinion. If this doesn’t work, I swear I’ll give up at any hope of ever going on a sleepover. “How am I supposed to survive living in a college dorm if I’d never had any experience being away from home?” Bingo. After all these years I’d finally stumbled across the argument that might convince her to let me go to a sleepover. One of my mom’s biggest obsessions was that I be able to go to a good college. That’s why she hounded me about my grades and administered strict discipline when the scores weren’t perfect. I’d just pitted Mom’s hopes for my future against her desire for control and watched as her face transitioned from disapproving scowl to something close to approval. I knew right then that it was only a matter of time before I’d get a sleepover. “Mom, I’d never spent a night away from home ever in my life. I’m going to have to learn how to do it sometime.” “I’ll think about it. I’m glad you’re wanting to prepare for college, but you’re still only a freshman.” I’d hoped for a “Yes,” but that was still preferable to “No.” Well, I’d better be on my best behavior the next couple of days so that she would make the right decision. --- I texted Samantha and Desi the news about the sleepover request – minus the part about yesterday’s spanking. There was so much that we needed to get planned. What snacks to eat. What movies to watch. Maybe we could do each other’s hair and make-up. Their parents gave them much more leeway with that than Mom did. Emilia usually went to bed about two hours before me, which meant I was then kicked out of the bedroom until it was my turn to go to sleep. With Mom currently giving Emilia her bath, judging from the faint splashing noises from the bathroom that I could just make out, that left me with about thirty minutes until I had to relocate to the living room. With all my homework assignments done for the night – and double and triple checked to make sure they were done correctly – I had just enough time for one round of Fortnite. I couldn’t quite figure out how I’d gotten Mom to allow me to play it. She normally was pretty opposed to any kind of violent video games. I signed into my account – dragongirl27972 – and jumped in the queue for a solo round. I’d rather do duo or squads, but finding good people to play with online was hard, and I didn’t want a random teammate to ruin my one game of the evening. I had tried a while back to get to get Desi and Samantha to join in on Fortnite. That had been an utter failure. The game began. 100 players. It’s a fight to the death. Last one standing wins. I preferred to wait as long as I could before jumping off the bus to a potential landing spot. I surveyed my possible destinations: “Craggy Cliffs” or “Steamy Stacks.” The power plant was too enticing to pass up, even if it looked like a lot of players were also gliding that way. It was a risky, but potentially rewarding situation. After I landed, I raced my character from room to room. I wouldn’t survive if I wasn’t able to get some weapons to arm myself. Finally, I found a chest at the bottom of a stairwell and opened it to reveal a couple of rare guns. Bam, bam, bam. Shotgunned in the back. Game over. 87th place. The game wasn’t nearly as easy as the YouTubers I like to watch made it seem like. I’d had a streak of bad luck recently too. Maybe I should just stick to Minecraft. --- Mom carried Emilia, who was just wrapped in a towel, into the bedroom and got her diapered and dressed for bed while I closed out a much more peaceful game of Minecraft. I wish Mom had gotten me a laptop rather than a desktop, so I could continue my games once Emilia was asleep. After placing Emilia in the crib, Mom raised the lowered bar to its normal height. That would prevent Emilia from making any of her normal nighttime excursions. At least I’ll be able to sleep soundly tonight without her trying to crawl into my bed. Mom began to read Emilia a bedtime story – something about a hungry caterpillar – when I got up from my desk and started to make my way to the living room. As I stepped into the hallway, I felt another sudden urge come from my bladder. The pressure to go wasn’t nearly as strong as when I’d wet my pants before dinner, but still was urgent enough that I rushed to the toilet as fast as I could. Normally, I’d only feel this way if I’d skipped going to the bathroom at school altogether. This was so strange. I usually only go to the bathroom a couple of times a day, but this was the third time I’d had to go already since coming home from school, and I still had two hours until bedtime. The trickle that I managed to pee out didn’t seem to match the intensity of the feeling that I had to go. I waited in the living room until Mom had finished wrapping up with Emilia’s bedtime routine. I needed to find a way to get my sister potty-trained. I explained to Mom what I’d learned in the potty-training research I’d done before dinner. Mom didn’t seem too interested in the idea of laxatives. “There’s no excuse for a three-year-old not to be potty-trained. She’s just being lazy. Your sister needs the right motivation. I hope this punishment reminds her that wearing diapers and being a baby isn’t as fun as being a big girl.” I recalled how upset Emilia gets when she had an accident. I didn’t think she wasn’t trying hard to potty-train. “Did I give you any trouble during potty-training?” “Not a bit. We went to the store, picked out your big girl panties, and, besides from at night, you never had a single accident since.” If only she knew. I untangled some headphones I’d pulled from my pocket and turned on Spotify. I had no interest in any of the soap operas that Mom liked to watch once Emilia was asleep. I read a book for about two hours, slipping away in the middle once again to go to the bathroom. I’d like to stay up later, but if it was time for Mom to go to bed, then it was time for me to do so as well. “Make sure to go to the toilet before you get in bed,” Mom shouted behind me as I left the living room. What was it, like five years since I had last wet the bed? With my back toward her, I safely rolled my eyes. I might have stopped to use the bathroom if Mom hadn’t reminded me to. Going to the toilet last thing before bed was a well-ingrained habit. But having Mom remind me to go to the toilet – Hello, I’m fourteen – rubbed me the wrong way. I didn’t feel the need to go at the moment anyway, so I bypassed the bathroom. I changed into my pajamas – a pair a shorts and a tank-top – in the dark with the help of a nightlight so as not to wake Emilia and climbed into bed. I laid down on my stomach as my butt was still too sore to allow me to sleep on my back and drifted off to sleep, hopeful that tomorrow’s cheerleading practice would go better than the first one.

Chapter 4: Accidents I entered the locker room with a queasy feeling in my stomach. I had rarely felt so out of place in my life. At exactly five feet and ninety-four pounds, I was small, even for my age. During the physical exam I had taken as a requirement to be allowed to try-out for the cheerleading team, the doctor had told me that I was in about the 25th percentile. I’m not quite sure how the knowledge that a quarter of the girls my age were smaller than me was supposed to cheer me up. It sure didn’t feel that way when I looked at the rest of the freshman class at River Valley High School. Visits to the doctor were a rarity for me. I stood awkwardly inside the entrance to the locker room, just taking in the bustle of girls changing from school to workout clothes. Communal dressing, just another item to add to the list of why I was going to hate cheerleading. An upper-classman I hadn’t seen before came running up to greet me. “You’re Sarah, right?” I nodded affirmatively. “I’m Sasha, one of the team captains. I’m sorry I missed your try-out the other day. Heard you were splendid, though. Coach Addison was running late, so she asked me to give you a quick tour.” Sasha led me on a brief lap around the cheerleading section of the locker room and introduced me to the other eighteen members of the team. She pointed me to my locker, which was next to Claire, the only other freshman on the squad. We began to say “hi,” but were interrupted. “Come on, girls. Cut the chitchat. We need to be in the gym in three minutes. It’s an indoor practice today because the field was taken,” Sasha yelled. I stripped off my jeans and hoodie and changed into shorts and a t-shirt, careful to keep my back to the locker. I didn’t care to show off the bruises that I imagined must still be emblazoned on my bottom from yesterday’s spanking. Just like any sports team, everyone on the cheerleading squad had their own role to play. In this case, my smaller stature had been a huge benefit when trying out for the team. After all, it’s a lot easier to have someone stand at the top of a human pyramid or be tossed in the air if they don’t happen to weigh a lot. We spread out in a big circle in the middle of the gym as the captains led the team through a series of stretches. OK, this hurts. I’m definitely out of shape, no matter what Desi says. We spent most of the afternoon learning some new cheers for the upcoming football game – there goes more of my evening free time. But the end of the practice was the part that I had been dreading more than anything else.­ “Don’t worry about it,” Sasha said. “You’ve got the easy part. Just need to hold still as we toss you in the air and then gravity does the rest.” “Have you... Have you ever dropped anyone before?” Sasha rolled her eyes. “You think they’d make me captain if I was in the habit of dropping people?” “Anything else I need to know?” “Just make sure to waive to the crowd while you’re in the air and fall with your back to the ground so that we can catch you.” This was utterly terrifying, but I’d come too far to back down now. A group of six teammates, including Sasha gathered around to lift me up. “One. Two. Three.” I let out a slight scream as I was tossed up into the air, but I did make sure to wave my pompoms before falling back into their arms. The adrenaline rush swept away all of my fear. That was exciting. Never mind earlier, I might actually like cheerleading after all. We practiced the routine several more times without a hitch. I was really getting into the swing of it. “OK, girls. Once more and we can call it good for the day,” Addison said, taking a seat in the bleachers in front of us. At the count of three, they flung me into the air one last time. I gave an enthusiastic wave to the imaginary crowd in the bleachers before leaning back to fall into what I thought would be my teammates’ embrace. I felt myself slip through their arms and twist before landing on my side on the hardwood floor. The pain that shot through my body was unlike anything I had felt before. I lay on the ground gasping for breath. It hurt too much to even scream. Coach Addison was by my side almost instantaneously, her hand feeling up and down the side where I had fallen. I guess she was checking for broken bones. “Relax, she’s OK,” Addison said. “She’d be in a lot more pain if she’d actually broken any bones. Sasha, grab some ice wraps from the freezer.” Was it possible to be in more pain than this? This was bad enough as it was. I couldn’t imagine anything worse. Not even last night’s spanking – the worst I’d ever gotten – was as bad as what I was feeling right now. A couple of the girls grabbed me under my shoulders and helped me hobble to the bleachers. I spent the remainder of the practice holding an ice pack firmly against my hip. After giving a stern lecture to the girls who had dropped me, Coach Addison made them run a bunch of sprints back and forth across the gym. The swelling on my hip began to go down, but I was still left with an ugly, purplish bruise. Back in the locker room, Coach Addison approached me as I was gingerly changing out of my workout clothes. “Sorry you had such a rough first day with that accident. How’s your hip holding up?” “A lot better after I iced it.” “I almost forgot, but this was for you,” Addison said, holding out a cheerleading uniform in a plastic wrap. I gave the uniform a quizzical look. Remind me again about how wearing this was supposed to increase my odds of getting into a good college? Coach must have misread the expression on my face. “I know. but it’s the smallest size we’ve got,” she said. “Don’t worry. Desi fit into that same size just fine and you and she have about the same build. It’s typical to move up a couple sizes between your freshman and senior years.” While the pain in my hip had subsided for the most part, my body still felt a bit off since the fall, though I couldn’t pinpoint what the issue was as I carefully walked out the locker room door. --- Mom was already waiting for me in the parking lot when I stepped outside. I tossed my backpack and gym bag in the trunk before sitting down in the passenger seat. “How was practice?” “Fine.” I decided not to mention the fall I had taken. No need to give Mom something else to worry about. The note about the error in the history quiz grade was something I was going to save for a more opportune moment. I couldn’t dare waste my one golden shot at being allowed to have a sleepover. “Drink that,” Mom said, pointing to a thermos in the cup tray that was filled with a thick, green liquid. What was Mom trying to feed me, pond scum? Mom glared at me after seeing my look of disgust. “It’s a kale smoothie. Don’t give me that face. It’s got banana, pineapple and lime in it too. Make sure you finish it before we get home.” Mom’s health-nut phase hadn’t been such a big deal when it had been focused on making us eat veggies or avoid junk food, but this was just too much. I had just about fifteen minutes until we were back home, so picking up the cup with a bit of trepidation, I slowly raised the glass to my lips. Hmm. Not as bad as I thought. Sweet, with just a little of a bitter aftertaste. I gradually finished the smoothie in tiny sips. I didn’t want to give Mom the satisfaction of knowing that she was right about the taste. Who knows what other crazy ideas she might come up with? Emilia was strapped into a car-seat in the middle of the back row. Her hair was in pigtails with rainbow beads at the end. She was wearing denim overalls, but the watch on her arm was missing. That wasn’t her typical outfit. Mom was discreet about pull-ups when we were out and about. She didn’t care to show the whole world that a daughter that old still wasn’t toilet trained, but usually the clothing was something that could be removed with ease in case the need to go to the bathroom arose. Emilia’s eyes were a bit puffy as well. Guess I wasn’t the only one who had a bad day. “Emilia had a couple of accidents at daycare, so we’re going to take a rest from potty training for a bit,” Mom said nonchalantly. Drat. Emilia had been making so much progress up until yesterday. And even then, those accidents had really been my fault. Being back in diapers meant Emilia wasn’t allowed to use the toilet at all, so I might be stuck with a messy diaper or two to change before she was back in pull-ups. I tried to give Emilia a sympathetic look. What in the world was going wrong with her? I finished the smoothie well in advance before we pulled into the driveway. I wasn’t taking any chances with getting on Mom’s bad side. I needed to rinse my mouth out as well, because while the smoothie hadn’t tasted too bad while I was drinking it, as soon as it was finished, a nasty aftertaste had clung to my mouth and wouldn’t go away. A couple of Amazon packages along with a large cardboard box of pull-ups were sitting on the front porch. Mom preferred to do almost all her shopping online. “Sarah, take Emilia’s pull-ups to your room and unpack them. Also, you need to hop in the shower before you do homework. You really should have done that in the locker room after practice.” I could get used to communal dressing, but I really was going to draw the line at communal showers. No way I was going to do that. But I would save that battle with Mom for another day. I grabbed the box of pull-ups. Size 4T-5T, 38-50 pounds. Emilia was on the small end of that range. I was familiar with the marketing jingle, “I’m a big kid now,” but even then, the size range was a bit ridiculous. I was skinny enough that they probably would fit me if I ever cared to try. Thankfully, the Minnie Mouse designs were still in vogue. It wouldn’t be good if Emilia were to throw a fit at not being able to have them. --- After getting cleaned up, I marched into the living room, all prepared to give the speech I had practiced in the shower about how I had been wrongfully punished and that Mom should make it up to me by allowing me to go to a sleepover. Mom was sitting on the couch, cradling Emilia’s head in her lap. She was holding a bottle with a green liquid – I could only assume it was the kale smoothie – up to Emilia’s mouth. My sister looked miserable. I don’t blame her. Being stuck in diapers was bad enough, but that also meant that Mom was going to completely baby her until tomorrow night. Emilia wouldn’t be allowed to do anything for herself, so no feeding, dressing or using the potty while she was at home. I took a deep breath to begin my speech, but Mom got the first word. “Sarah, there you were. It’s about time. You shouldn’t be so wasteful with those long showers. Can you finish feeding Sarah and then get her changed? I’d got to get started on dinner.” That had to be one of Mom’s favorite excuses for handing Emilia off to me. I took Mom’s place on the couch. Only about a third of the bottle was remaining. “I’m not thirsty,” Emilia said. “I don’t wanna. Yucky.” I looked over my shoulder. Mom was already out of sight and out of hearing range in the kitchen. I twisted off the lid of the bottle and chugged the remaining smoothie in a single gulp. I replaced the empty bottle in Emilia’s mouth with a pacifier. Toddler Emilia just used a pacifier at night, but baby Emilia had to have it in all the time. I could feel something squish when I put my hand underneath Emilia’s bottom to carry her to the bedroom. No wonder Mom wanted to hand her off to me. I did my best to clean up the messy diaper quickly. Thank goodness it hadn’t been a blowout. With the dirty diaper safely in the bin, I picked Emilia up, settled her on my lap, and gave her a big hug. “I’m sorry Mom had to put you back in diapers, sis.” “I hate diapers.” I squeezed Emilia even tighter as I felt her tears roll onto my shoulder. Taking a fresh wipe, I cleared the tears off her face. “You just make it through tomorrow, and we’ll work extra hard on getting you potty trained after that. You can do it. I believe in you.” Once Emilia had crawled back to the living room – babies aren’t allowed to walk – I moved to my desk, opened Chrome and went to Google. We’d tried all the traditional potty-training methods, so maybe it was time to do something a little different. I wonder what I can find. I typed “3-year-old can’t potty train” into the search bar and began going through the results – mostly links to parenting forums – one by one I clicked on the links and searched through the suggestions. I sighed. It was just more of the same. Reward charts. Potty training schedules. Laxatives. Wait, laxatives, what were those? Another Google search gave me an answer. Well, this would be an interesting conversation with Mom if she were to check my internet history. A lot of the forum members seemed adamant that their child’s potty-training problem was the result of backed-up bowels. I looked at the potty-training chart for the past month. Sure enough, Emilia was only making two or three bowel movements a week. I felt bad at the idea of making her take laxatives, that was bound to be a messy experience, but if it resulted in getting her fully potty-trained it would be so worth it. I was busy with my research when I was struck with an immediate burning urge to pee. I stood up instinctively and made it halfway to the bedroom door before I began to lose control. The sudden sensation of the warm urine spreading through my panties and jeans was so foreign to me. I squeezed my legs together as tight as I could. I got the flow to come to a stop after a couple seconds, but not before the damage had already been done. A large wet spot was still gradually expanding around my crotch, and a small puddle had formed on the floor beneath my legs. I stripped off my jeans and panties, using them to soak up the puddle on the floor and wipe myself down before burying them in my hamper. Never before had I been so grateful that Mom made me do my own laundry. I grabbed a pair of jeans that most closely resembled the ones I had wet – hopefully Mom wouldn’t notice that change – and got cleaned up before Mom or Emilia had a chance to enter the room. I peed myself. Like. I actually just peed my pants. My brain was working in overdrive trying to process what had just happened. My mind was still aflutter as I finished doing my business on the toilet. What in the world was going on? I had never had any trouble holding my bladder. My friends all joked that I must have a bladder of steel, yet the urge to pee had come on so suddenly and strongly that I hadn’t been able to do anything about it. As I hauled my hamper off to the living room, I made sure Mom saw what I was up to. Doing laundry unprompted couldn’t hurt in my attempts to get her into a good mood. I still needed to ask her about the sleepover later tonight, after all. I emptied out the contents of the hamper into the washing machine, added a little more detergent than usual – just in case – and turned it all the way up to the deep clean setting. I stayed to watch as the machine filled with water, soaking all the clothes and removing any last evidence of the accident.

Chapter 2: Guilty Conscience The downside to making Emilia pee herself was that I was the one stuck changing her wet pull-up. Mom hated changing diapers or pull-ups. So guess who’s gotten to do that a couple thousand times over the past several years? Yes, yours truly. In truth, I didn’t mind it too much. A wet pull-up isn’t that big of a deal to change, and, thankfully, going number two in the toilet was the one part of potty training that Emilia had nearly managed to master. Emilia cried all the way to the bedroom. She wanted to be a big girl so badly. During this latest attempt at potty training, her failure to learn how to properly use the toilet hasn’t been due to a lack of trying. She even managed to reach the big girl panties stage twice, only to be relegated back to pull-ups as the result of accidents. Our bedroom was barely big enough for one person, let alone two. The only furniture was my bed, her crib, a pair of dressers, and a tiny desk just big enough for my computer monitor. In our old house, we all had our separate rooms with enough space for changing tables and playpens. As I sifted through the drawer looking at Emilia’s collection of pull-ups and diapers, the one thing that struck me about her pull-ups was that they were so darn adorable with all the cute cartoon characters on them: Minnie Mouse, Elsa, Ariel, and every other Disney princess imaginable. My unpaid babysitter duties extended beyond just changing diapers and potty training. Having good manners was another rule Mom heavily enforced, and, again, the responsibility of teaching that to Emilia fell to me. “Please” and “thank-you” were the focus right now, but getting her to do either still required quite a bit of prompting. After grabbing a fresh pull-up from the drawer, I turned back around to face Emilia. “And what do you need to tell me now?” I asked. “I need my pull-up changed,” she whined. I sighed. Emilia really did know better. Even if she was only three. “And what do you say when you need your pull-up changed?” “Can you change my pull-up?” “Sis, you’re forgetting the magic word.” “Please,” she said finally. With that, I rolled out a changing mat onto my bed and plopped Emilia onto it. I was glad we were past her terrible twos when diaper changes had been an absolute nightmare. She laid on the bed complacently – I suppose it did feel good to be changed into a dry pull-up – lifting her legs up when I needed to wipe and not struggling even a little as I replaced her wet pull-up with a fresh one, this time with a picture of Ariel on the front. I placed the wet pull-up in the diaper bin and then made a mark on the potty-training calendar to note that she’d had an accident. I gave Emilia a hug as I set her back down on the floor. “And what do you say now?” I asked Emilia. “Thank-you.” “Thank-you for what?” “Thank-you for changing my pull-up.” You’re welcome, but you need to keep Ariel dry for the rest of today or it’s back to diapers, you understand?" Emilia nodded back at me solemnly. “I will. I will,” she said. --- Dinner, even if it was just meatball casserole, had its own sets of rules. All the silverware had to be in exactly the right place. No eating before we had a chance to bow our heads and say grace. No spilling any food. No talking with your mouth full. And, most importantly, you had to eat every last bite of food that Mom put on your plate. You weren’t leaving the table until you were completely done. I gingerly lowered myself into a chair at the dinner table. Of course, it had to be a wood chair. My butt hurt so much. I had no idea how I was going to get through school tomorrow, if this was how it was going to feel. Mom placed Emilia in a highchair next to herself. Emilia really was too old for it, but Mom was determined that if Emilia wasn’t wearing panties like a big girl, then she wouldn’t be treated like a big girl either. That meant Emilia also was wearing a bib and had to drink out of a sippy cup. I was apprehensive as I held up my plate for Mom to scoop out a serving. I really hoped she wouldn’t put too much on my plate. Let’s just say I don’t share her affinity for casserole. Disgusting stuff, but I knew better than to voice that opinion out loud. Thankfully, her scoop wasn’t too big. I could manage. I just wanted to finish eating as quickly as possible so I could get my butt onto a much more comfortable surface. Mom hadn’t mentioned anything about the spanking earlier today. She never did. It happened. Then it was over. She moved on without a second thought. I would rather eat in silence, but Mom always made sure there was plenty of conversation when we were together at the table. “How did the cheerleading tryout go?” Mom asked. I started to answer with a mouthful of food, but then paused until I had finished chewing. Close call. “Good,” I replied. Please, just let me eat so my butt can stop hurting. I hadn’t wanted to be a cheerleader at all. Or do any after-school activities of any sort. Couldn’t I just spend my time after school reading or playing video games? But Mom was insistent that I had to have a ton of extra-curricular activities since apparently colleges care about that stuff when you apply. Getting on the cheer team as a freshman isn’t exactly easy. I’d come close to making the team at the beginning of the school year. However, my best friend Desi had gotten the spot instead. It had actually been a bit of a relief. I thought I was out of the woods until last week, when Desi had taken a tough fall and torn her ACL. With her out for the season, they had an emergency try-out for a replacement. If only Mom hadn’t gotten wind of it. But she did, and I aced the try-out. “So, when do you start?” “Tomorrow. Practice goes until 5 p.m.” Just less time to be doing the things I want to. And no more bus rides home with Desi and Samantha. Mom would have to be picking me up from school every day now. I made sure to thank Mom for the dinner as I stood up from the table. “Remember, you need to finish your homework before you play any video games,” she said. --- I’d just gotten through the first chapter of “Crime and Punishment” when Mom opened the door to my room. Without knocking, I might add. She didn’t believe in privacy, or at least that I should have any. “I’m going on a walk,” Mom said. “You’ll need to do your homework in the living room and keep an eye on Emilia. I’ll be about an hour.” The Fitbit was another part of Mom’s health binge. She had to get her 10,000 steps every day, after all. Good thing she didn’t have to pay for a babysitter. Emilia was playing make-believe with a pair of hand-me-down Barbie dolls on a rug on the living room floor. Ugh, this book was hard enough to get through without also having to ignore her incessant chattering. After fifteen minutes, I had barely managed to get through a handful of pages when I felt the call of nature. “You behave yourself. I’ll be back from the potty in a little bit,” I told Emilia. The toilet seat wasn’t any more comfortable to sit on than the dining room chair, but when you gotta go you gotta go. I was nearly ready to flush when Emilia began to whine on the other side of the door. I couldn’t believe my luck. “Sarah,” she whimpered. “Hurry. I need to potty. Please.” Normally, I’d be happy to quickly finish up with my business and let her onto the toilet, but my still-stinging butt and the memory of her laughing during the spanking were too fresh in my head. Plus, with Mom gone, there wasn’t any way Emilia could force me off the toilet. “Sis, you’re going to have to wait a few minutes. Can you be a big girl and do that for me?” “I can’t. I can’t. I can’t,” Emilia whined again. “I don’t wanna wear a diaper.” If she was worried about being made to wear a diaper, that meant she was close to having an accident. It had been nearly thirty minutes since her last trip to the toilet. I could hear her feet patter on the other side of the door. I suppressed a laugh at the mental image of the potty dance she must be doing. And since she’d already had one accident today, another one meant she’d have to be put back in diapers for a whole day. I’d be changing them, of course, but the feeling of schadenfreude was more than making up for it. I ripped off some toilet paper and pretended to still be cleaning myself off. Emilia wasn’t good at holding it at all. When she needed to go, she needed to go now. All I needed was to stall for a few more minutes. “Emilia, big girls can hold their pee in for a few minutes. You’re going to have to do that for me if you want to prove that you were a big girl.” After a couple of minutes, I heard Emilia’s prancing feet come to a sudden stop. There was a moment of silence – a rarity with her – followed by a steady stream of quiet sobs. Mission accomplished. In the great potty-training war, I’d just turned into a double agent. I finished with pretending to clean myself up. Another minute wouldn’t hurt now that the damage was done. At last, I flushed the toilet and opened the bathroom door to a very sorry sight. Emilia was sitting down on the floor with her hands covering her face, both legs splayed out in front of her, giving me a perfect view of a completely soaked pull-up. There wasn’t a single wetness indicator remaining. “Come on. Time to get on the potty,” I said, pretending not to notice her accident. “I don’t wanna go potty,” she said. “Don’t need to.” “Oh, it’s OK,” I cooed at her. “Did my baby sister have an accident?” “I’m not a baby,” she shouted. “I’m not. I’m not. I’m not.” Beep, beep, beep, beep. Emilia crossed her legs and tugged her shirt so that I could no longer see the pull-up. I really don’t know what was making me feel so vindictive today, but I wasn’t going to waste any chance to rub the accident in her face. I placed the potty-training cushion on top of the toilet seat, and then motioned for her to stand up. “Come on, pull your pull-ups down and sit on the potty. Three minutes.” The pull-ups fell to the floor with a squishy thud. I took a peek down at them to see the yellow, soaked insides. The next three minutes passed into total silence. There wasn’t any more pee that needed to come out. “OK, time to put your pull-ups back on.” “But.” “No buts.” I reached down and grabbed the pull-up that was hanging around Emilia’s feet on the floor. It was warm and squishy to the touch. A twinge of guilt began to form in the back of my mind. I remembered how it felt to be forced to wear a wet pull-up waiting for Mom to change me. Having to deal with the uncomfortable feeling of something warm and squishy being held tight again my skin with no control over when I would get cleaned up. All the same, I pulled it back up over her waist. The rules were the rules. Two accidents today meant that I needed to put Emilia in a diaper once I’d gotten her cleaned up. I don’t normally question Mom’s rules, but in this instance a bit of doubt was gradually beginning to creep in. After all, both of Emilia’s accidents today were my fault. She hadn’t done anything to deserve having to be put back into diapers. Without saying anything further, I picked Emilia up and carried her the short way to the bedroom. The changing mat was still there from the pre-dinner accident. As I lay her down onto the mat, tears were rolling down her face and onto the bed, but Emilia didn’t put up any resistance. I ran my hand gently along the back of her head and placed a pacifier in her mouth to sooth her. “Hey, it’s OK, you’ll feel so much better once I’d gotten you all cleaned up.” I had a choice to make when I opened the top drawer of Emilia’s dresser. I should’ve grabbed the diaper decorated with the Sesame Street characters, but the part of my conscience that was feeling bad for Emilia had won me over. I picked out another pull-up – making sure it was another Ariel one so Mom wouldn’t think anything was amiss – and grabbed the wipes and powder. I ripped off the tearaway sides of the wet pull-up and proceeded to thoroughly wipe her clean. I added just a smidgen of baby powder after that. I didn’t use nearly as much as Mom would, as I can’t stand the smell. The look of surprise on Emilia’s face when she realized I was putting another pull-up on her instead of a diaper was immensely gratifying. The tears stopped flowing, and a cautious smile was spread across her face. I lifted her bottom up and made sure the new pull-up was fit snugly around her waist. As I tossed the used pull-up into the diaper pail, I made sure to conceal it underneath some wipes. Not that Mom was likely to go looking in there anyway. As I helped Emilia off the bed, she began to say something, but I quickly interrupted her. “This was going to be our secret, OK? Pinky promise?” “Pinky promise,” Emilia replied.