Chels in Ribbons

I gotta be honest, I don't know what this reactions means XD good, I hope? Chapter Twenty-Seven The next morning, I awoke to an empty bed. I sat up, my diaper crinkling and squishing beneath me, and rubbed my eyes. Vivian was probably already up and had breakfast prepared. But as I shuffled sleepily out of the master bedroom, I heard the sound of typing coming from somewhere in the house. Following the sound, I quickly found Vivian posted up at a desk in one of the bedrooms with a typewriter of all things—the quintessential picture of the author. “Morning,” I said softly from the doorway. Vivian jumped a little in her seat before turning around, exhaling heavily, “Lavender, you scared me a little.” “Sorry,” I smiled apologetically as I walked into the room and sat on the twin-sized bed. “Whatcha doing?” “Writing,” Vivian said simply, gesturing to the typewriting, “I guess you could say inspiration hit. I couldn’t wait to get out of bed this morning and start writing, I haven’t even had breakfast yet,” she said the last part in a conspiratorial whisper. “You’re not doing work, are you?” I asked, remembering how she had chided me for suggesting I might get some work done on our vacation. Vivian giggled, “not at all, I promise.” “Then let me make us some breakfast,” I said as I stood up, “and you keep writing, okay?” “You’re going to make breakfast?” Vivian asked uncertainly, “Lavender, you’ve as much as admitted to me that you don’t know how to cook.” I huffed. “I can toast a bagel and cut up some fruit! It’s not the fanciest breakfast, but…still…” Vivian smiled appreciatively, “that sounds lovely, thank you.” “Of course,” I smiled back at her then turned to the door, “one bagel and fruit, coming right up!” “Oh, but Lavender?” Vivian called as I was walking out of the room, “You should probably change first.” My face was suddenly very hot—I hadn’t even thought twice about walking around in my soaked diaper. “I was just about to do that!” I lied, then dashed out of the room and back to the master bedroom. You’re getting a little too comfortable wearing wet padding around Vivian… She doesn’t seem to care. Especially not after last night. Last night… I sighed dreamily as I ripped the tapes off my diaper and deposited it in the trashcan in the en suite bathroom. Last night had been magical. Changed into a fresh pull-up, I made my way to the kitchen and whipped us up some breakfast—a toasted bagel with cream cheese for Vivian and one with hummus for me, plus some strawberries for both of us. Vivian took a break from writing to eat with me on the back patio. I was dying of curiosity about what Vivian was writing, but I refrained from asking about it, trusting Vivian to share it with me when and if she wanted. So, instead, we made small talk, mostly about our plans for the day—Vivian wanted to spend the day writing, so I was left to entertain myself. When we finished breakfast, Vivian went back to her typewriter while I cleaned up our dishes. With everything cleaned up, I set about finding something to do. I thought about curling up on the back patio with a book, or maybe even rowing out onto the lake and enjoying my book out in the early summer sun, but, instead, I found myself wandering through the house. I had given the place a quick once over when we had arrived, but now I was really looking through everything. I wasn’t looking for anything in particular, I was just bored and curious. In the living room, I found a stash of board game, many of my childhood favorites amongst the title, and I made a mental note to bug Vivian to play some of them with me. I also found a collection of DVDs and books, the titles so eclectic it was clear that much of the collection had been accumulated from forgetful temporary tenants. The rest of the house had very little of any real interest, and I was close to giving up my search entirely until I came across a bedroom that was very clearly intended for children. The room had a set of bunk beds and, I blushed to see, a crib and changing table. At least the landlords thought to provide for families. Beyond that, the room had a bookcase that was stuffed full of various children’s books, more board games, and toys of all sorts. A toy chest sat next to the bookcase and right in front of a window that looked out over the lake; it was also full of toys and stuffed animals. It was clear this collection was also at least supplemented by the leftovers of the countless families that had passed through this house. And then I found the real jackpot. Opening the folding closet doors, I found huge plastic containers absolutely full of Legos. My eyes went wide, and my face lit up. It took me multiple trips to carry it all out into the living room, where I had a lot more floor space, but before long I had pulled out all the containers and had them set up in a semi-circle in the living room. And so morning slid into afternoon; warm sunlight streamed through the living room windows, illuminating my playspace, and so gradually did it fade that I didn’t even notice I was squinting in the dark to see the Lego pieces. By the time the sun set, leaving the living room to be lit by only a single table lamp that did little to fight off the encroaching darkness, I had built myself a giant castle out of mismatched blocks, but there was something regal in its patchwork color palette. I was just sitting back on my heels, admiring my work and decided what to build next, when bright light flooded the room. I cried out in surprise and squeezed my eyes shut behind my hands. “Sorry,” Vivian said, “I should have warned you first.” I blinked a few times to adjust to the light and looked over at Vivian, who was standing just inside the doorway by the light switch. “You look like you’re having fun though.” I couldn’t help but blush a little. Sure, Vivian changed my diaper, but she thought I couldn’t help that. But here she was, having just caught me in the middle of playing with children’s toys. “Yeah,” I confirmed bashfully, “I haven’t played with Legos in…well, not since I was a little kid.” Which was true, but I had already promised myself to look into buying myself some Legos to play with at home. “It’s a lovely castle,” Vivian said genuinely, then added, “Are you the princess?” With a bit of a teasing smile. I wasn’t sure whether to laugh and play along or pout—different parts of me wanted to do both in equal measure. “Of course, I am,” I said finally with a huff, as if it was the dumbest question ever asked. “Of course, you are,” Vivian repeated. “How’s you writing going?” I asked after a moment of silence. “It’s…going really well,” Vivian walked into the living room, skirting around my Lego bins, and sat down on the couch. “I…well, I’m sorry I left you alone all day to work on this,” she raised the stack of paper in her hand. It was the first time I had noticed she was holding it, and I couldn’t help but stare at it with intense curiosity. “Is it…done?” “No…yes? Maybe…it’s…well, it’s not the best thing I’ve ever written. It was a bit rushed, honestly, but I guess I just really wanted to get all my thoughts out as quickly as possible. So, I guess…maybe the rough draft is done? I don’t know if I’ll ever bother editing this one though.” Her tone of voice was subdued, as if she was exhausted, or maybe nervous. Was she just tired from writing all day? “Is it…like the stories you used to write on those forums?” I asked, recalling the conversation we had just a couple days before in her kitchen. She smiled, “Yeah, it is.” “Did you have fun writing it?” Her smiled faltered, “It was…difficult to write, if I’m being honest. But I think I needed to write it, and I feel better having done so.” “Well,” I said, unsure of exactly how to react, “I guess that’s good?” “It is,” she looked up at me and smiled. “Lavender, um…I’d like to share it with you?” My heart skipped a beat; I had a sense of how important this was to her, how vulnerable she was being by even offering. “Are you sure?” “No,” she laughed, “but…yes.” She held out the bundle of papers, but I didn’t take it. “I don’t want you to show me because you feel like you have to.” “But I do have to,” Vivian said, “because I wrote this for you. And maybe writing it was a mistake, but I wrote it for you, and you have to read it. Just…please, don’t judge until you get to the end.” “You wrote it for me?” I asked incredulously. “To say things I need to say but can’t bring myself to say out loud.” “That sounds…ominous,” I took a deep breath, “was…last night a mistake?” “What? No!” Vivian shook her head emphatically. “No, it wasn’t a mistake. But…I’ve made other mistakes, Lavender, and after last night…I have to correct them. And I just hope…I just hope you won’t regret last night once I do. So…please, Lavender, I love you, I really do, and I want you to remember that as you read this, okay?” I reached out and gently took the papers. “Okay,” I said simply, then added, “I love you too, and nothing that’s in these pages is going to change that.” Vivian smiled weakly, “we’ll see.” “Should I read it in private?” “No,” Vivian said, “do it here. I…want to see how you react in the moment.” “Okay,” nervously, I looked down at the pages in my hand, and started reading. The story was about a professor, a doctoral advisor, who had invited their advisee to their home for dinner. She did it against it her best judgement; she knew it was a mistake, but she was so…enraptured with the young student. She was nervous that night, so she drank, and encouraged her student to do the same to cover for how nervous she was. And maybe, just maybe, if she was being honest with herself, because she was hoping someone would get drunk enough to make the first move. But then she awoke the next morning and lay in bed racked with guilt for how she had acted. Slowly, she peeled herself out of bed and made her way to the guest room, intending to the tell the girl, her student, that she was sorry, and that perhaps this had all been a mistake. But then…then she found her in a wet bed. She immediately went to comfort the girl, twisted up as she was between feeling guilty for putting the girl in this predicament and her…secret desires. The professor, you see, had always wanted a little girl of her own—not in a maternal way, but in a kinky way. The professor fought with herself after that day: she wanted her student more than ever but she still knew it was wrong. Not to mention, she was racked with guilt for how her student’s bedwetting, something that must be so humiliating and shameful for her, was something so arousing to her. But, she reasoned with herself, she could get a small slice of her desires fulfilled just by being with a girl she was already enamored with and being kind and supportive about her condition—was that so underhanded? I looked up at Vivian. “No,” she said, “don’t say anything, just finish reading, okay?” But I shook my head. I knew what was coming next, and I didn’t want to relive that, not as full of emotion as I was. I felt like I was about to burst in a fit of laughter or sobbing, I wasn’t sure which. Besides, I had read everything I needed to know. “Lavender,” Vivian said, “please? Read it, for me?” I shook my head again and looked up at her, smiling, tears forming in my eyes, “I faked the accidents,” I admitted, “or most of them, not the first one, the first time I wet the bad that is, that was a genuine accident, but after that…the rest of them? I either put myself in a position where I knew I was going to have an accident or outright did it on purpose, all because…because…all I’ve ever wanted was to be someone’s little girl.” I watched Vivian’s face transform with surprise and confusion and understanding and, finally, joy. “Will you…be my little girl, Lavender?” I nodded, tears rolling down my checks, “yes, of course.”

Chapter Twenty-Six The rest of our first day at the lake house passed largely without event. Vivian said nothing about my choice of underwear, which I was thankful for. We went to lunch at the diner our temporary landlord had recommended, went shopping, and then spent a quiet evening in. We made a simple dinner—salads with grilled chicken—and settled in on the couch for an evening of horror movies. It was almost a perfect evening. I was curled up and leaning against Vivian, drinking wine, watching scary movies (which I loved at the best of times but were only enhanced by being held by Vivian), and wearing a pull-up under my pajamas. I could think of a couple of things that would improve the evening—a sippy cup for my wine, a pacifier, a stuffy to cuddle, and thicker undergarments—but, all-in-all, it was a blissful night. Halfway through the second movie and halfway through the second bottle of wine, however, the inevitable happened—I had to pee. Just wet your pull-up, that’s what it’s for. I can’t just…casually wet myself while cuddling with Vivian! Why not? I…well…I just can’t, okay? But why not? That’s what the pull-ups are for; everyone here knows you are wearing pull-ups because you sometimes have accidents, so…just have an accident. I glanced up at Vivian from the corner of my eye, but she was absorbed in the movie. How on earth would I explain to her why I wet my pull-up? Just say you had an accident! It’s not complicated! But…wasn’t it? She would know I hadn’t like…tried very hard to make it to the potty if I don’t make a show of it… You’re over thinking this; she certainly isn’t going to think about it that hard. You have accidents, so have an accident. You’re the one who said you’d be able to commit to this! I said I’d be able to commit to wearing pull-ups full time! And that doesn’t include the occasional accident? If you don’t have any accidents, you won’t have an excuse to wear the pull-ups. Just say you didn’t notice. Oh! Or better yet, you got scared by the movie! I bit my lip. That could work. Gods, was I really going to do this? I glanced up at Vivian again, but she showed no signs that she was aware of the turmoil going on in my brain at that moment. “You okay, darling?” Vivian asked as I drew attention to myself shifting around to get into a more comfortable position in which to wet my pull-up. I nodded, “just had to readjust,” I told a half truth. I thought it would be hard; I thought some mental block would keep me from easily wetting my pull-up. Such mental blocks were no stranger to me. Anyone who has ever purposefully wet themselves can tell you that. Of course, I had plenty of practice overcoming them, so much so that under the best of circumstances I didn’t even have to try, but this was different. I had never wet myself while cuddling with someone, and I expected it to be hard. I expected to have to focus, to put real effort into releasing my bladder. So, imagine my surprise when warmth began flooding my pull-up effortlessly. Careful now, don’t flood it too much and leak. This was much harder than getting started. After an initial burst, I had to clench down, try to slow my stream, so I wouldn’t surpass the pull-ups ability to absorb liquid. This was, again, something I was practiced at, but I couldn’t help but feel a pang of longing for my diapers, which didn’t require so much effort. Still, before long my bladder was empty, my pull-up warm, soggy, and squishy, and my pajamas, not to mention the couch below me, perfectly dry. I sighed contentedly and snuggled into Vivian, who wrapped her arm around me and pulled me close. Now, this is bliss. I still missed my pacifier and sippy cup and everything else, but it was certainly getting closer to perfect. “What did you think?” Vivian asked almost an hour later as the credits began to roll. “Mm, I thought it was pretty good,” I said as I sat up and readjusted so I was looking at her. My pull-ups squished beneath me as I did, and I couldn’t help but savor the feeling. “The monster was kind of silly looking, though.” “I agree,” Vivian nodded and leaned forward to pour the last of the bottle of wine into our glasses. “Sadly, I think that’s the weak point of a lot of horror films; I think it’s more effective when you never see the monster, to be honest.” “Mhm! Whatever we imagine is always going to be scarier anyway!” Vivian and I quickly finished off the last of the wine as we discussed the movie. My biggest complaint about the movie was that it wasn’t scary enough to provide a probable alibi for my wet pull-up, though that particular critique went unvoiced. “Well,” Vivian said some time later, “shall we watch another one? Or perhaps there are…other activities we could get up to?” She smirked and raised one eyebrow before tossing back the last of her wine. “And what about another bottle of wine?” I smiled even as I was biting my lip and finished off my own wine. “Another bottle of wine, for sure. And then…I don’t know…” I spoke coyly and looked at Vivian through my eyelashes, “what else could we get up to?” Vivian chuckled and stood up, “why don’t I get us another bottle of wine and then we can figure it out.” I watched Vivian saunter out of the room—how did she manage to look elegant and sexy even in loose fitting pajamas? So, are you just going to keep sitting in your wet pull-up? Wait until bedtime? I was left in a bit of a conundrum concerning my pull-up. I could just go change—in fact, I’m pretty sure that was exactly what I would do if I actually needed the pull-ups and wasn’t just a diaper-loving degenerate. However, that was also the least fun option, not least of all because I would have to slink away, which would inevitably provoke questions that I was too embarrassed to have to answer. You can wet yourself while cuddled up to Vivian, but you can’t tell her you had an accident? Those two things are very different. It’s all part of wearing pull-ups full time. On the other hand, if I waited until bedtime to change, well…first of all, I knew I’d probably have to pee again before then, especially considering all the wine and the fact that I had broken the seal already. Secondly, it was likely that Vivian would change me into my night time diaper again—the thought filled me with anticipation—which means she’ll notice my wet pull-up then and I might have to explain why I sat in a wet pull-up for so long. Just lie and say it happened recently? Before I could consider my options too much, Vivian returned with a chilled bottle of white wine and filled both of our glasses. “So?” She asked as she poured, “Another movie? Or…something else?” I smiled over the rim of my wine glass and took a sip. “Mm, well, did you have anything in mind?” Vivian sat down next to me, crossed her legs, and sipped at her wine, seemingly deep in thought. “You know, my little Lavender,” she said lightly after a long pause as she reached over and gently stroked my cheek before pushing some stray hair behind my ear, “maybe we should just…enjoy each other’s company, what do you think?” I smiled and scooted closer to her on the couch, pressing my body against hers, and in response Vivian wrapped her arm around me and held me close. “That could be nice,” I sipped my wine and then leaned forward to set it on the coffee table before settling back. “I feel like it’s been so long since we’ve properly…enjoyed each other’s company,” I said, using her euphemism. Vivian reached out with the hand that wasn’t holding my body close to hers and cupped my cheek, “you’re so gorgeous, darling,” she said before leaning in and gently kissing me. I kissed back harder, wanting more, but she pulled away with a playful laugh; I made a whining protest in my throat as I bit my lip. “Someone’s eager, aren’t they?” I let go of my lip and exhaled, long and slow, “you’re teasing me,” I accused playfully. She gently grabbed my chin and placed her thumb on my lower lip; I shuddered and wrapped my lips around the tip of her thumb—half-way between sucking her thumb and kissing it. “Oh, darling,” she said softly, “I’m not teasing you, just…drawing things out.” “Teasing,” I said softly, distantly—something about the way she was holding my chin made me brain go foggy, and I was quickly becoming drunk on her touches. “Mmm,” Vivian sounded amused, “and what would you have me do, my little Lavender?” “Kiss me?” She leaned, shifting her hand from grabbing my chin to cupping my cheek, and kissed me, long and slow. Then with increasing intensity. I started to whine as she seemed to be pulling away, but she just laughed, bit my lip—I shuddered and gasped in surprise and pleasure—and began kissing me with newly invigorated passion. And then Vivian was on top of me, straddling me and pressing my against the back of the couch, her hair draped around me as she held my face with both hands and kissed me needfully, her tongue darting and running over my lips. One of my hands settled on her hip while the other played up and down her side before finally making its way to her chest. I played with Vivian’s nipple through her shirt, and she moaned against my mouth. You’re making out with Vivian while wearing a wet pull-up. I squeezed my thighs together gently, squishing the pull-up between then and pressing the wet garment against my most sensitive parts. I was making out with Vivian in a wet pull-up, and she had no idea. Vivian ran her hand through my hair, gently at first, but then she closed her fist and gently pulled my hair. I inhaled sharply and let me head be yanked back; then Vivian’s mouth was against my neck, sucking and biting even as she maintained gentle pressure on my hair—not enough to truly hurt, but enough to give the sensation of having my hair pulled. My fingers trailed from her hip, around her thigh, to trace a line up and down the hem of her panties, gently teasing her. She rocked her hips to give me better access, but I went no farther than tracing her panty lines. “Now who’s teasing?” She stopped sucking on my neck to whisper directly in my ear, then nipped at my earlobe. “Be a good girl and touch me.” “Touch you where?” I said with a smirk, echoing the game she had played the last time we were making out on my couch—right before I pissed myself. “Tell me where, exactly.” “Mmm, you’re playing a dangerous game, my little Lavender,” she warned, then gently ran her tongue around the outside of my ear—a little moan of pleasure escaped my lips. “Be a good girl and touch me,” she repeated with my force, “and maybe I’ll reward you, do you understand, my little Lavender?” I swallowed hard and nodded, “yes, mis—” I cut myself over before I could finish the three-word phrase I had uttered so many times in my imagination. “Hmm? What was that?” Vivian asked, clearly picking up on the extra half syllable. I shook my head, “yes, Vivian,” I said, and complied, beginning to slowly rub Vivian’s lips through her panties—I felt her muscles tighten for a moment as she gasped, then slowly relax as she exhaled. “Uh uh,” she spoke a little breathlessly, “you were going to say something else, what were you going to say, darling? Be a good girl now and don’t like.” I was blushing furiously and stammered wordlessly for a moment before I could find words, “it’s just…I was going to say…” “Go on,” Vivian was rocking her hips back and forth in time with my hand. I pressed against her clit, and she gasped but maintained her cool—more importantly, she maintained focus. “Keep going, Lavender, but you can’t distract me, tell me what you were going to say.” She was breathing slow and deep, but still had a mischievous look on her face. “Come on, now, or you won’t get a treat.” If my face got any warmer, I was sure I was going to burst into flames. Think of something else, what could you have been saying? Yes, miss…no, not miss, what else starts with m…my love? “I just…uhm…yes, my love?” I ventured. “Is that really what you were going to say?” Vivian asked with more than a hint of suspicion. “One more chance to be a good girl, little Lavender.” “I…” I bit my lip and locked eyes with Vivian for a long moment. Just tell her; she’s making out with you while you’re wearing a wet pull-up, how badly is she really going to react to you calling her ‘Miss Vivian’? She doesn’t know I’m in a wet pull-up… If only I hadn’t been so terribly horny in the moment, I might have been able to think of a way around admitting what I had said, but I was cornered. I broke eye contact with Vivian and looked away, there was no way I could say it while making eye contact like that. “I said,” I began cautiously, “or…was going to say…uhm…yes…Miss Vivian…” Vivian’s lips curled into a grin, “So…say it.” I snapped my head back to look at her, my face a picture of surprise. “W-what?” “Say it,” she repeated with a tone of finality. “Yes…yes, Miss Vivian,” I stammered. “That’s right, my good girl,” she stroked my cheek gently, “and you’ll do anything Miss Vivian tells you to, isn’t that right?” Hearing Vivian refer to herself as ‘Miss Vivian’ sent a shiver through my whole body. I liked my lips and nodded. Smiling, she slid of my lap backwards and stood up in front of me. “I’m so glad to hear that, darling, because you’re going to make Miss Vivian feel very good, aren’t you?” She slowly removed her pajama pants as she did, revealing a simple, unadorned pair of black bikini panties. I couldn’t help but blush at the disparity between our undergarments. I nodded eagerly. “Of course, you are,” she said as she sat back down on the couch, facing me with her back pressed against the arm of the chair. “Take my panties off,” she directed. Shifting around so I was facing her, I reached out and hooked my fingers around the waistband of her panties on either side and began to slowly slide them down her legs. Vivian lifted her hips just enough for me to slid them out from under her, then settled back down. “You’re so good at following directions,” Vivian praised. “Now,” she reached out with both hands and grabbed my hair on either side of my head, then pulled my head down between her legs, “I trust my little Lavender knows what to do, yes?” Vivian’s hips bucked forward as I began running my tongue up her lips before working through her folds to find her clitoris. She moaned and arched her back as I began spelling out my name against her clit with my tongue. “Good girl,” Vivian moaned the words, elongating them with at least a dozen extra vowels each, and began to play with my hair, alternating between gently running her fingers through it and softly yanking on handfuls. My own parts throbbed against the inside of my pull-up, and even as I licked and sucked and let my tongue play games between Vivian’s thighs, my hand ventured down between my own and pressed the wet padding firmly against my skin. I rocked my own hips against my hand, rubbing the piss-soaked padding against myself. Yes, Miss Vivian. The words were burned in my head. My good girl. Every nerve in my body vibrated with those words. Lost in the moment as I was, everything else faded away until it was just Vivian and me. All I knew was her taste, her smell, the sound of her breathing and her occasional murmurs of encouragement, and the feeling of her hands in my hair and the wet pull-up against my skin. Minutes passed, perhaps hours, perhaps lifetimes. Vivian’s hands tightened their grip on my hair and I felt her whole body begin to tense; she was close. Reluctantly, I stopped rubbing my own padding and let my hand drift upwards where I plunged my fingers inside Vivian. She gasped and made a high-pitched sound as I pushed her over the edge; her whole body shuddering, muscles tensing and loosening. She held me so close to her so tightly that I thought I might suffocate, but it never even occurred to me to slow down or resist, I simply kept working my tongue against her and moving my fingers in and out as Vivian cried out. Slowly, slowly, Vivian’s cries turned to whimpers, turned deep, slow breaths as her body relaxed, melting into the couch. I sat up, wiping juices from my face and grinning, “I did good?” “You did very good, my little Lavender,” Vivian laughed breathlessly, “very good.” “Time for my treat?” Vivian smirked, “didn’t you already get your treat?” I pouted, “no?” “So, you weren’t touching yourself for most of that?” Vivian cocked an eyebrow at me, and my face flushed. “But! That was…I mean…you didn’t say I couldn’t,” I pouted, and Vivian laughed. “Don’t worry,” Vivian sat up and pushed me back until I was leaning against the opposite arm of the couch, “you’ll get yours; I’m just teasing.” Vivian hovered over me, her hair falling all around my face. She looked down at me, smiling hungrily. Her brushed my knee and then her fingertips were gently trailing their way up my inner thigh toward— Your wet fucking pull-up. Oh god. “Vivian, I…” Vivian’s face flashed a moment of surprise that quickly faded to concern, and her hand quickly withdrew. “Lavender? What is it? Are you okay?” She was still hovering over me but she held her body rigid and as far from me as possible. “Yeah, I…um…” What was I supposed to say? My pull-up is wet? “What’s going on, darling?” Vivian asked. I bit my lip and nodded. “I just…” Frustration welled up in my chest. The worst part was it was my fault; I could have gotten changed earlier, like when I had first wet myself. Or just not wet yourself in the first place. Or even put on the pull-up. And now you’ve ruined your sex life because you wanted to pretend you’re incontinent. “Lavender,” Vivian’s gentle voice brought me back to the moment. I looked up; her expression was soft and warm. “Darling,” she gave me a knowing smile, “I already know…” I knew what she meant immediately, and my face went scarlet. The problem was, she thought she knew, but she only knew half the truth. I bit my lip and exhaled deeply. Maybe…try being honest for once? “I’m…wet?” I muttered weakly. “You’re…? Oh.” Vivian said, confusion turning to understanding, to surprise. “Oh!” “I’m sorry, I—” “Lavender,” Vivian interrupted me, “were you wet when you were touching yourself earlier?” My stomach dropped. I nodded. Why did you nod? I don’t know! Why did you nod?! I panicked! But Vivian…Vivian was smirking. Slowly, she crept back over me, her hair washing against me, until her face was above mine. “If you don’t care,” she said as her hand brushed past my thighs, “then why should I?” She pressed her hand against my wet pull-up and my breath caught in my throat. I looked up at her with surprise and lust, my lip caught between my teeth. “I told you, my little Lavender,” she whispered, “none of this bothers me.” Her fingers rhythmically pressed the soaked padding against me, and I rocked my hips in time, my breaths quick and shallow. “And I love you.” Everything stopped. I looked up at Vivian, my eyes wide. “Yeah?” “Yeah,” she nodded. “Yeah.” I nodded. “I…I love you too.” “Yeah?” Her smile absolutely lit her face up. “Yeah!” I laughed. And then she was kissing me, and her hand was working furiously against my pull-up, and my hips moved instinctively, and time stretched out or compressed or maybe looped back on itself a few times but then the world exploded into starlight and sound and a ragged cry was ripped from my throat as I clawed at Vivian’s back and then everything was white, then black, no, my eyes were just closed, tears poured down my cheeks as I opened them. I looked up at Vivian and a swell of emotion rose in my chest, threatening to turn into a fit of joyful sobbing, but I fought it down, and smiled weakly instead. “I love you.” I repeated. “I love you, my little Lavender.”

As always, I just want to take a moment to thank everyone who has commented; I cannot express the joy I get from knowing that yall not only enjoy but are really engaged with the story! Here's a brand new chapter for y'all--with an easter egg for those who have read my other stories ?? Chapter Twenty-Five The glass felt cool against my forehead as I did my best to curl up in the passenger seat of Vivian’s car. I had been dozing on and off for most of the ride, and Vivian was playing a podcast at a low volume. It was nice of Vivian to let me sleep on the ride there instead of keeping her company while she drove, but it was, according to her, Vivian’s way of apologizing for making me wake up so early. And I definitely needed the sleep; my excitement over what had happened the night before combined with my anticipation of the week to come had kept me up most of the night, like a little kid on Christmas Eve. I shifted around in my seat, my legs were starting to get stiff, and smiled as I felt the slight bulk of the pull-up—so thin compared to the diapers I was quickly becoming accustomed to. “If you think you’re going to sleep on the drive,” Vivian had said that morning over breakfast, “it might be a good idea to wear one of your pull-ups—just in case, yes?” And, of course, I had agreed; it was simply the most practical option. And it has nothing at all to do with the fact that you get off on Miss Vivian telling you to wear your padding. I mean…that helps, yeah. “Hey, sleepyhead,” Vivian said as she noticed me stirring, “awake for the day or are you going to try to get some more sleep?” I stretched as best as I could in the cramped confines of the car and considered the question. “How close are we?” “Pretty close,” Vivian said, turning off the podcast so we could talk more easily, “maybe about 20 or 30 minutes?” “Doesn’t seem worth it to go back to sleep then, you know?” I smiled and looked out the window. It was trees as far as the eye could see. “I don’t think I realized just how out in the middle of nowhere this place is.” “It’s not the middle of nowhere,” Vivian replied, “but it’s pretty close. There’s a town just a short drive away from the house, so we’re not exactly isolated, but we’ll have plenty of privacy,” she glanced at me sideways and smirked. As I shook the last vestiges of sleep off of me, I noticed the slight fullness in my bladder. I could hold it for 30 minutes, but… She expects you to use the pull-up anyway, why not just use it? I’m not even sure if I can. I’d peed myself in front of Vivian three times now, and all of them been while I was desperate to pee. In fact, I had even tried to pee myself before I’d hit my limit the night before and had been unable—could I do it now? It’s different than peeing your pants, easier, less humiliating. But will it be less humiliating when I have to tell her my pull-up is wet? Do you ever really need to? She’s going to find out. But, again, she expects you to use it. You’ve been asleep in her car for hours and are a known bedwetter—she’ll probably be surprised if you’re dry. That’s true… “Do you need to stop and stretch or anything?” Vivian asked, as if she knew what I was thinking. Stretching sounded nice, but I shook my head, “no, I’ll be alright until we get there.” “Just let me know if you change your mind,” Vivian said. “So, I was thinking,” Vivian continued, “how would you feel about getting settled in the house and then driving back to town to get some lunch and check the place out? Maybe get some groceries and stuff while we’re there.” “Yeah, that sounds like a great idea,” I leaned my head against the window again and watched the trees zooming past. In truth, the pressure in my bladder wasn’t bad, but it was all I could think of. So…just go… I bit my lip and stole a quick glance over at Vivian, who seemed wholly focused on the road now. I shifted around in my seat more, getting into a better position, and relaxed my bladder. At first, nothing happened, but after a moment of focus I felt the familiar and exhilarating sensation of warm pee flooding my pull-up. I smiled, regretful that I couldn’t slip my thumb into my mouth—or better yet, a pacifier—and settled back down into my seat, the pull-up squishing against me. Before long, I must have slipped back asleep, as the next thing I knew I was being lightly shaken back awake. “Lavender,” Vivian was saying, “Lavender, wake up.” “Mm?” “We’re here, darling.” “Yeah?” I said groggily as I sat up in my seat and looked around. We were parking at the end of a gravel lane right in front of a Victorian-style house. There was a bit of a clearing around the house but were otherwise surrounded by dense trees, except behind the house where a huge, sparkling lake stretched out. “Oh,” I said as I rubbed my eyes, “it looks so nice.” “Come on, sleepy girl,” Vivian said as she opened her car door and stepped out, “let’s check it out.” I followed Vivian’s lead and climbed out of the car, my joints and muscles both complaining and rejoicing at their new freedom. I stretched with my whole body, vaguely aware of but largely unconcerned with how it made me shirt rise up, possibly exposing the waistband of my pull-up. “Well, hey there!” An unfamiliar voice rang out from the house, and I immediately grabbed the hem of my shirt and yanked it down. I looked toward the house and saw a young woman, maybe in her 30s, coming down the porch stairs. She had brown, curly hair that fell to the middle of her back and wore a loose, flowy skirt. “Hey,” Vivian called back as I cowered against the car. Did they see? Surely, they were too far away to notice, right? “You must be Vivian,” the woman said as she approached us with her hand outstretched. “That’s right,” Vivian said as she took the woman’s hand and shook it gently. “And you must be Madison, right? Or Sabrina?” The curly haired woman nodded and laughed lightly, “Madison,” she confirmed, then pointed off in the distance, “that’s Sabrina over there with our daughter, Claire.” I followed where she was pointing and saw another young woman in a floral print dress playing on the ground with a girl who looked to be about two or three years old. “It’s nice to meet you,” Vivian said, and then gestured to me, “and this is Lavender. Lavender, these are the people we’re renting the house from.” “It’s nice to meet you,” I said softly, still holding down the hem of my shirt. There’s no way she saw from up on the porch. “My,” Madison said as she looked me up and down, “aren’t you just a lovely little thing.” She smiled in away that, quite frankly, creeped me out a little; it felt like she was assessing me, and had discovered something that amused her. “Well,” she said, turning back to Vivian, “I was just giving the house one last once over to make sure everything was ready for you.” Vivian and Madison continued talking, but I stopped paying attention—something about Madison didn’t sit right with me, and I wanted away from the situation. You’re just imagining things because you’re worried she saw your pull-up. Maybe, but still, something is weird about her. Instead, I walked around to the back of the car and started pulling our luggage out. “I’m going to start bringing these in,” I called to Vivian who looked away from Madison long enough to smile and nod at me. “I just turned the air conditioner on,” Madison said as I rolled our suitcases past her and Vivian, “so it might still be a little stuffy in there.” Stuffy was right, but it wasn’t unbearable. It was decorated simply, but nicely—very cottage core, which felt appropriate. I found the master bedroom easily, with it’s four post bed, dresser, armoire, and large vanity table. With the luggage safely stored there, I set about exploring the rest of the house. It wasn’t a huge house, smaller than Vivian’s, in fact, but it would do nicely for us for the next week. More than nicely. We probably wouldn’t even use the extra bedrooms. Finally, I found my way out the back door and onto the covered patio and conjoined dock. There was even a small rowboat tied to the end of the dock, and I immediately began thinking of how nice it would be to row out onto the lake and enjoy the sun as the water gently rocked me. Stepping out onto the dock, I looked out over the water. The lake was huge, much larger than I had expected. I could see other houses against the water, but they were all quite a ways off. We definitely had ample privacy, even on the patio. Maybe you can sunbathe in a pull-up. My cheeks turned red at the idea, but I wasn’t entirely against it. “There you are,” I heard Vivian’s voice from behind me and turned to see her just stepping out onto the patio. “So, what do you think?” “It’s lovely,” I replied, walking back down the dock towards her. “This lake is absolutely gorgeous, and look! There’s a rowboat! I thought it would be nice to sun-bathe on the lake in it.” Vivian smiled at my enthusiasm and nodded her head, “that would be nice. Maybe we’ll pack a lunch and have a little picnic on the lake, what do you think?” “Yes, please! I’d love that.” “Speaking of lunch, Madison suggested a place in town if you were still up for heading into town?” I nodded and made an affirmative sound. “Great,” Vivian smiled, “do you want to…get changed before we go?” It took a second for me to realize what she meant, and my cheeks warmed when I did. I bit my lip and nodded, “Oh, yeah, I guess I should.” “Go on then, my little Lavender,” Vivian said, “get out of that soggy pull-up and into some panties, and then we can get going.” My face erupted in scarlet, and I nodded before hurrying inside. Why did she have to say it like that? Was she trying to embarrass you as much as possible? Does…does she know? How could she know? I don’t know, but… And why did she just assume you were wet? I did say I needed to change… Maybe you just didn’t want to go out in a pull-up! Hey, yeah! Then again, you did sleep the whole way here practically. Oh, so she’s just thinks I’m that much of a bedwetter. You haven’t exactly given her reason to think differently. She still didn’t have to say it like that! But it gave you butterflies. You love it when she talks to you like that. …not the point, she doesn’t know that. Are you going to protest? Well…no… Then why bother complaining? Just enjoy it. By then I had made it to the master bedroom where our luggage was. I stood there for a long moment looking at my suitcase and chewing my bottom lip. Something seemed off. Vivian had always been overly hesitant about saying anything that might embarrass me, but not all of the sudden she was saying telling me to change out of my “soggy pull-up?” Why the sudden switch? Was it…was it possible she had figured it out and decided to play along? But how could she have? I don’t know! But…if she knows… …then she’s playing along. So maybe I should… …double down? I knelt down and unzipped my suitcase. At first, I reached for a pair of panties but hesitated as I stared at the open bag of pull-ups. I had specifically brought the pull-ups to wear during the day, why not just…keep wearing them? On the other hand, I could stage another accident to see how Vivian would react, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to put myself through that again. “Something wrong?” I practically jumped out of my skin at the sound of Vivian’s voice coming from the doorway. I whirled around even as I was jumping to my feet and looked back at Vivian as I tried to suppress the instinct to panic. She hadn’t discovered me doing anything wrong, after all. “No,” I said, trying to keep my tone level, “just…you know, about to get changed.” “Mmm,” Vivian was leaning against the doorframe and giving me a playful smile, “well, go on ahead then, don’t let me bother you.” I swallowed hard and looked back down at the suitcase—no more time to deliberate. I knelt down again, reached into the suitcase, and grabbed a pull-up.

Chapter Twenty-three “Feeling better?” Vivian asked as I walked into the dining room where she was just beginning to set the table. I nodded, “Thank you again,” I said quietly, “for…well, everything…” Vivian set the last of the silverware in her hand on the table and looked up at me, “You are quite welcome, darling.” I opened my mouth to respond, but she held up a hand and continued before I could, “And before you say again,” she walked around the dining room table as she spoke, “there’s no need to be sorry.” She cupped my cheek with one hand and leaned in for a quick kiss, “or have I not made it abundantly clear just how little your…problem bothers me?” “You have,” I admitted, “it’s just…” Embarrassing? Shameful? Mortifying? Kinda hot? All words I could use, but instead I just trailed off. “I’m sure,” she said after it was obvious that I wasn’t going to finish—I couldn’t help but wonder what she seemed so certain I was going to say, “but all I can do is reassure you that this is a much bigger deal for you than it is for me. But, of course, if there is anything I can do to make this easier on you, then I would like to do that for you, okay?” Does her being so supportive make this easier or harder? Maybe both? I smiled and nodded, “thank you, Vivian.” “Quite welcome, my little Lavender. Now,” she let me cheek go and started walking towards the door that led into the kitchen, “I’ll go get our plates, why don’t you go ahead and take a seat?” Once we were both seated with our plates in front of us, Vivian almost immediately launched into a long rant about her frustrations with grading undergrad papers over the past week, a topic I was all too happy to let dominate the meal. I contributed to the conversation where I could—sometimes commiserating based on my limited experience grading papers during my MA years, sometimes defending the poor undergrads based on my much more recent memories of what it was like to be an undergrad—but, mostly, I just listened and validated her frustrations. As an aspiring professor myself, it was almost like a window into what I had to look forward to once I finished my degree. The rest of the evening passed in a blur of meandering conversation that traveled from the dining room to the kitchen as we cleaned and finally to the parlor as we sat on the couch nursing glasses of wine. Perhaps the night seemed to pass by especially quick as we both agreed an early bedtime was in order so we could be up bright and early the next morning to make the drive to the lake house. It was only a few hours, but Vivian wanted to get there before noon. And so, before long, I found myself back in the bathroom going through my bedtime routine of washing my face, brushing my teeth, and otherwise preparing for bed. About that time, I suddenly remember the conversation I had with Vivian on the phone earlier that day. “It might be best if you bring some of your, ah…diapers for nighttime,” Vivian had said. Did she mean for tonight too? Or just at the lake house? I don’t know. Is she expecting you to wear a diaper tonight? I don’t know! Well, are you going to? I. Don’t. Know! Wait, you can’t put it on yourself. What? Why not? Last time, at the apartment, you told her you had tried and couldn’t do it. If you do it yourself not, she’ll know you’ve been…practicing… I mean, it would make sense that I have, right? Maybe if she had told you she wanted you to wear diapers at night on this vacation like a week ago. How much practice could you have gotten in since this afternoon? So…do I wait to see if she offers? Oh, gods, what if she offers to put a diaper on you? Fuck, what if she does? It wasn’t like I hadn’t fantasized about that scenario numerous times, but the fantasy was far different from the reality of it. But as scary as it was, thinking about it made a pang of longing shudder through my body. That’s what you want though, isn’t it? Let’s just wait until she says something, okay? With that decided, I took a deep breath, and left the bathroom. I walked down the hallway to Vivian’s room, chewing my lip nervously the entire time. I was, once again, feeling rudderless and completely uncertain of what would come next. “All ready for bed?” Vivian called from her en suite bathroom as I walked in. “Yep,” I called back as I set my bag of toiletries next to the luggage in the corner of her room. “I just need to change into pajamas.” “About that,” Vivian began as she walked out of the bathroom, my heart jumping up into my throat with anticipation, “I was thinking that…well…” “I should wear a diaper to bed,” I blurted out—it took every once of willpower to not clap my hands over my mouth. Oh fuck oh fuck why did you say that?! I don’t know! So much for waiting for her to bring it up. She was about to! And you did it first! Vivian looked at me with a surprised expression on her face, blinked a few times, and nodded, “I was going to put it less bluntly, but…yes,” she gave me a warm smile. “I just thought it would be best to get used to it now since you’ll be wearing them to bed at the lake house, but, of course, it’s your decision, and I’ll respect any decision you make. In fact, if you decide you don’t want to wear the diapers at all, I’ll understand, and we can deal with any leaks that might happen.” Vivian rushed it all out in one breath, I just nodded, unsure of how to proceed. So, I guess this is it. But it wasn’t; we both just stood there awkwardly for a long moment. Is she waiting for you to go get changed? Maybe, but… But you’re waiting for her to offer to change you. Finally, Vivian cleared her throat and spoke again, “Sorry, I didn’t expect you to…” she paused, visibly choosing her next words, “…be so…amenable to the idea.” I tried to push down the panic that was slowly but steadily rising inside me and forced a smile, “Yeah, I mean…you’re right, best to get used to it now, so…” You’re still just standing there. So is she! I glanced back at my suitcases where both my pajamas and my diapers were hidden, then back at Vivian. “Um…” Vivian’s eyes widened in surprise, “oh! You probably want some privacy, right?” The exact opposite! I bit my lip, steeled my nerve, and shook my head. I tried to speak, but no sound came out when I did. I wasn’t sure what I was going to say anyway. “Or…” She began, then said nothing for an agonizingly long few seconds. “That is…if you’d like…I can…well,” I’d never seen Vivian this frazzled before, but it was clear she was nervous about this whole thing. What’s she got to be nervous about? Maybe she’s not really as okay with this as she says. Vivan took a deep breath and visibly composed herself, “Sorry, I guess I’m a little nervous; I just don’t want to upset or embarrass you. But, I was thinking…it’s just that, last weekend you said you had tried them but couldn’t quite put them on yourself, right?” I nodded. “So, if you want…then I could…” Say it, say it, please say it. “…help you,” she finished at last. Chapter Twenty-Four Oh, fuck, okay, stay calm, don’t seem to eager, just play it cool, okay? I swallowed hard. This had been exactly what I was hoping for but…now that it was here…could I…did I…was I sure…and…what if… Breath! I forced myself to exhale a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. “I, uh…” I said weakly. I didn’t want to sound too eager, but the problem was I wasn’t sure how I should sound. What was the appropriate tone of voice for this? Reluctant but accepting? Resigned, maybe? Something like that. She’s waiting for your answer still! “Um…” I bit my lip, lowered my gaze, and nodded my head. That would have to do. “Are you…sure?” It wasn’t entirely clearly to me whether Vivian was asking because she sensed my panic or because she herself was reluctant. Oh gods, what if she only offered to be nice but really doesn’t want to do this? “Are…you?” I asked back. Vivian smiled warmly and nodded, “of course, darling girl. I told you, I’ll do whatever you need me to do to make this as easy as possible for you. And if that means helping you with your…” she gestured to the suitcase, “you know, then I’m not only willing but even happy to.” She’s happy to diaper you. Calm down, she doesn’t mean it that way. I took a deep breath and nodded, “okay, let’s do it.” But I just kept standing there. Gods, I’m really starting to panic. This is what you wanted! Things are going well! Just stay calm, okay? “Well,” Vivian took a few steps towards me and gestured to the bed, “I guess…you lay down on the bed? And I’ll get your…from your suitcase?” A surprisingly strong sense of relief washed over me as Vivian took charge, even if she seemed a little unsure of herself. I nodded and quickly stepped over to the bed and sat down. Vivian gave me a reassuring smile, then moved to my suitcase and unzipped it. It took her no time at all to find the diapers, they took up a substantial amount of room in my suitcase after all, and only slightly longer to find a pair of pajamas—a simple pair of black shorts and matching cami. She approached the bed, placed the pajamas on the bed, and starting turning the bag of diapers over in her hands, looking for an opening. For a second, her face was pure confusion, then…surprise? She looked up at me and smiled. What was that? But before I could chase that thought, Vivian ripped open the package, and all my attention was back on her. I chewed on my bottom lip as she pulled the black, plastic-backed diaper out of the bag, then set the bag down. And then Vivian was standing in front of me with a diaper in her hands ready to put it on me. “Don’t worry,” she said with a smile, “this isn’t the first time I’ve done this.” I felt my cheeks heat up. At least she didn’t directly compare you to whatever babies she’s taken care of in the past. “Well, it’s mine,” and I laughed, surprising myself more than a little. “I’ll be gentle,” Vivian gave me a wink, then began unfolding the diaper. “I guess, take your pants off?” I stood back up again just long enough to unbutton pants and, hooking my thumbs under the hem of my panties, pulled down my pants and panties at the same time. Stepping out of them, I sat back down on the bed and looked up at Vivian expectantly. “Okay, um, scoot back just a little, and lay down, just like that, now, here, put your feet on the bed so you can…exactly, just like that! And I’ll just slide this under you, now down…no, up again, sorry, just need to adjust it, and back down? Okay, great,” I let Vivian guide me through the process without a word, simply following her instructions. Which, honestly, I might have needed. I felt nearly frozen with…panic? No, not quite. What’s the word for when you’re excited because one of your fantasies is literally coming true but you’re kind of overwhelmed by it and also maybe feel a little bit guilty by how you got here and worried you’re making a horrible mistake but despite all that are somehow so incredibly turned on. … You know you’re in deep when even your internal narrative is speechless. “Um, should I…use…powder?” Vivian asked cautiously, and I couldn’t have been more thankful that she’d left off the adjective. “I…didn’t bring any…” You didn’t even think about that. Vivian nodding, “we might want to get you some, but you’ll be okay for tonight.” And then she pulled the diaper up between my legs, and my heart skipped a beat. Or seven. Holding the diaper to my lower abdomen with one hand, Vivian grabbed on of the wings and pulled it tightly around my waist and fastened one of the tapes before repeating the process on the other. With that done, she quickly did the second tape on each side. And that it was all over. So much faster than when you do it. And so much nicer. “Does that feel…secure?” Vivian asked as she ran her fingers along the leak guards. I nodded. “Are you…okay?” There was more than a note of concern in her voice. I nodded. Surreal? No, but that’s really close. “Just…” I laughed weakly, “um, a little…not sure how to feel.” Vivian nodded, then gave a short laugh herself, “yeah, I get what you mean. Do you want to finish getting dressed yourself? I still need to finish getting ready for bed.” Vivian’s whole demeanor was so nonchalant that it made it hard to feel awkward about what had just happened. For all you could tell by the way she was acting, this was a perfectly normal and natural thing to have just happened. I could never overstate my gratefulness for that. “Yeah, I can do that part myself,” I smiled and sat up, already feeling more relaxed. Uncanny? It’s the center of the venn diagram between surreal, uncanny, and incredibly hot. Vivian leaned down, kissed me firmly on the lips, lingered for a moment, then stood back up. “I can’t wait to spend the next week with you, my little Lavender.” Her little pet name for me took on new meaning in this moment, and my cheeks turned scarlet. “Me too.” Vivian left the room, and I finished changing into my pajamas before climbing into bed and sliding under the covers. My diaper crinkled blissfully every step of the way. Vivian just diapered you. Vivian just diapered me! It was going to be a good week.

Eeehhhh, what's the worst that can happen? Chapter Twenty-Two “Lavender? You okay?” “Mhm,” I replied weakly and nodded my head, but I wasn’t really. Sharp pain shot through my lower abdomen. I had done a little too good of a job shoving my need to pee to the back of my brain and now it was coming back with a vengeance. This was always the end game, wasn’t it? It was, but… But what? But I was having second thoughts now that the moment was upon me, not least of all because Vivian had just shared something really special and intimate. Too bad it was a little too late for second thoughts. That fact became painfully obvious as another wave of fresh pain passed through me and my panties grew damp. “Are you sure?” Vivian was asking, but she seemed far away. Why are you even bothering to fight it? This is what you were waiting for; you literally thought about peeing your pants as a distraction just minutes ago, and now you’re having second thoughts? Why was I fighting it? I took a deep breath, said a small prayer that I wasn’t make a huge mistake, and stopped fighting it. This was easier said than done; it was an effort of sheer willpower to stop fighting it—potty training is engraved in our brain like that—but I had a lot of practice. My body took over almost immediately, and the crotch and seat of my shortalls quickly became soaked. I looked up at Vivian and put on my best mix of worried and afraid. “Lavender?” Vivian’s face contorted into confused concern as she put the spoon down and began approaching me. “What’s wrong, darling?” I couldn’t have answered her no matter how much I wanted to; I felt completely frozen. My bladder was still emptying itself, and all I could do was sit there. Fortunately, I didn’t need to answer her. The sound of pee dripping off the stool and splashing to the ground answered for me. Vivian looked down at the floor, then back up at me, her face softening. “Oh, Lavender,” she said, clearly at a bit of a loss. “I’m sorry,” I blurted out at last as the stream tapered off to a trinkle and then nothing. “I’m so sorry, Vivian,” I didn’t realize I was crying until I tasted the salty tears on my lips. “I…I just had to go so badly all of the sudden and…and…” My words trailed off. All I could do was look at Vivian helplessly. Her face was so gentle and kind, but also so full of pity. It was too much, the dam broke and the tears turned into full-on sobs. The accident may have been contrived, but the panic and fear and the tears were all real. Not to mention the shame. “Lavender, darling, sweetheart,” Vivian crossed the small space between us in the blink of an eye and hugged me, holding me close to her chest, and began slowly stroking the back of my head as I cried into her chest. “It’s really okay, my little Lavender, everything is okay, all right? We’re going to get you all cleaned up and sorted out, okay?” “Okay,” I muttered through snot and tears. I was honestly a little surprised at myself for crying so much, but the look of pity on Vivian’s face had been too much for me. But maybe I just felt ashamed over how misplaced the pity was. We stayed like that for a long time, Vivian holding me while she stroked my hair and made soft, reassuring noises while I focused on my breathing and tried to calm down. Eventually, the tears dried up. “Here,” Vivian said softly as she grabbed some nearby paper towels, “I know these are kind of rough, but let’s try to get your face cleaned up a little, okay?” I nodded as Vivian went to work wiping tears and snot off my face. She stopped short of blowing my nose for me, instead handing me a fresh paper towel when she was done and instructing me to blow my nose. “I’m so sorry,” I repeated, completely and utterly at a lose for what else to say or do. This had been my end-game; it had been impossible for me to effectively plan for what came next since so much hinged on Vivian’s reaction. I was rudderless now, drifting in unknown waters, my only certainty was where the currents were taking me…at least, I hoped I knew. “That’s enough apologies,” Vivian said softly but sternly, “I won’t have you feeling guilty or bad for things you can’t help, okay? It was just an accident, and everything is okay.” Ouch, right in the guilty conscience. I nodded and sniffled, resisting the urge to start crying all over again out of sheer guilt. “Fortunately,” Vivian said, her voice lightening up, “you have plenty of clothes with you, so we can get you changed, and I can toss these clothes in the laundry and have them ready to be packed in your suitcase by tomorrow morning before we leave, okay?” “Okay,” I nodded again. “Okay,” Vivian smiled reassuringly at me and took my hand, “do you want to take a bath?” I shook my head, “I think maybe just a quick shower?” “That’s a lovely idea,” Vivian squeezed my hand and started leading me out of the kitchen and towards the upstairs bathroom. “You can just go ahead and get yourself all cleaned up and into some fresh clothes. By the time your done, dinner will be almost ready, all right?” I simply nodded and allowed myself to be lead upstairs and back to the bathroom I had cleaned myself up in after so many accidents already. When we arrived, Vivian, like she usually did, started the water for me, adjusting the knob until she decided the water was hot enough, the only difference this time being that instead of plugging the tub and allowing it to fill when she had found the right temperature, she pulled the plunger that switched the water from the faucet to the shower head. I stood there awkwardly watching her in silence the whole time. When she was done, I expected her to leave as she usually did with instructions for me leave my clothes in the hallway, but instead she turned to me and gave me a quizzical look. “Okay!” She said brightly, her confusion seeming to dissipate quickly. She closed the distance between us and started undoing the clasps on my shortalls. “Let’s go ahead and get you out of these.” My cheeks turned a new shade of red, but I bit my lip and let her continue. You can’t just let her peel you out of pissy clothes! Why can’t I? Because…it’s…embarrassing? More so than pissing myself in her kitchen? “There we go,” Vivian said as she undid the second clasp and let the shortall fall to the floor around my ankles. “Oops,” Vivian said looking down,” I guess we should have taken your shoes off first, huh Lavender?” She gave me a playful smile and bent down to start untying my high-tops. This is so awkward, shouldn’t you like…say something? Say what? Anything! But I was at a complete loss. I simply stood there in my t-shirt and wet panties, my shortalls around my ankles, as Vivian untied and removes my shoes and socks. “Okay,” she said when she was down, “step out!” I followed her directions and stepped out of my sodden shortalls. “Now, arms up!” She said with a smile as she stood back up and grabbed the hem of my shirt. I blushed as I complied, and for the first time since this little undressing routine had started, a shy smile graced my lips. “There’s a smile,” Vivian said as she dropped my shirt in a pile with the rest of my clothes and pinched my cheek. “Are you feeling a little better now that you’re almost out of those icky clothes?” Icky? That’s not the kind of word Vivian would usually use… It wasn’t, but I just smiled and nodded, “um, I can…do the rest…” I offered with a blush, secretly hoping she’d turn it down. “Don’t be so bashful,” she dismissed my offer with a wave of her hand before reaching around my torso to unbuckle my bra, “it’s not like this is the first time I’ve undressed you.” “I know, but…it’s…different…” “I guess a little,” she dropped my bra into the pile and hooked her thumbs in the waistband of my panties, “but let me take care of my little Lavender, okay?” Okay, Miss Vivian. “Okay…Vivian,” I blushed almost as hard as if I had said the whole thought out loud, then added a polite but subdued, “thank you.” “You’re quite welcome, darling,” Vivian said as she gathered up my clothes in her arms. “Shall I grab something from your suitcase for you to change into?” I nodded my head, “yes, please.” With assurances that she would be right back with fresh clothes, Vivian finally left, leaving me alone with my thoughts. Well, that went…pretty well? Define “pretty well.” I set about trying to find a hair tie to keep my hair from getting wet in the shower and quickly found one in the vanity above the sink. With my hair tied up, I climbed into the shower and set about cleaning the pee of my skin. Well, it wasn’t worst-case scenario. I have to admit, it was not. And she undressed you, like a toddler. I could feel my whole-body blush as I thought about it again. Then I blushed deeper as I realized Vivian was going to have to go into my suitcases to get clothes. The suitcases where my diapers and pull-ups are. Maybe she’ll bring you a pull-up instead of panties. Maybe she’ll see them in your suitcase and realize they are the much more appropriate undergarment for a girl as little as you are. “Now, sweetheart,” I imagined Vivian saying as she came back into the bathroom holding a pile of my clothes with a pull-up on top, “I don’t want you to fuss about this, okay? But your accidents are getting a little out of control, and I think it’s time we put you back in pull-ups, okay?” As I showered, I played through variations of that scenario, resisting the urge to do more than just imagine them. When I was finished a few minutes later, I pulled back the shower curtain to find a small pile of my clothes sitting on the sink. Vivian had, apparently, slipped in and out of the bathroom without me noticing. I couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed by the pair of panties sitting on top.

You're definitely not the first to theorize that might be the case!

Chapter Twenty-One “A dirty martini for the lady,” Vivian declared as she handed me a large martini glass filled almost to the brim with a cloudy, green-tinted drink garnished with two olives speared on a glass pick. “You said you want something strong.” “I did, thank you,” I sipped the drink. It was salty and delicious, but I would have preferred it dirtier; the small splash of olive brine in the drink did little to cut the taste of the vodka. But at least it went down smooth. And it was definitely a strong drink. Don’t get too drunk. I won’t, I just need some liquid courage. I had come to Vivian’s prepared to wet myself again, but I didn’t want to wait until I was drunk this time. When I had an accident tonight, I didn’t want it to be able to be brushed off as a consequence of drinking too much. In fact, I had arrived with my bladder already starting to feel full to make sure I could do it before we had many drinks; Vivian’s mandate that I not drink until I was done handling a knife had been a convenient way to make sure that happened. But now my bladder was starting to truly ache. Faced with the prospect of having to pee my pants, my nerves were threatening to chicken out, so a little liquid courage was exactly what I needed. This is going to set the tone for the whole week. Good. So, you’re sure about this? Yes. I wasn’t, not entirely, but I was going to do it anyway. “So,” Vivian said as she walked over to the cutting board and got back to work on dinner, “what are you looking forward to the most this week?” Getting to wear diapers and pull-ups most of the week; maybe getting put in a diaper by Vivian… I made a thoughtful sound and took a sip of my drink to give myself time to think of things that didn’t involve diapers and wetting myself, “honestly? I think just getting to spend a lot of time with you,” I replied finally. “Oh, and the lake looks really nice, I’m looking forward to relaxing on the dock and maybe doing some swimming.” “The lake might still be a bit cold this early in the spring,” Vivian replied, “but maybe we’ll get lucky.” “Well, what are you looking forward to?” I asked. She smirked and looked back at me, “the spending a lot of time with you thing sounded pretty good.” Her tone of voice brought a blush to my face. “The woman I’m renting the house from said there’s a lot of nice antique shops in the town nearby, I thought it might be fun to check those out, if that sounds interesting to you?” “That could be fun,” I replied, “antiquing is basically just fancy and expensive thrifting, and I love going thrifting.” Vivian laughed, “you’re not wrong, darling.” Vivian started adding the vegetables she had been chopping into a pan. She narrated what she was doing as she did, breaking the cooking process down into simple steps, but I was having trouble following along. This is going to happen soon, are you sure about this? Is this a really bad idea? Maybe? But… I mean, what’s the worst-case scenario? Worst case scenario? She sees your ‘accidents’ aren’t confined to just when you’ve had too much drink and decides that’s more than she’s willing to handle and kicks you to the curb. That’s the worst-case scenario. No, the worst-case scenario is she some how intuits that I peed myself on purpose and realizes this whole thing has been a farce and outs me to everyone and I get kicked out of my program and blacklisted from academia. …okay, yeah, that’s the worst-case scenario, but that doesn’t seem particularly likely. But not entirely impossible. You’re supposed to be the voice of reason, you know that, right? Nothing about this is reasonable! So, does that mean you’re backing out? I was sitting on one of the stools at the kitchen island, my legs tightly crossed and my bladder starting to truly ache. I was absently taking alternating sips of my water and my martini, chewing on my lip in between. Vivian was talking, explaining how to make spaghetti sauce, but between how badly I had to pee and how loudly I was internally panicking over what I was about to do, I wasn’t paying attention at all. I want to do it; I want Vivian to think I have accidents. You could just start wearing pull-ups and tell her that, you don’t have to be so dramatic about it. I know, but… But this way is hotter, and you want her to suggest you wear pull-ups. You want her to be Miss Vivian. It sounds bad when you put it like that… She doesn’t seem unwilling though. She suggested you wear pull-ups to bed in the first place. She assumed I already wore them. But she bought you a pack and then suggested it was a good idea when you told her you didn’t wear them. And she suggest I wear them when drinking. And told you to bring diapers for nighttime. So far, she’s seemed willing to play…that role… Miss Vivian? Maybe she’s even— Don’t go there; only pain and disappointment lay that way. “You must be thirsty,” Vivian said, snapping me back into reality as she picked up my now empty glass of water and carried it over to the fridge. “You look distracted, darling; is everything okay?” “Yeah, sorry,” I replied, giving a weak smile. My bladder was practically throbbing. “Hey, um…” I started, but trailed off. “Yes?” Vivian prompted as she returned with my glass of water. “Would you like another martini?” She nodded at my empty glass. When did that happen? “No, uh yes…maybe,” I shook my head as if to clear my thoughts manually, “what I mean is, or…what I was going to say was, uh, are you…” I bit my lip and looked away, blushing hard. “Darling?” Vivian asked, her tone of voice mixed, as if she couldn’t decide whether to be concerned or amused. “What is it?” Are you sure you’re okay with me having accidents and wearing pull-ups? That’s what I was going to ask, but I knew I couldn’t ask that. It was dumb to even think of asking that. Plus, if you asked, she’d probably be suspicious when you pee your pants in a few minutes. What do I say instead? Quick! “Darling?” Vivian repeated, sounding like she was leaning towards concern. Pee your pants! Yes, that was it! “Uhm, sorry,” I gave a forced laugh as I bore down on my bladder, willing my body to release its content, “what I was saying was,” I continued, stalling for time, my body proving reluctant, “um, are you…” It’s no good. And it wasn’t. I had too much of a mental block; despite how badly I had to pee, I couldn’t force it out. “Are you…going to do any writing while we’re on vacation?” I blurted out, a sudden burst of inspiration hitting me. Vivian gave me a quizzical look, “Are you sure you’re okay?” “Yes, sorry,” I forced another weak laugh, “just, um, you know, my train of thought just…completely derailed,” it was such a feeble excuse, and Vivian seemed to know it. “Mmm,” she gave me an appraising look, as if she were trying to decide whether to believe me or not—or perhaps whether she was going to push the matter or not. “If you say so,” she said at last, albeit a little uncertainly. “I’m fine, really,” I said, feeling a bit more composed and a bit more like I was selling the lie. “Okay,” her reply had a hint of skepticism to it, but she seemed to be content to let the matter drop. “So, are you?” I asked, eager to move the conversation along. “Planning to write, that is?” “As a matter of fact,” Vivian smiled at me before turning back to the stove to stir her sauce, “I was, indeed, thinking of trying to get some writing done. Of course, that’s only if you won’t begrudge me terribly for taking some alone time?” “Not at all,” I said cheerfully, “maybe I’ll try to get some writing done too.” It might be nice to get to sit out by the lake while I worked. “Oh? Not working on your dissertation, I hope.” “And why not?” “Because, my little Lavender,” there was a playful sternness to her voice as she turned away from the stove and pointed the wooden spoon she had been stirring the sauce with at me, “you are on vacation. You have to give that brilliant little brain time to relax.” I pouted playfully, “but you’re going to be writing.” “Yes,” she smiled, clearly amused by my pouting, “but…it’s different…” “How is it different?” I asked. “Because it’s…” Vivian gestured vaguely in the air with the spoon, seemingly at a loss for how to justify the double standard. “Because mine is recreational writing,” she explained at last. “What does that mean?” I prodded. “It means, you know, writing that I do just for fun, that isn’t for a book or an essay or anything like that, just…for me, for my enjoyment.” She explained, seeming inexplicably self-conscious or embarrassed about writing for someone who was an award-winning author. “Oh,” I said plainly, thrown off by how awkward she seemed to feel and, as a result, uncertain of how to respond. “Well, I think that’s really nice!” That seemed safe enough. Vivian gave me a relieved smile, “thank you, Lavender. Sometimes, it’s just nice to indulge my hobby—because I do still consider writing a hobby—without having to worry about what anyone else will think of it, does that make sense?” I nodded my head, suddenly understanding why Vivian had seemed so awkward; this was something deeply personal she was sharing. “Yeah, that make sense,” I said. “Thank you, Lavender,” she smiled. “You know,” she suddenly gave a short but genuine laugh, “it’s funny, actually…do you know how I got started writing?” “No,” I said, absolutely riveted now. My bladder was still aching, but it was not yet so urgent that I couldn’t push it to the back of my head. “How?” “I used to write these…silly, stupid little stories and post them on these story forums on the internet,” she explained, wistful nostalgia filling her voice. “Other people would post their stories, and we’d all comment on each other’s stories. Well, I’d hate to be forced to read one of my stories from those days today; I’m sure it would be atrocious. Back then, however, the point wasn’t for it to be good, it was to have fun.” “Yeah,” I said, nodding enthusiastically, “that’s…kind of cute, honestly.” “You think so?” Vivian laughed. “Those stories may have been terrible,” she continued, “but I kept doing it because I loved it, and, eventually, I got better.” She shrugged, “I hope so, anyway,” she added with a self-deprecating smile. “I think you’re a wonderful writer,” I gushed without thinking, then immediately blushed, embarrassed by how fan-girly it sounded. “I mean,” I scrambled to maintain some dignity, “I really respect your work.” Totally nailed it. Shut up. Vivian smiled warmly, “Thank you, Lavender. I really respect your work as well.” I blushed and bit my lip, “Thank you, Vivian.” A long silence followed, but not an awkward one. Those words felt more momentous than their meanings would suggest, and they rested heavily but comfortably on the room. Vivian and I looked at each other, locking eyes for a moment, then simultaneously looked away. I was blushing, and I was certain she was too. You’re going to ruin this really nice moment by pissing yourself. I know, I know, I shouldn’t do it, right? But you’ve come so far, do you really want to give up now? “So, um,” I tentatively broke the silence, looking to distract myself from my predicament, “may…may I ask…what kinds of things you write?” I asked cautiously. “Like, when you write just for yourself?” Vivian smiled and shrugged, “they’re stories…stories like the ones I used to write back then. Some are total fantasy…like, wish-fulfillment level of fantasy, you know? Some are more reality-based; some are even based on real events, albeit always embellished. Then there are others that are just silly little stories that pop in my head.” “That sounds lovely,” I smiled, unsure what else to say. “The sad part of this whole story,” Vivian continued unprompted, “is that these days no one else gets to see those stories. I used to love sharing them with the other people on those forums, but these days it all feels too…personal, you know? Especially since I’m Vivian Devereux, award-winning author,” she smiled a little sadly. “I don’t mean to complain, it’s just that these stories can’t just be silly little stories, people expect…Literature.” I nodded empathetically, “that sounds really frustrating, but I’m glad you still write them for yourself.” She smiled at me, “one day, Lavender, I hope I can find someone to share them with.” Vivian set the wooden spoon she was still holding down on the counter and walked over to me. She cupped my face with one gentle hand and gazed into my eyes. “Yeah?” I asked meekly, swallowing hard. “Yeah,” Vivian smirked, then bent down and kissed me hard. Oh please, you can’t piss yourself while making out a third time. But Vivian broke the kiss off after only a few seconds. “If I’m being entirely honest,” she said playfully as she walked back to the stove, “I think I may have found someone to share them with, but we’ll have to see.” I grinned, but internally I was starting to panic again. Brief though the kiss had been, it had startled me…and turned me on…and both things were making this more…difficult. “Thank you for listening to me, Lavender,” Vivian said, oblivious to my plight. “It’s really nice to be able to share these kinds of things with you.” “I really appreciate that you’re comfortable sharing them with me,” I replied earnestly. “And I’m really glad that you do.” Vivian stirred the sauce, then lifted the spoon to her lips. “This sauce is really good, would you like to try some?” She held the spoon out in my direction. “Sure!” But as soon as I shifted in my seat to start getting up, I knew I had a problem.

Chapter Twenty “No, no, darling, hold the knife like this,” Vivian corrected gently as she stood behind me and watched over me as I diced a section of onion for tonight’s dinner. As she spoke, she reached around and adjusted my grip on the knife, “and hold the onion like this,” she continued as she corrected my grip there. “And elbow out and up, there you go! Try now.” “This feels so awkward though,” I whined as I tried to hold the onion steady with my fingers curled under my hand. Vivian chuckled, “I know, darling, but its for your own safety. You wouldn’t want to cut yourself, would you?” “No,” I conceded with a pout, but it quickly dissipated into a grin. I couldn’t help it; Vivian was being so nice as she was teaching me to cook. It made me feel a little giddy and filled my belly with butterflies. “Is it too uncomfortable? Maybe you’re not quite ready, would you like me to do it?” Vivian offered without a hint of condescension or judgement in her voice. The thing was, I was familiar with Vivian as an educator. Sure, teaching doctoral level literary theory classes was a bit different from teaching basic cooking skills, but I was still surprised to see this was a whole new side of Vivian. Well, not entirely new; her confidence and grace were still very much intact, after all. But as a professor she was very cool and witty—more so, she was brilliant in a way that was sometimes intimidating but always made you want to aspire to her level. Professor Vivian Devereux constantly challenged you to grow and learn as a student, not because she was mean but because she wanted you to be the best you could be. It was, in no small part, what attracted me to her in the first place. But this Vivian, the Vivian who gently placed my fingers in the right places on the knife, was warm and patient. She was, dare I say, almost motherly. She was encouraging but let me set the pace. She was content to let me learn little by little, never pushing me out of my comfort zone. Maybe the difference was that you couldn’t chop off a finger while studying literary theory—though I had certainly received more than my fair share of paper cuts—but in this setting, Vivian was more the type to hold your hand (literally and figuratively) and force you to keep a slow pace. I had fallen for Vivian the brilliant professor, but I adored this side of Vivian just as much. She made me feel…like I was being taken care of. She made me feel safe; as uncomfortable as it was to hold the knife and potato like she had shown me, I trusted that Vivian would never let me hurt myself. Gee, it’s a real mystery why you like this side of Vivian so much. Shush. “Nu uh, I got this,” I shook my head and focused on the knife and the onion. “Okay, darling, just remember how to cut, all right? Back and forth, just like that, good!” Vivian continued to cheer me on as I slowly diced the onion. It wasn’t like this was the first time I’d ever diced a vegetable, but it was the first time I had done so with the ‘proper’ grip, which felt so unnatural to me that it may as well have been my first time cutting anything at all. I grinned and blushed at Vivian’s encouragement, but kept my focus, oblivious to the way I was biting my lip in concentration. I held the flat of the knife against my knuckles like Vivian had told me, despite how counter-intuitive that had seemed to me, and slowly worked my way down the length of the section of onion. “There!” I exclaimed as I got to the end. “I did it!” “Good job, darling!” Vivian laughed as she lightly applauded me. I couldn’t help but grin; I felt genuinely proud of myself. “Why don’t you take a break and let me finish the rest of the onions?” “Okay!” I agreed and handed the knife to Vivian—handle first, just like she had taught me earlier that evening. “Thank you for teaching me to cook,” I said as I took a seat on one of the stools around the kitchen island. “Oh, darling, you’re quite welcome; I’m having a blast doing it. You seem like you’re having fun, too?” She half-said/half-asked. “I am,” I confirmed. “I’ve always meant to try learning to cook, but…well, you know, grad school has kept me pretty busy.” “I understand that perfectly,” Vivian empathized as she chopped the onions. Her hands moved confidently and swiftly—I absolutely would have chopped a finger off if I had tried to chop them as quickly and efficiently as she was. “I’m surprised your mother didn’t teach you when you were younger though.” I shrugged and took a sip of my water—Vivian had said absolutely no alcohol until I was done handling knives. “To be honest, my mom wasn’t much of a cook either,” I said, kicking my legs back and forth as they dangled off the stool. “We ate a lot of frozen food…and fast food…and stuff that came out of boxes…” “Sadly, being able to have homecooked meal is quite a privilege,” Vivian said. “I like to say that everyone should know at least the basics of how to cook, but the truth is that many people simply don’t have the time or means to learn. And then the reality of life is that cooking truly is an investment of time and energy that many families simply can’t afford these days.” She said, then looked back over her shoulder at me with an apologetic smile, “but I’m rambling. Sorry, I think I went into professorial mode for a second there.” “You’re cute when you get all professorial,” I’d seen Vivian blush a few times, but I always felt a little accomplished when I managed to bring red to her cheeks. “And you’re right,” I added before taking a long drink from my water. “Why don’t,” she began speaking as she wiped her hands on her black apron, “you go make yourself a glass of wine while I pop into the restroom for a moment?” “Are we done cutting things?” “No,” Vivian replied, “but I think you’ve learned enough for one night, I can finish up while you watch. Sound nice?” I nodded, “but I’m not in the mood for wine tonight.” “No wine?” Vivian’s heels clicked on the tile as she walked over to me and stroked my cheek with a single finger, “well, what are you in the mood for, poppet? I have a full liquor cabinet if you want something harder and some soda and juices if you’d prefer something softer.” “Something harder, for sure,” I said with a breathy laugh. “Harder?” Vivian laughed, “all right, my dear, what will it be then?” I grabbed her apron and pulled her down and into a long kiss. “Surprise me?” I said quietly when I finally broke the kiss off. “But something strong.” “Certainly,” Vivian said, “how could I say no to such a strong request?” Vivian grinned, then turned and left the room, her heels clicking the whole way. Her ass looks great in the skirt. It really does. It’s making me feel self-conscious, to be honest. Up until tonight, I had always gotten dressed up for Vivian and mine’s nights together, but I had dressed much more casually tonight. I figured we were at that point in our relationship, especially since we were about to spend a full week together and it wasn’t like I was going to be dressed up the whole time. In fact, I was pretty sure I would look like a hot mess some of that time. And so I had shown up in a plain black t-shirt under a pair of denim shortalls with a pair of high top sneakers. Vivian, meanwhile, had answered the door in a black pencil skirt, low cut blouse, sheer pantyhouse, and black heels. Maybe that is casual for her. And the thing was, I would believe it. I untied the apron Vivian had given me—like hers, it was black, but unlike hers, it was lined with a pink ruffle—and hung it back up. Then I chugged the rest of my glass of water and went to the fridge to refill it. Still going through with this? Yes. I think so. Definitely. Probably. My stomach flipped. After my phone call earlier that day with Vivian, I had sat down at my desk and spent a long time lost in thought. There was a lot to think about: things that, to be truthful, I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about for weeks, but had never come to a conclusion on despite that. But after that phone call, I knew it was time to do just that. I had to once and for all decide how far I was going to take this whole charade I had gotten myself tied up in. I sat at my desk for hours and agonized over it, weighing the options, predicting how Vivian would react to certain scenarios, and considering what my life would be like in those scenarios. The thing was, I knew I should call it off entirely. Anything else was dishonest. But the truth was, I simply couldn’t. I had come too far, and now that I’d had a taste of my fantasy, I couldn’t give it up. Continuing the charade might have been dishonest, but ending it felt like giving up on something that I had been coveting for years and made me happy. And it’s not like the lie hurts Vivian, right? Right. So, the decision came down not to whether or not I would end the charade, but to what my endgame was. I could stop having accidents during the day entirely and just stay a bedwetter, or I could keep having the occasional accident whenever I had a few too many drinks. Either option would have made me happy. But I could also up the ante and start having accidents more frequently during the day. I could make Vivian think I needed to be in pull-ups all the time—that is, of course, except at night when I would be in diapers. Finally, and speaking of, I could go even further and… Absolutely not. Right. That option was quickly dismissed as being hot but impractical. Truthfully, I don’t think I would have made the decision I did if I hadn’t spent almost the entire week prior in pull-ups and diapers, but I did, and it had been glorious. So I chose to take it as far as I dared, which meant I had come to Vivian’s that night prepared to once again humiliate myself.

Ah! Thanks so much! It wouldn't have scared me off, but it absolutely was going to annoy me forever XD I'm pretty sure the fact that these were my first as well did not help with how uncomfortable they felt! I can now officially say that The Life and Humiliations of Lavender Fairchild, or A Tale of Diapers and Doctorates is complete! In fact, if you're eager to see how this all ends and/or just want to support ya girl, the entire novel is now available for purchase on kindle! Don't worry though, I will continue to post the story here, so if you don't want to buy it, you'll see be able to see how things end. I will say, I had a lot of fun writing this, and it definitely won't be the last we hear from these characters! I've actually already begun thinking about what adventures might await these two! And with that, here's another chapter! Chapter Nineteen The week that followed was an…interesting one, to be sure. By Sunday, the vague sense of trepidation I had over openly wearing my little clothes and padding or using my pacifiers and sippy cups in the common areas of the apartment was gone without a trace. I spent the entirety of my Saturday dressed in a onesie and a diaper and sitting on my couch binge-watching a show I had been wanting to check out for months but had been too busy for. I drank exclusively from my sippy cup, and my pacifier was always clipped to the collar of my onesie. Granted, I also spent the day with the low but constant hum of my anxiety telling me Elyse would burst through the front door at any moment, thus discovering my shame and forcing me to run away and start a new life elsewhere. But it never happened, and the hum quickly faded. I even napped on the couch on Sunday afternoon, my diaper on full display, without a second thought. By Monday, Vivian was texting me pictures of the house we’d be staying in. It was an absolutely gorgeous Victorian-style house with a wrap-around porch right on the edge of a huge lake that glistened in all the photos. The house had a covered patio in the back that led right up to the edge of the water with a portion of the patio jutting out into the lake to serve as a private little dock. I spent no small amount of time that week simply fantasizing about lounging on that dock with Vivian. A little bit of sunshine and water and relaxation was exactly what I needed to recuperate from the busy semester I had just finished, and getting to see Vivian in what I imagined would be a sexy but sophisticated swimsuit was the icing on the cake. By Tuesday, I’d order a new swimsuit for myself. It was a simple, black two-piece with a skirted bottom. Perhaps more importantly, I’d also ordered more diapers: another pack of the all black diapers to bring on vacation and another pack of very babyish pastel diapers adorned with bunnies for at home. I’d winced more than a little at the cost of shipping to make sure I received them before I left for vacation with Vivian but had ultimately decided it was worth it. Or maybe I was just eager and rationalizing my decision. I also stocked up on pull-ups to make sure I’d have plenty for the trip—I was assuming there would be plenty of drinks, and I’d set myself enough of a precedent of having accidents while drinking that Vivian would probably be expecting me to wear pull-ups. Besides, the last thing I wanted to do was ruin the carpet in a rental house, right? Right. By Wednesday, it had been five days since I’d worn panties. I’d spent the vast majority of that time in diapers—though I was quickly running out—but some of it in pull-ups. Perhaps it was the novel excitement of diapers, perhaps it was the elation of having the privacy to wear whenever I wanted, and perhaps it was a little of both. Or, perhaps it was because in the back of my mind I was still wondering if I was truly ready and willing to take this farce to the point where I was wearing some kind of padding, whether that be diapers or pull-ups, full time. Gods knew I fantasized about it often enough, and Wednesday marked not only five days in padding but also five days of dwelling on that exact fantasy. But I knew the reality of wearing padding at all times was different than the fantasy, but every day I went without panties I was that much closer to not only feeling like it was something I could do but also like it was something I very much wanted to do. That said, it was one thing to wear them around my apartment for so many consecutive days, and quite another to have to wear them outside my apartment. By Thursday, I was determined to take my little experiment further. That afternoon, I changed out of a completely soaked diaper and into a pull-up. I did my make-up—nothing too fancy, just a little eyeshadow, some tame eyeliner, and red lipstick—and got dressed in clothes appropriate for being out in public—another first for that week. To say I was nervous would be an understatement, and I spent a long time in front of my full-length mirror making sure the pull-up wasn’t visible under my clothes. Once I was sure it was undetectable, I proceeded to hem and haw and find ways to procrastinate for another hour. Finally, though, I ran out of ways to delay, braced myself, and left my apartment. It was the first time I had ever ventured outside of my apartment while wearing padding—not counting Vivian’s house, of course—and I was equal parts terrified and thrilled. I got some lunch and did some grocery shopping, feeling increasingly more comfortable as my outing proceeded without incident. Of course, I knew one outing was only a small taste of what it would be like to wearing pull-ups all the time, but it was nonetheless encouraging. Needless to say, by the time I got home I was ready for some one-on-one time with my vibrator. By Thursday evening, I was packed and ready for a weeklong vacation with Vivian. Nestled in my suitcase was a full pack of my black diapers for nighttime and a pack and a half of pull-ups for daytime. I wasn’t planning on wearing the entire vacation, but I was certainly entertaining fantasies of doing so. And then it was Friday. My excitement over getting to spend a whole week with Vivian had kept me up most of the night before, like a child too excited to sleep on Christmas Eve, and I was up and getting ready for the day bright and early. Of course, I was already packed, and it was too early to get dressed and do my make-up to see Vivian, so I spent most of Friday morning double and triple checking my suitcases to make sure I had packed everything. I watched the clock impatiently as the day slowly ticked by and morning slid into afternoon. When my phone started to ring in the early afternoon and I saw Vivian’s name appear on the screen, I scrambled to answer as quickly as I could. “Hey sweetheart,” I said into the phone, trying not to let my eagerness into my voice, “what’s up?” “I was just calling to make sure you’re ready for our trip,” Vivian replied. It was so good to hear her voice. “All packed and such?” “All packed!” I repeated back. “I can’t wait.” “Neither can I; I’ve been looking forward to this all week. I only just finished my grading yesterday, and I am ready to relax.” “You deserve it!” “We both deserve some rest,” Vivian replied, “but, if I’m being honest, I’m much more excited to see you.” I blushed hard, “yeah?” “Of course, darling,” Vivian’s voice was more than a little sultry, “I simply can’t wait to have you all to myself for a whole week. If I’m being honest, the thought has kept me more than a little…distracted over the past week.” “I know what you mean,” I admitted with a small laugh, “I’ve been thinking a lot about it too.” Probably not about the same exact things as Vivian, though. That was probably true. “I’m so glad to hear that,” Vivian replied—and by her tone of voice, I could easily imagine the mischievous grin that was on her face as she did. “Listen,” Vivian said after a short pause, her voice suddenly much more serious, “there was something I wanted to talk to you about before tonight.” “Oh?” My anxiety suddenly spiked at her variation of ‘we need to talk’ and my monosyllabic response was about all I could muster. “It’s nothing bad,” Vivian added quickly, clearly picking up on the nerves in my voice, “it’s just…well…Lavender, I really don’t want to embarrass you, but…” My mind was racing trying to figure out where this was going, but there was one thing I knew for certain: it was definitely about my accidents. “I’ve been thinking over the past week, and I think it might be best if you bring some of your, ah…diapers for nighttime, just considering the bed at the lake house probably might not have a mattress protector.” My heart skipped several beats. She told you to bring diapers. My cheeks were burning, but I also had butterflies in my stomach. She wants you to wear diapers to bed. I had to stop myself from replying with a soft ‘yes, Miss Vivian.’ “I’m sorry, Lavender,” Vivian said when I didn’t reply for a long moment, “the last thing I want to do is embarrass you, I just thought it might be for the best, but ultimately it is your decision.” “No, I…it’s okay,” I replied at last, “you’re…probably right, after all. I’ll make sure to bring them.” “Thank you for understanding, Lavender,” there was more than a hint of relief in her voice, but I wasn’t sure if it was relief that I agreed or relief that I wasn’t upset by the request. “And, ah, I also think that…well, in consideration of the fact that I’m sure we’ll be having quite a few drinks over the course of our vacation…” She wants you to bring pull-ups too. My heart was thumping in my throat. Was this really happening? “…perhaps you should bring some of your pull-ups, too?” Vivian finished hesitantly. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Looks like it’s a good thing you bought more. “Yes,” I replied, trying to keep my voice level and not give away how excited or how nervous I was, “I think that’s a good idea.” “Good girl,” Vivian said, and my whole body blushed.

Fun fact: Lavender's experience here is strongly based on my own: the first time I got diapers, I did such a bad job putting it on and it was so uncomfortable that for a while I thought I just didn't actually like wearing diapers and it took me weeks to be willing to try again. It's hard!

Y'all ever write a story that you're really proud of and that you're posting online and getting really positive feedback on bu then, after posting seventeen chapters, you notice...there's a fucking typo in your goddamn title? Because I have, and I hate it XD I'm probably bringing attention to something most people haven't even noticed, but the title is supposed to be The Life and Humiliations of Lavender Fairchild, or A Tale of DiaperS and Doctorates, not "or A Tale of Diaper and Doctorates." ?‍♀️ Funnily enough, of the three sites I'm posting this on, the only one I didn't make this typo on is the one that lets me edit the title XD I don't know if this will be interesting to anyone, but the title is meant to be a nod to two titling conventions that were popular in older literature. The main title, The Life and Humiliations of Lavender Fairchild, is a nod to titling conventions popular in 18th century British novels, such as The Life and Adventures of Robin Crusoe or The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy. Whereas the subtitle, or A Tale of Diapers and Doctorates, is a nod to, well, subtitles, such as Frankenstein, or A Modern Prometheus or Twelfth Night, or What You Will. Mostly, I just wanted a really pretentious sounding title because I felt it was appropriate for a story about a literature doctoral student XD And now that I've made you listen to me prattle on about the title, I present to you the next chapter of The Life and Humiliations of Lavender Fairchild, or A Tale of Diapers and Doctorates: Chapter Eighteen “I’ll see you on Friday?” Vivian asked as she broke off from our kiss. I made a short whining sound, “Friday? I thought I’d get to see you more often now that the semester is over.” “You will,” Vivian replied, “but while the semester is over for you, I still having grading to do. But after this week, you’ll see a lot more of me, okay?” I pouted, and Vivian laughed. “Don’t be like that,” she gently booped my nose with her finger, “I’ll make it up to you, I promise, okay?” “Okaaayyy,” I dragged out the word while I clung to Vivian, “I’ll hold you to that.” Vivian chuckled and hugged me, squeezing tightly. “Just one week, my little Lavender, and then we’ll have all summer together, okay?” “Okay,” I replied, my voice muffled as I pressed my face to her chest. “How about,” she spoke as she stroked my hair and held me close, “Friday you come over like usual, but instead of you going home on Saturday, we’ll leave bright and early Saturday morning for a week at a lake house, just you and me. Does that sound nice?” I nodded my head vigorously and grinned, “that sounds really nice, Vivian.” “Then it’s settled,” Vivian grabbed my shoulders and gently peeled me off of her, “but I have to go get work done so I can get all my grading finished this week, okay?” “Okay,” I leaned forward and gave her a quick peck on the lips, “good luck.” She let out a short laugh then sighed, “I’ll need it, it’s all the undergrad work I still have to grade.” Her sentence was punctuated by her phone chirping; she grabbed it from her purse and checked the notification, “my Lyft is here,” she explained, “but you,” she booped my noise again, “be good, okay? And I’ll see you on Friday for our vacation.” We said our farewells and then I was closing the door behind Vivian. A week without Vivian, and then a whole week with her. A whole week to have accidents; a whole week to get her to put a diaper on you. My cheeks flushed as I thought about having to pack pull-ups and diapers to take on our vacation. Would I pack diapers? It seemed like a bold choice. You wouldn’t want to leak all over the beds at the rental house, now would you? I definitely did not want to do that, but I was also capable of making sure I didn’t. Not as far as Vivian knows; maybe she’ll want you to wear them. I bit my lip. Would she? There are ways you could make sure she does. If I was brave enough for that… You’ve been brave enough to piss your pants in front of her. Brave wasn’t quite the word for that. I was drunk both times, and, besides, I never made the conscious choice to wet myself, I just…let nature take its course. But there’d be lots of opportunities for nature to take its course in a week. I wandered into my room and into my closet, kneeling in front of my chest of secrets. I had a whole week before I had to worry about what I’d wear during my vacation with Vivian. But that was a whole week I had to myself—no Vivian, sadly, and no Elyse, thankfully. Not that I truly disliked Elyse, things were just a little awkward between us now that she knew Vivian and I were involved. But, of course, the real reason I was thankful for her absence is that it meant I had absolute privacy. Opening my chest, I slid a pull-up out of its bag before pausing, looking longingly at the diapers. I regretted not trying to get Vivian to put me in one last night. Admittedly, it might have been a horrible idea, and I wasn’t sure I would have done anything differently given the chance, but I really, really wanted to give them an honest try. For a long moment, I sat on my heels in the middle of my closet debating between putting on a pull-up, a familiar and reliable choice, or making another attempt at diapering myself, a thrilling prospect but one that might go horribly wrong. If you learn to do it yourself, you can wear them to bed at Vivian’s without having to convince her to put them on you. I bit my lip; that was a good point. It wasn’t that I didn’t want Vivian to put them on me—no, I certainly wanted that—but I didn’t think I could ever work up the courage to ask her. Even just thinking about it made my whole body blush. What if she offers? Well, if she offers, then maybe that would be an entirely different matter. Maybe. You’d let her. Probably. Almost definitely. Absolutely. It didn’t matter whether I would or not because I was sure Vivian never would. You were pretty sure Vivian wasn’t into you too. And a few months ago you would have said you were pretty sure you’d never wet yourself in front of Vivian. Yeah, I get the point. “Okay,” I said out loud, “no time like the present, I guess.” I stuffed the pull-up back in its bag and grabbed one of the diapers instead. Third time was the charm, right? As I ran one of my hands along the plastic shell of the diaper, I couldn’t help but bite my lip in excitement and anticipation. And, yes, a little bit of arousal. The black plastic was softer than I thought it would be, but it crinkled deliciously. Reluctantly, I set the diaper aside and went back to my chest. Digging through the items inside, I selected one of my favorite onesies—a short-sleeved one with otters printed all over it—and a matching pacifier—decorated with beads and rhinestones with a little plastic otter in the center and the words “otterly adorable” spelled out on the handle—and a plain black pacifier clip. I considered grabbing my shortalls or tulle skirt to complete the ensemble, but decided just the onesie would do perfectly. Selections in hand, I made my way back to my bedroom, pointedly not putting away my secrets simply because I didn’t have to. I set everything down on the bed and quickly shed my pajamas. My heart was in my throat and my hands were shaky with excitement. You’ll get it right this time. This will be your second experience with diapers—your first real experience—and you’re going to get it right this time. Picking up the diaper, I debated whether to try putting it on while laying down or standing up. I had seen tutorials for both and laying down had seemed easier, but that was what I had tried my first attempt and it hadn’t worked out very well. It made sense to try it standing up this time. I unfolded the diaper, relishing every crinkle it made, and fluffed it like so many tutorials had told me to do—apparently it made it softer and thicker and, perhaps most importantly, better able to absorb wetness. Then, after finding a good spot with an bit of empty wall for me to lean against, I lined the diaper up with my body and pressed my butt and back to the wall, holding it in place. As soon as I pulled the rest of the diaper up and between my legs, I felt a wave of euphoria wash over me. The bulk of the diaper between my legs and the softness of the padding against my sensitive bits were all I could think of, and for a moment I just stood there appreciating these new sensations. They weren’t entirely new, of course; they were familiar from wearing pull-ups, but the diapers turned those sensations up to new intensities. Finally, I took a deep breath and went to work. Holding the front of the diaper to me with one hand, I grabbed the bottom left tab with the other and pulled the wing tightly around my hips, pressing the tape against the smooth plastic landing zone. Satisfied with the progress so far, I repeated the process with the bottom right tab. Half-way there. I took a moment to adjust the diaper to make sure it was placed properly, then went back to the left side, grabbing the top tape this time and drawing it tight across my lower stomach. Then the right side. And done! I stepped away from the wall and wiggled my hips and butt around. Remembering the advice from the countless tutorials I had read, I reached down and checked the guards around my leg—everything seemed good. In fact, everything seemed good. The diaper hugged my hips and butt perfectly, encasing me in crinkling softness. It did, however, feel a little loose, like it was sagging down a bit. I pulled it up so it fit me tightly and redid the top tapes one at a time, pulling them tight to keep the diaper in place. Perfect. And it was. I reached down and gently rubbed the padding between my legs, pressing it against me and making it crinkle. A contented smile spread across my face; this was everything I had hoped it would be. It wasn’t that the first time was awful, it had merely been disappointing. I had been dreaming about diapers for so long, and the poor job I had done on my first attempt simply didn’t line up with what my imagination had told me it would be. It had been ill-fitting and scratchy; it had felt loose and didn’t quite hug my body the way it did in my imagination—the way it did now. I walked across my room, getting a feel for the diapers. They forced my legs apart and made me waddle in an unfamiliar but definitely not unpleasant way. Every step, every slight movement, caused crinkles to resonant through the silent room, and even that sound was wonderful to my ears. After walking the length of my room a few times, I came back to my bed and picked up my onesie. I slipped it over my head and pulled it down my body. Snapping the buttons in the crotch together was a bit of a challenge at the best of times, but the added bulk of the diaper made for an extra challenge. Eventually, however, I managed to get them all snapped, and the stretchy fabric settled around my torso and the diaper. It pulled the diaper close to my body, pressing the padding into my skin, somehow enhancing an experience I wouldn’t have thought could be enhanced. I attached the pacifier clip to my pacifier, clipped it to the collar of my onesie, and popped the paci in my mouth, sucking softly almost on instinct alone. Finally, I grabbed Penelope off my bed, hugging her tight to my chest, and headed back into my closet to check myself out in the full-length mirror on the back of the door. I almost squealed in happiness. Gods, you look adorable. I’d seen myself in onesies plenty of time. I’d seen myself sucking on pacifiers and hugging stuffies to my chest. But what I’d never seen—what I neglected to do my first time trying diapers—was me in a onesie with a paci in my mouth, a stuffie hugged to my chest, and the puffy bulge of a diaper around my waist. Sure, my pull-ups made the crotch of my onesies puff out a little bit, but it was nothing compared to the very obvious bulge of the diaper. I turned and twisted around so I could see my padded butt, the very edges of my black diaper peeking out of the legbands and giggled again. It’s too bad you didn’t get Vivian to put you in one of these last night; even she’d be forced to admit how stunningly adorable you look. I took one last long look at myself in the mirror and then went back to my chest and pulled out a pink sippy cup decorated with Disney princesses. I rarely got to use my sippy cups—I was afraid to use them lest I get caught cleaning them in the shared kitchen, but there was no way I was going to pass up the opportunity. It was weird stepping out of my bedroom and into the common spaces of the apartment. Even though I knew I was alone, I felt a pang of anxiety as I crossed the threshold. But Elyse was still gone, I reminded myself, and would be for months. Crinkling the whole way, I walked to the kitchen and filled my sippy cup with juice before making my way to the living room and plopping down on the couch. Before long, I was curled up on the couch with Penelope in my arms and watching cartoons, feeling absolutely blissed out. Every once in a while, I’d squirm around just a little or poke at my diaper, just to hear the crinkle—it made me grin every time. I was absolutely, perfectly content; in that moment, all was right with the world. More importantly, I knew then without a doubt that I would be packing diapers for Vivian and mine’s vacation.

Chapter Sixteen Maybe if you don’t move, she can’t see you. I doubted it, but I couldn’t have moved if I wanted to. I was the proverbial deer, Vivian the car bearing down on me, and the diaper the headlights. Not just headlights: this was some inconsiderate jerk in the oncoming traffic lane with his brights still on. Worse, Vivian was just standing there, just inside the doorway, holding the stack of clothes with the diaper on top. It was a solid black diaper, a medical brand rather than the abdl boutique diapers I had debated on buying. I’d settled on the all black diapers because I figured they would be less incriminating should anyone ever discover them. At the time, I had thought I was taking an overabundance of caution, but apparently not. We stayed frozen like that, me in the tub and Vivian standing in front of the door, for roughly a lifetime before Vivian finally broke the deafening silence. “I, um, thought I’d get some clothes together for you,” she said in a rather subdued voice. This was one of the rare times I had seen Vivian’s cool confidence falter; she seemed to be a little embarrassed about the absorbent garment herself. A flickering candle next to the all-consuming bonfire of mortification raging in my body. “I was looking for your pull-ups…I mean…I assumed you had some for bed…I thought it would be for the best, since you’ve been drinking, so we don’t have any more…incidents?” Say something. Do something. Stop just staring at her! But what could I do? What could I say? She’s waiting for you to say something! What do you want me to say? Oh, yeah, those are my diapers? I don’t wear them though because I can’t put them on myself! Maybe she’ll— Don’t finish that thought. “Well,” Vivian continued awkwardly when the silence had stretched on for too long for her to bear, “I couldn’t find your pull-ups, but I found your…um…these.” She tapped the diaper, crinkling it slightly, just in case I thought she was talking about something else. “Um,” I said finally. I meant to say more, but I wasn’t quite sure what, and nothing was coming to mind or to my lips. “I can see I’ve embarrassed you,” Vivian said, understating her effect by a large margin. “I’m sorry, Lavender, I didn’t mean to snoop.” “It’s okay,” I choked out because that was what I was supposed to say and not because I felt that anything at all was okay in that moment. She’s going to find out all about your fetish. She probably saw the chest; she had to have, it was right next to the diapers. Did you remember to lock it? Oh gods, if she saw inside, we’re done. No, no, there’s no way she saw inside; if she had, she would have found the pull-ups after all. It was a particularly sound bit of logic in my otherwise panicked state. “It’s not,” Vivian replied, “I’m sorry if I invaded your privacy, Lavender, I was truly just trying to help, but I should have just asked.” Okay, okay, think, how are you going to get out of this mess? I’m not sure there is a way out. Then you have to go through. What the fuck does that mean in this situation? “I’m sorry,” Vivian repeated when I didn’t reply, “should…do you want me to leave?” “No!” I blurted out before I could even think about the question. “No,” I repeated more calmly, “of course not; I…I want you to stay.” “Are you sure?” Vivian set the pile of clothes and the diaper on the bathroom counter before walking over to the tub and kneeling down. “I can see how upset you are.” I took a deep breath. I had to go through. The panic was starting to abate and the gears in my head were groaning back to life as rational thought began to resume. “I’m just…mortified,” I replied in complete honesty. “I didn’t want you to see those.” “Lavender, I already told you, I don’t think any less of you because of your…problem,” she placed a comforting hand on my cheek as she spoke, “and that includes not judging you for how you choose to handle it.” It’s fine, it’s okay, she doesn’t suspect a thing, she just thinks you have them for your bedwetting. Lean into it. “I just…” I began even while the gears were still turning. Sometimes the pull-ups leak; you wanted to try something else. “Well,” I started over, “it’s just that…sometimes…not often, but sometimes the pull-ups, um…leak?” “Mmm,” Vivian made an understanding noise in her throat, “so you thought you’d try something with more…protection?” She finished for me. “Yeah, exactly,” I nodded in agreement. If you play your cards right now, Vivian might put that diaper on for you. This is your chance. But dare I take it? Was that what I wanted? Of course, it’s what you want, you dolt! You literally fantasize about it! That was true…but… “Do they…help?” Vivian practically prompted me. “Actually, I…don’t know,” I surprised myself with a burst of genuine laughter, “I couldn’t get them on right.” Vivian smiled, “I bet it is hard.” “I do have pull-ups though,” I added quickly, suddenly nervous about the direction I had taken the conversation. “I must have missed them; do you want me to get you one? I know it’s not bedtime yet, but, well, you said this has been happening lately when you drink, and…” Vivian trailed off. “No,” I said perhaps a little too emphatically, “no,” I repeated more softly, “but thank you.” The last thing I needed was Vivian retrieving pull-ups from my chest of secrets. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to embarrass you or make you feel bad, I just thought…” I forced a reassuring smile, “Vivian, it’s okay, I really appreciate you and how kind and understanding and just…just wonderful you are about all of this. You’re right, I should wear one for the rest of the evening, I just don’t want to put you out.” “Darling, it’s no trouble at all! Why don’t you get out of the tub and all dried off, and I’ll get your clothes all ready for you, okay?” I leaned over the edge of the tub and planted a kiss right on Vivian’s lips. “How about,” I suggested, “you go make us more drinks, and I’ll be out there in just a minute, okay?” Vivian grinned, “that sounds lovely.” She kissed me again and left the bathroom. I let out a long, deep sigh; I felt like I’d been holding my breath since Vivian had first entered and could finally breathe freely. That was…not quite a disaster. But pretty close. Not wanting to keep Vivian waiting, I quickly got out of the tub, dried off, grabbed the clothing Vivian had picked out for me, and headed to my closet. After making sure my closet door was locked, I placed the diaper back in its bag the best I could and put the combination in to open my chest. You could have had Vivian put you in a diaper. The thought thrilled me and terrified me. I could have, and that was both scary and exhilarating. But you chickened out. And I wasn’t sure I regretted it, but I already knew I’d be playing the alternative ending to that scenario on repeat in my head for weeks. I slipped a pull-up on and then got dressed in the clothes Vivian had picked out, feeling a rush of toddler-like giddiness over having my clothes picked out for me, then made my way out to the living room to finish my evening with Vivian, the pull-up rustling the whole way. Chapter Seventeen The rest of our evening was relatively uneventful. My accident seemed to have sufficiently killed the mood we had going on beforehand, and we spent the rest of the evening just cuddling on the couch while we drank a few more rum and cokes and watched a horror movie. The occasional rustle of my pull-up went uncommented on by Vivian but was constantly exhilarating to me. It was just so…deliciously naughty to be brazenly wearing the garments that had brought me so much pleasure but also so much shame out in the open with Vivian. Naughty, yes, but also just…comforting. That night, I laid in bed with Vivian spooning me, her hand on my hip and her slow, gentle breaths in my ear. I laid there feeling more content than I could ever remember feeling and slowly wet my pull-up, making sure I’d be soggy when we woke up in the morning. I sighed and snuggled deeper into Vivian’s embrace. Do you think Vivian will make you wear diapers to bed at her house from now on since you told her the pull-ups sometimes leak? The thought came unbidden from the blue. It was, however, a good question; would she? If your pull-up leaks tonight, she definitely will. Maybe, but my bladder was empty. They only hold one wetting, if you wake up in the middle of the night needing to pee… I rarely do and, besides, if I did I would…well…Vivian is right next to me, I’d pee all over her too. Just more reason for her to put you in diapers at night now that you’re sharing a bed with her. I wondered briefly if tonight did in fact mean I would no longer be sleeping in the guest bed at Vivian’s house, but the thought was too secondary to everything else swirling through my head for me to focus on for long. The truth was, wetting myself in front of Vivian— For the second time! —had been mortifying but, yes, admittedly also incredibly hot. I had thought about that first incident with a vibrator pressed against my pull-up numerous times since that fateful day, and I knew tonight’s incident would just be fuel for that fire. In fact, I knew exactly what I would have been doing right that moment if Vivian hadn’t been asleep beside me. But sitting around with Vivian while I was casually wearing a pull-up? Knowing that Vivian knew I was wearing a pull-up and having that just be a casual, unremarked upon fact? The normalization of needing—or being perceived as needing—pull-ups because I had accidents? All of that was embarrassing in its own way, of course, but it was also… It makes you feel warm and comforted. Yes, exactly. But more than that, it was… Intoxicating. Yes, intoxicating, and I wanted more. Ever since this had all started, I had been fantasizing about a life with Vivian in which diapers and pull-ups and slightly more than occasional accidents all had a prominent role. Of course, it had always felt like a pipe dream, but that night was the first time I began to truly wonder if it was something I could have after all. The first time I began to truly think it was possible. It would be a commitment, no doubt, it would mean maintaining the charade as a lifestyle—it would mean lying to Vivian for as long as we were together. But is it really such an awful lie? It sure didn’t feel like it; it felt like a pretty harmless lie, all told, but a lie nonetheless. A lie Vivian seems willing to believe and accept; a lie that doesn’t hurt her in any way but that brings you a lot of happiness. But…could I really go through with it? You can; you’re just scared to. And that was the real truth. Vivian seemed ready and willing to accept the reality of being involved with someone who had to wear pull-ups and maybe even diapers, but was I ready and willing to live that life as more than just a fantasy? I stayed awake long after Vivian had fallen asleep with these questions burning bright in my mind. Eventually, though, the drinks and the comfort of my bed combined with Vivian’s embrace won over, and I drifted off to sleep, no closer to resolving my conundrum than I was when I first laid down. The next morning, however, things seemed much clearer. I awoke to an empty bed, which wasn’t too surprising. From the mornings I had spent at Vivian’s house, I knew her to be an early riser. I had made sure to show Vivian where we kept our coffee the night before for that exact reason, and as I laid in bed trying to shake off the last vestiges of sleep, I merely assumed she had already gotten up and helped herself to some coffee. My bladder was aching and no small part of me was tempted to flood my pull-up, but I knew I’d end up soaking the bed too. Do it. You told Vivian the pull-ups leak sometimes. But, of course, Vivian had already woken up and found the bed dry, and I couldn’t help but think it might be suspicious if I leaked now. If you’d asked Vivian to help you with your diapers last night, you could be laying here soaking your diaper right now. My cheeks warmed at the idea, but in the light of morning and with my thoughts no longer clouded by alcohol, I was relieved I hadn’t taken it that far. As it was, I was already feeling shame and no small amount of mortification for how far I had taken it. You pissed yourself like a toddler in front of her again. I groaned internally. I had. All because I was being stupid and chasing a pipe dream. That’s it, no more of this; you have got to stop this ridiculousness. No more accidents, day or night. You can just pass it off as a temporary problem caused by the stress of the end of the semester. I knew that was what I had to do, and I resolved to do just that. I sat up in bed, rubbing my face with my hands, my pull-up squishing beneath me, and promised myself that I would put an end to all of this silliness. And then Vivian walked in. “Morning, my darling Lavender,” she said brightly as she approached the bed with a steaming mug in her hand. “I made you some coffee, and I ordered us breakfast. Nothing special, just some waffles and fresh fruit from a nearby brunch place. It will be here shortly." I smiled groggily as I took the mug from Vivian, “thank you, sweetheart.” “My pleasure,” Vivian stroked my cheek gently, then ran her hand through my hair. “No…problems last night?” She asked suddenly. “Problems?” I asked as if I wasn’t sure what she was talking about, but my cheeks were warm. “No…leaks?” That time I blushed hard. She could have been asking whether or not I’d stayed dried, but instead she was asking if I had leaked; the fact that I was wet was apparently a foregone conclusion. I tried to hide my blush with a sip of my coffee, but there was no way she didn’t notice. “No,” I said quietly, “no leaks.” “Good,” she smiled at me in a way that seemed almost…proud? “Come on then,” she grabbed my hand and gently pulled me to my feet, “why don’t you go get yourself all cleaned up before breakfast gets here, okay?” But as I began to walk away, Vivian gave my butt two quick pats, pressing the sodden pull-up against me as she did. I was happy I was facing away from her; she could see neither the crimson of my cheeks nor the goofy smile spreading across my face. Okay, maybe you’re not quite done with this silliness after all. I definitely was not.

It's the magic of foreshadowing ? ?hmm, you think so? Vivian is pretty smart...

Thank you so much! I'm so glad you're enjoying the story! Just one chapter today but it's another long one! Thank you all again for reading along! Chapter Fifteen Dinner soon arrived, and Vivian and I ate sitting around my tiny dining table. In truth, I usually ate at my desk in my bedroom or in the living room, as did Elyse; this was the first time our dining room table had been used for actual dining in quite some time. Possibly ever. “So,” Vivian said, segueing away from a conversation we had been having about the final papers I had written for my courses this semester, “what are your plans for the summer? Any summer jobs lined up? Vacations? I shook my head, “not really,” the truth was, I couldn’t afford to go anywhere. “Luckily, my fellowship includes summer funding, so I figured I’d spend my summer enjoying the peace and quiet of having the apartment to myself and work on research for my dissertation.” “A very responsible use of your summer,” Vivian replied with a grin. “Still, you must have some kind of fun, you deserve it after working so hard during the school year. If all you do is work, you’ll burn yourself out before you can finish your doctorate.” “I guess so,” and there was more than a little bit of wisdom in her words. Of course, what Vivian didn’t know was the there was a lot of fun to be had in enjoying the peace and quiet of my empty apartment; I had plenty of plans that included getting to relax in little space. That, to me, was vacation enough. “What about family? You’re not going on any family vacations this year?” Vivian asked, and I shook my head. “We don’t really do family vacations,” I explained, which wasn’t entirely true, but I had grown up poor and vacations were rare and usually just included visiting distant family. “Besides,” I continued, “I don’t exactly…get along with my family.” “I’m sorry to hear that,” Vivian frowned and reached across the table to take my hand. “Don’t be,” I forced a smile, “they just…aren’t…they didn’t take it well when I…well, they are a little on the conservative side, let’s just say that.” I squeezed her hand back, looked into her eyes, and found a genuine smile on my face. “But that just means I’ll be in town all summer and get to see you more, right?” “Right,” Vivian confirmed. “But perhaps you won’t be in town all summer after all.” “What do you mean?” I asked. “Well,” Vivian smiled slyly, “if you have no other plans, perhaps we’ll have to plan our own little vacation.” “Really?” I was suddenly giddy at the prospect. “Of course, dear,” she replied with a light laugh, “a week at a beach would be nice,” she said, clearly thinking out loud, “but a lake house might offer more…privacy. Or perhaps something in the mountains to get away from the heat a bit?” I smiled and blushed, “sounds like you’re thinking about a…” I wanted to say romantic getaway but was too embarrassed by how forward that was to say it. “Well,” I continued after a pause, “sounds like you’re thinking about a vacation with a lot of…alone time.” “You don’t seem to bothered by that prospect,” she teased. I bit my lip and shook my head. “So, how about it? Will you go on vacation with me, Lavender?” I nodded, perhaps a little too eagerly, “I’d really love that, Vivian.” “Then which sounds best to you? Or do you have any other ideas?” “A lake house sounds really nice,” I replied, already dreaming about it. “Then it’s settled,” Vivian said firmly, “I’ll start looking for houses to rent tomorrow.” From there, conversation drifted to all the things we could do with our week together—that is, the non-lewd things we would do, though I think we both knew there would be plenty of that. It should go without saying that, throughout our conversations, I kept pouring rum and cokes. By the time I cleaned up dinner as Vivian drifted back to the couch, we were both a bit past tipsy. Even Vivian was visibly intoxicated, a state I’m not sure I had yet seen her in; just how intoxicated was driven home for me as she paused halfway to the couch to take her heels off. It was weird, but weirdly intimate—with the exception of our Saturday mornings together, I had never seen Vivian without her heels. “Perhaps, my dear Lavender,” Vivian said with a giggle as she sat heavily on the couch, “you should make my drink a little weaker.” I hate to admit that I briefly considered ignoring her request; there was a part of me that wanted to see what Vivian was like when she was well and truly drunk. However, my conscience won out, and I poured a mere half of shot of rum into Vivian’s glass before pouring enough in my glass to make up for it. The pouring liquid triggered something in me, and I shifted and fidgeted as I made the drinks, rubbing my thighs together as I became suddenly aware of just how badly I needed to pee. Squeezing my thighs together and biting my lip, I clenched my all my muscles as a wave of desperation passed over me as the coke poured freely into the glasses. Finally, drinks made, I made my way over to Vivian with small, shuffling steps. “Everything okay?” Vivian said as I handed her the drink, clearly picking up on some peculiarities in my body language. Blushing and biting my lip, I stood in front of her as my alcohol-fogged brain churned through the situation. Go to the bathroom, you stupid little girl. But…I didn’t want to… That’s so stupid! You’re moments away from having an accident. Do you really want to have another accident in front of Vivian?! Maybe I did. Maybe that was exactly what I wanted. Fine, then do it; piss your pants right now. Maybe…but…oh god, it’s such a bad idea, I should just go to the bathroom. But wouldn’t it feel so good? And having Vivian see you have another accident would be so hot; she might even put you in pull-ups. “Lavender?” Vivian broke me out of my own head, “are you okay?” “Yes,” I smiled weakly, “sorry, I think I’m a little drunk.” I laughed nervously as I sat down next to Vivian. If you don’t make a choice soon, the choice is going to be made for you. But I knew that, of course, and maybe that’s why I wasn’t making a choice. Maybe…I wanted the choice to be made for me. Isn’t that the same as making the choice to have an accident? Maybe…but… I felt like my mind was chasing its own tail. Between the haze of alcohol and the pain in my bladder, I felt like I couldn’t think straight. I wasn’t thinking straight. I took another small sip of my drink and set it on the coffee table. As soon as I had set the drink down, Vivian leaned in, placing her hand on the back of my head and bringing me to meet her halfway. Our lips met and fireworks went off in my head. This is just like last time, and it’s going to end the same way. But the voice was too distant, too drowned out by Vivian’s lips, her hand on the back of my head and the other gently creeping up my side towards my breasts. I moaned against Vivian’s lips as her hand finally found my breast, then broke away from the kiss with a sharp gasp as she lightly pinched my nipple through my bra. Vivian was smiling coyly as I looked at her with surprise. Still fondling my chest with one hand, Vivian took her other away from the back of my head and placed it firmly on my chest, pushing me until I was leaning back against the arm of the couch. It wasn’t like Vivian and I had never had sex before, but she had never been this…forward, this aggressive. I’d never seen such hunger in her eyes before. My heart rate picked up and my breaths became slow and deep; I’d never seen Vivian like this before, but gods was it doing it for me. “Tell me you want me to touch you, Lavender,” she commanded, simply. “I want…” but I trailed off and bit my lip, suddenly too shy to say it. “What do you want, my precious little Lavender?” She had taken her hand away from my breast and instead lightly ran her fingers up and down my ribs, almost but not quite tickling. Her other hand was resting on my leg, tracing circles with her finger tips against the inside of my thighs. “Use your words, darling.” I made a sound that was part way between a whimper and a moan. My bladder was still pounding, pulsing even, and I wasn’t sure if my panties were wet from leaking or from arousal…or both. “I want,” I tried again, “I want…you to…” “Yes, go on,” Vivian coached me, “tell me what you want, little Lavender.” I bit my lip hard. Vivian couldn’t possibly know how much it drove me wild hearing her call me ‘little’ Lavender. “To, um…touch me…” I finally managed to get out. “And where, exactly, do you want me to touch you?” She was grinning evilly now, knowing exactly how much she was torturing me. “Um,” I grabbed the hand that was running up and down my ribs and placed it on my breast, “here.” “I said to use your words, my precious girl,” Vivian teased, but didn’t remove her hand, “but I guess that’s close enough for your first try, so good girl.” My body shuddered at a surge of electricity that passed through me, and I smiled proudly. I was a good girl. Vivian lifted herself off the couch to lean over me as she locked our lips together. “Tell me,” she said in between kisses, “is there,” kiss, “anywhere else,” kiss, “you’d like me,” kiss, “to touch you?” Kiss. Sharp pains pierced my lower stomach, but I pushed them away as best as I could. I nodded my head. “And where is that?” I strained my neck upward to kiss her again as I grabbed the hand on my thigh and slowly moved it higher. “Ah ah, what did I say, little Lavender?” Vivian broke off from our kiss and pulled her hand out of mine. I whimpered. “Lavender,” she said in a faux scolding, “what did I tell you to do?” “Tell you where I want to be touched,” I said meekly. “Yes, darling, but how did I tell you to tell me?” I bit my lip and looked away, “you said to, um, use my big girl words.” Vivian raised her eyebrows and for a moment she looked surprised, but then a big grin spread across her face. I registered the look of surprise, but my brain was too full of other things to even begin to parse where it had come from. “That’s right, little girl.” I made a small whimpering sound in my throat. Little girl. “Now,” Vivian said as she began to shift around on the couch until she was straddling my hips, “are you going to use your big girl words and tell me where you want me to touch you?” Once she was straddling me, Vivian lowered herself until she was sitting on me, which was just about the worst thing she could do. Her weight against my lower stomach pushed down on my bladder, and I gasped as the pressure forcefully emptied a portion of my bladder into my pants, the wetness in my crotch now undisputedly piss. Told you the choice would be made for you. “Vivian, I…” I struggled to simultaneously speak and fight with my bladder, which was threatening to empty itself completely and soaked both my jeans and the couch. Small spurts were coming out in irregular intervals as I desperately tried to get the words out. “Lavender? What’s wrong?” Concern filled Vivian’s voice and she lifted herself off of me and sat back down on the couch, recognizing that my mood had suddenly shifted. Unexpectedly, the release of the pressure from her body weight cause me to momentarily lose my fight, and a long stream of pee trickled into my panties, soaking my crotch and dribbling down my ass. No longer being held down, I scrambled off the couch. There was no way I could make it to the bathroom, but I could at least avoid soaking the couch. “Oh, Lavender,” Vivian said sympathetically as she realized what was going on. Vainly, I pressed my hands against my crotch, but I had already lost the battle. The crotch of my light blue jeans turned dark as the pee spread through the denim and began cascading down my legs. Humiliation burned through me, but I also couldn’t help but bit my lip and relish the sensation. The truth was, the humiliation was a distant sensation to my inebriated brain, but the tactile pleasure of the pee running over my most sensitive parts and down my leg was front and center in my thoughts. Even Vivian’s presence faded from the thoughts for the moment. And then it was over. I heard a drop of pee fall from my jeans and splash in the puddle that had formed on the hardwood floor beneath me. “Oh, Lavender,” Vivian repeated, breaking the silence, “I’m so sorry, darling.” She reached out and put a comforting hand on my arm. I just stood there, trying to process the deluge of emotions swirling through my brain. The truth was, what I wanted more than anything right then was to keep kissing Vivian, to have her touch me through my piss-soaked jeans. For Vivian, the mood might have been broken, but, for me, the mood was very much still there, perhaps even stronger for my accident. Not exactly an accident. Not exactly, but not exactly on purpose either. But closer to one than the other. “Vivian,” I finally spoke, “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened,” I lied. “Shh, it’s okay, it’s okay,” Vivian said reassuringly. “You were trying to tell me you had to go, weren’t you?” I nodded. “I’m sorry, Lavender, if only I had understood…” “It’s not your fault,” I replied quickly. It was definitely not her fault, but I couldn’t explain just how not her fault it was. I looked up at her, making eye contact for the first time in the past few moments, and was filled with the urge to jump on her and keep making out. Gods, I wanted her to fuck me. There’s no way she’s going to fuck you after watching you piss your pants. Not tonight anyway. “I should…take a bath…” “That sounds like a good idea,” Vivian stood up and took my hand, either oblivious to or unconcerned about the fact that I had just been pressing my hands against the pee-soaked denim. “Why don’t you show me to your bathroom?” I nodded and took Vivian to the bathroom that was conjoined to my bedroom. Immediately, Vivian let go of my hand and went to the tub to start the water. I stood there awkwardly in my peed in clothes as I watched Vivian adjust the temperature before plugging the tub. “Now,” she said as she turned her attention back to me, “let’s get you out of these yucky clothes, okay?” I nodded as Vivian grabbed the hem of my shirt and pulled it up over my head. “You’re gonna feel so much better after we get you all cleaned up,” she reassured as she reached behind me to unclasp my bra. For my part, I just stood there, relishing in how Vivian undressed me like a child. Next, Vivian unbuttoned by pants and peeled both them and my panties off me at once, instructing me to step out of them. “Lavender,” Vivian spoke as she gathered up my discarded clothes, seemingly unbothered by touching the pee-soaked clothes, “I don’t want to embarrass you, but…has this been happening a lot lately?” My face burned, “um, mostly just when I’m drinking,” I replied, mostly honestly. After all, the times it had happened lately when I wasn’t drinking had all been firmly on purpose. “Mmm, I see,” she said neutrally, and left it at that before asking for the whereabouts of our washing machine. After unsuccessfully attempting to dissuade Vivian from doing my laundry, I acquiesced and told her where our washer and dryer was, then finally climbed into the bathtub when I was finally alone. Putting my hair up to keep it dry, I leaned back in the tub and let the hot water wash over me, slowly inching its way up my body as the tubbed filled. As my mind played back the events of the last few minutes, I felt a little regret over bringing our…activities to a halt. I shuddered as I remembered her telling me to use my words, as I remembered her calling me ‘little girl.’ But what regret I felt was drowned out by how my mind buzzed over the humiliation of my accident. My hand dipped below the water and nestled itself between my legs as I replayed the moment in my head. “Has this been happening a lot lately?” Vivian’s question burned bright in my head as my imagination reached that point in the evening’s events. I imagined myself nodding meekly, “yes, Miss Vivian,” I whispered the words out loud as my imagination deviated from the real events. “I see,” Vivian would reply, disappointment clear in her voice, “I guess I was wrong when I thought you were ready for big girl panties, isn’t that right?” “Yes, Miss Vivian,” I would repeat then add, “I’m sorry, Miss Vivian.” “Oh, it’s not your fault,” she would smile condescendingly at me, “you’re just a little girl, after all. It’s my fault for expecting you to be big enough to use the potty. I guess we’re just going to have to go back to pull-ups, my little Lavender.” “Yes, Miss Vivian,” I would say for a third time. I gasped, suddenly jerked out of my daydream by a light tapping on the door. “Come in,” I called, trying to compose myself a little. The door opened and Vivian stepped in carrying a bundle of clothes she must have gotten from my closet. And something else. It took me a moment to recognize it, but my heart stopped when I did. On top of the pile of clothing in Vivian’s hands was one of my diapers.

It's almost like open and honest communication is the foundation to a healthy relationship! Who could've guessed? ?

Chapter Thirteen Weeks passed by and before I knew it the end of the semester was just around the corner. Vivian and I continued to see each other every Friday night…and every Saturday morning, for that matter. Despite ample fantasies to the contrary, I kept my pants dry during our time together—during the daytime, anyway. Come Saturday morning, I would always shuffle my way to breakfast in a soaked pull-up. If Vivian ever noticed that I wore my sodden undergarments to breakfast, she never said anything about it. In fact, she said very little about my accidents at all, though she did remind me to wear my pull-up most night, and a few times she had even…politely suggested I use the bathroom. Of course, she never phrased it so directly. “Why don’t you go visit the little girls’ room and wash up while I clean up after dinner?” She might suggest; subtle, but enough to make my cheeks a little warm. All-in-all, my time with Vivian was a small taste of bliss every week, and barely a day would pass that I didn’t find myself deep in my daydreams fantasizing about Vivian…but mostly about Miss Vivian. It was not, however, all sunshine and rainbows. Vivian and I never discussed it, but we both knew our relationship, such as it were, existed under the sword of Damocles. We knew our relationship was wrong, or at least ethically suspect; we knew the trouble we could get in if the director of our department or other administration discovered it. If nothing else, Elyse’s words and warnings lived rent free in my head, but I didn’t care, and Vivian never showed any sign that she did. And after all, was what we were doing so wrong? We were both consenting adults, and I was still doing the work. But the reality was what it was, and nothing Vivian or I could do would change that, so we made sure to keep our relationship under wraps. In public, on campus, we maintained a façade of professionalism in all of our interactions. However, that didn’t mean I didn’t catch Elyse glaring at us from across the room on more than a couple of occasions. Speaking of Elyse, after our second confrontation regarding the time I was spending with Vivian, she kept her mouth shut on the matter, which was a win at least. Outside of my relationship with Vivian, I kept myself busy with my schoolwork. The end of the semester was always a busy time, and this semester was no exception. In fact, I spent the vast majority of the time I wasn’t with Vivian with either my nose stuck in a book or my head stuck in a fantasy about Vivian. Oh, and, as for the diapers I bought…well…I was right, they proved much harder to put on in practice than the tutorials I had read and watched made it seem. I ruined the first one I tried to put on by ripping the tapes and plastic from so many attempts at readjusting the thing. At first, I thought I did a better job with the second, but after just a few moments of wearing it, I began to suspect I had done a poorer job than I realized. What was snug and comfy in some places was loose and scratchy in others, and when the padding leaked all over my bed when I first tried to wet it, my suspicions were confirmed. Since then, the opened bag of diapers, too large to fit in my chest, had lived in my closet hidden out of sight just next to the chest of secrets. Leaving it out like that made me nervous at first, but I quickly realized that all my security measures were a little on the paranoid side. After all, it wasn’t like Elyse was going to go digging around my closet. All-in-all, the last few weeks of the semester passed in a pleasant blur. There was, however, one thing about Vivian and mine’s relationship that left me uneasy. “Okay, sweetheart,” Vivian whispered in my ear, “we should both probably get ready for bed.” I made a sound of weak protest in my throat, “just a few more minutes?” “In just a few more minutes, you’ll be fast asleep, and we can’t have that yet, now can we? Come on, sleepy girl, go get ready for bed.” “I won’t fall asleep, I promise,” I said even as I shifted around in bed to get in a more comfortable position. We were laying in Vivian’s bed together, both of us naked, having just thoroughly celebrated the end of the semester together. Summer stretched out ahead of us, and with less work for both of us and many of the students, including Elyse, and some of the faculty going out of town for portions of if not the entire summer, we’d have much more time to spend together. “You will,” she chided gently and with enough jovialness to know she was being playful, “and you know what will happen if you fall asleep before you…get ready.” I pouted, knowing exactly what she meant. “Okay,” I finally agreed, sitting up in bed, “but you have to give me a kiss first.” Vivian smiled and complied, “now,” she said as she got out of bed with me, “you go get ready for bed, and I’ll go turn down the bed in the guest room for you.” I pouted again, this time behind Vivian’s back. The guest bed. We’d been doing this for quite a few weeks at this point, Vivian and I were having sex, but I was still sleeping in the guest bed? It didn’t seem fair, but I also knew it was likely because Vivian didn’t want to sleep in the same bed with a bedwetter. She said she was fine with it and didn’t think any less of me, but was that really the case? Perhaps more importantly, could I really keep this up if it barred me from a bit of much craved intimacy? Later that night, curled up in the guest bed, I pondered this problem further. Of course, I’d never asked Vivian if I could sleep with her, so maybe she just didn’t realize that was something I wanted. But the bedwetting was certainly the more likely answer. But…maybe…there was a way to find out… Invite her to have dinner at your apartment next week, she’ll have to sleep in bed with you then, and if she won’t stay the night, you’ll know it’s because of your bedwetting. I could never, not with Elyse in the apartment. Elyse won’t be there, remember? That was right, Elyse had left earlier that day to spend the summer with her family—I had the apartment to myself until mid-August. And so I resolved to invite Vivian to spend an evening, and hopefully a night, at my apartment. What I didn’t know then was how this seemingly innocuous act would set into motion events that I would only ever have had the nerve to fantasize about. Chapter Fourteen “Vivian!” It was my turn to exclaim her name as I opened the front door of my apartment, “I’m so glad you agreed to let me host you tonight!” “I’ll admit, I was curious to see where you live,” she replied as she looked around the small apartment. “It’s not much,” I explained, “but it’s home, and since my roommate is out of town for the summer, I figured it would be nice to play hostess for once. May I offer you a drink? I’m afraid I don’t have the selection you do, but I have beer and wine and I make a mean rum and coke!” I was already beginning to regret this; there was a reason Vivian hosted aside from privacy. I was secretly hoping Vivian wouldn’t ask for the wine; I was suddenly embarrassed to serve her the cheap wine I had after spending weeks drinking her fancy wine. “Well,” she replied with an amused grin, “I suppose I’ll have to try the house specialty, a rum and coke it is.” “Great,” I smiled back and headed into the kitchen, “why don’t you take a seat on the couch, and I’ll be right over with drinks.” As I set to making us both a rum and coke, Vivian began slowly walking towards the couch, taking in the apartment as she did. “So, you live here with Elyse?” Vivian knew Elyse, of course, but they didn’t work as closely as Vivian and I did—which is to say, their relationship was nothing more than most professor and student relationships. “How is that?” “Pretty good,” I replied as I generously poured rum into two glasses, “I mean, you know, I’d rather have a place to myself, I like to have my privacy, but she’s a better roommate than the girl I lived with during my MA program…and a lot better than the roommates I had in undergrad.” “Roommates can be…difficult,” Vivian empathized, “and I’m sure especially so when you’re as concerned about…privacy as I imagine you are. Have you had any problems with Elyse and your…privacy?” It took me a moment to catch Vivian’s meaning, but I was glad I was looking away from her when I did—my face must have gone bright red. Has Elyse discovered your wetting problem? “Um, no,” I replied, dropping ice cubes into the glasses, “no problems there.” “Good, good,” Vivian said as she finally settled down on the couch. “I have to admit, I worry sometimes, not everyone is as…understanding as I am. I’d hate to find out someone was making you feel bad about it or that you weren’t properly taking care of yourself.” I was still blushing as I put the ice cube trays back and began pouring coke into the glasses. It wasn’t like Vivian to talk about my wetting problems so openly; I couldn’t help but wonder where it was coming from. And wanting to make sure I’m properly taking care of myself? What does she mean by that? Make sure you wear your protection at night? Make sure you’re using the potty regularly during the day? Not spending too long in your wet padding in the morning? Maybe she’s noticed you come to breakfast in a wet pull-up and worries you do the same around Elyse. Yeah, okay, maybe I’ve given her plenty of reasons to worry, but why is she bringing it up now? “Well, um,” I said awkwardly as I walked into the living room and handed Vivian her glass, “thank you, I appreciate your concern.” “Thank you, dear,” Vivian said as she took the glass from my hand and sipped it. “You were right, you do make a mean rum and coke, it’s very lovely.” I beamed at the compliment. It was such a small and silly thing, but any kind of praise from Vivian made my heart flutter. “So,” she said, changing the subject, “what’s for dinner?” It was, once again, time for me to blush, suddenly feeling very self-conscious about my hosting choices. “Well,” I started nervously, “I spent all week trying to decide what to cook for you, but the truth is…I can’t…really cook, so…I thought we could order take-out? I know a really good Thai place…?” Vivian grinned, “that sounds lovely, Lavender.” She took another sip of her drink and chuckled, “although, I suppose I’ll have to teach you to cook. Maybe next week, you can be my little kitchen helper, and I can teach you some cooking skills.” Miss Vivian’s little kitchen helper! It was all I could do to not show how excited I was about that prospect. “That sounds really lovely,” I said evenly, already fantasizing about trying to be a big girl and helping Miss Vivian in the kitchen. Before long, we had ordered dinner. Despite that, as I mentioned multiple times, I was the one hosting her for dinner, Vivian insisted on paying, and all my protests did nothing to dissuade her from her decision. As I was placing the order, Vivian, rum and coke in hand, drifted over to my bookcases and began perusing them. “You’ve got quite the collection here,” Vivian said as I finished putting in our order. “Well, it’s nowhere near as large as yours,” I replied humbly, “and some of them are Elyse’s.” “I’ve had a lot more time to collect them,” she countered, “but the quality of your collection is very good.” “Thanks, but…it’s a pretty curated collection,” I admitted with a laugh, “I keep all my impressive academic books out here, and the trashy fantasy books in my room.” Vivian turned and smiled at me, “may I?” You can’t let her in your room, what if you left something out? For a moment, panic built in my chest; had I left out any stuff that would hint at my proclivities? Had I left a pacifier out on my nightstand? Were all my onesies and other little clothes properly hidden? However, the panic dissipated almost as quickly as it formed. After all, I had been planning on Vivian spending the night in my bedroom; I had triple-checked to make sure everything was in order. “Um, sure, this way,” still, I was nervous as I led Vivian into my bedroom. After all, I could make sure all my pull-ups, pacifiers, onesies, and other incriminating items were put away, but my bedroom still very much looked like that of a young adult still clinging to their childhood. Fairy lights and other purple string lights were my bedroom’s primary source of light, my desk was littered with small toys and Legos that I fidgeted with while I was working, and there were stuffed animals almost everywhere. “Aww, and who is this?” Vivian asked as she immediately went to my bed and scooped up the plush otter that was waiting for me on my pillow. She managed to ask in a tone not dissimilar to the one you would use to ask a toddler about their stuffies without sounding like she was mocking me or being condescending. “That’s Penelope,” I replied with a blush, gently taking her from Vivian—I didn’t like other people holding Penelope. “She’s adorable,” Vivian handed her over to me with a smile before gently stroking my cheek, “just like you. Do you sleep with Penelope?” I nodded but said nothing, suddenly uncomfortable with how Vivian’s words and demeanor were making me slip down into little space. I suppressed the urge to tell Vivian all about my stuffed animals and instead set Penelope back on the bed, “um, my bookshelves are just right there,” I re-directed. “Sorry,” Vivian said as she sauntered over to the bookcases, “your bedroom is just so adorable, I couldn’t help it.” “Oh, you’re fine, it’s just…” It’s just that talking to you like that makes your brain go into toddler mode. True, but I couldn’t say that. “…well, thank you,” I said, unable to finish the thought I had started. “I’m glad you like it. I know it’s not quite what you’re used to, but I hope you’ll be comfortable sleeping in here,” I hadn’t been planning on addressing that matter just yet, but the opportunity seemed to be presenting itself. “Oh,” Vivian said simply as she looked over the books on my shelf, “I took a Lyft here so I could just do the same home, no worries, darling.” “Oh,” it was my turn to say, though mine was quite a bit more dejected than hers. She wasn’t willing to sleep with a bedwetter after all. I sat down heavily on the edge of my bed. “But,” Vivian continued, clearly picking up on my crestfallen expression, “I can see that’s not quite what you were imagining.” Vivian sat down next to me and took one of my hands in both of hers. “Were you hoping I would stay with you?” I nodded. “Mm, I see,” Vivian said softly. “And you were hoping I’d sleep in here with you?” I nodded again, trying not to indulge the tears I felt forming behind my eyes. “Darling,” she said, pushing some stray hairs behind my ears, “why didn’t you just say so?” I laughed weakly, feeling stupid, “this was me trying to say something,” I explained, “but I guess you don’t want to spend the night in the same bed as me.” Vivian opened her mouth to say something, but I plowed forward without giving her a chance, “I always sleep in the guest bed at your house, but I figured if we had dinner here, you’d have to sleep in the same bed as me, but I guess you just don’t want to spend the night in the same bed as me because of…the…you know…” I trailed off, still holding back my tears. I felt so dumb; I had ruined everything just because I couldn’t come clean and tell her I wasn’t a bedwetter when I still had a chance. “Darling, sweetheart, my little Lavender,” Vivian said softly, lovingly, as she began rubbing my back when my little tirade was over, “that’s not the case at all. I want you to spend the night with me, too, I was just trying to…respect your privacy, that’s all.” “Wait, really?” “Yes, really!” Vivian laughed softly, “Really, truly. I’m sorry, Lavender, I shouldn’t have just assumed, but I did; I assumed you would be too embarrassed about your…well, your you know…” I threw my arms around Vivian just as I felt a tear finally escape and roll down my cheek. “Spend the night with me?” I asked, “Spend the night in this bed with me? Please?” “Of course, my little Lavender, I’d love to.”

Don't give her any ideas! She has enough bad ones of her own. Thank you so much! I'm very proud of what I accomplished even if I didn't hit the 50k goal. Besides, it did what it was supposed to do: get me to write. This is the first time I've written something that wasn't an essay for school in nearly a decade, and it feels great to stretch those creative muscles. Thank you again!

New chapters! Two of 'em! If you recall, this was my NaNoWriMo project, so with November basically over, allow me to say...I did not hit my goal XD In case you don't know, the goal of NaNoWriMo is to write 50k words in a month, and I fell short by about 10k. This story is currently about 40k words long, about half of which have been posted as of this update. But no fear! NaNoWriMo may be over, but The Life and Humiliations of Lavender Fairchild, or A Tale of Diapers and Doctorates will continue. This is all to say, thank you to those who have been reading along, and a special thank you to those that have commented and shared their thoughts. I don't wanna say I do it for the accolades, but, hey, they help! And they certainly mean a lot to me. But now, without further ado... Chapter Eleven The next morning, I found Vivian eating breakfast in the breakfast nook nestled in the corner of her kitchen. “Good morning, Lavender,” Vivian chirped cheerfully as I walked through the door. “Good morning,” I mumbled back from the doorway. I stood there for a long moment picking at my hands; I was suddenly overcome with awkwardness over the disparity of our appearances. Vivian in her black silk pajamas with matching robe, looking every bit the mature and dignified academic she was even first thing in the morning, and me in my pale purple, ruffled pajamas…not to even mention the sodden pull-up underneath them. “Please,” Vivian gestured to the spread of fresh fruit, English muffins, and jams on the table, “do help yourself, darling.” I shuffled over to the table, extremely aware and very self-conscious about the rustling noise coming from under my pajamas. Briefly, I wondered if Vivian could tell how heavily the pull-up sagged between my legs, but quickly pushed the thought away before it could set my cheeks ablaze. I took a seat on the bench across from Vivian, my pull-up squishing under me as I did. Why didn’t you just take off the pull-up? I…didn’t know what to do with it… You’re sure it’s not just because you wanted to savor the feeling? Or maybe because being in a wet pull-up in front of Vivian was…thrilling? “Did you sleep well, Lavender?” Vivian asked, interrupting my thoughts. I couldn’t help but blush at her question, feeling an unsaid question underneath it: did you have an accident? But, of course, Vivian meant the question at face value…right? Helping myself to an English muffin and some sliced strawberries, I nodded, “I slept wonderfully, thank you.” Vivian smiled and took a bite of her own English muffin, smeared with what looked like blackberry jam. “Did you have pleasant dreams?” She asked when she was done chewing. “Not that I recall,” I lied with a small, forced laugh even as I flashed back to the dreams I’d had that had picked up where my fantasies had ended. Dreams in which Vivian peeled off my wet pull-ups and put me in thick diapers, just as she had promised. “What about you?” Vivian smirked, “nothing interesting,” and took a sip of her coffee. “Oh, may I offer you some coffee?” She asked as she set her cup down, “or maybe some juice? I have orange juice, but only with pulp.” “That sounds lovely, thank you,” and it did—most people thought I was weird for it, but orange juice without pulp never tastes as good. “You know,” Vivian got up and set about making me a glass of orange juice, “the topic of pulp tends to be divisive amongst orange juice drinkers, but I’ve always thought the stuff without pulp tastes…artificial, if that makes sense.” “It does!” I exclaimed with a genuine laugh, “I absolutely agree.” “A girl after my own tastes,” Vivian said as she set the glass down in front of me, “but now for another divisive question: crunchy or creamy peanut butter?” “Oh, crunchy, one-hundred percent.” “One-hundred percent!” Vivian agreed. “Pineapple on pizza?” I asked as I smeared some of the blackberry jam on my muffin. “Yes, but only if there’s something spicy on the pizza to balance out the sweetness.” “Like…pepperoni, pineapple, and jalapenos?” I offered. “Sounds lovely,” Vivian smiled and reached across the table to gently take the hand I wasn’t using to eat in her own, “just like you.” I blushed and tried to hide my utter speechlessness with a gulp of orange juice. I wonder if she’d still be saying you’re lovely if she knew you’re still wearing your soaked pull-up. “What about,” I said, trying to keep the conversation moving, “the crust? Thick crust or thin?” “I see that someone isn’t very good at taking compliments,” Vivian smiled and squeezed my hand, “when someone calls you lovely, you say thank you, isn’t that right?” Her voice took on a tone of gentle condescension that—quite frankly—clouded my brain with thoughts I would’ve rather not been having at breakfast with Vivian. My wet pull-up didn’t help. “Yes,” I nodded with my eyes downcast like a penitent child, “that’s right.” “So?” Vivian said expectantly. “Thank you, Vivian,” I was all too aware of the conscious effort it took not to slip a ‘Miss’ in before her name. “There we go,” she exclaimed warmly, “and you are quite welcome, my dear.” We spent the rest of breakfast discussing our food preferences, which were often nearly perfectly in line, though Vivian definitely had a more…well, let’s call it a more refined palette than me. In other words, I was quite a bit pickier about food than she was. “Well then,” Vivian said after I had admitted that, most of the time, I’d rather have chicken tenders or pizza over a fancy meal, “perhaps I should start serving more simple foods when we have dinner.” “No, no,” I tried to backpedal quickly, “both of the dinners you’ve made me have been excellent, I promise!” And they were! But that didn’t mean I wouldn’t have preferred a plate of chicken tenders. “I’m so glad you think so, but maybe next time I’ll prepare something off the kids’ menu,” she smiled to show she was teasing. “Homemade chicken tenders with mashed potatoes and maybe some zucchini, something nice and simple, how does that sound?” I couldn’t help but blush and bit my lower lip, “next time?” It was Vivian’s turn to blush, “well, I had hoped…if it’s not so presumptuous, that is…” “I’d love to,” I interjected, “and that sounds delicious.” “Really, Lavender,” Vivian continued, her confidence seemingly restored, “I was actually hoping we could maybe…make this a weekly thing from now on? I have so enjoyed having you for dinner; I’ve even enjoyed our mornings together.” “Vivian, about last night…” I began, suddenly overcome with humiliation over everything that had happened. “Oh,” Vivian said when I didn’t continue for a long moment, “unless, of course, you have regrets or second thoughts about…what we did last night.” “What we did?” “The…you know…in the parlor?” “Oh!” My face got hot thinking about Vivian on top of me, her lips locked with mine. I had been so busy thinking about everything that had happened after that that I had nearly completely forgotten that we had made out. “No, no, no regrets, that was…” I bit my lower lip, “magnificent.” “I’m so glad you think so,” Vivian said, visibly relieved. “What did you want to talk about then?” “Well, it’s just…about the rest of it…like, what happened after that…” Vivian waved her hand in the air dismissively, “There’s really no need to mention it, Lavender. I told you, I don’t think any less of you, and the whole thing will be our little secret. I can’t imagine how hard this is for you, and I only want to do whatever I can to help and support you. I never want to make you feel bad for anything, and definitely not this.” She’s only saying that because she thinks you have a bladder problem; she’s only saying that because you’re lying to her. I’m not…exactly lying… You aren’t exactly telling the truth either. I knew this was my last chance to come clean; if I didn’t do it now, I’d quickly find myself in too deep with no way back. Or was I already in too deep? I thought about the wet pull-up I was wearing and how hard it would be to explain why I had worn it—and, more importantly, why I had wet it—if I came clean now. “Thank you, Vivian,” I said after a long silence, “that really means a lot to me.” So you’re really doing this? Committing to letting Vivian think you have a bladder problem? But what else could I do? She smiled warmly, “and did…they help?” She asked a little hesitantly. My face was burning as I nodded my head. “Good,” she said matter-of-factly, “I’ll make sure to have some on hand for you when you stay over from now on, so there’s no need to feel shy about sleeping here.” The topic was, thankfully, quickly dropped and conversation moved on to less mortifying subjects. The morning quickly passed and it was early afternoon by the time I changed out of the pajamas Vivian had lent me and back into the now-freshly-laundered clothes I had been wearing the night before. My sodden pull-up went into the bathroom trash can, covered with a layer of toilet paper out of some weird sense of trying to maintain a little dignity. “Next week, then?” Vivian asked as we stood by the front door. “It’s a date,” I replied, then immediately began second guessing my choice of words, but Vivian just smiled, seemingly unfazed. Instead, she cupped one hand on my cheek and leaned in for a long, slow kiss. “I’m very much looking forward to it.” It wasn’t until I got to my car and went to fish out my keys that I noticed something strange in my purse: three pull-ups and a handwritten note. I unlocked my car and climbed inside before opening the note. “Lavender,” it began, “I hope you don’t find this presumptuous or overbearing, but I figured you might want some for home until you can get some more.” It was signed, “with love, Vivian.” I smiled, suddenly giddy, and drove home. The whole way there, I prayed Elyse would be out of the apartment. Chapter Twelve Of course, in my experience, prayers rarely get answered. As I walked into the apartment I shared with Elyse, I could immediately here the sounds of my roommate in the kitchen. “Hi, Elyse,” I tried to sound as casual as possible—in other words, trying not to bring attention to the fact that I was, once again, returning from Vivian’s house after spending the night—as I set my bag down, doubling checking to make sure the bag was zipped and the pull-ups within safely hidden. “Another night with Professor Devereux?” Elyse immediately asked. She was standing by out coffee maker as it released a steady stream of steaming black liquid into a travel mug. So much for not bringing attention to it. “I told you last time,” I explained, trying not to sound flustered or guilty, despite being very guilty, “I had too many drinks and spent the night in her guest room.” “You realize that doesn’t really sound much better, right?” Tell her you peed your pants and had to spend the night so you clothes could be washed. I’m sure that will fix everything. “Nothing happened, Elyse,” I insisted before deciding to shift to the offensive, “and besides, what business is it of yours?” “None,” she admitted, much to my surprise. A silence filled the small kitchen as Elyse pulled a bottle of creamer from the fridge and added a more than generous splash to her travel mug. “But,” she finally continued as she put the creamer back, “if anyone else finds out? You and Professor Devereux are going to be in serious trouble.” “There’s nothing to find out about!” Except the kissing…not to mention the wettings and pull-ups. I wasn’t sure which secret I’d prefer to get out. Let’s go with neither. “You might get kicked out, Lavender,” she continued as if I hadn’t spoken, “Professor Devereux has tenure so she might be fine, but that’s a big might. She might not get fired, but they certainly won’t just slap her on the wrist. How hard have you worked to get here, Lavender? You have a fully-paid fellowship, and you’re risking it all to have a fling with your professor? You should be focusing on your dissertation; fuck whoever you want after you graduate.” By the time Elyse was done with her short berating, I felt well and truly small and awful. I was staring at the ground with tears forming behind my eyes while I played nervously with my hair. “I’m not fucking her,” I protested weakly. “Whatever you’re doing,” Elyse grabbed the lid to her travel mug and slammed it on a little harder than necessary, “I hope you’re enjoying it, because whatever it is looks suspicious, and it’s only a matter of time before other people start noticing.” Elyse stomped off to her room, leaving me standing there in quite thought. I knew she was right; we could get in serious trouble for what we were doing. But you’re not really doing anything, right? We made out. Vivian definitely made it clear she has feelings for me. Then there’s the…rest of it… No one knows about your kink; they can prove that’s inappropriate without that information. Maybe…it’s still going to raise a lot of questions though…gods I hope no one finds out about that part of it all. “I’m going to the library,” Elyse said, breaking me out of my own head, as she came back out of her room with her backpack. “Are…are you going to tell anyone?” I asked cautiously, fully aware that I was, essentially, admitting at least some small amount of guilt. Elyse sighed as she grabbed her coffee. “No,” she said at last, “but I’m also not going to lie and stick my neck out to save yours, so be careful, got it?” I nodded, “thank you,” I said sincerely as Elyse made her way to the front door. “I hope she’s worth it,” Elyse said skeptically and slammed the door behind her just a little too hard. At least now I was alone, but now I wasn’t so much in the mood for the solitary activities I had wanted to partake in. I picked up my bag and headed to my room to put the pull-ups away with everything else. I had only begun filling my little chest of secrets in the past year since I had moved into this apartment. I’d always had more than a passing interest in pull-ups, wetting myself, and other toddler things, but had always lacked the privacy necessary to indulge. It was easy to remember how excited I had been by my first bag of pull-ups; it was just as easy to remember how nerve-racking the experience of buying them at the local pharmacy had been. Now I bought them from the internet—a much less mortifying experience, even if I still worried Elyse might get curious about the packages I receive. Not that you could tell how anxious I was by the contents of the chest, most of which had been ordered from the internet. Double checking to make sure my bedroom door was locked despite the empty apartment, I pulled my little chest out of its hiding spot, spun the combination into the lock, and lifted the lid to expose my treasure trove. Right on top was an almost empty bag of Goodnites; I pulled the ones Vivian had given me out of my purse and slid them in the bag, making a mental note to order more soon. Setting the bag of pull-ups aside, I peered into my chest. Sometimes it was nice to just take stock of all the toddler things I had accrued. One of the many things I had been collecting over the past year were clothes that made me feel and look a little more toddler-like, and while some of my more discreet clothing options, that is, clothing I could get away with wearing in public without raising eyebrows, hung up with the rest of my everyday clothes, the chest was where I kept my more overtly toddler clothing pieces. Numerous onesies, a rainbow tulle skirt, some frilly bloomers, and a few other articles of clothing with overtly babyish designs and patterns took up a large chunk of the space in the chest. Then, of course, there were the two bibs, the bonnet that looked so cute but made me feel a little silly, a pair of mittens, a baby bottle, two sippy cups, about a dozen pacifier clips, and at least twice as many pacifiers (some of which were plain, but most were decorated). A pretty good collection, if I said so myself. And still you want more. I did. But, maybe more so, I wanted to be able to share this side of myself with Vivian. I didn’t want to lie to her, I didn’t want to deceive her, but how else could I ever let her know about this part of me? I wanted Vivian passionately, both intellectually and sexually; I wanted to drink wine with her and have deep conversations about books and movies and everything else just as much as I wanted her to touch me, to kiss me, to rail me even. Yes, I wanted all of that, but I also wanted Vivian to treat me like a toddler, and how could I ever have all three? You could just…tell her the truth? But that, of course, was off the table. Especially now that I had gone past the point of no return with my lies. That only left leaning further in. Right now, though, what I needed was to feel the kind of comfort that only the contents of my chest could provide. Vivian could provide it. Maybe, but that wasn’t an option right now. As I stripped off the clothes that I had worn to Vivian’s the night before, I mused on what more I wanted. There were things I wanted that couldn’t fit into my chest—I often fantasized about being fed in a highchair or put down for a nap in a crib—but then there were other things that would easily fit that I had just been too timid to buy thus far. Namely, diapers. Pull-ups were wonderful, don’t get me wrong; I’d happily wear pull-ups every day for the rest of my life if I could have. But diapers? I’d wanted to try them for as long as I could remember, but they seemed…daunting. Pull-ups I could hide; I rarely did, but I could wear a pull-up under jeans or even a skirt with a thick pair of leggings and have no one be the wiser. The same couldn’t be said about diapers. Not to mention, I wasn’t sure I could put a diaper on by myself. Oh, sure, I had read plenty of tutorials online and even watched a few videos, but it seemed like something that looked a lot easier than it was. But everything about them just made me feel…electric. It didn’t help that ever since that first night at Vivian’s they had been increasingly taking a central role in my fantasies. I shut my closet door and looked at myself in the full-length mirror that hung on the back of the door. Grinning back at me was a little girl, maybe three or four, wearing a short-sleeved, black onesie with cute little ghosts all over it—my favorite onesie in my collection. The snap-crotch slightly bulged over the pull-up underneath. Clipped to my collar was a pacifier clip that matched the onesie; a pink pacifier hung at the end. As I looked at myself in the mirror, I popped the pacifier in my mouth and put my hair into pigtails. What would Vivian say if she saw you dressed like this? “Aww, what a cute little girl,” maybe? Or “isn’t my little Lavender just the cutest little girl,” maybe? Or maybe “Lavender, you look absolutely ridiculous.” I pouted. That didn’t sound like something Miss Vivian would say. Miss Vivian was always kind and gentle and loving. Grabbing my phone from my bag, a sippy cup from the chest, and a robe to throw over my outfit, I quickly headed back to the kitchen to fill my sippy with apple juice before retreating back to my room, locking the door behind me, and ditching the robe. Sucking gently on my pacifier, I climbed into bed with my sippy and grabbed my favorite stuffed animal, Penelope the otter, off my pillow, cuddling her tightly to my chest as I snuggled into my blankets and pillows. A few minutes later, I had ordered my pull-ups from Amazon and moved on to browsing diapers on various kink sites as I imagined what it would be like to have Vivian put me in them. Maybe if she thought you really needed them… Like…maybe if she thought pull-ups weren’t enough protection at night? Or maybe if you kept peeing your pants during the day… She was pretty quick to suggest pull-ups to bed… Maybe next week, the pull-up leaks? What if she just gets mad? What if she thinks I’m gross for wetting the bed? She already knows you wet the bed. Why would she react differently to you wetting the bed more? “My poor little Lavender,” I imagined her saying as I looked up at her from the bed, my pajamas and sheets just as wet as my pull-up, “I guess you’re too little for pull-ups even, isn’t that right?” It would be easy, wet the pull-up before going to sleep and again when you wake up and… …and more lies. In for a penny, in for a pound. I’m not sure that applies here. But… But…? Who am I really hurting? It’s not like I’m forcing Vivian to do anything… Aside from cleaning up after your accidents… …but that’s what the diapers are for! I couldn’t help but start to feel…aroused as I fell down this rabbit hole, my imagination running away with me as my arousal grew. I once again found my head full of fantasies of a life with Vivian in which she kept me in diapers at night and pull-ups during the day. You’ll have to pee your pants in front of Vivian at least a few more times before she puts you in pull-ups. Or…I could just start wearing them around her? But that’s not as much fun. It’s also not as dishonest. And yet, I had to admit, looking back on the accident I’d had in front of Vivian, separated now by enough to feel the impact of the mortification a little less, it had been…kind of…very…hot… “Again, Lavender?” I imagined Miss Vivian saying in equal parts exasperation and sympathy as pee ran down my legs. “I guess you just aren’t ready for big girl panties,” she’d hug me softly to let me know she wasn’t mad before taking me by the hand, “come on, let’s get you cleaned up and into a nice pull-up, okay?” It was such a nice fantasy, but could I really go through with it? I took a deep breath and added the diapers to my cart.

Hey y'all! Just one chapter today, but it's a long one! I hope everyone enjoys it! Chapter Ten Vivian was waiting for me in the guest room when I finally emerged from my bath. “Feel better?” She asked as she finished turning down the bed. “Much,” I sighed, “Vivian, I’m just…so sorry and—” Vivian interrupted me with a wave of her hand, “Don’t even mention it!” She smoothed a stray wrinkle from the sheet, fluffed a pillow, and turned to face me, “Really, Lavender, these things happen.” Do they really though? “And I promise,” she continued, “I don’t think any less of you; you’re still the brilliant and passionate student I was so excited to work with.” “You were…excited to work with me?” My heart fluttered, the embarrassment of current events momentarily forgotten. Vivian had never been withholding of praise towards my work, but this was the first time she had ever made it so…personal; the first time she had ever hinted that my excitement to work with her was reciprocated. “Of course, dear,” she smiled and took a small step closer to me, “your work is absolutely brilliant, and I couldn’t wait to see how you would grow and blossom as a scholar.” My heart fell through the floor. So, it was just professional? “And since then, I’ve come to know you as a kind, witty, and frankly amazing person that I admire very much,” my heart slingshot itself up into my throat, “and all this changes nothing about how I feel about you.” She reached out a tentative hand and pushed a stray hair back behind my ear. “And, I think, you feel the same.” Klaxon sirens were going off in my head. Red lights as bright as my cheeks and warning signs that flashed “GAY PANIC” filled my brain. I swallowed hard and forced myself to nod. She smiled and leaned in, “I’m quite smitten with you, my little Lavender,” she whispered, her lips so close to mine I could feel her breath, and then they were pressed against mine. Her tongue slipped past my lips, and I moaned softly and melted into her. A long moment later, Vivian broke off from the kiss and took a step back. I shyly looked down and bit my lip. I didn’t know what to say or where to go from here. My professor had just proclaimed her feelings for me, proclaimed them in spite of a wetting problem she perceived me to have, and then kissed me deeply and passionately. What was I supposed to say now? Maybe “oh, by the way, I’m not a bedwetter?” That did seem like a good place to start. Vivian cleared her throat before I could begin to formulate that thought. “Well, if you’ll excuse me, I do need to go take care of something, just really quickly, okay?” I nodded and Vivian walked past me, brushing her hand along my hip as she did, and out of the room. Awkwardly standing alone in the guest room, it suddenly occurred to me that I wasn’t sure what Vivian expected me to sleep in. My clothes were, after all, currently being washed. Vivian was a few inches taller than me, but maybe she would have some pajamas I could borrow. Would you lend your pajamas to a bedwetter? I mean, it wouldn’t necessarily bother me… Of course it wouldn’t bother you; you’re a bedwetter, after all. I groaned internally. I really had to clear this up with Vivian. I couldn’t let her keep thinking I was a bedwetter. Besides, what was I going to do? Purposely piss all over Vivian’s guest bed again? With that thought, I sat down hard on the bed, and immediately froze. Was that…what I thought it was? I lifted myself up just a little before letting myself fall back down. A plastic sheet crinkled under me. Well, let’s just say I made sure I’m well-prepared, just in case. That’s what Vivian had said about the prospect of me spending the night again. She was “well-prepared.” She expected me to piss all over her guest bed again. As I was still trying to process this new information, Vivian came back in the room carrying a plain, brown paper bag in one hand and a pair of pajamas in the other. “Here you go,” she said as she set the pajamas down on the bed next to me, “I think these should fit you!” Well, that answered that. “Thank you so much, Vivian,” I said as I picked up the pajamas. They were a set of plain, pale purple pajamas with a set of shorts and a button-up shirt with a soft collar; the leg and arm holes ended in juvenile-looking ruffles. I had to admit, they were kind of cute, but not exactly what most girls my age would wear to bed. Pretty close to what you wear to bed sometimes though. They were shockingly similar to a pair I had in my locked chest at home. They had less frills and lacked the repeating pattern of teddy bears, pacifiers, and baby bottles, but otherwise… “I…do hope they are okay,” Vivian said, sounding uncharacteristically timid. “They’re great, thank you so much,” I smiled, then remembered the paper bag in her other hand and eyed it cautiously. What else could she possibly have? “Oh,” Vivian noticed me staring at the bag and cleared her throat, “yes, I…well, I hope you don’t mind…maybe this is presumptuous of me…” she suddenly seemed flustered, perhaps even embarrassed. “I just thought that…well…” she sighed and handed me the bag, “here, I had a delivery service make a trip to the pharmacy for me.” My heart was beating fast; my mind racing with suspicions of what was in the bag. Nervously and with no small amount of anticipation, I peered inside the bag and was greeted by a familiar sight: a bag of Goodnites. “I’m sorry if this is rude,” she blurted out as I was still trying to process the shock of this new development. “I just thought you’d be more comfortable if…and I don’t know what you use at home, but this…I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…” “No, no, this was…” was what? What was I supposed to say in this circumstance? How about “I don’t wet the bed, last time was just a freak accident caused by drinking too much?” “…thoughtful,” was what I finally came up with. “But, Vivian, I…Vivian, I really appreciate this and how kind you’ve been and just everything but, to be completely honest, I…I don’t…” I don’t wet the bed, say it. “…don’t usually…” Wet the bed! I don’t usually wet the bed! Or ever! “…wear…” Wait, what? That’s not where you’re supposed to be going with this! It’s okay, it’s okay, “wear diapers to bed because I’m not a bedwetter,” just say that, okay? But I didn’t. I let myself trail off there without finishing my sentence. What is wrong with you? “Oh,” Vivian replied after a short silence, “I see…I mean, of course you don’t…I’m sorry if I’ve made you feel uncomfortable, Lavender,” she cast her eyes downward, clearly feeling awkward and embarrassed. “I really did think I was helping.” Sympathetic pain shot through my chest; she was just trying to help. Vivian had no way of knowing that she was feeding into my own kinky daydreams, no way of knowing that she was leading me astray down a path of my own lies. And suddenly I found myself at a crossroads. I could tell Vivian the truth, dissuade her of the notion that I was a bedwetter, tell her that it was just the alcohol—she’d probably feel awful for making assumptions and even worse about buying these stupid Goodnites, but she’d get over it. We would move on, and, in time, this could just be a funny story. And, hell, maybe the fact that she’s so open-minded about the erroneous assumption that I’m a bedwetter is a good indicator that she’ll be open-minded about my kink—whenever I work up the nerve to tell her. OR…or, I could lie. I could put on the pull-up, let her think I’m a bedwetter, and play the role. It’s not like I wouldn’t enjoy it, but it felt so incredibly wrong. But you’d be sparing her feelings! No, I couldn’t rationalize this like that; I couldn’t pretend sparing her feelings justified the lie. Then don’t lie. She’s the one who assumed you’re a bedwetter, you never told her you were. She’s the one who took it upon herself to buy you pull-ups, you’d just be a good guest by wearing them considering what happened last time. You have had a few drinks, after all. Not nearly as many as last time. And? So? You did wet the bed last time you stayed, and now your host is asking you to wear “protection” so that you don’t again. And maybe you wake up wet again because that’s what you do in pull-ups and if she takes that as confirmation of her assumption, is that really your fault? “Well,” Vivian’s voice brought me back to reality, and I suddenly became aware of the fact that we had been standing there in awkward silence for far too long. “I guess I’ll just,” she reached for the bag, “get rid of these, then…” “No!” I snapped instinctively, holding the bag tightly to my chest. Now or never, which is it? “That is,” I continued, “well…maybe…maybe I should…” Vivian smiled and sat down on the bed next to me, making the plastic sheet crinkle again. “Lavender,” she began as she put one arm around me and set her other hand gently on my knee, “is this…” she paused for entirely too long “…new to you?” Are you new to being a bedwetter? I nodded. Technically, it was true. “That must be scary,” she said, rubbing my back, “but I can be here for you, if you’d like that.” I nodded again. What are you doing?! “Well,” she said as she gently took the bag from me and set it on the ground, “just know that I won’t judge you no matter what you chose and that either way it doesn’t affect how I feel about you or what I think of you, okay? But, well, maybe you’d sleep better if you did…” she gestured to the bag, “you know…” “Maybe,” I agreed. “At the very least, you probably won’t wake up feeling so gross.” You might feel gross for other reasons when you wake up if you do this. I felt impossibly conflicted. I was being given exactly what I’ve always wanted on a silver platter, but I’d have to lie to Vivian to get it. Was it worth it? Could I forgive myself? Would Vivian ever forgive me if she found out? “I’ll tell you what,” Vivian said as she stood up, “why don’t I just leave them in here with you, and you can make whatever decision you’d like to make, okay?” She stroked my cheek once, then began walking towards the door. “But it’s late,” she stated, “and we’ve both had more than a few drinks and have had a pretty…eventful evening. Maybe it’s best we both retire for the night, don’t you think?” I nodded my agreement, my eyes transfixed to the brown paper bag. “Good night, Lavender, sleep well.” And with that, Vivian left me alone with the bag of Goodnites. You already know what you want to do; just do it. I stood up on shaky legs, crossed the short span between me and the bag, and pulled them out. The bag was identical to the one I had at home. I ripped open the packaging and pulled one out. Are you sure this is what you want to do? There’s no coming back from this. Wasn’t there, though? I could call it a temporary issue caused by the stress of school—that was a thing, wasn’t it? Or have you just read too many diaper stories? I was pretty sure it was a real thing. I set the pull-up on the bed and untied my robe. I had come this far, after all. This is a bad idea. I picked up the pull-up and ran my hand across the outside, taking in the rustling sound that was oh so familiar and oh so intoxicating. I shook it out like I had so many pull-ups before it, and imagined it was Vivian holding it open for me. “Just like big girl panties, right sweetie?” She would smile as I placed first one leg and then the other inside the garment. “There’s my good girl,” she pulled it up my legs and kissed my forehead as she settled it into place. “Does that feel good?” She asked, patting the front and running her fingers along the leak guards. I nodded, “Thank you, Miss Vivian.” “Now, let’s get you into bed, little girl.” I climbed into the bed, the plastic sheet crinkling under every movement, and, propping the pillows up against the headboard so I could sit up, settled down into bed. Suddenly missing my pacifier, I slipped my thumb into my mouth even while my other hand found its way under the covers. My fingertips ran along the soft, almost paper-y outside of the pull up, rubbing back and forth, increasing in pressure until I couldn’t help but gasp behind my thumb. My pacifier wasn’t the only thing I was missing. I imagined Vivian coming to wake me up in the morning, pulling my covers back as I squirmed sleepily. “Good morning, my little Lavender,” she would whisper, using the same endearment she had earlier that had made me melt, “did we sleep well?” Miss Vivian would kiss my forehead even as her fingers slipped past the leg bands of my pull-up to give me my morning check. I would just nod, smiling up at her from behind my thumb. “My little girl is quite soaked,” she would say with love, “we’re going to have to think about diapers for night if you keep wetting this heavily, now won’t we?” “Yes, Miss Vivian,” I would agree with a blush, my words muffled and distorted by my thumb. In my mind, I watched Miss Vivian help me out of bed, me never taking my thumb from my mouth, and ripping the sides of my pull-up, gently teasing me about how soaked it was as she did. “Now, Lavender,” she would say as she walked to the dresser, “are we going to be a big girl today and not have any accidents? Or should we keep you in your pull-ups in case you can’t stay dry today?” I would smile shyly from behind my thumb and lower my gaze to stare at my feet, too embarrassed to give her an honest answer. “That’s what I thought,” she would smirk and turn back to me with a pull-up in her hand, “you’re just my little Lavender, after all; how could one possibly expect you to keep your panties dry, right?” She would gently push me back so that I was sitting on the bed and kneel in front of me, grabbing one foot and working it into the pull-up. “It’s almost like you don’t even want to stay dry," she would tease as she moved on to the second foot, “but, surely, that can’t be it, right sweetie? Up now, sweetie,” she instructed, and I obeyed, standing up from the bed so she could slide the pull-up all the way up. And then it was her hand against the outside of my pull-up, rubbing and pressing the padding against my most sensitive parts, sending waves of pleasure radiating through my body. “Surely, my little Lavender wants to be a big girl, right? There’s no way she’s having accidents on purpose so she can stay Miss Vivian’s little girl, right?” I whimpered and shook my head. “Of course not, because if she were doing that,” she leaned in to whisper in my ear, her breath hot on my face, “we’d have to put her back in big, fluffy diapers, isn’t that right?” “Yes, Miss Vivian,” I murmured from behind my thumb. “What was that, darling girl?” She teasingly asked as she pulled my thumb out of my mouth, “I couldn’t hear you with your thumb in your mouth like a little baby. What did you say?” “Yes, Miss Vivian,” I repeated. “Yes, what? What’s going to happen if you keep wetting your pull-ups because you want to stay Miss Vivian’s little girl? Tell me exactly.” She pushed aside the padding of my pull-up, and I gasped and moaned as her fingers touched my flesh. “Y-you’ll p-p-put me b-back,” I stammered, struggling to form words, “in d-diapers.” “Yes, I will, big, fluffy ones that will make you waddle like the little baby you are, and you’ll love it, won’t you? You’ll love every humiliating moment of it, isn’t that right, my little Lavender?” I shoved my thumb back in my mouth and bit down so hard I was surprised I didn’t break skin, but it was all I could do to keep from crying out as my body vibrated with muscles spasms. My back arched off the bed and then crashed back down, absolutely racked with pleasure. Moments later, I laid on Vivian’s guest bed, my eyes half closed and my chest rising and falling slowly. I was barely even aware of my thumb slipping back into my mouth. What I was very aware of was the warmth that began to spread out through my pull-up. I made a quiet sound of pleasure in my throat, snuggled into the covers, and quickly drifted into sleep.

Mmm, for sure! There's absolutely some things going on in this story that are...morally gray, at best. Without giving anything away, I'm eager to see how your thoughts on the matter develop! But anyway! Sorry to keep y'all waiting for so long between chapters, so here's two more! The next few updates will probably be slow as well, so I apologize for that in advance! Now, when we last left our heroine, she had just wet herself right in front of Vivian... Chapter Eight The room was so quiet, you could hear the falling drops of piss splash into the puddle at my feet. Did…did that just fucking happen? I genuinely couldn’t even begin to guess how long Vivian and I just stood there in absolute silence. I couldn’t remember the last time I had wet myself—well, I couldn’t remember the last time I had accidentally wet myself—not counting wetting the bed two weeks ago, anyway. That’s a lot of caveats. Tears were silently falling down my cheeks; part of me felt like I should be sobbing in humiliation, but I was too stunned. Part of me was terrified of what Vivian would say; part of me was screaming in horror and shame. Some deep part of my brain couldn’t help but buzz with… Arousal, say it. Yes, okay, arousal. But I pushed down hard on that; the alcohol made it heard to ignore that buzzing, but now was not the time. We can think about this later. Yes, but not now. Now…now we…had to…right now, we had to… Do what? Fuck, I have no idea. I had just pissed my pants in my professor’s parlor with her right there. Her hand is on my back. Oh god, the tip of her high heel is touching my pee. We were just making out—we were making out for fuck’s sake—and now I’m standing here in my own piss. She’ll never want me like that again; I just ruined my chances. She probably just thinks I’m some immature kid that can’t hold their alcohol. She’s probably so grossed out! She…wait, is she saying something? “…does that sound nice, Lavender?” “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” I blurted out, my paralysis suddenly broken. I wanted to stand up, but staying bent over was the best way to hide the worst of the pee stains. “I just…I don’t know…and then…” tears were starting to come harder. “Shh, shh,” Vivian shushed me gently, lovingly, while rubbing my back, “it’s okay, Lavender, I’m not upset, no one is mad at you, it was just an accident! These things happen, and I promise I don’t think any less of you, okay?” How could she not think less of you? You just pissed yourself like a toddler right in front of her. “I’m just so…” my brain searched for the right word—admittedly, there were a lot that could complete the sentence, but I finally settled on “humiliated.” “Oh, sweetheart,” even now, even under these circumstances, her calling me ‘sweetheart’ make my heart skip a beat, “it’s really okay. This isn’t your fault, okay? And just like last time, it’s going to stay our little secret, okay?” “Okay,” I replied with a tearful sniffle and forced a weak smile. “Okay, there we go, that’s a little better already, huh?” She smiled softly at me and gave my cheek a single, soft stroke. “Why don’t we get you upstairs and into the bath, does that sound nice?” “Yes,” I sniffled again and nodded, “yes, please, I’m so sorry, I’ll clean all this up too.” “Nonsense, nonsense,” Vivian rebuffed me firmly, “I’ll take care of everything; you’re going through enough. Now let’s get you upstairs and into the tub.” Vivian took my hand softly and led me out of the room and towards the stairs, but hesitated before the first step. She looked at the stairs, then down at my feet, then up to my face, “I’m so sorry, dear, but could you…” she gestured towards my feet. I looked down at my feet in confusion, then to the stairs. The carpeted stairs. “Oh,” I said with a blush as it dawned on me: she didn’t want me to track pee on the carpet. “Of course, I’m sorry,” I knelt down and began to untie my shoes, thankful for how it hid my bright red cheeks. “I’ll just get a towel to wipe your feet and legs off before you come upstairs,” she said, quickly disappearing up the stairs. By the time I had taken my shoes off and peeled my soaked socks off my legs, Vivian was back with a hand towel, damn with warm water. I reached out to take the towel, but Vivian was already kneeling in front of me. “I hope you’re not too ticklish,” she smiled up with me as she grabbed my ankle and gently lifted one foot. I placed my hand on the wall for balance as she wiped the residual pee off my foot and lower leg, and again as she repeated the process on the other one. “There we go, all done,” she stood up and took my hand again, “now come on, I started the bath while I was up there.” Vivian led me back to the same bathroom she had taken me to last time I was here after I had wet the bed. She had already laid out a towel and a robe. “I added some bubbles to the bath,” she said, gesturing to the growing mountains of bubbles in the tub, “I thought they’d help you to relax.” “Thank you, Vivian,” I said sincerely and softly, “I…can’t believe this happened…I’m just so…ashamed…and I ruined everything, and—” But Vivian cut me off with a wave of her hand. “Nonsense,” she said firmly, “you’ve ruined nothing, and there’s nothing to be ashamed of. I can’t imagine how hard this must be for you, Lavender, and I never want to do anything that makes it worse for you, only what I can do to make it better. Speaking of, is there anything else I can do? I’ll wash your clothes for you, of course, but is there anything else?” “No,” I shook my head and fought back tears—of gratitude this time. “Thank you so much, Vivian; I’m just…so grateful for your kindness and understanding. I just…I swear I don’t…this doesn’t…” I was trying to explain how much of a freak accident this was, but it felt like lame excuses—not to mention there was something fundamentally humiliating about trying to convince your mentor that you really don’t piss yourself on a regular basis, despite having a zero for two track record for staying dry at her home. “I understand,” Vivian placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder and put me out of my misery, “and it’s okay.” We locked eyes and exchanged a long, meaningful look. At least, it felt meaningful; the problem was that I wasn’t sure what it meant. When we finally broke eye contact, Vivian walked to the bathtub, her heels clicking on the bathroom tiles, and turned the water off. “There, that should be good for you.” “Thank you again,” I said with my eyes downcast while I waited for her to leave so I could get undressed, but she lingered. I chewed my lip. She looked at me, almost like she was assessing me. I fidgeted under her gaze. “Lavender,” Vivian said at last, “I…well, I hate to ask, I certainly don’t want to embarrass you further, but…” it was rare that I saw Vivian seem unsure of herself, and it made me nervous—my mind was racing trying to figure out what she might be trying to say, and most of my options were not good. “What I’m trying to ask,” she started over, “is…did you come…prepared?” That wasn’t an option I thought of. What does she even mean? Prepared for what? For a bath? “I mean,” she went on, picking up on my confusing, “did you come prepared for…bed? It’s okay if you didn’t!” She added the last part quickly before hurriedly continuing, “I know you said you weren’t planning on spending the night, so I understand if you didn’t, and it’s absolutely okay if that’s the case, but I thought I should ask, if…you know…you brought…protection?” Prepared…for bed? Protection? What in the fuck? She thinks you’re a bedwetter. The realization from earlier hit me all over again. She doesn’t realize last time was a one-time incident or think it was the alcohol; she thinks you’re a bedwetter! She…thinks I wet the bed? She’s asking if you brought diapers! My cheeks turned the brightest crimson ever recorded. “Oh, dear,” Vivian said, clearly noticing my intense blushing, “I can see I’ve embarrassed you. I’m so sorry, Lavender, I shouldn’t have said anything!” “No!” I said, a bit too quickly, especially since I wasn’t sure what to follow it up with, and I suddenly realized it might seem like I was mad she had asked and agreeing that she shouldn’t have said anything. “I mean,” I scrambled to recover, to explain that I wasn’t mad, to find a way to explain that I wasn’t a bedwetter, “it’s not that! Like, it’s okay that you asked, I just…you know…it’s just that, I don’t…” I wrung my hands, why was it so hard to say I wasn’t a bedwetter? What I finally managed to get out was, “I’m really not…I didn’t…I’m sorry…” which didn’t really explain my sentiment at all. “Shh, it’s okay,” Vivian said softly and stroke my shoulder, “I understand, don’t worry, I’ll take care of everything, okay? Just relax in the tub,” she gave me a reassuring smile and kissed my forehead gently, “and don’t forget to put your clothes in a pile outside the door so I can get them washed,” she added before leaving. Things just keep getting worse, don’t they? Chapter Nine She thinks you wet the bed. She thinks I wet the bed. It doesn’t help that you couldn’t even manage to dissuade her of that fact. I tried! How hard is it to say, “I don’t wet the bed,” huh? I tried! It’s harder than it seems, I guess. What do you think she meant when she said she’ll take care of everything? I assume she meant cleaning up my puddle of piss. Puddle of Piss would be a good band name. Not helpful. More helpful than you were at explaining to Vivian that you don’t wet the bed. I can’t believe this. How did I even get into this situation in the first place? I shouldn’t have held it as long as I did; I knew how badly I needed to pee and I ignored it, all because I was tipsy and horny. Fuck. I really fucked up. Did you though? Of course I did? Think about it though, Vivian thought you were a bedwetter before you wet yourself tonight. I flashed back to her reaction when she found me in a wet bed two weeks ago, when she had said that must be why I was so timid to spend the night. Then back to the conversation we were having just before she kissed me, when I thought she knew about my kinks. I was right, she suspected it before the kiss. But okay, so what? Sooo…she kissed you, made out with you even, thinking you were a bedwetter. She even brought it up right before kissing you, so you know it was fresh in her mind. It’s not a deal breaker for her; maybe it’s even— Don’t even go there; only disappointment lays that way. But…maybe…maybe she really doesn’t mind that I’m a bedwetter. Or, I guess, wouldn’t mind it if I was… So…why can’t you just be one? I can’t just be a bedwetter. Remember how many times I used to wish I was when I was younger? Back then you lived with family; back then you couldn’t just buy your own pull-ups; back then you couldn’t just be a bedwetter; but this isn’t back then, is it? If Vivian already thinks you’re a bedwetter and still wants you, what’s the harm in letting her continue to think that? What was the harm? But could I really let her continue to think that of me? In a sense, I had been given a gift; here was this woman, this amazing, gorgeous, absolutely brilliant woman that I adored and respected, who was into me, though I would never understand why, and not just into me, but into me despite the fact that she thinks I’m a bedwetter. I’d spent my whole life struggling with and feeling guilt and shame over my kinks, terrified I’d never find love with a partner who could accept that part of me, and here was a chance. It wouldn’t be entirely honest; it would require committing to the lie for as long as we were together. Could I really mislead Vivian like that? Remember, she doesn’t just think you’re a bedwetter. She had seen me have an accident while wide awake too. But surely, she knew that was the alcohol, right? But what if you did it again? You could make sure she thinks you have daytime accidents too, then you could practice your kinks with impunity. I’d be taking advantage of her understanding and good nature, wouldn’t I? And if she ever found out about my kinks, she’d immediately know I had tricked her. Then don’t let her find out. Are you saying you wouldn’t be content to play the bedwetter who has occasional daytime accidents for the rest of your life? Are you saying it wouldn’t thrill you to know Vivian thinks you can’t help but wet yourself? It doesn’t make you hot to know that Vivian knows you’re just too little to keep your clothes dry? I bit my lip and sunk deeper into the bath water. My brain was suddenly filled with thoughts of a life with Vivian in which she kept me in diapers at night and pull-ups during the day. A life in which Vivian knew she couldn’t trust me in big girl panties yet. The mortification of earlier fueled my thoughts, and under the water my hand— A soft knock at the door brought me rudely back to reality. “Everything okay, Lavender? Do you need anything?” Vivian’s voice came from the other side of the door. “Everything is fine!” I replied quickly, trying not to sound as breathless as I felt, “I was just about to get out!” But those thoughts would just have to wait.

Another chapter to kick off the weekend! I think y'all will like this one ? Chapter Seven Saying no to Vivian was…difficult; mostly because I really wanted to say yes. So, I did. Over and over. A second glass with dinner turned to three turned to four and, before I knew it, we ended up back on the parlor couch drinking after dinner cocktails. Needless to say, it was a foregone conclusion by then that I would be staying in the guest room. It wasn’t like I would wet the bed again, right? Maybe you want to. Of course not, why would I want that? So Vivian will comfort you and hold you again? For the rush of the humiliation? So Vivian will know you’re a little piss baby? Shut up, I’m trying to listen to Vivian. Don’t you mean “Miss Vivian”? Miss Vivian. I shuddered. “Oh, dear, are you cold?” Vivian had been telling me some anecdotes from her time as an undergraduate, but she interrupted herself when she saw me shudder. “I can start a fire, if you’d like,” she offered as she gestured to the fireplace. Ask her to hold you instead. “No, thank you, I’m fine,” my cheeks were certainly warm. I took another sip of my drink—a Manhattan strong enough to warm the rest of me—and settled myself deeper into the plush couch…and closer to Vivian. A silence stretched out between us, interrupted only be the occasional tinkling of ice against our glasses as we nursed our cocktails. I couldn’t help but look at her glossy red lips and think about what they’d feel like pressed against mine; I couldn’t help but imagine myself purring out her name—Miss Vivian—while she gently touched me. Worse, the alcohol was doing what alcohol was wont to do: my head was fuzzy, my judgement less than stellar, and I was…well, there was no word for it but horny. The latter wasn’t helped by the fourth effect of the alcohol: I had to pee—badly at that. But my impaired judgement kept me there, not just because I was enraptured by Vivian, but because the pain in my bladder fed my horniness and sent my imagination running. It was a vicious cycle of poor judgement, horniness, and urinary distress. “You know, Lavender,” Vivian finally broke the silence, “I’ve always loved your hair.” She reached out and ran her fingers through a chunk of my blue hair. At least, right now it was blue. In the time I had known Vivian it had been pink, purple, green, and now blue. “Your whole aesthetic, really. So many doctoral students are so concerned about professionalism and respectability politics; they try to blend into what they think that have to be to be taken seriously in academia. But you, Lavender, aren’t afraid to be who you are, to express yourself, to be a little…bold.” Now my cheeks were really burning. Still think she isn’t flirting with you? She’s definitely flirting with me. I swallowed hard. “Thank you…Vivian…” I managed to get out in just above a whisper. She was still playing with my hair; the sensation make it hard to think clearly. “I’m so glad you agreed to spend the evening with me,” she smiled and took a sip of her drink. For the first time it occurred to me that Vivian was probably just as inebriated as I was. “I was afraid you wouldn’t after…well, after last time.” Is she talking about you pissing the bed? I bit my lip and looked away. My face was hot. My bladder ached. Piss yourself, blame it on the alcohol. And completely ruin this moment? Wouldn’t this moment be so much better if Miss Vivian was comforting you? Maybe she’ll take you upstairs and put you in a pull up after getting you all cleaned up. My face was on fire. “I’m so sorry,” Vivian said, surely picking up on my shame and misattributing it to what she had said, “I didn’t mean to embarrass you.” “No, it’s okay,” I tried to turn my face back to her but found I couldn’t bring myself to look at her. “I’m just…so sorry about that…” I wanted to change the subject. Is that why you’re pressing your thighs together right now? Is that why your panties are starting to feel damp? Or did you piss yourself a little bit? Vivian smiled and ran her fingers gently through my hair. “You poor thing, it must have been so hard hiding it from your roommates in the dorms.” Hiding what? My kinks? A small speck of panic bloomed in my chest; how did she even know? “Do you have a roommate now, Lavender?” I nodded my head weakly. “Elyse,” I said flatly, “we live in graduate housing.” “Poor thing,” she repeated, “have you managed to keep it a secret from her?” I nodded. The panic grew. How could she know? Why was she bringing it up? Did she think I had wet the bed on purpose? “Oh, Lavender,” Vivian set her drink on the table and took my hand, “it’s really okay! I promise, I’m not judging or trying to make you feel bad. I certainly don’t think any less of you because of it!” I sniffled, “really?” “Really! It’s just part of who you are, Lavender,” she let get of my hand, reached out to place one gentle finger under my chin, and lifted my face to meet hers, “and I think who you are is pretty wonderful.” My chest felt so full of emotions that I thought I would surely explode. I could scarcely believe what was happening. Vivian leaned in, I closed my eyes, she cupped my cheek with her hand. our lips met, lights exploded against the back of my eyelids, a small whimper escaped my throat. She tasted like cherries and bourbon. And then I was laying back on the couch, Vivian over top of me, her hair draped around my face as our lips moved against each other. One of my hands was on her hip, the other on her lower rib cage, working up the courage to cup her breast. I couldn’t believe it: I was making out with Dr. Vivian Devereux. Not only that, she had just told me she accepted me for my unusual kinks; even if I had no idea how she had found out. I kissed her deeply and allowed my mind to wander to my secret fantasies. “Come now,” Miss Vivian would say as she took my hand, “it’s time to get my little girl all ready for bed.” I would nod and smile behind my pacifier, letting her lead me upstairs to the guest room, which in my fantasy had been converted to something much more appropriate for a little girl. Once we were there, Miss Vivian would let go of my hand, and spread out my changing mat on the bed. “Hop on up,” she would say before helping me get myself situated on the mat. She would smile and hum as she lifted my skirt and pulled down my panties…no, my pull-up. “I’m so proud of my little girl for staying dry tonight, even after having so many big girl drinks!” I would giggle and blush, hiding my face behind my hands. And then Miss Vivian would be there above me, unfolding my…my diaper… My cheeks went crimson, and a moan escaped my throat. Vivian made a sound of pleasure back and kissed me harder. “Lift up,” Miss Vivian would say, tapping my hips, and then slide the diaper under my raised butt. “Now down; good girl!” I moaned again, and Vivian shifted her weight so she could place one of her hands on my thighs, just below the hem of my skirt. Jolts of excitement shot through my body, but so did a very specific kind of pain: Vivian’s body was pressed down on mine, and I suddenly remembered just how badly I had to pee. She knows about your kinks, she accepts you for them, just piss yourself. Just because she accepts me for them, doesn’t mean she would be okay with me peeing all over her furniture. Again. Again! And then it hit me. She was talking about you wetting the bed; she hasn’t the slightest clue about your kink. She just thinks I’m a bedwetter. Vivian’s hand inched up my leg before I could follow that thought further, I shuddered, my muscles convulsing slightly, and a small bit of warmth filled my panties. Fuck. “Vivian,” I said breathlessly, suddenly panicking over how badly I had misread the situation. Worse, I had let my misunderstanding back me into a corner. “Mm?” Vivian made a questioning sound but made no move to stop or get off me. “Vivian, please,” I gently but firmly pushed her away from me as panic started to fill me and another bit of pee escaped into my panties. “What’s wrong?” She asked, immediately stopping. Her lipstick was smeared across her face, “are you okay, Lavender?” “I, um,” I bit my lip and looked away, why as this so embarrassing all of the sudden? “I need to use the restroom.” Vivian looked at me blankly for a second, as if it was taking her a moment to process what I said, then understanding visibly dawned on her. “Oh! Oh, yes, I’m so sorry, you remember where it is?” She climbed off me, accidentally pressing down on my bladder as she did, pushing out more pee that spread out through my panties. I scrambled off the couch, “yes, I’ll just be right-” I froze three steps from the couch as a rivulet of pee escaped down my leg, soaking into the tops of my thigh high socks. I pressed my thighs together as tightly as I could and pressed my hands into my crotch through my skirt. “Oh, Lavender,” Vivian said sympathetically, but clearly at a loss for what to do. “I’m so sorry,” I squeaked out as I stood in her parlor nearly doubled over from the effort of not pissing myself all over her floor. How did this happen? Just let it go; she already knows you’re a piss baby. Tears were forming behind my eyes, and pee was soaking through my skirt under my hands. “Shh, it’s okay,” Vivian said as she placed a hand on my back, “I promise everything is okay.” It was too much. The pain in my bladder, the absolute shame over what was happening, Vivian’s understanding and sympathy…it was all too much. Tears started falling down my cheeks as pee started flowing down my thighs. It soaked the front of my skirt and flowed through my fingers. It ran down my thigh high socks and into my black doc martens. It dripped and ran off me in rivers, and a puddle began to spread across the hardwood floor under me. I had just pissed myself in front of Vivian.

Two more chapters for yall! Admittedly, one is pretty short XD Thanks again for everyone's kind comments! I'm so glad people are enjoying this story! Chapter Five “You didn’t come home last night,” Elyse said matter-of-factly as I emerged from my room. She was sitting on the couch with her laptop in her lap and some show on TV. Is she accusing you of something? No, of course not, what would she be accusing me of? She has no idea what happened! She couldn’t! But there was a trace of judgement on her face. Was she accusing me of something? “Yeah,” I gave her a guilty smile, “I had too much wine at Vi…Professor Devereux’s house.” I glanced back to my room to make sure I hadn’t left anything out in view before heading to the kitchen. “You were drinking wine with Professor Devereux?” Elyse’s eyes tightened at that. “What were you two doing?” “Just talking,” I grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge, cracked the cap open, and downed half of it in one go. “She made us dinner, and we talked about my dissertation,” I said a little breathlessly after wiping some stray water from my lips. “It was really no big deal.” “No big deal,” Elyse chirped sarcastically as she rolled her eyes. Then it hit me: Elyse was jealous. Of course she was. I had known for a long time that Elyse was jealous of me for getting to work so closely with Vivian…I mean, Professor Devereux. You can still call her Vivian in your head, you dummy. Elyse will get suspicious if she hears me calling Vivian by her first name. Suspicious of what? Nothing happened…except for you peeing the bed. My cheeks got a few degrees warmer. “Whatever,” Elyse said, breaking me out of my own thoughts. “I hope you didn’t do anything too embarrass yourself if you were drinking that much.” More embarrassing than you’ll ever know. “I didn’t drink that much,” I lied, matching Elyse’s emphasis on ‘that.’ “Just…too much to drive home. Besides, Professor Devereux insisted I stay the night, she said it was the least she could do after pouring me so much wine over dinner.” “Whatever,” Elyse closed her laptop and got up from the couch, “must be nice to be teacher’s pet.” “I’m not!” I forced my voice to stay mild. “It was just dinner! We talked about my dissertation!” “No one else is having dinner and wine with their advisor, Lavender,” she said condescendingly, as if I wasn’t seeing something that was obvious to everyone else, and began walking to her room. “At least when we get our doctorates, we’ll know we really earned them,” she slammed her bedroom door to punctuate her sentence. “I am earning it!” I told her closed door through gritted teeth. I did my best not to stomp as I walked over to the couch and, for the second time that day, flung myself on it. I had woken up from my nap in such a good mood too; now it was ruined. I had liked Elyse when we first met, but ever since Vivian agreed to be my dissertation advisor, she had been getting more and more bitchy towards me, she had never been so direct about it before. I could understand jealousy, but I couldn’t understand why she took it out on me. If only she knew what really happened. I’d rather she think I slept with Vivian. Better she thinks I’m sleeping my way through my doctorate than to know just how badly I humiliated myself in front of Vivian. Chapter Six “I was hoping I could use you as a…sounding board for some ideas I have for my next book,” Vivian had said to me from across her cluttered but neatly organized desk in her campus office, “over dinner, of course. My house this Friday?” And that was how, two weeks after I had peed all over Vivian’s guest room bed, I ended up back at her house, despite my best judgement. “Again?” Elyse had blurted out when she heard. “Jesus, Lavender, I would think you two would want to be subtle at least.” “Of course,” I imagined Vivian saying as she poured my fourth glass of wine and I pressed my vibrator against my pull-up, “we’ll have to dress you properly for bed so we don’t have any more accidents.” And so it was with a tempest of swirling emotions sweeping through my brain that I once again drove to Vivian’s home. Just like before, I parked on the street, right in front of Vivian’s house, and checked my make-up in the rearview mirror. I was, at first, going to stick with the more conservative and mature look I had worn last time, but at the last minute decided that changing my appearance to try to appeal more to Vivian would only give fuel to Elyse’s suspicions. Tonight, I wore big, razor-sharp eyeliner wings with perfectly blended red and purple eyeshadow. Red glitter sparkled under my eyes and little x’s drawn in eyeliner high on my cheekbones just under the outer corners of my eyes embellished the look. Finally, a set of three eyeliner hearts drawn on the inside curve of my right eyebrow made sure people’s attention was drawn to my green-blue eyes. Blush highlighted my cheeks and the tip of my nose, and my lips were painted a deep blue. “So, Professor Devereux likes this whole…Hot Topic reject look?” Elyse had said flatly earlier that night while leaning against the frame of my bathroom door as I put the finishing touches on my make-up, proving that she would find a way to be suspicious no matter how I dressed. “I like it,” I had replied, “it’s not for Professor Devereux.” I decided not to take umbrage at her description of my ‘look,’ and not just because I bought most of my clothes and make up from Hot Topic. “Uh huh,” Elyse had responded with a roll of her eyes, “and can I expect you home tonight?” “I slept in her guest room, Elyse,” I had responded, avoiding giving an actual answer. Surely, Vivian wouldn’t invite me to spend the night again…would she? Surely, I wouldn’t accept if she did, right? It’s not like you’d wet the bed a second time, right? “That’s not an answer,” Elyse had stated matter-of-factly before giving me a lingering accusatorial look and walking away. I pushed Elyse and her accusations out of my mind as I stepped out of my car. I was determined to have a good time and make a good impression; I felt like I had to prove I wasn’t some bedwetting dolt. Not that Vivian had treated me any differently since that morning; it was as if, to her, the whole incident had never happened. And she’s still flirting with you. I think we can now determine that she definitely was not ever flirting with me. There’s no way Vivian would keep flirting with me after I pissed all over her guest bed. Why not? Don’t you want someone who will flirt with you precisely because you pissed the bed? …shut up. I walked up the short flight of stairs to her front door, rang the bell, and waited. “Lavender, so lovely to see you,” Vivian’s melodic voice greeted me as she opened the door, “and you do look quite lovely tonight, dear! Please, come in.” “Thank you,” I blushed as I walked past her, “you look…” Hot as fuck. “…really lovely too.” And in her black pencil skirt and low-cut red silk top, she really did look lovely. And hot as fuck. Yes, and hot as fuck. “Thank you, dear,” she replied with a light touch on my arm that sent jolts of electricity through my body. “Come into the parlor, Lavender, let me pour you a drink.” “Oh, no,” I protested even as I followed her into the same room she had taken me to before, “I really shouldn’t drink.” “Nonsense,” she said as she pulled a wine glass out of her liquor cabinet and began to fill it from a bottle of white wine she had sitting in a bucket of ice. “This Riesling will perfectly complement the chicken marsala I made; it really won’t be the same meal without it.” I licked my lips and looked at the glass she was holding out to me. It seemed rude to say no; it seemed dangerous to say yes. But a glass of wine was exactly what I needed to take the edge off my nerves. But maybe my nerves wouldn’t be so…sharp if I hadn’t drank so much last time. But one glass wouldn’t hurt; I could even still drive home after one glass. You said one glass last time. And this time I mean it. “Oh, all right,” I said as I took the glass from her hand, “if you insist.” “And I do,” Vivian replied, “I’ve very much been looking forward to our evening together, Lavender.” She’s definitely flirting with you. “Oh,” I felt my cheeks turn red, “I, um, have been too, I’m really looking forward to hearing about your new work.” Vivian smirked as she poured herself a glass of wine, “ah, well, Lavender, I must admit that was…mostly a pretense.” I nearly choked on the sip of wine I was taking. Holy shit. “Not entirely, you see,” she continued after a small but intense silence, “there is, in fact, a piece I’m working on that I had hoped you could help me with, but more importantly I wanted to get to know you better. After all, we work so closely with each other, why not know each other a bit more personally. Of course, if you’d prefer our relationship stay more strictly professional…” No! “No!” I said, too quickly and too strongly. “I mean,” I tried to reel myself back in, “that sounds…pleasant; I’d like that very much.” Vivian smiled; electricity shot through my body. “Oh, I am so glad to hear that, Lavender. It’s been a long time since I’ve had the pleasure of advising a student so brilliant and, quite frankly, fascinating.” Fuck, she really is flirting with you. She really is. Fuck me. She’s gonna. “Thank you so much,” my cheeks felt like fire, “that means a lot…coming from you…” “Nothing but the truth, my dear,” she took a sip of wine, her eyes sparkling at me over the rim of the glass. “Shall I serve dinner, or shall we have a seat and chat a little before dinner?” I glanced at the couch she was gesturing at, and suddenly my stomach twisted with anxiety. I thought about sitting on that couch together, close enough to touch each other, and my nerves began to shake. I took a big gulp of my wine to calm them, “let’s sit.” “Fantastic,” Vivian grabbed the bottle of wine and took it with her as she made her way to the couch. “So, tell me, Lavender,” she sat on the couch and patted the spot next to her as her way of inviting me to sit down, “what do you like to do in your free time?” Wear pull-ups and fantasize about you. “Free time?” I said with a nervous laugh, “I’m afraid I don’t have much of that these days.” “Oh, I’m sure, your studies must keep you very busy; I remember well what it’s like to be a doctoral student! But you must make time for a little pleasure, Lavender, or you’ll simply burn yourself out.” Oh, you make plenty of time for pleasure. I took another sip of wine, “well, mostly I read to relax, but I suppose you could probably guess that.” “Lavender,” Vivian said with a hint of disappointment in her voice and a shake of her head, “you’re a doctoral student in literature, of course you read, but if that’s all you do to relax, you don’t really have a difference in your work versus your leisure, now do you?” “I…suppose not,” I chose not to mention that what I read for leisure was a far cry from what I read for work. A very far cry. “I…” was suddenly at a loss from what my hobbies were, “…watch a lot of horror movies?” “Oh, excellent!” Vivian exclaimed, “I love a good horror film myself. Have you seen It Lingers?” The next thing I knew, nearly half an hour had passed while Vivian and I shared thoughts on some of our favorite horror movies. Unsurprisingly, she had incredible tastes. “Have you seen,” Vivian asked as she picked up the bottle of wine and refilled her glass, “Shack in the Forest? It’s an excellent deconstruction of the genre!” “I have! It’s one of my favorites actually; I really like—” but I quickly cut myself off as the bottle in Vivian’s hand drifted towards my glass, “oh, no, thank you, but I really should stick to one glass tonight.” “Come now, dear,” Vivian gave me a wounded look, “we haven’t even started dinner yet, and there is always the guest room,” she gave me a small smile as she said it. Has she just completely forgotten what happened last time? I’m sure she just knows it was a fluke; I’m not a bedwetter! Or maybe… Don’t even go there. “I…shouldn’t…” But you want to. “Well, surely one more glass to have with dinner won’t hurt, will it? And if you should change your mind…” she made a vague waving gesture with the hand not holding the bottle of wine and gave me a smile that looked almost mischievous, “…well, let’s just say I made sure I’m well-prepared, just in case.” She placed a strange emphasis on the “well-prepared” that left me puzzled. What on earth does she mean? She was looking at me expectantly with the bottle of wine hovering over my glass. One more glass wouldn’t hurt, she was right about that. And it would be rude to turn it down since she specifically said she wanted me to have a glass with dinner. You’re doing it again. “One more glass,” I said with a weak smile, betraying my better judgement. “Perfect,” Vivian poured the glass and then stood up, “why don’t I go get dinner on the table?”

Thank you to all of those who liked and commented on my first three chapters! I'm so thrilled you're enjoying it! Only one new chapter today, but imo it's a pretty good one, if I may say so. The plot thickens and things getting a little steamy for our heroine in this one ? I hope yall enjoy it! Chapter Four The rest of my morning with Vivian went…I’m hesitant to use the word “well” since the morning very clearly did not go well, but it went about as well as it could have after its initial crisis. By the time I got out of the bath, Vivian had my clothes in the laundry and breakfast—toast and jam, eggs, and bacon—on the table. We made polite if strained conversation as we ate; I could tell Vivian was trying to not let things be awkward, but how could they not be? Words alone could never be sufficient to express my relief when my clothes were finally out of the laundry. I changed as quickly as I could, said my goodbyes to Vivian (throwing in more than a few apologies and words of appreciation), and did my walk of shame back to my car. Maybe I’m misusing the phrase “walk of shame,” but what else could I call it? “Elyse?” I called out for my roommate as I walked through the front door of my apartment, “Are you here?” Nothing. The apartment was dead silent. “Elyse?” I called again, louder this time, as I set my purse down on our small dining room table—big enough for four people, but not big enough to fit four people entirely comfortably—but still nothing. I had met Elyse about a year ago, when we both first started in our doctoral program and been paired up as roommates by the graduate housing department. The apartment we shared wasn’t huge, but it was better than the dorms I had lived in as an undergraduate and while working on my master’s degree. It was also much nicer than anything else my meager stipend could afford. The apartment consisted of a large central area—which served as the living room, kitchen, and dining room—and, on either side of the central area, Elyse and mine’s bedrooms, both of which consisted of walk-in closets and private bathrooms. Like I said, much better than the dorms, and it afforded me more privacy than I had ever had while living anywhere else, a feature I had taken full advantage of over the past year—and it was exactly that privacy that I needed now. “Elyse? Are you home?” I called out one last time, this time while lightly rapping my knuckles against her door. I waited outside her bedroom door long enough for it to become awkward, but there was no answer. I was alone. Thank the fucking gods. I walked away from Elyse’s door and into the living room, where I flopped haphazardly onto our couch. The confirmation that I was well and truly alone was exactly what I needed. Sure, I had privacy, but there was something about being actually alone that simple privacy couldn’t account for. I breathed a deep sigh of relief, and it felt like exhaling after I had been holding my breath for hours. I could finally relax, and, after the stress of last night and the horror of this morning, gods did I need it. Last night was actually really fun though, despite how nervous you were. You were charming and funny and brilliant; you really seemed to impress Vivian. Yeah! Yeah, I did! Until you pissed the bed and ruined everything. Don’t remind me. As if you need reminding! How could you possibly forget sitting there with your piss-soaked panties on full display for Vivian to see? I can’t! I can’t ever forget that, it was so…so… Humiliating? Shameful? Mortifying? Disgraceful? Degrading? Yes, yes, all of that, stop listing synonyms, it’s not helpful. Hot? …that’s not helpful either. But it was. I bit my lip, sucking in a sharp breath as I flashed back to sitting on that soaked bed—Vivian holding me, Vivian seeing my shame as plain as day. It was. Only now in the privacy of my apartment could I risk acknowledging that. In the moment, I had to keep that thought far away and compartmentalized, but here, alone, I could let it creep back in. Here, I could let it take root; I could…indulge it. I peeled myself off the couch and made my way to my bedroom, conjuring this morning’s scene in my head as I did. “You poor thing,” Vivian was saying in my head, “another accident?” I opened my closet door and stepped in, flipping the light on as I did. In my head, I imagined myself sniffling and nodding, too embarrassed to admit to my shame verbally. “Maybe you’re just not ready for big girl panties at night, huh?” Vivian’s voice in my head sent shivers down my spine. “Don’t worry, it’s not your fault you can’t hold it all night, you’re just too little.” Chewing my bottom lip absently as Vivian’s voice echoed in my head, repeating variations on the same sentiment, I knelt down at the back of my closet and pulled out a small chest I had found at a thrift store. The chest was locked with a combination lock; distracted as I was, it took me three tries to get the combination right. The hinges creaked as I pushed open the top and exposed all the accoutrements of my secret shame, my secret joy, my secretest of secrets. “Maybe we should go back to pull-ups at night until you’re a bit bigger,” Vivian said lovingly, without judgement, as I ran my fingers against the plastic of the bag of goodnites sitting on top of everything else in the trunk. “Ah ah, no fussing dear, if you can’t hold it all night then this is the only solution!” In my imagination, I did fuss. I whined and told Vivian I didn’t want to wear pull-ups, I wanted to keep wearing my big girl panties because I was a big girl. Vivian shushed my protests, gently but firmly, and left me sitting on the bed while she went the dresser and began digging in one of the drawers. In real life, I was still chewing my lip as I slide one of the goodnites out of it’s package, noting somewhere deep in my brain that I would need to buy more soon. I stood up, pull-up in hand, and began to walk out of my closet when I stopped, looked back to the chest still sitting open, and doubled back. I reached down, grabbed one of my many pacifiers, this one a plain black, popped it in my mouth, and left my closet. “Oh, sweetheart, don’t fret,” Vivian said as she turned away from the dresser and back towards me; she was holding a pull up in one hand and a pacifier in the other. “You know I know what’s best for you, don’t you? And don’t you want to be a good girl for Miss Vivian and let her take care of you?” I nodded my head, in my imagination and in real life, as I crawled into bed. “That’s Miss Vivian’s good girl,” she smiled that smile that made me feel electric and walked over to the bed, popping the pacifier she held into my mouth. “Now let’s get you up and changed into something more appropriate for a girl your age, okay?” Wait, why is she putting you in pull-ups now if they are for bedwetting? Shut up, I’m not exactly worried about the plot making sense right now. I shook the momentary intrusion away and closed my eyes. Vivian helped me out of bed and then knelt in front of me. “You got your skirt all wet too,” she said, “I guess we’ll just have to take that off too.” My skirt flew across my room in roughly the direction of my laundry basket as Vivian unzipped it and gently lowered it, once again exposing my piss-soaked panties. I lifted my hips off my bed and slid my panties off, imaging how Vivian’s hands would feel against my bare thighs as I did. “You won’t be needing these yucky things for a while, isn’t that right, my little Lavender?” I reached for the pull-up and shook it out as Vivian did the same. We pulled the rustling garment up my legs, settling it around my hips, and gave the crotch a few solid pats once it was in place. “There we go,” Vivian stood up and I reached over to my nightstand, fishing my vibrator out of the top drawer. “Isn’t that so much better?” I nodded, and a whimper escaped my throat as I placed the head of the vibrator against my pull-up and hit the power button. Even on it’s lowest setting, the vibrations spread through the absorbent padding; it was like a switchboard lighting up in my brain. I pressed the button again and the vibrator kicked into the next gear; the gasp that jerked out of my throat almost made my pacifier tumble out of my mouth, but I clamped down on it and sucked hard and fast, in time with the little thrusts my hips involuntarily pushed against the vibrator with. “Such a good girl in her pull-ups for Miss Vivian,” she was pressing her hand against the crotch of my pull-up, rubbing it against me. “And you’ll be Miss Vivian’s little girl forever, won’t you?” “Yes, Miss Vivian,” I muttered around my pacifier. “Good girl,” She purred, I moaned, and, before long at all, my mind burst into sparkling colors and all of my muscles tightened, tightened, and tightened more until they released, all at once, and my whole body shook with absolute pleasure. It was too much, the pacifier fell from my mouth as I cried out, tears squeezing out of my tightly shut eyes. It seemed like it would never end—I didn’t want it to end, but I didn’t think I could take much more. My body would tear itself apart if it didn’t stop, but gods what a way to die. But, eventually, it subsided, and I was left whole and intact. Physically anyway. Gasping for breath, the fog of pleasure slowly lifted from my brain. I found my pacifier in my sheets and slid it back into my mouth, slowly sucking as the occasional aftershock sent shudders through my body. Warmth began to slowly fill my pull-up as I released my bladder. Hey, you’re supposed to pee after sex, don’t judge me! There I was again, lying in bed after pissing myself for the second time that day. I pulled my comforter over me, sighed contentedly from behind my pacifier, and drifted off to sleep.

Hi all! It's been a while since I've posted a story here and even longer since I actually wrote anything, but I've decided to participate in NaNoWriMo this year and, well, this is the result! I won't say too much about the story lest I give away too much, but I do hope you all enjoy this story. Of course, any and all feedback is welcomed and greatly appreciated! I'm only posting the first few chapters today, but I have about 25k words already written, so more will follow shortly. Without further ado, I present The Life and Humiliations of Lavender Fairchild, or A Tale of Diapers and Doctorates. Chapter One I checked my eyeliner in the rearview mirror for what must have been at least the tenth time that night, but it was, just like the ninth time, flawless. I’d gone for a much more toned down look this evening than I was used to, trading my usual razor-sharp wings for a simple black lining and keeping my purple eyeshadow modest. I had even resisted the temptation to add any of my usual glitter or other embellishements—at least, I had mostly resisted: there was a single star drawn in black eyeliner just below the outside corner of my right eye, perfectly framed against my eye by my glasses. My eyes might have been all flawless simplicity, but my lipstick was a different story; nervously chewing my bottom lip on the drive here had left it in bad need of a touch up. I smeared more dark red across my lips, wiped the red off my teeth, and suddenly found myself lacking a single reason to continue lingering in my car. Lingering. What a polite word for procrastinating. Cowering even. Come on, get your shit together, there’s nothing to be nervous about. But…isn’t there? This is a big night; it’s really important I don’t screw this up or do anything stupid. It’s just a friendly dinner; there’s nothing more to it and thinking it might be is how you’ll end up doing something stupid. But she’s been so…she’s been flirting with me lately, I’m sure of it! Flirting? With you? She’s just being nice; there’s no way she sees you that way. You’re deluding yourself and going to end up doing something stupid. … You know that, right? I…yes, of course I know that, but I want to impress her anyway. Then get your shit together! Keep your head on straight! Come the fuck on! I was right, I had to get my shit together, and that started with me getting out of my car. I took a deep breath, checked my make up for the eleventh time, and stepped out of my car. I was parked in front of a three-story brick house with an elegant but unadorned façade nestled squarely in the middle of a block of five equally large houses. I checked the house number and compared it to the one in the email she had sent me. A small spike of panic rose in my throat as I confirmed it was the right house—and there I had been, just sitting in my car for the past ten minutes, what if she had seen me? I swallowed hard to push the panic down, put my phone in my purse, and forced myself to walk up to the front door. The doorbell chimed deep within the brick house, and I waited awkwardly on the front step, suddenly unsure what normal people did with their hands. After cycling through various options, I settled on holding them behind my back just in time for the door to open. I swallowed hard, partly out of nerves and partly because… Jesus fuck she’s gorgeous. “Lavender!” She exclaimed brightly from the doorway. She had raven black and wavy hair with hints of grey that made her look as distinguished as her career and wore a tight black dress that clung to her curves with a pink belt that matched her short nails cinched around her waist, translucent black hose, and simple black heels. She opened the screen door for me and gestured for me to enter, “please come in! I’m so glad you could make it; how are you this evening?” “I’m good, thank you,” I said a little breathlessly as I stepped past her and into the front hallway. I looked around, taking in her home; it was all polished wood, plush area rugs, and books—there were bookcases packed with books along every wall in sight and stray books on almost every surface, including a small stack of three on the fourth step of the staircase leading upstairs. Ask her how she is, you idiot! “And, um, how are you, Professor Devereux?” “Please,” she said with a smile and a light touch on my shoulder, “call me Vivian. My undergrads call me Professor Devereux; we’re colleagues and friends, right?” “Right,” I gave her a weak smiled and tried to breath out some of the tension that had suddenly wormed its way into my body, “sorry, Pro…uh, Vivian.” She smiled in a way that made me feel…electric and led me deeper into the house. “Dinner isn’t quite done,” she said as we walked, “but I just need a few more minutes! I do hope you like beef wellington.” “I, uh, I’ve never had it,” I barely knew what it was except that it was far fancier than what I could afford on the meager stipend I get from my stipend. “Well, I’m sure you’ll love it; I’m told my beef wellington is to die for.” Professor Devereux…that is, Vivian led me into a room just off the front hallway that appeared to be her living room. There was a plush looking couch with immaculately placed throw pillows in front of a dark wood coffee table covered with papers and, of course, more bookshelves all around the room. “Pardon the mess,” she said, gesturing to the papers, “I was grading papers in front of the TV earlier,” she lowered her voice as she said it as though she were admitting something shameful. “May I offer you a drink? A Martini? A glass of wine?” “Some wine would be lovely,” I replied. Just one glass, okay? Enough to calm your nerves but not enough that you’ll do something stupid. “Excellent,” she said as she walked across the room to a small liquor cabinet nestled between the bookcases, “I have a wonderful pinot noir that will pair excellently with the beef wellington.” Pinot noir was red, I knew that. Right? “Thank you, that would be lovely.” She pulled a wine glass out of the cabinet and popped the cork off a bottle that was already open, “I hope you don’t mind,” she said as she poured, “I’ve already had a glass myself.” “Not at all, thank you,” I took the glass she offered me (I was right, it was red) and took a sip. It tasted like every other red wine I had ever had, which is to say bitter and dry, but I smiled and nodded when she asked if I liked it. At least I wouldn’t be tempted to drink more than I needed to settle my nerves. “Well,” she said as she smoothed her dress after a small but awkward silence, “I should go get dinner finished, is there anything I can get you?” “No, I’m good thank you,” gods I was already being awkward, I had no idea what to say. “Right then,” she stood there for a moment, as if uncertain whether she should go or not, “I guess…just,” she gestured to the room around us, “make yourself at home, it’ll just be a few minutes.” “Take your time,” I smiled and looked around, “I’ll just…” Just what? Oh, gods, she’s looking at you, waiting for you to finish, you’ll just what? “You know,” I said with a breathy laugh, “I have to admit I’m dying with curiosity to see what you keep on your bookshelves.” Yes, books! That’s your common ground! Her face broke into a grin, and she chuckled, “please, sate your curiosity! I think that shelf will be particularly interesting to you!” And with another assurance that she would be just a few minutes, she disappeared back through the door we had entered from. Taking another sip of my wine, I walked up to the bookcase she had motioned towards. I couldn’t help but smile—displayed right in the center of the bookcase was the Nebula Award for best fantasy novel that she had won for A Restoration of Rainbows, the concluding entry in her bestselling Blood and Pride trilogy. The shelf below showcased the Lambda Literary Awards she had won for A Restoration of Rainbows and the second entry, A Founding of Family. Staring at her awards, I couldn’t help but feel a bit…fangirl-y. The truth was, even after working with Professor Devereux—er, Vivian for a year, she still made me feel a little star struck. But Vivian wasn’t just a great author, though she was that, she was also a brilliant academic. I loved her novels, and it was certainly a treat to work so closely with an author I respected so much, but it wasn’t why I was working with her. When it came time to pick an advisor to help me write my doctoral dissertation, I picked Vivian for her literary criticism and theory. Vivian had written her own dissertation on misogynistic tropes in fantasy that would go on to be regarded as a seminal text on the subject and since then made a name for herself in academia for her brilliant analyses of gender and sexuality in popular fantasy. Her work had been indispensable and highly influential on my master’s thesis, so to work with her now on my dissertation was nothing short of a dream come true. And it has nothing to do with how hot she is. It does have nothing to do with that! I’m a doctoral student who deeply respects the brilliance of her advisor and mentor, not some middle school girl with a crush on her teacher. But you do have a crush on her. She’s objectively attractive; I can’t help that I notice that, but I do not have a crush on her! You’re blushing just thinking about it! My cheeks were oddly warm, but surely that was just the wine. When had I finished my glass? I still felt anxious, maybe another glass wouldn’t hurt? I was eyeing the bottle on the liquor cabinet shelf, considering whether or not it would be rude to pour myself another glass, when the door to the living room opened. “Sorry to keep you waiting,” Vivian’s lips shined a vibrant red that hadn’t been there before, and I couldn’t help but let my eyes linger on how soft they looked. She walked across the room as I assured her it was no problem and grabbed the bottle of wine I had just been eyeing. Without so much as a question, she once again popped the cork and filled my glass. “Well, dinner is served,” she smiled and led me through the second door in the room and into a large dining room. The large, rectangular table in the center of the room had twelve chairs circling it, one at each end and five along each side, but she had set our plates right across from each other in the middle of each side. “Please,” she said as she set the bottle of wine on the table and pulled out the chair for me, “have a seat.” Blushing only a little, I thanked her and took the chair, allowing her to push it in for me. This feels like a date. Don’t start, this isn’t a date. It feels like a date! It’s not a date, you absolute idiot! “I’m so glad you agreed to join me for dinner,” Vivian said as she walked around the table. “It’s been a while since we’ve gotten to talk in depth about your dissertation, and I’m so looking forward to hearing about what you’ve been working on.” See? Not a date. “Thank you so much for inviting me; everything looks absolutely delicious,” and it did. Beef wellington, roasted potatoes with some kind of herbs, and sauteed broccolini studded with big chunks of garlic. My mouth was watering. “I didn’t know you were such a good cook.” “Well, I love to entertain,” she explained as she sat down and topped off her wine glass, “and cooking the meals myself is so much more…intimate that hiring a caterer.” The way she said “intimate” made the word hang heavily in the air. I took another sip of wine to hide the warmth in my cheeks. “It looks delicious,” I repeated a little weakly, at a loss for what else to say. She smiled and took a sip of her own wine, her freshly painted lips leaving dark red prints on the rim of her glass. “So,” she said as she picked up her utensils, “tell me all about your dissertation.” Chapter Two “What I do find really interesting,” I paused to take another gulp of my wine—gods, why was my mouth so dry? “is that the books sometimes seem to be critical of gender essentialism and strict gender roles, like when Nynaeve complains that men always think violence is the answer and then immediately wishes she could beat some sense into them, like it seems very self-aware in these moments, but ultimately the text is…well, you know,” another gulp, “the lore and the world-building and are all so embroiled in the dichotomy of the gender binary that it was the act of trying to find a form of magic that transcended the gender binary that caused the breaking of the world, suggesting that the dichotomy and male and female is not just an innate part of nature but a necessary part, that it holds the world together, you know?” I raised my wine glass to my lips to take another drink and was shocked to find it empty. The shock interrupted my train of thought, and I stared down at my empty glass for a long moment. “More wine?” Vivian was still sitting across the dining room table from me, smiling with her whole face. It suddenly occurred to me that these were the first words she had said for…gods, how long had I been rambling on? Great, you drank too much and now you’re blathering on like an idiot and embarrassing yourself. I blushed and set my wine glass down, “no, thank you, I think I’ve had enough. I get a little…verbose when I drink, I’m sorry.” Vivian laughed gently, “it’s quite alright, I invited you over for dinner to hear all about your dissertation and that’s what we are doing! Besides, I’m riveted, you’re quite a brilliant little scholar.” My cheeks absolutely burned. “Thank you,” I managed to murmur. “I mean it,” she said, picking up the bottle of wine (was it still the second bottle? Or had she opened a third? I wasn’t sure) and began filling my glass, “so please, have some more wine and continue.” I licked my lips; I wanted the wine, but my head was swimming already. “Thank you but I’ve really had too much already, I still have to drive…” my voice got quieter as I approached the end of my sentence and eventually trailed off. Even as I said it, I knew I had already gone past the point of being able to drive home, I’d have to take a Lyft and come back for my car tomorrow. “Nonsense,” Vivian said matter-of-factly, “you don’t have to do any such thing. In fact, I’d be beyond irresponsible to even think about letting you get behind the wheel tonight, you’ll stay in the guest room.” “I…” was tempted, Lyft’s weren’t cheap and my stipend didn’t exactly leave me with a lot of expendable income, but even so “…couldn’t impose like that.” “I insist,” she said firmly, “and it’s the least I can do after pouring your wine all night.” I sighed and picked up my newly refilled wine glass, “I suppose…if you insist…then it would be rude for me not to accept the offer, thank you.” “You can thank me,” Vivian said as she topped off her own wine glass before setting the bottle back on the table, “by continuing what you were saying.” Something about the way she was looking at me sent tingles down my spine and made unconsciously chew my lower lip. I was just imagining it though, right? I was just tipsy and projecting what I secretly wanted onto her professional interest. Right? Told you that you have a crush, like a lovestruck middle school girl. Shut up. I took a sip of my wine and gave Vivian an embarrassed smile. “I’m sorry, I seem to have forgotten what I was saying.” “Well, tell me, Lavender,” the way she said my name made my stomach flutter, “what do you think of the non-normative sexuality inherent in the relationships between sul’dam and damane?” I felt my cheeks go red just thinking about the question, but I took another gulp of wine to push past my embarrassment and managed to give an answer that didn’t include my how often their non-normative sexuality influenced my own sexual fantasies. Chapter Three I didn’t remember going to bed that night—the evening got pretty fuzzy after Vivian opened the fourth bottle of wine—but I’d never forget waking up the next morning. The first thing I noticed when I woke up was how dry my mouth was, then the pounding in my too heavy head. Gods, how did I go from promising myself I’d only have one glass to helping Vivian polish off four bottles of wine so easily? Stupid, stupid girl. I opened my eyes and blearily look around the room. The bed I was laying in was massive, piled with pillows and plush blankets, and surrounded by four polished wooden posts that held up a translucent pink canopy. It was gorgeous and probably the most comfortable bed I had ever slept it. It wasn’t until I sat up in bed to get a better look at the rest of the room that I noticed something else about the bed: it was wet and cold. I froze, panic rising in my chest, and threw back the covers to confirm what I already knew—I had wet the bed. What the fuck did you do?! Oh gods, what had I done? And more importantly, what the fuck was I supposed to do about it? There was no way I could keep Vivian from finding out; she was going to lose all respect for me, and she certainly wouldn’t be interested in me now… Really? That’s what you’re worried about right now? She was never interested in you in the first place, you idiot! Tears welled up behind my eyes, threatening to cascade down my cheeks, but I fought them until my eyes burned. I wouldn’t cry; I refused to let myself. Just sneak out before Vivian wakes up. You’ll have to drop out of the program, of course, there’s no way you can ever face her again after this. How had this even happened? I hadn’t wet the bed since I was a kid! Sure, I had a lot of wine… A lot of wine… …but it wasn’t like this was the first time I’d gotten that drunk, and this had never happened before! Who knows how long I might have sat there in a puddle of my own pee paralyzed by panic and dread if not for the light knock on the door that broke me out of stasis. As the doorknob turned, I did the only thing I could think of, the only thing I could do, and threw the blankets back over myself, covering my accident. “Morning, Lavender,” Vivian said she poked her head through the crack in the door, “did you sleep okay?” My cheeks burned so hot I thought for sure my face would spontaneously combust, but, unfortunately, it did no such thing. I opened my mouth to say something, I’m not even sure what, but no sound came out. So much for my paralysis being broken. “Lavender?” A note of concern crept into Vivian’s voice, “is everything okay?” I shook my head: no, no everything was not okay. “What’s wrong?” She asked, her voice gentle, as she stepped into the room fully. “Did you get sick? You poor thing, I guess I got carried away with pouring wine, didn’t I?” I shook my head again, though the churning in my stomach made me uncertain whether I’d be able to say that for much longer. “No? Then what’s wrong?” She took a few steps into the room and towards the bed and paused; Vivian sniffed gently at the air and a sudden look of understanding dawned on her face. “Did…Lavender, did you have…an accident?” The condescending sympathy in her voice was too much; the dam broke and tears spilled down my cheeks in racking sobs. You’re so pathetic; you pissed the bed and now you’re sobbing like a child in front of your professor, in front of this gorgeous woman you’ve completely ruined your chances with, not that you ever had a chance in the first place, she could never be interested in a freak like you. “Hey, now,” Vivian said softly as she sat on the edge of the bed and put a comforting hand on my back, rubbing small circles as she spoke, “it’s okay, I promise, everything is okay, I’m not mad, I promise! These things happen, it’s really no big deal, we’ll take care of it and get you all cleaned up, okay?” She continued to say soothing things and reassure me as she rubbed my back. With her free hand, she grabbed some tissues off the nightstand and gently wiped my cheeks and nose. Before long, and with the help of Vivian’s comforting, my sobs subsided into whimpers and gentle crying, and as they did Vivian wrapped one arm around me, pulled me close to her chest, and held me while making soothing sounds and gently rocking me back and forth. “There we go,” Vivian said as she let go of me once my crying had dried up, “much calmer now, yeah? Sometimes feelings are just too big and we have to cry,” she grabbed another handful of tissues and set to work wiping my face. “Blow,” she said as she held a tissue to my nose. I should have been too embarrassed, I should have hesitated at least a little bit, but I blew without a second thought. Humiliation seared into my soul, and I felt distant from my body. But despite everything, electricity still crackled through my body from the excitement of Vivian’s embrace, and her gentle words made warmth bloom in my chest. I just wanted her to keep holding me and tell me everything was okay. “Feeling better, Lavender?” She smiled oh so warmly and oh so prettily and I nodded my head—and I was feeling better too, even if part of me still wanted to run out of the room, drop out of my program, and disappear off the face of the earth. “Well, let’s see what the damage is and we can get everything taken care of, okay?” Vivian grabbed the blankets and began to pull them off me but paused and made eye contact with me, as if checking to make sure I was okay with her pulling them off. The thought of Vivian, Professor Devereux, my advisor, my mentor, my role model seeing me sitting in my own pee made me stomach do flips; I gave her a quick nod and looked away. The cold hit me like a train as Vivian pulled away the blankets. I was still wearing the black skater skirt I had worn to dinner, but it was bunched up around my waist, leaving my purple lace-trimmed panties and the tell-tale wet stain on full display. The white, floral print sheets were stained a mild yellow in a puddle that expanded out around me. And then there was the smell of pee that had given me away, suddenly so much stronger with the blanket removed. “You poor thing,” Vivian said sympathetically, “now I understand why you were so hesitant to spend the night!” Wait, what does she mean by that? “I promise, this will be our little secret, okay?” Vivian stood up and took me by the wrist, “now, come on, let me show you to the bathroom, I’m sure you’ll want to take a bath.” The mention of a bath made all my other thoughts fly from my head; a bath was exactly what I needed, not just to clean my body but to clear my head and gain some separation from the knot of emotions this whole incident had left sitting in my stomach. I let her help me out of bed and smoothed my skirt down as if there was any chance of regaining my dignity after sitting in my own piss with my wet panties on full display. Neither of us said a word as Vivian led me out of the room and down the hallway. My cheeks burned once again as the wet fabric of my skirt rubbed against the back of my legs and the wet fabric of my panties rubbed against…other things. I followed Vivian into a spacious bathroom with a huge claw-footed tub and stood awkwardly in the center of the room as Vivian turned on the faucet and checked the temperature of the water, making a few adjustments until she was satisfied. “There,” she said when she had finally found the perfect temperature and plugged the bathtub. She lingered for a moment, long enough for me to wonder if she was expecting me to undress in front of her, but finally she cleared her throat and made her way to the door. “Just leave your wet clothes on the floor outside the bathroom and I’ll collect them after I strip the bed and throw them in the laundry for you. There are towels just in there,” she gestured towards a closet just inside the bathroom, “as well as a robe you can use when you’re done.” “Thank you,” I muttered weakly, fully aware that it seemed to be too weak of a sentiment for the occasion. “You’re quite welcome,” she said as she stepped out into the hallway and gently closed the door behind her. I took a deep breath and exhaled long and hard. I walked over to the sink and leaned over it, taking in my image in the mirror. My face was puffy and red from crying, my flawless make up smeared and ruined, and my blue hair a mess of tangles. You really fucked up. I know, I know. Like, really fucked up. I was right, but what was I supposed to do about it? The worst part was…no, I didn’t want to think about that, I was humiliated enough without acknowledging the whole…that. Fuck me. I shook myself out of my pity party and stripped out of my wet clothes, cracking open the bathroom door just enough to set them in a neat pile right outside the door. By then the tub was full; I turned off the water and stepped in. The water was a little warmer than I would have liked it, but my muscles immediately began to release their tension as I lowered myself into the water. Well…fuck.

Thank you so much! It was definitely not a perspective that I had first hand experience with! I actually do have another story that I posted simultaneously with this one, "A Much Needed Vacation," though it's a very different story. Smuttier, more forced regression-y. That said, I have a couple writing projects I've recently begun work on, but I truly cant begin to guess when they will see the light of day! This is my favorite piece of praise for my writing I have ever received, I don't even re-read what I write XD I'm really touched that you've enjoyed it so much