Foreword:
Hello. This is a story I wrote and started posting on the ABDL Story Forum before it was shut down. I've done copious amounts of editing since then, and added a new chapter.
Candyland
Short description:
A game of pretend goes horribly wrong.
Part 1,
Chapter 1:
“Can we haf’ a tea pardy, Bea, pl-ease?” said Candy, tugging on my arm.
I turned to look down at her and smirked. “Well, okay, but after lunch.” Truth be told, it didn’t sound like a chore. Most twenty-three-year-olds probably wouldn’t be that interested in tea parties, but during the months I babysat Candice, I started to actually enjoy playing with her. I knew that she must have been very lonely living down the hill in the middle of nowhere, so I initially started playing her games out of sympathy. She would play along with all the games that I proposed, but it always felt like she was just going through the motions—like she was the one humoring me—which is why I would follow her rules.
All her games were based in pretend; she would use all the toys at her disposal to create fun and sometimes dramatic or even tragic tales with her only her stuffed animals and some basic props; and, more often than not, I found myself completely lost in the stories, so much so that I would need to be reminded of reality when Ms. Ive came home.
My contemplation was cut short when I felt her grip under my elbow again.
She pouted. “But if we do d’at we won’ haf any room for tea!”
I gave a fake sigh. “Okay, fine. I won’t make much, so we will have plenty of room for tea. Are you happy now?”
Candy grinned. “Yay! I’ll ge’ i’ all sedup!” she smiled as scurried out of the kitchen and up the stairs.
I smiled as I heard the pitter-patter of her feet on the stairs. I went back to preparing lunch, chopping the tomatoes and slicing the ham for our sandwiches. While my preparation wasn’t fancy, all the famous chefs say that good food is all about good ingredients—and Candy’s mother stuck by that rule.
I opened the cupboard to look for the bread loaf, but I frowned. There were only three regular slices and a heel left. I took them all out, placing the tailings on my plate and the full pieces on Candy’s. I squirted a grill of mustard on each piece, placed some tomatoes and spinach, and followed it with some cheese and ham. I folded up the sandwiches and sliced the one without the heel. I held the knife above mine, deeply contemplating whether or not I wanted to slice my own. I scoffed once I realized how much thought I was putting into a sandwich, and smiled at the fact that my life was easy enough to only be worrying about how I wanted lunch prepared. In the end, I decided to cut the sandwich just like Candy’s.
I delivered the sandwiches to the table, and walked to the bottom of the stairs. “Lunch is ready!”
I heard rustling and saw Candy walk out the door, having changed apparel. It was a cheap blue dress, one that I recognized from a previous session of dress-up. Candy nearly tumbled her way down, going as fast as she could.
“Woah there!” I called out, ready to catch her.
She made it to the bottom without incident, and I followed her to the kitchen table.
She took her seat in front of her food and gleefully mauled it. I took my own seat and calmly grabbed my sandwich, watching her. She constantly amazed me: she was the fastest learner I had watched as my, albeit short, career as a babysitter, and she knew way more words and facts than I did at her age. While I was watching her, I was marveling at her palette in particular. Most of the children I sat before would balk in disgust at such a spartan, unsweetened meal; they would throw a tantrum if they encountered anything besides mac n’ cheese or a PB&J. I know that I for one was a far more picky eater.
At first, I would just prepare for her the usual “little kid food”. But every time I did, she would always ask if I would share whatever I happened to be having, and so one day I finally decided to ask her what she wanted. I probably should have known better, but I was expecting a nonsensical answer; instead, she just said “I like y’ur food, Bea” and so I shrugged, granting her wish ever since.
In almost no time at all, Candy was done and looked at me expectantly. I rolled my eyes as I was pulled back to the present. I scarfed down the rest of my portion and grabbed our paper plates to throw them in the trash.
As I walked back over to the table, Candy shot up and grabbed my hand with both of hers, pulling me to and up the stairs and finally into her playroom. The room was well loved; there were playthings littering every corner, from crayons to dominoes to dolls to whatever. In the center of the room was a low, round table encircled by three stuffed animals wearing doll clothes: a Zebra wearing a comedic, green tutu; an Otter wearing a denim skirt and vest over a plain, dark shirt, and a tiger wearing baggy, dark clothes. We headed to the closet on the right side of the room where a large, disorganized pile of clothes lie. “We godda get you a nice dress! You can’d go to a tea pardy wif’out a fancy dress!”
I rolled my eyes. I didn’t hate dress-up—far from it—but finding costume pieces that would work with the theme and setting was always a hassle. I followed her over to her hoard hoard.
She bent over, scouring the pile, looking this way and that, the ruffles on her petticoat sending her dress into the sky. I giggled. “Not very lady-like of you with you showing off your underwear like that.” But then I realized something: she was wearing one of her old pull-ups from her potty training days. I blushed when I noticed it, averting my gaze.
“What?” she asked indignantly, standing up with her arms to her hips.
“Uh, Candy, why are you wearing a—” I almost manged to finish, my cheeks still flushed.
“A diaper?” she asked dismissively, cutting me off. She sighed. “I guess I need do dell you d’is before we go,” she said, letting her hands fall down to her sides.
I had a feeling I knew what she was going to say. It was rather extreme, but I knew that some parents would put their children in training pants again if they had too many accidents. I was still shocked, as I hadn’t expected that from Ms. Ive. Still, I wondered why she had neglected to write a note. It didn’t matter, though, because I could tell that Candy was sad, and I wanted to try and make her feel a little better. “It’s oka—” I started.
She just walked over me in the conversation. “Da ding is, Emmy had a bad docdor.”
I just continued to look at her, thinking about what she was saying. Emily? That doesn’t sound good… I wondered, the image of Emily, her stuffed tiger, popped into mind. Candice had given all her characters such deep personalities that sometimes I forgot I was thinking about toys. I tried reminding myself, and it worked for a moment. “Oh?” I asked, trying my hardest to merely feign interest instead of becoming engrossed.
Candy nodded. “She had a bad docdor for some surgy, and now she’s in-condimend. But like I said the docdor was bad and der was a problem which made her in-condinend.”
I was briefly taken aback. Incontinent? Where did she learn that word? I asked myself, before remembering the show about healthcare disasters I was watching weeks ago after she had went to sleep. But she hadn’t been sleeping, because I caught her watching from between the rails on the stairs. And then I was pulled back in.
“Emmy hasn’d been ou’ in a long time because she’s embarsed she hasta wear diapers now. So me an Zoe and Claire d’ough’ d’at we could cheer her up if we wore diapers 'oo.”
“I haven’t seen Emmy in a while… why didn’t you tell me where she was? Now I feel bad,” I replied sincerely, already lost in the fantasy again.
“Its ok. Me 'n Zoe didn’d know where she was eit’er, but she ‘old us wha’ happned, and den Zoe said we should haf a tea pardy to cheer her up.”
“That makes sense. Emmy loves tea.” Truth be told, I didn’t like Emily very much; she always had something snarky to say. But I didn’t want her to have a botched surgery. Fate was cruel, sometimes. When I realized I was starting to slip again, I reminded myself, just toys.
“Ya, so we godda—Oh no!” she exclaimed, making me nervous. “Da pardy is soon. We can’d be la’e, dat would make Emmy feel efen worse!”
I frowned. Even though Emily and I weren’t close by any measure, I didn’t want kick her while she was down by being rude and late. I watched as Candy rummaged through the pile, but a piece of fabric caught my eye. It was a light pink sleeve, which, ordinarily, considering I was in a thrift shop—I mean, the playroom of a little girl, wouldn’t have been too consequential. However, I could tell this item was much larger than many of the others.
All of the items were from the bargain bin at a local clothing store. Ms. Ive would usually wait till the end of the month and take out the “scraps” at the bottom for cheap; it working in her favor, because most of them were ugly children’s clothes, and occasionally—as in, once every year in November—Halloween costumes of all shapes and sizes. It wasn’t even close to Halloween, though, so I wondered how this one slipped through the cracks.
I pulled it out, and to both the shock of me and Candy, the dress was big. I smiled, thinking about how wonderful it would be if it fit me. No more stretched petticoats for me, but an actual dress!
“Twy i’ on!” Candy egged me on.
I obliged, quickly slipping off my top and bringing the dress over my head. I was amazed: it fit like a glove. And not poorly fitted glove, either. I could feel myself really filling it out; even my bosom was properly situated without any effort on my part, much to my elation. I looked at myself in the mirror, and I was absolutely giddy. The dress was a light shade of pink, which worked well with my complexion. It had a simple but elegant floral embroidery along the sides and front, and towards the midsection, voluminous ruffles sprouted out. It was remarkably similar to Candy’s indigo dress, sans the embroidery, and our colors complemented each other well. I look so pretty! I thought, twirling and giggled, letting the hem of the dress float up.
“Wow, Bea, you look so good!” She confirmed, giving me a genuine but quick compliment, before going back to rummage in pile.
I looked around. At some point, we had arrived at the back of a near empty thrift shop. A massive pile of clothes sat under a sign near the ceiling, reading “All stack items free.”
All too quickly, she pulled out a large, colorful rounded rectangle consisting of fluffy material. I didn’t think anything of it, until she pushed it into my hands. I blushed, recognizing it as a disposable diaper. I was brought back to the reality of the playroom as it entered my grasp. The item was making me go through mental gymnastics, trying to figure out what was going on; the size made it absolutely clear it was big enough to fit someone like me, but the cutesy designs made it absolutely clear that it was for someone much younger.
I was temporarily stunned, until Candy snatched it out of my hand, growing impatient. “Here, I’ll ge’ you s’ar’ed,” she said, unfolding it. “We don’ haf’ a lodd’a time, so you godd’a put i’ fas’, cuz Zoe 'n Emmy ‘n Claire are wai’in’.”
I nodded, remembering how good of friends Zoe and I were. I was happy to see her again, so I got to work, sliding my pants down my legs. Wearing diapers was beyond embarrassing, so I knew how Emily felt. If Candy thought that it would help her, then I would try to show my support, even if we were found ourselves at odds on occasion. But there was no way I was really going to wear the diaper like an infant, I reasoned. I could just put it over my underwear, and Emily wouldn’t know the difference; it seemed like a bit of a stretch to debase myself that much for her.
I placed the diaper between my thighs, and began to wrap it up around me.
“Y’ur no’ gonna take off y’ur unda’wea’?” Candy asked skeptically.
“Of course not, I’m not a baby,” I replied, slightly offended by the question.
“I know, bu’ Emmy isn’ one too,” She answered back reasonably.
I frowned. “But I really don’t want to… It’s so embarrassing!” I raised my voice in concern.
“Shh!” Candy hushed me quietly. “You don’ wan’ someone to hear you. How do you f’ink Emmy wou’d fee’wul?”
“But…” I protested. Meanwhile, without noticing, the thrift store came back into focus.
She rolled her eyes as if I was a belligerent child. “Fine. I won’ make you. Bu’ do i’ quick, cuz we need’a go.”
“Yay,” I whispered upon victory. I went to finish taping up the diaper, but the plumage around my groin and butt made it difficult. After only one failed attempt, however, I managed to stick the tapes and adjusted the garment. It was surprisingly snug and comfy, and it created a nice soft, warm halo that felt entirely different from the form-fitting panties that I could easily forget were there.
I looked in the mirror to the left of the mound of clothes, reveling in my new attire as I pinched the hem of my dress. As I said, the diaper was extremely juvenile with it’s simple, colorful characters and vignettes; maybe there were more on the back, but I was too lazy to look. The brand was some strange foreign name I wouldn’t dare to pronounce.
My emotions toward it were complex to say the least. The dress was pretty and mature-enough in isolation, but the infantile aspects were amplified by my current set of underwear; I looked like a toddler attending an imaginary tea party, in short, and while my pride was marred, a part of my strange brain found the getup almost endearing.
I remembered seeing the package at some point and asking Ms. Ive. She had said was the punishment for losing the shower games… or something like that. Ms. Ive had just forgotten about them and relegated them to the dark corner of the closet in the playroom. But I didn’t remember anything about them being decorated.
My mood suddenly soured as I had a brief moment of lucidity. I dropped the my skirt, feeling especially self conscious about the fact that I was a twenty-three year old woman attending a pretend tea party in a diaper. I’m doing this for Candice, I tried reassuring myself.
“You done? We need’a go!” Candy said grabbing my hand. “Zoe n’ Claire are already d’ere!”
I was brought back into the moment, and time seemed to slow down as we walked over to the small table not 10 feet away. As I slipped more into the role of Bea, Candy’s friend, the table was occluded by the walls of the second hand store. We passed the bored looking dog cashier as we exited, and the aforementioned table came into view again, looking more and more like one table among many on a street outside an upscale cafe in some bustling city. Oh no, I can’t be late and do that to Zoe, I worried. You know, there’s no way I would do this for Emmy alone, no matter how much I like tea. She can be such a jerk… my mind wandered as I was dragged along. But she’s going to be hard-pressed to find anything mean to say today. Look who’s got the nice dress now! I smirked, imagining her whiskers twitching in annoyance.
“Hi eferyone, we’re here!” Candy said to the round table, cheery.
All our friends were there, including Zoe and Claire and of course Emmy. They all individually greeted us, complimenting our dresses as we sat down. I sat between Zoe and Claire while Candy sat across from me between Claire and Emmy.
“You guys look great. Wow, Bea, that dress works so well on you,” said Zoe the Zebra. “Is it new?” she asked. She was wearing a fluffy, green tutu, and you could easily distinguish her diaper under the burly cone.
I responded, flattered. “Thanks, Zoe. You look really good too! And yeah, I just got this dress with Candy,” I said, eagerly pointing towards the girl sitting across from me.
Claire the Otter looked to me, and also gave me some words of encouragement. “Dang, girl. Clothes really do make the woman!” Then she turned to Candy, offering her a review as well. “And you’re as stunning as ever, Candy. I think it’s pretty clear who picked out Bea’s dress.”
We sat in silence, sipping our teas—evidently the waiter had gotten there before us—until Candy noticed something was amiss. “Hey, Emmy. How are you? Is somed’in’ on y’ur mind?” she asked sincerely.
Emmy was silently looking down for a moment until she turned her head up and saw us expectantly waiting for an answer. Everyone looked concerned except me; I didn’t want it admit to, but my negative image of Emmy was seeping into my demeanor. Emily the Tiger spoke, trying to ease the other girl’s fears. “Yeah, I’m doing okay. Sorry, girls, I’m just… thinking.”
I furrowed my brow in concern. Normally Emmy was brash, pessimistic, and slightly toxic; I like to think I was an upbeat person, and so our personalities would clash, and it would always end in petty quips before our mutual friends would change the topic. Just like last month at the ice rink: I had just fallen on my butt, and Emmy decided to say “Have a nice trip, see you next fall.” It was possibly the dumbest joke I had ever heard, but it was said such contempt and vitriol I flipped. “What is your problem?!” I shouted at her. It didn’t take long before Zoe and Candy broke up the fight. I never forgot that day and I might not for quite some time.
Still, this new mood of Emmy’s made me uneasy. She looked so much different from her usual, self-assured and smug self. All I could do was feel bad; after all, I wasn’t one for schadenfreude.
“Oh, I see what they were saying… That dress looks… really good, Beatrice,” Emmy piped out, sounding utterly defeated.
I blushed profusely. Something about being reluctantly but sincerely complemented by your enemy was very unconformable.
Everyone else smiled, Claire returning to the conversation she was having with herself before me and Candy arrived. “So as I was telling them,” she said, pointing to Zoe and Emmy, the latter still looking deeply perturbed, “There is this seriously cute ox at work… but he’s totally oblivious!” she said, throwing her hands up. “I don’t know how I can get him to notice me. I tried lifting my tail when he walks by, leaning up against the wall—OH! I have to tell you this hilarious story. So I was leaning up against the wall of a cubicle, and I thought they were supposed to make those things sturdy, you know?”
I nodded, grabbing a spoonful of sugar and mixing it into my tea, finally idly sipping the sweetened drink, just enjoying listening to Claire ramble on about nothing. It seemed like everyone else, even Emmy with her faint smile, was doing the same.
“So, the thing completely broke! I mean, it was bad! It was one of those corner offices, so, for some reason, that made it even worse! The poor guy in there screamed bloody freakin’ murder when his thing landed on him!” Claire laughed heartily, lightly pounding the table with her paws
We all smiled and sipped our tea.
I was about to add to the conversation, but Candy spoke up, cutting me off for the umpteenth time that day. She asked Zoe about her boyfriend, but I zoned out, a little annoyed. I shifted in my seat, rolling my eyes, but my cheeks flared up when I both felt and heard my very crinkly diaper. I wish Candy had told me about this earlier, so I could of gotten a different diaper. I saddened at my next thought. I can’t even imagine how Emmy feels right now. It felt nice to not be ridiculed by Emmy, but the state she was in felt wrong.
“…don’t want to think about that right now,” Zoe retorted. “Sorry, but I’m over him and his stupid sister. If he’s defending her over that, then what kind of other stuff is he doing behind my back? I mean, okay, a shirt is totally whatever. I don’t care. A bra? That’s kind of iffy. But panties? And he just let her put it back without washing?” Zoe widened her eyes for emphasis.
“I dunno, maybe d’ats normal w’ere d’ey grews up. Mommy say’s d’at some people are okay wid’ sharing undies, bu’ no’ her!” Candy offered, trying to play devil’s advocate.
Zoe sighed. “But he should know that I’m not. Right? I’m not crazy to think that if you’ve been dating someone for a year, they should know your bounds when it comes to stuff like that.”
I huffed, having been caught up in the conversation enough. “I think your right, Zoe, that’s gross.”
“Thank you!” Zoe said with exasperation.
“Oh my gosh, that reminds of the time I dated a guy with giant ear gauges, and I mean these things were—” Claire started before being cutoff from another voice behind me.
I turned around, and I saw that it was waiter dressed in all black. I could make out his name tag, it reading “Bearrington”. He had black, beady eyes that weren’t actually very intimidating with his cream colored fur.
“Would you ladies care for some cake?” he asked politely.
I thought on it. I decided that I liked cake. “Yes please,” I said, raising my hand slightly.
“That’s one order,” he said, turning to Candy next.
“Yes please!” she said with enthusiasm.
He turned to Emmy next. “No thank you,” she eeped out, a blush forming on her cheeks. I was downtrodden at the sight. The Emmy I knew would have made some half-hearted flirt with a bear even as average looking as our waiter.
“I’ll have some, Hot Stuff,” Claire piped up, smirking.
“No thank you,” Zoe waved her hoof.
The waiter bowed slightly, before swapping our tea kettle and walking away.
We each refilled our cups, sipped them, and sat in silence.
Claire furrowed her brow, obviously troubled by something. “Emmy, you don’t need to look so gloomy, Girl.”
Emmy looked over to her, her gloominess not yet washed away.
“Look,” Claire continued, “We’re all wearing too!” Claire said, lifting her skirt and revealing her diaper. I was glad I wasn’t the only one with a real baby diaper on, and seeing Claire proudly display her horribly childish designs made me feel slightly better about my own similarly padded bottom. I also wondered if Claire had her panties on under her diaper too; I blushed at the thought, hoping the other girls wouldn’t notice.
“Yeah,” Zoe chimed in. “Seriously. You don’t need to feel embarrassed. We’re all in this together.” She merely pointing her hoof at her tutu, her diaper plain as day. Out of us with bladder control, hers was the most adult, being just plain white. Still, how she could wear such an outfit without dying of shame was beyond me. But her courage was infectious, and it continued to bolster my own.
Next came Candy, who lifted up her dress before she even talked, displaying her relatively mature pull-up. I pouted a little a the injustice, but again felt a boost of confidence and a smile creep up. “Mhm. Wha’ d’ey said.”
It was my turn next, and everyone looked expectantly at me, even Emmy, who was remarkably gentle with her expression. And so, proudly, smirking from my friends’ confidence, I lifted the hem of my dress, making extra sure the petticoat wasn’t blocking Emmy’s view. My smirk turned into a grin as Emmy blushed and looked away. “C’mon Emmy, it’s no big deal,” I told her.
“I…” Emmy faltered. She paused, mulling over her words while we all patiently waited. “Look, I appreciate, it but it’s different, because you girls don’t…” she paused again, swallowing a lump in her throat, “…need them… like me.” Emmy swallowed like she was about to cry.
Candy grabbed her paw. “I’‘s okay, Emmy. We will be y’ur friends no madda’ wha’,” Candy comforted her, smiling.
Emmy choked back some sobs, unevenly breathing. “Thank you…” she said, turning to look at everyone around the table, including me, “Thank you all. You girls mean the world to me, even if I don’t always show it.”
Some moments later, our cake came. “My apologies for the delay, we were all out and had to bake some!”
We all wished him well, except Claire, who just tried to flirt with him. Us three with the food pounded it down, while Zoe and Emmy watched intently.
Half way through my slice, I heard Emmy pipe up. “Bea?”
I looked up to her. “Y’ah?” I answered, cake spilling out my mouth and onto the table cloth. Everyone besides me and Emmy giggled.
“Bea, I just want to say, I’m sorry. I’m a bad friend,” she said with a straight face.
My sympathetic nervous system sensed she was on the verge of tears, and a lump formed in my throat.
“All this stuff happened, and… I just don’t want to lose any friends. And I’m so grateful to you that you’ve never cut me off, even now when I’m…” she sniffled, pausing. But this time everyone else was silent, watching with saddened gazes. “Well, you know what I mean. So I just want to say I’m sorry for always being a jerk. The truth is, I was always jealous of you. I have to try so hard to pull off anything, and you do it like it’s nothing. The truth is—” she gasped, tears starting to pool in her eyes, and Candy latched onto her paw again in support, “—I’ve been a terrible tiger, and you’ve never been anything but nice. And now I’m…”
“You don’t have to say anymore, I understand,” I said after swallowing my cake. “I’m sorry too. I never wanted anything bad to happen to you.” I frowned.
“Thank you,” Emmy said through some more choked breaths. “I love you girls so much.”
I continued eating my cake, enjoying the newfound understanding while feeling sorrier than ever for Emmy. I didn’t care if she was just faking it, because I wanted to believe in her.
Claire was discussing something mundane again, and the other girls were nodding along, clearly just enjoying the sound of her voice. But I started to feel a more pressing matter, and I really didn’t want to emulate Emmy in that particular case, as much as I was warming up to her. “I have to use the bathroom,” I said so everyone at the table could hear me. I instantly regretted it, seeing Emmy’s lip quiver. I averted her gaze, and stood up quickly. “Excuse me,” I walked away from the table, and off the street, into the cafe, my diaper reminding me of itself the whole way. I reached the bathroom at the back of the restaurant, but frowned when I found the door wouldn’t budge. Guess I need to wait, I thought to myself.
“Oh, Bea!” I heard Candy call out to me.
“Huh?” I asked, turning to her.
“Bea… I f’ink you really hur’ Emmy’s feelin’s,” she said, disappointed.
“I… I’m sorry,” I said with my expression falling.
“I know. Bu’ I know how to make i’ up to Emmy easy,” she said with a optimistic smile.
“How?!” I berated her unintentionally. I felt terrible about how I just snubbed the reformed big cat, and I was ready to do just about anything to undo my mistake.
“No shou’in’!” Candy scolded me.
I shrugged my shoulders in shame. “Sorry. But how?”
“Well, dat’s easy. You jus’ godda use y’ur diaper.”
“Huh? Why?” I questioned, my mind not quite ready for the logical leap required.
“Because, Emmy said da’ i’‘s diff’rent cuz we don’ need our diapers, bu’ if you don’ go to d’e poddy, d’en you can’ make i’ to d’e poddy n’ so you need y’ur diaper.”
“Oh,” I said, her explanation straightforward enough for my overactive imagination. “But why do I have have to be the one?”
“Cuz no one else has godda go!” she giggled.
“Oh,” I said, giggling with her. In the land of imagination, where physical laws are flouted and social norms aren’t normal, her terse explanation seemed to make sense. In my already muddy state of mind, I was content with the simplicity of the solution; after all, who would even remember me in such a big city? I knew my friends wouldn’t really care; they didn’t mind Emmy’s condition, after all. The already lessened embarrassment was even further trivialized by the fact that I was helping out Emmy, who had but moments before made her heartfelt confession to me. And so, for Candy, I had but one question. “How do I go?”
“You jus’ go like a poddy bu’ in d’e air.”
“Oh. Okay,” I said, squatting down, feeling the tension in my diaper, and something beneath that I had forgotten about. But I looked around the cafe, and I saw a few too many people watching. “But there are so many people…” I protested weakly.
“Jus’ imagine d’ey aren’ d’ere!” she offered in a patronizing tone.
“Okay…” I said, closing my eyes, still in the squatting position.
Even though, sitting at the table, I felt as if I was about to have an accident, trying to go in the middle of the cafe was harder than I expected. I could constantly feel something creeping up from the back, but it didn’t feel like it was particularly close to exiting. From the front, however, I started to see results. After about a minute of coaxing my bladder, it happened. It was just a trickle, but it eventually grew into a torrent as my padding soaked it up, yellowing and various designs on the front washing out. I sighed in relief, and the feeling a freshly soaked diaper wasn’t as bad as I as was expecting. It was certainly worth it if it would make Emmy happy. Feeling relieved and calm, I looked at Candy, who had been waiting there patiently, a smile plastered on her face. “I don’t have to go anymore…”
For a brief moment, everyone in the establishment looked at me curiously. I noticed their gazes, blushed, and began walking towards the exit. Having left the commotion behind, I headed back towards our table, Candy following me.
“…And so that was that!” I heard the tail end of Zoe’s conversation.
I sat down in my seat, my diaper squelching, causing me to blush profusely.
It was only a moment before someone commented on it, that someone being an otter. “Pee-ew! What is that smell?”
I blushed harder than I thought possible.
Candy piped up. “Well, Bea cou’dn’’ make i’ to d’e poddy. So she hadda use her diaper. She s’ill needs d’em sometimes.”
Emmy perked up, looking over to me with a blush of her own, somehow visible behind the her orange fur on her cheeks. I didn’t return her gaze; I simply shuffled in my puddle, wanting to get my mind off it.
“Ah, well, good thing she was wearing protection! Otherwise she would have made a big mess somewhere,” Zoe helpfully added. It sounded like something that a parent would tell a bed wetter, and I was reminded of her occupation as a daycare attendant.
I poked at my cake, trying to take my mind off how I used the garment around my waist like a toddler. “I’m not a baby, jeez,” I said flustered.
“Well, of course you’re not! Just look at how you fill out that dress. Besides, adults have accidents sometimes. It’s not like you’re gonna loose friends over it,” Claire said, shooting an encouraging wink at Emmy.
Emmy looked over to me, her cheeks turning scarlet as the same happened to mine. Our gazes met, and I saw her mouth “Thank you.” I gave a flat smirk.
“Well, what were we talking about?” Claire asked before continuing to give her long winded tirade. We all smiled, listening intently. Even Emmy’s spirits were up.
I slowly forgot about my “accident”, finishing my cake, and and pouring myself some tea.
It was pleasant, sitting there in the warm sun, animals and people walking by on the street of all shapes and sizes, the buildings around us soaring into the skies. Every now and then I would be reminded of my diaper, but I would quickly forget about it after listening to my friends, and seeing Emmy genuinely happy without bringing anyone else down.
But then I saw Candy’s face light up, before shouting, “Mommy!”
“Huh,” I said, trying to figure out who “Mommy” was supposed to be. Zoe always had mom vibes about her, even though she had no kids. I guess it was just the way that she would listen to you no matter what, and would always try to offer a gentle touch. She was sweet like that. Being a daycare worker probably helped a tiny bit, too.
But to complicate matters, Candy wasn’t looking at Zoe. She was looking at me. Or rather, she was looking behind me. So I turned around. My face lit up when I realized who it was.
“Ms. Ive!” I shouted as well.
Wait, I was suddenly brought back to reality as I furrowed my brow. Ms. Ive?
“Hi, girls,” the woman of the house said to both of us. The land of pretend faded away, I was left back in the playroom. I didn’t feel like I was transported, but I suddenly started to recognize things for what they were. The cake and tea were air. Emmy wasn’t a tiger, she was a stuffed animal. Candy wasn’t a confident woman, she was five. And I was twenty-three, and—
“Huh, what’s that smell?” Ms. Ive asked, her face contorting in disgust.
I suddenly became extremely aware of the ruined panties and diaper around my bottom.
“E-excuse m-me,” I said, my voice struggling to escape my throat. I quickly stood up and speedwalked past Ms. Ive.
“Huh?” she asked, still confused.
“Emmy was feelin’ bad cuz she’s in condend, ‘n Bea made a’ acciden’ to cheer Emmy up!”
“Bea did what?” I heard as I approached the bathroom. Ms. Ive wasn’t angry, just confused, but with every step, the urine was squeezed out and rapidly reabsorbed, verging me on tears. I got to the door in question, and tried the handle, but it wouldn’t budge. I tried and tried and tried, desperate, shaking the handle this way and that. I gave the door a few tugs and shoves, my breathing growing more and more ragged as a I struggled to fight back my waterworks. I just wanted to hold off until I could ball my eyes out in the privacy of the bathroom, before being inevitably kicked out of the house.
My throat went dry. I put my shoulder to the door, again wiggling the lever up and down. But it was no use. I couldn’t muster nearly enough force, especially in my fragile state.
And then I broke. The first tear reached my lip, and from that moment I was unable to hold back. Tears streaming down my face, I fell to the floor, laying against the door. My knees accidentally propped up my dress, putting my shame on full display.
“Bea, Honey, what’s wrong?” I heard in front of me.
I tried excusing myself as best I could. Which, at that moment, was just empty sobs. Not that it would have been any easier if I was more coherent; in fact, the sobbing was better in a way, because it let me pretend like I might have had a valid reason without having to do any of the leg work.
“Bea, please, I’m worried about you,” Ms. Ive called again.
I continued crying, not sure what to say.
“Did you have an accident?” I heard her ask.
Still not looking at her, I nodded, my breathing still sputtering profusely, my tear ducts still overproducing.
“Were you wearing a diaper?” she asked next.
I nodded.
“Oh. That’s…” she stopped, not knowing what it was. “Are you trying to clean up?”
I nodded again, my sobbing amplifying.
I felt her arms wrap around me, and I heard her whisper. “It’s alright…” she cooed. “You know, I got that dress for you. I knew how much you liked playing dress-up with Candice, and I just couldn’t resist. I have to say, it looks great on you.”
I almost smiled, but my frown was too powerful.
“Come on, let’s get you all sorted out. That door is jammed, remember?” I felt her fingers wrap around mine, and she pulled me up. “Lets go to the bathroom downstairs. Okay?”
I nodded, feeling small. I saw Candy in the playroom doorway, and she looked up to us with concern. “Is Bea okay, Mommy?”
“She is, honey. She just had an accident and she’s scared because girls her size don’t have many accidents,” Ms. Ive said, squeezing my hand. “But it’s okay, because ‘not many’ doesn’t mean ‘none’, which she will figure out once we can get the waterworks stopped.”
I looked away, ashamed, still sniffling. She continued to hold my hand tight and lead me; Ms. Ive was only just tall enough for me to notice the difference, but I was feeling much smaller at that moment. We walked down the stairs, arriving at the bathroom. She opened the door and led me inside and sat me down on the toilet seat. She let go of my hand, and walked to the doorway.
“I’m going to leave you to clean up here, alright? Tell me if you need anything. There should be wipes under the sink, and you can take a shower if you feel like it.”
I nodded.
Once she left and closed the door, I wasn’t event sure to begin with my cleanup process. My crying had mostly subsided, but my breaths were still uneven and my cheeks salty. I just sat for several pregnant minutes, thinking deeply, trying to calm down further.
I eventually decided to start with my dress. Ms. Ive telling me she got it for me made me strangely happy. Thinking back on Ms. Ive brightened my mood and allowed me to start working, and I slipped the dress off over my head.
Then I was faced with my diaper. I knew that my panties were completely soaked, and I contemplated whether or not it was worth salvaging them. They were cheap things that were starting to wear through, and no doubt they would be stained. But having the stains as a souvenir was enough for me to decide; I pulled down the diaper and my underwear simultaneously, the diaper surprisingly tight on my hips.
Then I needed to actually clean up. Setting the soaked diaper on the ground, I grabbed the wipes from under the cabinet, and began the time consuming task of wiping. Each used fabric I deposited into the old diaper, and once I felt clean, I spread my legs, examining my work. Finally, I wrapped up everything into a ball.
It didn’t take long to identify the next challenge. I had no more underwear. I blushed, and I knocked on the door, hoping Ms. Ive would be of some use.
“Yes? Bea?” I heard from the other side.
“Uhm…” I muttered quietly.
“What’s that hon?”
“I… uh…”
“OH!” she exclaimed, chortling. “You don’t have any underwear. I’ll go fetch some.”
I heard her walk away and return several minutes later. “Sorry, Bea, but I couldn’t find your underwear. And you know how I feel about sharing it. So I’m giving you this, because this is all I have.” She opened the door a crack, and pushed something inside, quickly setting it on the counter and closing the door again.
I blushed, noticing it was another one of the adult diapers. “But…” I protested.
“It’s fine, Bea. I’ve already seen you in a diaper.”
“I-I know, but…”
“It’s either that or stay in there forever,” she said sternly, quickly correcting to a more gentle tone, “But you can’t do that, because me and Candy will need to use it eventually. So put that on, put on your dress, and let’s have a talk about what happened. I’m not mad, Bea, I just want to make sure there’s nothing wrong. Okay? You’re a good babysitter, the best I’ve had, and I don’t want to ruin that. So lets talk, yeah?”
“O-okay…” I said as I started to unfold the diaper with shaky hands. I got it ready for taping by placing it between my legs like before and pulling it up, feeling it over my bare skin for the first time. The feeling I had gotten from my diaper while I was pretending were embarrassingly real, and I couldn’t help but to admit that being wrapped in a soft diaper wasn’t awful. Still, I wanted to deny, and I tried my best.
After it was taped up, I went back to my dress. Much like before, it slipped on with ease and grace.
Not quite ready to go, I steeled my nerves and exited the bathroom.
In the living room I saw her sitting on the couch patiently, waiting for me. Noticing me, she patted down the seat next to her, and I robotically obliged. My cheeks were scarlet as I waddled and crinkled the whole way, finally sitting down with an audible crunch.
Ms. Ive just giggled. “That dress looks so cute on you, it’s hard to describe. And your diaper increases the cuteness factor,” she said, before quickly amending, “In... a weird, way, I mean.”
I couldn’t speak, only blush.
“Okay, now, I want you to explain exactly what happened. Please don’t change any details, no matter how silly or even crazy you think they sound. Okay? I mean it one hundred percent. There is absolutely zero judgment here, trust me, and I’m willing to believe more than you can imagine.”
“O-okay,” I said, taking a deep breath. I began to explain how Candice just wanted a simple tea party, and how I liked her tea parties, but that this one was different because everyone was supposed to wear a diaper for her stuffed tiger Emmy, and how I went along with it because it all felt so real—how every time we play pretend, it feels so real, and how I lose myself almost every time, to the point where I will forget about the real world—and how Emmy was being nice since her botched operation, and how I wanted to cheer her up since we became friends, and what Emmy said, and what that meant I needed to do to cheer her up. And that was it, the story of how I wet my diaper and cried into my boss’s arms.
She looked forward for a long while, staring at the wall. I didn’t know what she was thinking about, and I only hoped that she wasn’t going to try and have me committed to a mental hospital or fire me. I just clutched the hem of my dress, shifting uneasily in my diaper.
“So, Bea, there’s something I need to tell you. Well… yeah, something I need to tell you,” Ms. Ive said, breathing in hard. “I don’t think it’s just you,” she said quickly, “I think it’s… my daughter.”
“What?”
"Let me explain. A little over a year ago, I started noticing something was… off while I was playing with my daughter. I would be forgetting stuff. I mean, I would get so engrossed in playing with her that I would… start to hallucinate, I guess. Nothing bad, in fact, it was all good and fun, and I chalked it up to just getting engrossed in her little games, because she’s my precious daughter. But then… it got bad. I started missing stuff because I was playing with her; stuff like dates and appointments. But that didn’t bother me, because, again, it was my daughter and I could just reschedule appointments.
“But then… her stuffed animals started talking to me. At first I could tell that either I or Candice were just talking in a silly voice, but then… I couldn’t tell anymore—and some of her characters were so…real. At that point, I still wasn’t that scared. But then I…. Then, well, for my job, I had a night shift one day, and around lunch time, my daughter wanted to play a game. I was confident I would be able to break away from it, but I got… lost. And I mean it: I was on cloud nine. I welly and truly thought that I was in a jungle, going for a hike. Everything felt real, and I swear I could even taste the trail mix I ‘had’ on me. It sounds like what you were talking about, right?”
I nodded.
"So, that wasn’t what startled me the most; when I finally snapped out of it, it was because I heard the TV turn on. One of us must have accidentally stepped on the remote or something, but that managed to bring me back to my senses. But when I looked at the clock, I noticed that my shift was already halfway over.
“And my boss was outraged. I was able to make up some lie about being too ill to even call in, and he believed me thankfully because of my immaculate record. But that was something of a wake-up call.
“So I went to a psychiatrist. They said that perhaps playing with my daughter was triggering it. How, they didn’t know. But it was. As soon as I stopped playing with her, I never had those weird visions again. I was still in her life as much as possible, but I couldn’t play her games, because I knew what it did to me. But I needed to get a babysitter, because I was starting to drive all over the place from work. You know how it is. I hired a babysitter. She was nice, but then, out of the blue, week later, she quit. She didn’t say why, she just said she had other stuff to do. And so I hired another one, and it was the same thing: mysteriously quitting a week later. I would keep having sitters come, and longest one I had before you was just 2 weeks. Do you see what I’m trying to say?”
I just silently looked at the wall in front of us, letting her talk.
She sighed. “What I’m trying to say is that, I think they quit because the same thing happened to them as us, and it freaked them out,” she paused, “Does it freak you out?”
I was about to speak, but my breath caught in my mouth, and I reformulated my words. This woman had already seen me at my lowest, and was still as caring as ever. Lying to her was the wrong choice. “No,” I said.
“How… how does it make you feel?”
“I… I like playing with her. It’s always fun… and Zoe is such a—” I stopped, not wanting to sound more crazy. “Ah, I mean…”
“It’s okay, no judgement here. I have my own stories too,” she smiled, squeezing my hand.
“…Zoe is a nice zebra. There, I said it,” I said, determined.
“I’ve never met her, but I have met Claire. Is she still around?”
“Oh yeah! Claire is hilarious.”
“I know she is. That was the first toy I got for Candy, too. Can you believe that?”
“I didn’t know that. What about Emmy, did you know her?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Oh…”
We sat in silence for some time. I looked down at my lap, and shifted my bottom, blushing at the feeling of my diaper pushing apart my legs.
Ms. Ive still had some questions, however. “So, if you liked it, why were you crying?”
“Well… I mean, I was scared you were going to fire me for… you know. And I was really embarrassed....”
“Well, okay, that should have been obvious,” Ms. Ive smiled, “To me, I mean. But there’s no need to worry. I know what it’s like, to go… there. Sometimes you’re just… not all there, and things that wouldn’t make sense normally suddenly do.”
I looked her in the eyes. “Thank you.”
“Of course. But I need to know, when did this start happening for you?”
I mulled it over, seriously considering the question. For me, my decent into “imagination land” as I began calling it was also gradual, as I didn’t start playing her games right away. I had an epiphany at that moment, and concluded that that the other babysitters must have had it happen to them immediately, and that was what freaked them out so bad. I certainly felt that if the first time I met Candy I ended up wearing and using a diaper because a stuffed animal told me to, I would have probably left too. But I realized there was a pivotal moment: the first time that I had felt like I was no longer in the house. “It happened… about a month after I started watching Candice. I was playing with Candy and Zoe, and at some point I was just… on a ship. It almost felt like a dream, thinking back on it. Like, one moment I was in the playroom having a fun conversation with Zoe, and then I found myself in a room on a cruise ship, and Zoe was sitting next to me, and Candy too, and we were just talking about life, and Zoe was saying that she was going to try traveling, and… well, yeah. The first time it really happened was about a two months ago.”
Ms. Ive pursed her lips. “And how often does this happen? How do you keep getting out of it?”
Blood rushed to my face, turning me into a tomato. “Basically daily.”
“You mean every time you come here?” she looked at me, smirking.
“Yeah…” I shied away.
“Well how do you get out? What does it?” she asked.
“It’s when you come home, really,” I explained shyly, remembering Ms. Ive standing it the doorway from earlier. I was blushing so much I started to sweat, and I started to notice my padding becoming damper. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it was a slight reminder of the close encounter I had with trauma.
“Aren’t you ever worried that you won’t be able to… come back?” she asked, slowly grabbing my hand out of worry.
I furrowed my brow. I had never even thought of the possibility of being stuck in imagination land. I didn’t know whether or not that was because it didn’t scare me, or I was stupid. But Ms. Ive was expecting an answer. “I never thought about it… I mean, it doesn’t sound that bad…” I contemplated out loud.
“I see… Even if you’re stuck wearing a diaper?” she squeezed my hand.
“I-I don’t know,” I answered without confidence, shifting in my diaper.
“Well… alright then,” she said, ambiguously sighing, “As long as you’re okay with it all, I would love to keep you on as my babysitter. I think Candice would love it too.”
“Thank you,” I said, turning to her, trying to emphasize with my expression how much it meant to me.
“Of course,” she offered, drawing me in for a hug and running her hand over the small of my back. We embraced each other for nearly thirty seconds, and I didn’t want to stop by the end. But eventually she let go, and we were left in an peaceful silence. Noticing the time, Ms. Ive spoke up. “By the way, it’s well past your quitting time, so you’re free to go.”
My face lit up in realization. “Oh!” I said, getting up from my seat and reminding myself of my padded bottom.
“You should try and find your clothes. I couldn’t find them earlier, sorry about that.”
I nodded, remembering that my clothes were still in the closet in the playroom.
I walked up the stairs, lightly enjoying the feeling of thickness between my legs. It was a foreign feeling, but far from a bad one.
I entered the room to find Candy still sitting at her table, her animal friends having been moved to the corner of the room. It looked like she was still in her dress, and she was drawing with a crayon on a piece of paper.
I said nothing as I walked over to the clothes pile, but Candy could hear me crinkling. She turned around and got up out of chair, her face contorted in concern. “I’m sorry, Bea!” she consoled.
I looked over to her, my turning cheeks scarlet. “Don’t worry about it…”
“Bu’ you were crying…” she lamented.
“I-it’s okay, your mom helped me and we got everything sorted out,” I explained, hoping to sooth her.
“Well… okay. Bu’ will you efer be back?” she asked, he voice wavering.
I smiled brightly. “Yep. Tomorrow morning, just like usual.”
Her face lit up in enthusiasm. “Yay!” she said. “Are you looking for y’ur clof’es?”
“Yeah…” I said, my hand in the pile.
“I’ll help!” she said, starting to dig through. It was worth while, too, because in short time she found my shorts, and soon after I found my shirt.
I thanked her and walked out of the room, heading to the bathroom to get changed.
Ms. Ive spotted me on my way down, and called out to me. “Oh, by the way, I meant what I said about that dress. I got it for you. You can take it home, or you can leave it here. It’s yours.”
I gave a toothy grin. “Thank you!” I said, nearly skipping the rest of the way to the bathroom.
Once I got in the bathroom, I shut the door and slipped off my dress. I was left in my bra and diaper that’s when I encountered my dilemma. I sighed. If I put on my shorts without underwear, it would be unbearably uncomfortable. If I wore the dress without underwear, I ran the risk of flashing someone. Neither one of those options sounded appealing, so I decided to keep the diaper on. There was still a potential issue with the dress, however, as, it was possible to show people my diaper, which, while not as illegal and lewd sounding, was still plenty embarrassing. So, I decided, shorts over diaper it was. I first put on my shirt, and then soon after I pulled up my shorts. I was surprised to find that the shorts weren’t too tight over the diaper, and was also surprised how non-obvious it was; the contours of the garment weren’t visible at all contrary to my fears. I lifted my shirt to see the top of my underwear peaking out, however, and I dropped it, blushing. Finally, squeezing my thighs together one last time, I exited the room, dress in hand.
“Well, I’m going now. Thank you for the dress!” I said on my way out the door.
I closed the door behind me and walked over to my modest vehicle. I opened the car door and threw my new dress inside, before sitting down hard and hearing the characteristic crinkle. I slammed my door, and went to start the car. I ended up grabbing air, so I patted down my shorts and found what I was looking for in my right pocket. I put the key into the ignition, and turned.
The engine seemed to sputter more than usual, but I didn’t think anything of it until I had been turning the key for ten seconds without any progress. I sighed, and tried again. It clacked and clugged some more, but it still ended in the same disappointing static engine. That time I scoffed, trying yet again to get it to start, in vain. I must have tried the key fifteen times, praying that I would still have a working car. But after all those failed attempts, I gave up, utterly defeated.
I had no clue what I was supposed to do. I had never faced an automotive issue where I couldn’t bring my car to the shop, and I started to get anxious; my heart raced and my skin dampened, which wasn’t helping the state of my new, more absorbent underwear. I put my head on the steering wheel in exasperation, but I startled myself when my forehead pressed on the horn. The shock added to my anxiety, and my mouth felt dry as my throat started to ache. The day was taking it’s toll on me, and I only wanted to cry again, but my tears were perpetually on the verge of coming out.
I tightly shut my eyes to get them to water, but it wasn’t happening. As it was, I was giving dry sobs, trying my hardest to keep my throat from becoming too irritated.
I heard the front door close, and I saw the silhouette of a woman I presumed to be Ms. Ives step out onto the small patio. She walked over the car in her usual “business-y” fashion, and even in the quickly vanishing light of the dusk, her frown was plain to see. She leaned down to stick her head in my window. I reached over to the crank, slowly bringing down the pane.
She spoke first. “Beatrice? Is everything alright? Why are you still here?” she asked without a hint of resentment.
“My car won’t start,” I raspily replied.
“Oh dear. Is the battery dead?”
“No. At least I don’t think so. I mean, the radio and stuff still works. And it wasn’t making that clicking sound that happens when it is dead.”
“Oh…” she said, furrowing her brow. “Would you like to try doing a jump start? It might be worth a shot.”
“Sure, I guess…” I sighed. I got out of the car, and helped Ms. Ive find her own jumper cables. We hooked up the disparate cars; hers was new, clean, and spacious, while mine was old, dirty, and cramped. I made several attempts, but it became clear it wasn’t going to work. Eventually, we put the cables away and went back into the house. At that point, I was mentally exhausted, and just wanted to lie down and reset.
We both sat down on the couch, and I was so frazzled that I didn’t even notice my bottom sink into my padding. I looked at the blue carpet in front of me with a perfect poker face. No one could tell what I was thinking or how I was feeling, not even myself.
Ms. Ive broke the silence, however. “So, what are we going to do?” she asked me.
I didn’t respond, just trying to think.
She answered for me. “I can drive you home, but that’s a bit out of the way for me. By the time I get back, it will already be Candice’s bedtime, and that’s assuming we don’t eat dinner. But I can still do it if you really really need to,” she tried offering. “Oh, but there’s another problem, because I won’t be able to pick you up in the morning.”
I huffed. “I can try ride sharing.”
“Oh, yeah! See how much it is.”
I pulled my phone out of my pocket, noticing it was low-battery. I rolled my eyes and continued to the app. I punched in my address, and waited for a response. It took a much longer time than I expected to calculate, and I eagerly waited. Eventually the loading ceased, but I was left dumbfounded. “What?” I said out loud.
“What is it?” Ms. Ive asked, trying to peek at the phone.
“There’s no way this is right. This is way too much!” I protested to my app, as if it was listening. “It’s $70. What the heck?” I cried, falling back into the sofa, letting the hand holding the phone drop to my side.
“Oh boy…” Ms. Ive said. She scrunched her face in consideration. “What are we going to do about this, now?” she thought some more, looking off to the top right. She hm’d, then looked at me. “Well, what did you need from your house?”
“What do you mean?” I asked, confused.
“I mean—well, Bea—I mean, maybe you can just stay here until the weekend, if you don’t need anything from home. There’s a spare bed in the that closet-area that I could clear off for you, if you’re interested, and I can lend you some of my old clothes if you’d like,” she explained, slightly awkward.
“I…” I trailed, off, starting to give it thought. I went over all the things that I would want from home. My clothes, my toothbrush, and my phone charger. I knew she had a phone charger for me, because I often used her spare during the day. She also said she could lend me some clothes, and I knew we were a similar size and that she had fine tastes, so I wasn’t worried about wearing ill-fitting rags. Rather inconveniently, I neglected the fact that she wouldn’t be able to lend me underwear bottoms for anyone over the age of two. Regardless, in my forgetful state, that only left one concern. “What about a toothbrush?”
“Oh, we have plenty of extras from the dentist. So are you alright with it?” she asked, her voice dripping with hope.
“I guess so!” I threw my hands up slightly, just wanting to be done with it.
“Great,” Ms. Ive said merrily, trying to brighten the mood. “It really won’t be any trouble. How about we figure out what to do about your car after dinner. Do you—” she stopped herself, quickly putting her hand to her mouth, before bringing it down and continuing, “Ah I was just about to ask about your car, but I just said we’ll deal with that after dinner, didn’t I?” she smirked.
I gave a weak but sincere smile.
Ms. Ive stood up. “You want to help me with dinner?” she asked.
I nodded, not wanting to offend her.
“Alright. Let’s get started then.” I followed her into the kitchen and stood by the sink, waiting for instruction. Ms. Ive reached into the cabinets, grabbed two cans, and handed them to me. I set them down on the counter, noticing they were cans of coconut milk, and she continued to the fridge, pulling out a head of broccoli. She grabbed a cutting board from a cabinet beneath the countertop and a bowl from the cupboard. I noticed her smile grow as she worked, but unfortunately it wasn’t as infectious I’d wanted it to be. I flashed back to the sound of Ms. Ive asking “What’s that smell?” and the feeling of my wet diaper on the small, wooden chair in the playroom, and then finally to my then-current padded predicament. My cheeks heat up, and I tried my hardest to banish the thoughts, and luckily Ms. Ive had something for me. “Could you break apart the broccoli into smaller bits? You can place all the pieces into this bowl. And then you can open these cans.”
“Okie-dokie,” I said as I went to wash my hands before ripping branches off the broccoli. I started and the base, meticulously refining the branches until they were pleasantly bite sized.
Meanwhile, Ms. Ive pulled out another cutting board and a knife, as well as two chicken breasts from the fridge. She opened the package and drained the juice in the sink and then went to work. “I saw a packet of peanut sauce mix at the store, and I thought it sounded interesting. So that’s what we’re having,” she said contently.
“Peanut sauce?” I asked, having never heard of it. Growing up in a small town had it’s perks, but worldliness was not one of them.
“Mhm. It’s Thai, I think. Candy always says she wants to try new foods, and you know how I like indulging her,” Ms. Ive shook her head playfully, “I’ve never met another kid who says she wants to try new foods. I have no clue where she got it from…”
I smiled back. “Yeah. I tried to make her ‘kids’ food when I first started, but she always looked so bored with it. You must have been feeding her caviar before I met her,” I laughed jovially, forgetting my woes for a moment.
“You know, that’s the strangest part. I never did anything crazy. One day, she just got tired of mac ‘n cheese. Actually, about a year ago, I heard, ‘I neva wanna see mac n’ cheese again, i’‘s so boring!’” Ms. Ive imitated, “Really, I feel like she’s so adventurous despite my parenting.”
I giggled again. I felt like I could hear Candy say those exact words. Still, I too was baffled by how mature Candy could be. “Maybe she got it from her father…?” I asked bashfully.
Ms. Ive’s mood seemed to sour, and I winced at the obviously sore topic. “Who the hell knows?” she asked with vitriol, uncharacteristically cursing. “Sorry,” she added, seeing my concern.
“N-no,” I stuttered, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…” I trailed off, hoping to find the right word in time.
Ms. Ive dismissed it immediately. “No, it’s really okay. You couldn’t have known about… him,” Ms. Ive sighed.
I silently continued my work on the broccoli, trying my hardest not to upset Ms. Ive anymore. Seeing her like this and knowing it was my fault made me feel like trash, especially when she was kind and gentle in my darkest hour. Eventually, I finished, and all that was left in my hands was a large chunk of stem. I set the bowl of heads and the stems aside, and dug into the nearest drawer, looking for the can opener. I found it a moment later and began the tedious task of opening the cans.
Rather serendipitously, Ms. Ive and I finished our tasks at the same time. She scraped off the diced chicken into the waiting pan, washed her hands, and finished by me. She inspected the broccoli, and gave my hair a playful ruffle. “Good job,” she praised.
I smiled, enjoying the affection. But as a grown woman, I naturally had to protest the doting. “Hey,” I tried to chide.
Ms. Ive smiled back, and grabbed the bowl before twirling around and setting it by the cooking chicken. I continued to watch her work, and it made me happy to see her back to her normal self after I soured her mood. I wondered, though, how a working mother, who almost never seemed take a break, could stay so upbeat, energetic, and all around pleasant. I was sure that she must of had her moments—after all, I had just seen one—but even when I was being a pain, she was as patient as a monk. When I had my accident, there was no anger. She was understanding and soothing, in a way that I didn’t think I could ever be. I could almost guarantee that if I had been her, I would’ve been very upset with my babysitter. I wanted to know, so I asked. “Ms. Ive?”
She turned around, shooting her star speckled smile in my direction. “Yes?”
“How… How can you be so calm all the time?”
“What do you mean?”
I blushed. “W-when you came home earlier… and you saw me…” I paused, searching for the right phrasing, “If I were you, I think I would have been more… upset.”
Ms. Ive gave a slight frown, considering her answer. “Well… there are two parts to it, I suppose…” she seemed to shy away at then end.
“W-what?”
“Well, I already told you earlier that I know that your mind can be a little… wacky.”
“A-and?”
She smirked, trying to stifle her giggle. “Well, to be honest, I thought you were really cute, in a weird way.”
“W-what?” I paled.
“Well…” she rolled her eyes, redirecting her gaze, “When you were crying, you looked like… You looked scared. You looked fragile and innocent,” she said, giving a small smirk, “And I just had an urge to comfort you, because I knew you didn’t hurt anyone, and that you were the one hurting, and that you needed comfort.”
I bit my lip, trying to parse her analysis. “But cute?” I asked, realizing she had avoided the question.
“Oh…” she sighed, “Well, okay, I’ll say it. You looked like a little kid.”
Blood rushed to my face, but I was so used to the feeling that I was more upset that I was losing precious water to all the sweating I was doing than anything. “D-didn’t you think it was gross, though?”
Ms. Ive appeared particularly thoughtful, and took a few extra seconds to respond. “No, not really. I’ve seen nastier stuff, and you being obviously upset about the whole ordeal made me not worry about that so much. If you were enjoying it, maybe I would have been a little more weirded out,” she giggled, poking me lightly.
I smiled in response, playfully retracting at her touch.
“Oh, looks like the sauce is almost done,” Ms. Ive said, turning to the stove. She melodramatically brought her palm to her forehead, exclaiming, “Oh jeez, I’m such dunce. I forgot the rice! Bea, will you get a pot out?”
I nodded, and rustled around in the pots and pans cabinet, looking for a proper pot. I ended up setting for a sauce pan.
Ms. Ive took the pan and poured some rice in, giving an educated guess as to how much she would need. She then turned on the faucet, and when she was satisfied with the water level, she placed the pot on the stove and turned on the burner. I had no reason to doubt her, never having cooked rice myself.
The rest of the time was filled with waiting, and we just silently enjoyed each other’s company. I would sneak a quick glance at Ms. Ive just to observe the curious woman. I still didn’t completely understand why she was so saintly, but I was thankful.
Eventually, the rice was boiled and I was instructed to get plates out for everyone. The meal was served, the table was set, and Candice was summoned to the dining room slash kitchen. She was happily surprised when she saw me, and it was at that moment that I realized that we hadn’t told her the news. “Bea’s s’ill here?”
Ms. Ive spoke for me. “Yep. Her car isn’t working, so she’s going to stay here until the weekend.”
“Yay!” Candy exclaimed.
I smiled at her enthusiasm, already starting to forget my woes.
We all sat down at the table, and my crinkling behind decided to immediately sour my mood again. I sighed and stuck my fork into a chunk of chicken, the fact that I had been diapered for half the day with everyone knowing sinking in. Again, while having a boss as caring as Ms. Ive was certainly a blessing, that didn’t help how infantilized I felt.
Still, the dinner was pleasant for the most part. Listening to Candy hastily scarf down the food in front of her while her mother gently scolded her brought a smile face. In no time it seemed to be over, and Ms. Ive gathered everyone’s plates. I told her I would do the dishes tomorrow, and she gave me a thankful affirmation.
After dinner, me and Ms. Ive discussed what to do about my car. We decided that a tow was going to be the best option, because she could call her friend for a favor. Then, over the weekend, she would take me to my apartment to grab whatever I needed and I would stay at her house until my car was fixed. It was an arrangement I definitely didn’t mind, because she wasn’t charging me for food. After our conversation, she went upstairs to clear out the closet enough for me to sleep. Eventually, she came back down, proclaiming that the space was ready for habitation.
I decided I needed to sleep early. The room was directly across from the playroom and right next to the bathroom. It was a windowless storage room, but I didn’t mind as that kept it plenty dark. High stacks of boxes flanked a pathway to the bed which had obviously just been made up for me. The sheets and blankets were a hodgepodge, but it looked plenty comfy, so I didn’t complain. Sitting on the bed was plain white night shirt with sleeves ending halfway down the forearm and a fluffy collars, as well as a pair of fuzzy, plaid pajama pants. I could only assume they were for me, so I discarded my top and my shorts, getting ready to redress for bed. I went for the shirt first, crisscrossing my arms and pulling it over my torso.
I then grabbed the pants, pulling them over my diaper. It was at that moment that I realized what I was missing from home; it wasn’t my phone charger, my shirts, or my toothbrush. It was my underwear. I didn’t even bother Ms. Ive about it; I knew she wasn’t going to have any other undergarments for me. I also suspected that she wouldn’t appreciate my wearing her pants without any kind of underwear, knowing how particular she was about that kind of thing. I could only see myself in diapers for at least the next two days if I were to stay there, and I sunk at the thought. Sighing, I sat down my new bed, my diaper crinkling, taunting me. I wanted to tell it “I know!” but I didn’t want to appear any more crazy than I already had when I claimed a stuffed animal told me to fill my pants.
I pulled up the cover, welcoming sleep.
Chapter 2:
I sat on the couch, head on my elbow. The water leak at my crappy apartment was draining all my mental energy. Knowing the landlord, I’d be stuck with puddles on my bathroom floor for a month at least. I just wanted something to ease my mind.
“Bea, le’‘s go ice ska’in’!” Candy jumped, throwing her hands into a wide arch.
I just looked at her. I then smirked, my brow furrowing in confusion. It was late Spring, after all, and I couldn’t even tell you where the nearest ice rink would be. I didn’t consider the possibility that she could be talking about her pretend. “How would we do that?”
“Emmy knows a place d’at she goes do all d’e time!” Candy replied, her wide smile displaying her first missing tooth. “She said she can deach us all how to ice ska’e!”
“Oh,” I said understanding. It was the perfect way to dispel my anxiety. Sometimes I felt like getting lost in Candy’s games all day wasn’t the right move to make. I was confident that I could quit anytime, and that if something that truly needed my attention were to come up, I would be able to pull myself out of it. Till that point, the worst that had happened was that I forgot to water some plants for Ms. Ive—and she didn’t even notice. With certainty that I could still perform my duties as babysitter, I agreed to the outing. “Okay. When are we going?”
“Can we righ’ now…?” she asked cautiously.
My eyes lit up in amusement. “As good of a time as any!”
She grinned and spun around spastically, speed walking to the play room. She got to the top of the stairs and stopped in place, looking like she had been struck by sudden inspiration. “Oh!” she called out to me, “We’re gonna mee’ up a’ the coffee shop firs’, okay?” she said, before hastily disappearing into the playroom on the left.
I smirked, standing up and following her up. I turned the corner into the room, recognizing the round table that all the girl—I mean, stuffed animals sat at. A makeshift counter was setup near the closet. As I got closer I started to recognize all the familiar faces. Zoe was listening contently as Claire absentmindedly rambled on, and Emily gave a half-hearted chuckle. Candy was sitting between Emily and Claire, practically beaming.
Claire’s voice became audible; she was talking about the time that she nearly totaled her car because she was putting on makeup; it was a comedy that was about two centimeters from tragedy. “Yeah, my parents were pissed, pardon my French.”
“Well, it was only a dent in the end. Nothing a good kick can’t get out,” Zoe commented.
“Maybe for a Zebra,” Claire retorted, getting a hearty laugh out of everyone, “Nah, yeah, my parent’s insurance covered it. I think they just told the agency it was a hit and run.” We all giggled some more, and Claire continued to lead the conversation as usual. “Yeah, my parents are actually super nice. I feel sorry for some my friends growing up, one girl from high school was always arguing with hers, and she told me she absolutely hates them. That sounds so terrible, to be in bad terms with people that should be so important to you,” Claire explained, flicking her whiskers and arching her brow. She set her elbow on the white table cloth, and brought her green martini glass to her mouth.
I breathed out. I didn’t like the conversation topic, but I wasn’t going to try and derail it. I liked to think that all my hardships had given me a sturdy psyche, and with it I could weather the storm without ruining mood.
I returned to the conversation. “Personally?” Zoe asked no one, “I don’t have a great relationship with my mom. I’ve told you how she left me and my dad when I was young, and I always took it a little personally. She tried to connect with me as much as she could, but it always felt so forced. We’re still on speaking terms, but I feel like we barely know anything about each other, and it feels a little awkward to start now.”
“Yeah, no,” Emily scoffed, “I have no clue what that’s like. My parents are fine.”
“I luf Mommy! She’s always so nice… I nefer me’ my daddy d’ough…” Candice offered, her expression falling.
“Oh, no,” Zoe replied, unsure how to respond.
I sighed. I wanted to try supporting Candice by sharing the burden. “I know that feeling. I never met either of my parents.”
“Were you adopted?” Emily asked bluntly. I wasn’t sure if she was trying to hurt my feelings, or not—I was leaning towards yes—but it definitely cut deep.
“No,” I responded coldly, hoping Emily would get how insensitive her question was.
Either she was dense or extremely mean. “Then you lived at an orphanage or something?” she pried.
“I grew up in foster care,” I replied trying to get her to shut up.
Emily looked displeased, and I shot her a nasty frown. However, it didn’t look like she was pressing the issue any further. I almost felt dumb for showing her my wounds, knowing she would find a way to stick something in them.
Meanwhile, it looked like Candice was on the verge of tears. Zoe and Claire looked similarly distraught. “Bea, d’at’s so sad! I’m so sorry!” she tried consoling me.
“It’s alright, really,” I answered, realizing that I may have upset rather than comforted her with my sob-story. “I honestly don’t even think about it that much. Besides, I’ve had plenty of good role models.”
“I don’t mean to… upset you, so if you don’t mind me asking…” Zoe started, frowning, her ears slightly folded.
I knew she wasn’t going to be anywhere near as offensive as Emily, so I motioned her to continue with a nod.
“How did that happen? I know most small children get adopted pretty fast…” she ventured, “I… I apologize, I’m totally out of line for asking that….”
“No, it’s okay. You’re right. But I was raised by at least a parent early on. I was told that I was left at the police station late one night when I was around three. I went between homes pretty frequently, and once a kid really gets the hang of talking, their chances of getting adopted start to go down. For whatever reason, I was just… passed by…” I manged to get out, almost completely dissociated. I had been tortured with the knowledge that I wasn’t a wanted child my whole life, and rather than trying to shoo away the negativity, I learned that it was better to just steel yourself to it. “And so, when I turned 16, I decided to become emancipated. And that’s that…”
The table was silent.
Claire tried to break the silence. “Bea, I’m so sorry to hear that…”
“Don’t be. It’s no one’s fault,” I lied, thinking of the faceless couple who conceived of me.
No one dared to talk. Everyone except me and Emily were just sad; Emily looked like she wanted to shout “Awkward!” while I was still trying to regain my propensity for emotion.
Eventually, Zoe got the courage to speak up. “If you ever need to talk, we’re here.”
“Thank you,” I said, sighing. “I appreciate it. Now, why don’t we get going to the rink?” I asked, trying to move everyone’s attention away from my past.
Candice was silent. She just stared at me with sorrowful eyes, and I wondered what was going on in her head. Even as we walked to the rink, she remained mute, occasionally glancing over at me. I figured she was just worried about me, and I accepted her friendly concern.
The rest of day was enjoyable, save the incident on the ice with Emily.
My dreams were sporadic, and I don’t remember much but a few images. It seemed they all involved Ms. Ive and a few other characters that I couldn’t quite make out, and the emotions that each picture caused were mixed.
In no time, I woke up to the sound of my alarm on my phone. It was not a welcomed sound, and I quickly shot up out of bed to turn it off. I sighed, registering my new underwear for the first time that morning. I looked around the room, and quickly noticed a wooden chair with clothes neatly folded in square, with a note that read: “Bea . . . Some clothes for today.”
I picked up the first garment, and saw that it was a plain, white blouse that I found rather cutesy. I pulled my own shirt off, and I contemplated where to put it for a moment, before settling on a neat pile on the floor. I figured I could just ask where to put it later.
Next I grabbed what appeared to be pink shorts, the design of which I also found pleasant, if not a bit youthful. But as soon as I looked back to the chair, my face fell. There was another diaper, exactly like the one I already had on. I knew that Ms. Ive had her reasons for not to give me any other underwear—not that I necessarily agreed with them—but I also remembered Ms. Ive telling me to think of the diapers as a form of punishment. I sighed, dropping my pants around my ankles, before untaping my slightly sweaty undergarment and letting it fall as well. I unfolded my fresh diaper and brought it between my legs, pulling up the ends and taping it firmly. I hated how mundane it felt.
I stepped out of my pile of clothes, grabbing the shorts again and finally pulling them up my legs.
I was mortified at the fact that the blouse was just barely too short, and no matter how I leaned, you could make out the ruffles of the diaper peeping above the waistline of the shorts. I sighed, and exited the closet, already accepting my cruel fate.
I came down the stairs, entered the kitchen, and found Ms. Ive sitting at the table with Candy, finishing her coffee. They both looked up and smiled as I walked in, and I forced a tired smiled back.
“I see you’re wearing the clothes I left you,” Ms. Ive stated cheerfully.
“Y-yeah,” I gave, conscious of my well-padded state.
“Bea? Are you wearing anof’er diaper?” Candy asked innocently.
I dropped my head in shame.
“She just doesn’t have any other underwear, so I’m sure she’ll be out of diapers soon,” Ms. Ive teased, sneering playfully.
I just blushed and tried remaining stoic, sticking a spoon into the oatmeal that Ms. Ive laid out for me, my diaper plainly on display for the teasing mother and clueless child. I tried remaining as still as possible in my seat, not wanting to bring any extra attention to my bulky underwear. I was the slowest eater, as Ms. Ive was soon finished with her coffee. She placed the mug upright into the sink. “Well, girls, I’m going to do my rounds now. I’ll be back at around four today,” she announced as she trotted by and ruffled our heads affectionately. “How does alfredo something for dinner sound?” She asked rhetorically, reaching the door.
I called back “Bye Ms. Ive, have a good day,” while Candy simply grinned wide and declared “Yum!”
Ms. Ive shut the door behind her, and me and Candy were left in silence. That was quickly amended, however, when Candy enthusiastically asked, “Wanna go play?”
I frowned at the idea. Obviously, it sounded fun, but the events of the previous day made me more than hesitant. “I don’t know, Candy…”
“Aw, come on, Emmy wan’s real bad to see you again!” she enticed.
I was dumbstruck. The part of my mind that considered itself an inhabitant of imagination land naturally found the statement sweet and it wanted to follow Candy, but the part that lived in the real world was stun-locked; Ms. Ive had told me that to her the games Candice played were real too. I wasn’t sure if that meant that imagination land was real, but it did help the mature, rational section of my brain come to terms with how real all the friends I met there felt. My imagination land and real world identities were starting to come to understand each other, and while that didn’t scare me, it required some thought.
“I f’ink Zoe and Claire are gonna be d’ere too,” she advertised further.
My imagination brain broke down the other’s defenses, and I caved. “Well, okay, but I need to finish breakfast first.”
“Yay!” Candice said, throwing up her arms before bringing her hands back down to her lap to store them while she waited.
I hurried with my meal, eating as fast as I could without feeling uncomfortable. It wasn’t too hard to get done quickly, and I eventually brought my bowl to the sink and rinsed it off. Candy I followed behind me with her own bowl, and I helpfully took it from her before repeating the process.
I turned around and followed her up the stairs. Candice was wearing black dark sweat pants and subtly pink tank top, which seemed to violently clash with my pure white and hot pink borrowed garb. Even though every piece of my outfit could be “logically” explained, the whole turned out to be much more than the sum of its parts; the contrast of our outfits’ tones coupled with the crinkling, babyish garment around my groin gave me a mild yet insidious sense of shame—it wasn’t conscious, but I was distinctly more anxious than usual.
We reached the playroom, and Candy pushed the door open, revealing red marble everywhere. Pillars stood on each side of a grand staircase which branched out into three separate staircases at the top, the left and right branches obscured by the aforementioned pillars. I stepped inside, discomforted as my bare feet hit the cold marble. I took a step in the opposite direction on demand, but the only thing that lie behind me was the wet concrete of the steps outside. I sighed, turning back to the entrance hall. I saw Candy walking over to the ticket line, and I could see our friends already waiting there. My mouth curled into an casual smile, and I hurried to them, ignoring my crinkling.
Candy was already talking with them, and they acknowledged me as I came up to them.
“Lookin’ cute, Bea,” Claire complimented.
“Thanks!” I gave back.
“Me, Candy, and Zoe were thinking,” Claire spoke to me, “That we all wanted to check out the Eurasian section. And you,” she pointed at Emmy, “Wanted to go to the Western Europe exhibit, right? What about you, Bea?”
“I don’t mind either way. I’ve never been here before; it all sounds interesting,” I nonchalantly replied.
“Okay, then why don’t we split up? You and Emmy can go to the Western section first, and we’ll head to the other one. Let’s meet up at noon at that coffee shop. Deal?” Zoe schemed.
“Deal,” I gave. I would have rather went with the trio instead of Emmy, but I didn’t want to put Emmy out like that. My feelings toward her had softened, but spending time with her wasn’t at the top of my list yet.
We chatted about some other mundane and fun topics until we got our tickets and split up. In hindsight, it was a strange experience walking around in a public museum barefoot, but considering everyone else seemed to be doing the same, I felt a little less awkward. I was mostly just following Emmy, reading whatever she was reading
I came to a bronze plaque of an exhibit displaying primitive elephant and primitive bear shaking paws in agreement. The plaque described how the bears were a small tribe, and so they sought after cooperation over domination. It was an interesting blurb, and I was ready to move on to the next factoid until I felt a pang in my bladder. It wasn’t too urgent, but I also didn’t have a reason to hold it.
I pursed my lips and looked down and up the black but well lit hallway. Not seeing any sign of what I was aiming for, I decided to walk over to Emmy and ask if she knew. “Hey Emmy…”
“Yes?” she turned around, cheery.
I paused, trying to decide if I should ask the question. I remembered how upset she was when I announced my trip to bathroom at the outing; I could understand how it felt like I was teasing her, even though that was never the intention. However, I quickly realized that there was no way I was going to hurt her feelings. For one, she was in a much better mood and seemed to be less emotionally frail, and it would take a lot more to break her. Not to mention that I had already displayed and was then displaying my motion of solidarity. And if that weren’t enough, Emily herself still used the bathroom for plenty of tasks, and she would also need to know where one was eventually. Having completed all my mental gymnastics, I went on. “Do you know where a bathroom is?”
She wasn’t fazed by the question, for which I was grateful. She furrowed her brow in thought, and her whiskers bounced as she pursed her lips. “I think I remember seeing some back that way and to the left. I could be wrong.”
“Oh, thanks. Be back in a minute,” I said as I turned and left. I followed the directions she gave, until I was finally at the bathrooms in question. I walked to them, only to find a yellow chain blocking entry. From the chain hung a sign simply reading “OUT OF ORDER.” I frowned and sighed, looking up and down the wider hallway I found myself in. I rolled my eyes, and noticing that the pressure had mostly subsided, I decided to rejoin Emmy and wait until we were finished with the section of the museum before I decided to go on a bathroom hunt.
We continued on through the section, stopping at nearly every little blurb. Emily seemed more thoughtful and attentive to history than I would have thought; her mean-girl-like personality didn’t seem in line with how actively she was trying to absorb the information. I wanted to enjoy it, but after the around the twentieth plaque on traditional cat garb, I started to zone out. It wasn’t that I didn’t care, it was just that I didn’t care enough to take a history lesson the subject. I can say at least that the neat pictures and dioramas managed to keep my interest the entire way through. The fact that Emmy seemed to be in such high spirits without bringing anyone down was also keeping me afloat on the boredom river; seeing her intently absorb all the text was a pleasant sight.
Somewhere between the exhibit about early Bulland and Finland, I felt another pang, and I unconsciously brought my hands to my crotch to help stabilize. I quickly retracted them, remembering I was in public. The ache was making itself noticed, and I was incorrectly disrespecting it. I just needed to hold it without making a scene; an adult such as myself could easily accomplish that task.
I stared at the exhibit, trying to take my mind off the pressure in my bladder. It worked for a moment as I got to a particularly interesting part of the explanation on the history of the animal people, but once it started getting dry again, my urge came back full force. A strange, seemingly foreign part of my mind kept encouraging me to use my diaper for its purpose, and kept telling me that no one would care, but the disgusted rational part of me shunned the other voice into temporary submission.
Emmy came over and started saying something, but what it was was hard to follow with all the stress I was under. “Well, you know, my parents were from…” she said in the background.
But I was at my limit. I struggled to retain control; my body didn’t seem to care that the thoughts of using my underwear to relieve myself were so unusual. I scrunched my face, and I was starting to bargain. If I just go pee a little bit, I can release some of the pressure. I tried only letting out a tiny amount; my plan was going smoothly for a few moments, but it quickly devolved into utter disaster. Once I started, I couldn’t stop the stream; each time I tried clenching, it hurt. I was forced to let the padding soak it up, and I sighed in defeat. I felt a pang of guilt, and my throat felt dry, How could I have let that happen?
In the end, I was left a brittle mess. Emmy was watching the whole ordeal, and realized what was going on. “Did you…?” she asked bashfully.
“Yeah…” I said, dejected, holding back a sniffle.
“H-hey, don’t worry about it. It happens,” she tried consoling me.
“Whatever,” I whispered frustratedly.
“I did too…” Emmy said shyly, before pulling open the front of her jeans. I could see her diaper, and it was presumably the same color as my own.
“Oh…” I said, still considering her words. Suddenly I felt a little bit assured. Maybe it wasn’t so bad having accidents, I reasoned, especially if it wasn’t causing me any trouble beyond slightly sagging shorts. And I could still control them, where as Emmy was stuck wetting herself without warning. “W-well, I guess I’ll get back to this then,” I assured her, the my sogginess seeming to become slightly less of an issue.
We continued with our perusing of the museum. Emmy was just as enthusiastic as before, but I was starting to slow down even more. I was never a big reader; I never felt like I had time for it, and so naturally that muscle was left atrophied. Some time later, we ran into the rest of the group.
“Oh, there you guys are!” Claire called out from behind me. I turned around to see her walking alongside Zoe and Candy.
“Did Bea have another accident?” Zoe asked Candy, who looked surprised.
I blushed, giving the pair a bashful smile.
“Seems like it,” Zoe said without an ounce judgement. “Don’t worry.”
I turned to look at Candy, who started barreling toward something behind me. My head spun around to find a familiar and welcome face.
“Did you girls have another tea party?” Ms. Ive asked us. She blinked. Then she looked at me, must having noticed the stale air. “Bea… did you have another accident?”
I froze. I didn’t respond, not even daring to look her in the eyes. Suddenly seeing her wasn’t a welcoming sight as I realized my predicament.
Ignoring my catatonic state, she walked over and patted my sagging shorts, confirming my accident. “Oh…. Seems like it,” she frowned, worried. “You should go get changed.”
I nodded, not objecting. I clumsily and awkwardly walked over the closet, and cringed when my shorts tightened as I squatted down. I was again relieved that she wasn’t upset, but I was still conscious of the fact that Ms. Ive considered me in a wet diaper “cute.” I wasn’t sure how anyone could consider a twenty-three year old woman who’s having accidents “cute,” but I wasn’t going to question it if she wasn’t angry. I reached into the closet and grabbed another infantile garment, before standing up straight and awkwardly walking down the stairs to the bathroom.
Ms. Ive stood in the doorway of the playroom and decided to follow me on my way out. “What happened today, Bea?” she asked, stopped on the bottom of the stairs.
I stopped too, blushing, remembering my inexplicable inability to hold myself from having an accident earlier, and I tried explaining the situation as best as I knew how. “A-all the bathrooms were out of order or being c-cleaned or full… and I couldn’t hold it…”
I didn’t look back to Ms. Ive, instead opting to hold my head down in shame. I could tell she was very unsettled by my seemingly mundane explanation. “I… see. We should discuss this a little more after you get cleaned. Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble.”
I merely nodded, and she pushed on my lower back, and I lurched forward. I continued my waddle to the bathroom, and quick shut the door. I started my change by dropping my shorts, and then proceeded with my change much like the previous day, sans my soiled panties. After the cleaning was done, I grabbed my next diaper and pulled it up between my legs, taping it into place.
I promptly exited the bathroom. Just as like the day before, I say Ms. Ive waiting expectantly on the couch. She was sitting up straight, hands on her knees.
I walked over to her and sat down, the padding around my bottom adding an extra cushion.
Ms. Ive started asking questions. “Are you feeling alright, Bea? You’re not sick, are you? Do you have an infection?”
“N-no, I feel… fine,” I said, feeling even more embarrassed as I admitted that my accidents were purely my own fault.
“If you’re sure about that… then alright. You know that having accidents like this isn’t normal, right?” she asked, pouring concern into the question.
“I know it’s just… just…” I croaked out.
“It’s the pretend, isn’t it?” she reckoned.
I nodded, on the verge of tears.
“Bea, I don’t want you to play with Candice tomorrow, assuming you still want to be our babysitter. I would understand if you didn’t at this point.”
“I still do!” I blurted out, uncharacteristically energetic.
“That’s good to hear. But I’m worried about these accidents. Once is a fluke. Twice is a coincidence, but three times…”
“It hasn’t happened three times!” I protested like a toddler.
“I’m not saying it has, but if it did, I would feel bad, and—” she clarified, before cutting herself off, “Ah, never mind, it would just be a shame if it were to happen again. I know it must feel embarrassing to say the least.”
There was some more silence as my cheeks steamed and skin moistened.
Ms. Ive broke the silence again. “In any case, here’s the plan. Tomorrow, I don’t want you to play with Candice. I’m going to bring you home some real underwear from the store, too. I should have done that today, but I didn’t think… well, you know.”
I averted my gaze.
“I’m just worried that your… diaper is affecting you somehow, and with my daughter’s games…” Ms. Ive trailed off, obviously perplexed herself. “I don’t know, sorry, it’s just a feeling I have. Just try and stay out of her games tomorrow. I think it would be for the best.”
I nodded. I was still shook from the whole ordeal.
Ms. Ive stood up, and asked if I wanted to help make dinner again, and I agreed.
Dinner went by without many peeps from my chair. Candy was excitedly regaling her day, while I just tried not to think about the cushion taped to my waist. I remembered my near absent mindedness the previous day and then my intrusive thoughts from just a few hours before. I wondered if I was always like that, or if it was just when I was playing pretend. Would I have had those same strange thoughts from before if I hadn’t been around Candice?
I poked my peas as Candy spoke to me with her usual childish accent. “Wha’ did you do, Bea?”
I blushed. “Just… walked around and looked at the—” I caught myself, my heart racing. The memories felt too real; for a moment, I started to realize how scary it was that I was losing myself. A lump formed in my throat.
Noticing my sudden stop, Ms. Ive tried to break the loop. “Bea? Are you alright?”
I cooled down, my panic subsiding as I looked at her face. “…Yeah, I had a fun day with Candice,” I finally finished.
“That’s good to hear.”
Dinner finished without anymore commotion as I focused on the plate in front of me, trying my best to drown out everything else.
My bedtime ritual was much the same as the night before. I changed into the pajamas provided for me, and laid in bed.
However, as I lifted up the covers, I found a stuffed animal waiting for me, it’s head laying on the far end of my pillow, it’s body under the covers. I grabbed it. I sat down and stared at it in my lap.
It was… Emily the Tiger. She was only about the size of a basket ball. Her fur had the usual tiger pattern, and proportions were cartoonish and small. And her eyes were so much less expressive than they were in imagination land.
It was strange to call a stuffed animal by a name. What felt the worst was the conflict in my brain. Emmy was… a full-fledged person in imagination land, but sitting in my lap in that closet, she was just a stuffed animal. I had never… spent any time with Candice’s stuffed animals outside of the play room, and I realized it was probably for a good reason. It was just so difficult to grapple with the fact that this object wasn’t just modeled after someone, but was someone. Or… she becomes someone? I could feel a void open up in my tummy in anxiety. Nothing about it made sense.
I tried to sweep those thoughts under the rug. I wasn’t sure where it had come from, but I assumed that Candy had put it there to cheer me up or something. I decided to accept it, turned off the light, and tried to find a comfortable position where I wasn’t smushing Emmy. I didn’t know if… she’d be able to feel it, or something, and I didn’t want to find out. It wasn’t long before I wandered off to the land of dreams.
My dream was strenuous. Sweat dotted my brow as the sun irradiated the mountainside. We were above the treeline and my skin was starting to feel burnt. My body was screaming, “I’m not built for hiking!” while my brain was saying, “I know.” But I was there because Emmy asked me. It was another one of her hobbies that I couldn’t predict. To be fair, most people that acted like the old her were more into kicking sand castles than enjoying nature. Keyword most, I suppose.
Each step took me further and further from the valley floor—but I wished that I was down at the visitor center gulping down a cold glass of water; especially as we passed over a crystal clear, probably icy stream.
The thought of water made a different issue come to mind: I realized that I had to go pee. I bit my lip, realizing that finding a private spot on the steep, rocky cliffs of the busy trail was going to be difficult.
“Uhm… shoot,” I said, looking around. “I need to… uh… pee….”
Emily stopped and looked back at me, surprised. “Oh. Okay.”
She stared at me, completely oblivious. To be fair, I wasn’t really sure what I wanted her to say. I just figured a seasoned outdoorswoman would have a quick tip or something. “W-where do you think I should go?” I elaborated.
Her expression morphed from curious to annoyed. “Well, I mean, you’re, you know,” she said, before switching to a whisper, “You’re wearing a diaper, aren’t you?”
I blushed, and squeezed my thighs together, hearing the crinkle. My padding was already a little damp from sweat, and I hadn’t even noticed. “I can’t just do that…!”
“Why not, exactly?” Emmy quizzed, putting her hands to her hips.
“W-well, I don’t have any to change into! And… what if I get a rash?” I complained, squeaky.
Emmy raised a brow, dismissing my concern. “You’re not going to get a rash wearing those that fast from a little pee-pee. Trust me,” her head following an arch as she emphasized the “Trust me”. It was almost relieving. Seeing Emily finally return to her condescending self seemed better than her being depressed and uneasy.
I pursed my lips, still skeptical. “How do you know?”
“Really?” she asked in minor disbelief as she pulled her stretchy pants forward, revealing her own sodden padding.
I felt embarrassed that I had forgotten, and I blushed. “Ah… fine...” I said, hoping we could move past the discussion,
It was much like my intentional accidents in the past, and I found little resistance letting go of my control. The flow started nearly instantly; I felt my pants warm with the yellow liquid entering them, and I unintentionally breathed a sigh of relief.
Emily noticed and giggled, eliciting a blush from me. “See? That’s what they’re for, “ she said, “And you’re the one that taught me to not be so embarrassed about it in the first place.”
I smirked at her admitting I had helped her, forgetting how much Emily had changed. I chided myself at the realization, and said. “Okay…. Uhm, I’m ready.”
I woke up from my troubled sleep, miraculously still clutching Emily the Tiger, holding her by the paw. I stood up, feeling that my diaper was oddly sweaty, and walked over to the chair where Ms. Ive had deposited my next set of clothes. It was another blouse, except this time it had an embroidered flower across the front. I felt indifferent towards the design, and picked up what I saw next, which that day turned out to be a skirt. It was embroidered like the shirt, but instead of a flower, it was a yellow duckling. The whole skirt was a dark blue, and the two colors seems to work well together. Lastly, I found my diaper, and set my new clothes down so that I could start getting changed.
I pulled down my pants to find a new development. Realizing what it was, I froze. My diaper was dark and heavy. What I felt when I first got out of bed wasn’t sweat, it was the soaking I had subjected the diaper to in my sleep. I was so embarrassed, that I immediately ripped of the garment and let it slap the ground between my pajamas. Having accidents in imagination land was one thing, but being a bed wetter was another entirely. I knew that Ms. Ive would be more concerned than anything, but that didn’t do anything to ease my shame.
As I stood there naked from the waist down, I noticed that I was still clutching Emmy in my left hand. I squeezed her leg even harder when I realized it, worried I might drop her.
I merely waited in silence as the urine dampening my skin cooled.
Chapter 3:
I was stunned. I had never wet the bed. Ever. Not when I was a kid, not when I was blackout drunk, not ever. There was a deep pit in my stomach.
I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know what Ms. Ive would think. I didn’t know what I should think. I only knew I didn’t feel ready to tell Ms. Ive. She vaguely warned me about a third accident. At least, to my addled mind it felt like a warning. Thinking back on it now, it seemed more like concern.
Still, I had to wonder if this even counted. The last “accidents” came when I was awake. And when it really came down to it, I didn’t think Ms. Ive would punish me. She was too kind. It made me feel warm inside thinking about it.
Regardless of everything, I wasn’t ready to tell her. I was pretty sure she’d understand and find a way to rationalize it, but I wasn’t ready to confront it myself. It didn’t make any sense, and somehow it made me feel so much worse than the other two.
So I hid it. I balled up the diaper and shoved it under the bed, just out of sight. I would get it later.
I looked to the pile of clothes and the new diaper.
I picked up the diaper, staring at it. I kept hold of Emily in my offhand. The item was giving me truly confusing thoughts. None of my thoughts had particular emotions attached, they were just swirling and incomprehensible.
All the while I was still standing there with my pants down. When my butt started to feel a bit chilly, I managed to shake off the static. I unfolded the garment, wrapping myself up like before. I pulled up the shorts, and finally replaced my nightshirt.
I had to set Emily down, and it made me slightly unnerved. It just felt wrong.
I was going to pick her back up after finishing my routine, but I forced myself to leave her on the bed. There was still a part of my mind that didn’t want to embarrass myself around my boss by carrying around a stuffed animal. Not that I hadn’t already debased myself plenty.
I went downstairs. Like the previous day, I found Ms. Ive and Candy sitting at the table, having their morning rituals. They noticed me and smiled, and I couldn’t help but grin back at them. My heart beat fast in elation.
The next twenty minutes were quiet and peaceful. Nothing of import was discussed, we just enjoyed each other’s company, and I liked it that way.
Then it was time for Ms. Ive to leave. I saw her out; but just as she opened the door to leave, she looked at me seriously. “Don’t forget: try to stay away from the games today, okay?”
I nodded. It wouldn’t be hard. I’d sit in the living room, far enough away from Candy that I wouldn’t be affected. Simple.
“Well, see you after work then.”
“Bye,” I said, before shutting the door behind her. I turned around, putting my hands on my hips and sighing loudly. I thought to myself about how long and boring the day was going to be without my friends.
My mood soured as I caught my thoughts. They aren’t your friends, they’re Candice’s, I thought to myself, before freezing. “No…” I said out loud, trying to correct my further mistake, “They aren’t real at all. They’re just toys.”
My lip wavered in sadness. I wasn’t sure what I was sad about, but the whole thing upset me; maybe it was having to say out loud what reality was, and still feeling like I was lying to myself.
I swallowed, and went to sit on the couch. I palmed my forehead, trying to relax.
I sat there for a long time, pondering the situation, my thoughts still too scrambled to make any sense of anything. All I knew for sure is that I was upset.
While my mind wasn’t clear, a few things were: I was still wearing a diaper. I had been for almost 48 hours. My bottom wasn’t complaining necessarily, but my mind was as I was wracked with embarrassment. I wondered how I could have agreed to stay here and wear such shameful things; I wondered why Ms. Ive had even suggested it. And then I thought back to when she called me cute. It wasn’t in a friendly way, either. Rather, it seemed more like she was talking to a child. And while she was significantly older than me, but that didn’t make me a child
I shut my eyes, just trying my best to think. Thinking was hard. The self help books told me that thinking was like a muscle I could train, and I wanted to believe it. But it felt like no amount of training could break past whatever barrier was in my skull at that moment: it was like I was trying to lift a car.
I squeezed my legs. I looked at the unplugged television. I looked at the clock. Two minutes out of eight hours had passed, and it already felt like an eternity.
I laid on the couch, curling up into a fetal position, facing the cushions. If my mind didn’t want to help me think, I’d just turn it off.
I don’t know how long I was there on the couch. But I was broken out of my trance when I heard the carpet depressing behind me.
“Bea?” Candy called out, worried.
I rolled over to face her, my hair falling in my left eye. I still wore a sullen expression.
“Do you wanna play?” she asked innocently.
I sighed. “Not today, Candy,” I said. “Sorry,” I added slowly.
“Oh… are you sure? Zoe wan’ed to ask me if you wan’ed to do somed’in’.”
The edges of my vision blurred as my world started to reframe itself. I shook my head, trying my hardest to stop it.
I was able to hold back, but it made my heart beat like a drum. I was so close to slipping again, and all she had to do was mention Zoe.
But I also realized that I could keep myself from slipping if I tried. I steadied my breath, continuing. “I’m sorry, Candice. Not today.”
“D’en when?” she asked with a twinge of sadness.
“I don’t know,” I said. And I didn’t. At that moment, there were so many things I wanted to ask her. “Candy,” I bit my lip, “Can I ask you some stuff?” I said, without the slightest drop of condescension.
“Okay,” she said curiously.
“Do you see Cl—your otter friend like me and your mom?” I asked, trying to avoid any mention.
“You mean Claire?”
There was a flash of fuzziness, but I steeled myself well. “Yeah,” I hesitated. “I mean Claire,” I tested. It seemed to not affect me when I said it while picturing the stuffed animal, at least.
“Silly. She’s y’ur friend too!” Candy giggled.
I winced as another pang of slippage hit me. I’m okay, I’m okay, I had to tell myself. Looking back on it now, I’m surprised I never came to be afraid or resentful of Candice for causing me such distress. I guess she was just too lovable to hate. In any case, I breathed in. “I don’t know how to describe this, but to me, Claire just looks like a stuffed animal. But then when I’m playing with you, she looks like… a big, walking, talking otter,” I said, “Like she’s alive and breathing,” I hastily added.
“Silly, d’at’s y’ur imagination! You go’ a good imagination!” Candy gave a big smile and threw up her arms, outlining a rainbow with her hands.
I giggled. There was still a barrier of understanding. “Can you see them that way—with your imagination?” I prodded.
“Yeah. I can see a lodda sduff wid’ my imagination.”
“And… can you just stop seeing it when you want to?”
“D’at’s a weird quesdion…” she put her hand on her chin in contemplation. “Can you no’ do d’at?”
I was a little taken aback by her reasoning skills. “N-no,” I said. “I don’t think so. I like playing with you, but sometimes, I just get lost in the games.”
“Well don’’ worry, I’ll help you if i’ happens again!” she grinned earnestly.
I furrowed my brow. “Can you… stop it if it happens again?” I asked hesitantly.
“Stop i’? I’'s y’ur imagination, Bea!” she giggled.
I fumbled with my bottom lip in my teeth, uneasy. All I could hope for is that if I ever did get lost, Candy would realize it and help me out. Was she actually not capable of dispelling the hallucination for me?
Was it even an illusion? It certainly felt real. Maybe that’s why she couldn’t help me?
But another question hit me at that moment: why was I even staying there with Candy? Why didn’t I just leave, especially when I knew what was causing it? Before, I thought that maybe I was just going insane; I didn’t feel like I had anyone to talk about it with, so I kept it my dirty little secret. But Ms. Ive had told me the truth, and she had even told me she wouldn’t blame me for leaving. But I had told her that I wanted to stay. Why?
The only answer that came to mind was the fact that I liked Candy and Ms. Ive a lot. I didn’t feel lonely around them. I felt… welcomed and dare I say… wanted for the first time in my life.
At that last thought, I shook my head and squeezed my eyes. It’s just a job, I choked back.
Candice stared at me expectantly. “Y-yeah,” I said after a long pause, “Yeah, of course.”
“So… playdime?” she asked sweetly, clasping her hands together.
But I was still obligated to decline. “No, I promised your mom that I wouldn’t. I’m sorry. Maybe tomorrow. Okay?”
Her shoulders slumped and her face dropped in utter devastation. “Noooo…” she whined.
“I’m sorry,” I said, honestly disappointed myself.
“It’s ok…” she sulked, “But!” she perked up, grinning.
I gave a questioning look.
“Can you a’ leasd look afder Emmy? She says she’s lonely,” Candy said.
I glared at her in confusion. Not for her question, but for the fact that she had apparently been holding Emm—Emily the whole time and I hadn’t noticed. How was that possible? Not to mention I had left her—it in my room.
I sighed. It was a mystery I wasn’t prepared to tackle, so I instead thought about her question. The thought of “looking after” the stuffed animal still made me uneasy, like it was a step in the wrong direction. I had been holding Emmy when I had my latest accident. The details of the incident were unclear to me, but the feeling of a connection to the tiger wasn’t.
Unfortunately for me, Candy’s pleading was too convincing, and I broke. “Okay,” I sighed. I grabbed the stuffed animal, and Candy celebrated like she had a won a contest. I briefly worried that I was breaking my promise with Ms. Ive.
But I shook it off. I could just put Emmy on the arm of the sofa while I waited for the end of the day, and Candy would be none the wiser.
“I’m gonna go color,” Candy said as I set Emmy down beside me.
I wished her a fun time, and sat again staring in silence at the wall. I blinked slowly, all the strange, tangled thoughts returning to my mind. I glanced back over at the stuffed animal sitting completely lifeless on the couch and took a deep breath. It looked so soft, her fur so pristine. It didn’t look like the well-loved stuffie of a toddler. I felt an urge to touch her.
I shivered and turned away, shaking my head. I decided I’d focus on something else.
I noticed after some time that my eyes were feeling heavier. They fluttered as I pretended to try staying awake. Really, I just wanted an excuse to make that dull day pass faster.
My drowsiness got the best of me. I leaned back, pointlessly bargaining with myself that if I got into a more comfortable position I wasn’t allowed to sleep. Obviously, it didn’t work.
With my last ounce of wakefulness, I noticed myself drifting to the arm of the sofa that Emmy was perched upon. I tried in vain to keep my eyes peeled.
I was sitting in a dark room, a blanket over my lap, fingers greasy with popcorn butter. A movie played on the modest screen in front of me. On the right side of the sofa sat Emmy, her paw in the popcorn bowl, sharing it and the blanket with me.
It was a good movie; but what it was about is a completely mystery. I just know I smiled at the jokes and bit my nails at the suspense. Emmy and I had decided to have a watch party for it. It was surprisingly hard to find film but they were showing it on cable without ads or TV cuts for a special occasion.
As I sipped on my sweet drink, I became aware of a discomfort in my bladder. I frowned, shifting in slightly to try and ease the tension. It worked for a few moments until the pressure built up again, causing me to weigh my options. I could hold it, but that would be uncomfortable and probably hurt the experience. I could also run to the bathroom and miss something, but… also a bad option. I was annoyed that my body decided to spoil my fun.
But then I realized that my diaper provided me a third solution. If I had brought it up to Emmy, I’m sure she would have just told me to relieve myself there and then; after all, she’d ask, what where diapers for?
And it made sense. It hadn’t been an issue in the past.
With my mind made up, it was an easy choice, and I decided to let go.
And rather unceremoniously, I was wet. The blanket trapped the heat, and it was difficult to notice anything was even amiss.
I easily got back into the movie; I was hardly even out of it with how smoothly I was able to take care of my bathroom needs. I looked over to Emmy to see if she noticed anything, but if she did, she didn’t care to show it. She must have thought I was gauging her reaction to the joke from the film, and she snorted as she looked back at me.
I shifted around slightly. I must not have peed much, because I had already forgotten I peed as it the feeling didn’t faze me. Or perhaps it was the more concerning option, that it didn’t faze me because I was used to it.
But of course all good things have to end. It was during a particularly romantic scene between the protagonists that nature started calling again. But it was much more dire call than before. I cursed my body.
Of course, I could have always used my diaper. But that would be wrong. I wasn’t even incontinent, I was just doing it to make Emmy feel better. There was no way I could do that. Even Emmy would judge me. Just using diapers out of pure convenience without even an ounce of justification was definitely bad.
The feeling was getting stronger, and I was unfortunately at an impasse. Holding it would ruin the movie, and so would missing it. But using my diaper might ruin my mood, which was a lot less expendable.
I leaned over to Emmy, whispering in her ear, “I have to go to the bathroom, what should I do?”
“You can just use your diaper,” she whispered back.
“It’s… uhm… number two, though,” I eeped out, my face scarlet. There was no way. But the feeling was nearly unbearable.
“Oh… well… that’s fine. Two weeks ago, I was stuck in traffic and sort of did it. It’s not that bad,” Emmy explained quietly.
I swallowed.
“Really?” I asked, surprised to hear Emmy admit to soiling herself willingly.
She seemed surprised too, her blasé expression faltering. “Uhm. Yeah. I-I don’t usually, though, just that one time. But it really wasn’t that bad.”
This new testimony was shocking, and it it introduced a crack in my logic. The meaning of solidarity with Emmy was muddied, and the fear of judgment was gone. After all, she was embarrassed at her own actions, while she was gently encouraging me to do the same. Maybe that was the key: she was encouraging me to go so she wouldn’t feel like an idiot.
I sympathized with my feline friend, and while it wasn’t an easy choice this time, I still made it. I felt a little silly at first, though, when I couldn’t figure out what to do. I fidgeted. I just need to pretend like I’m going normally, right? I reassured myself. I realized I needed to let go. And it worked at first. I felt the pressure from holding it dissipate immediately. However, that was replaced by a more foreign pressure.
Then I realized I need something extra. I pushed, but my body was still resistant, as if my subconscious could tell that I wasn’t in the right place. It took a little more explicit effort and coaxing before it happened. I even shifted a little bit to create more room in my underwear. When it finally did, it didn’t last long. My let out a sigh of relief as I finally got it out of my system, and blushed when I felt the unfamiliar sensation of lumps in my diaper. I curled up, trying to hide myself and what I did.
But I was surprised that the diaper, pajama pants, and blanket managed to almost completely contain the scent, and the popcorn masked what wasn’t contained. I looked to Emmy, and she tried her best to hide her knowing smirk, her lips puckered. The Emily from before would have kicked me out of her house after mocking me in disgust.
As it so happened, the movie was building up to the climax and managed to quickly regain my attention—and that was all it took for me to become content with the state of my diaper.
I went back to watching the movie, though somewhere near or after the end, I started to stir. The relaxed scene of Emmy’s dark and quiet living room faded, and the real world appeared through a window of hair. I sat up, trying to get my hair back into place. I smelt something off, though, and I sniffed some more to investigate. When I shifted, I was shook. I didn’t… I dreaded. No. No. No! That’s not possible, I mouthed, standing up, trying to escape. But no matter how far I ran, the disgusting mess still clung to me.
I almost remembered the dream, and I couldn’t help but feel it was related to the. I was still trying to dispel my sleepiness, and again I found myself unable to think straight. All the sensations outside of me—stickiness, smelliness, and sweatiness—and the emotions inside of me—shame, fear, and exhaustion—were too overwhelming; and so I cried. I stood bow-legged, staring at the ground, tears dripping down my cheeks and onto my skirt.
It took a long, drawn out bout of sobbing and blinking for me to calm down, but I eventually built up the courage to change. But just as I made up my mind, I was stopped dead in my tracks. I had no idea how I could possibly hide a messy diaper from Ms. Ive, not to mention the wet one I had stuffed under my bed. I had to think of a plan.
But I just couldn’t. I wasn’t confident I’d be able to hide it. I could try the trashcans outside, but if they were empty then my cover would almost certainly be blown.
I gaped for air, grasping at straws.
But my fate was sealed before I even got the chance. The front door swung open, hitting the doorstop with a thud—and in came Ms. Ive. She held several big bags, her expression haggard. She saw me, motionlessly standing, and her eyes drooped in relief. I tried to avert my gaze. I told my stupid legs to start moving, but they wouldn’t. A poison had worked its way into my veins and turned me into a mannequin.
“Oh, Bea, can you help me with the bags?” Ms. Ive asked.
I swallowed, staring at the floor.
“Bea?” she repeated.
My lip wavered as I realized the forgone conclusion. “I gotta go to the b-bathwroom,” I slurred anyway, choking through a new onslaught of sobs.
I waddled over to the stairs like a desperate penguin, and I tried climbing them. All the while, my mess was uncomfortably jostled under my skirt.
But in my haste, I misplaced a step, and I fell forward. I slid down a few steps, burning my knees and forearms in the process on the carpet.
I was thoroughly defeated. I was hurt physically and emotionally, and all I could do was slowly crawl. It wasn’t too long after that my inconsolable crying started. Tears filled my vision, slowing my crawl down to a standstill.
I heard Ms. Ive race to me, but I paid her no mind. She walked up the steps beside me and kneelt down. “Oh, no, Bea. Shhhh,” she cooed. “You’re okay. It’s just a boo-boo…” she said, sniffing the air her eyes widening, “...And... an... accident?”
I just continued to sob. What could I have possibly said, after all?
She lightly placed her hands on my sides, coaxing me over, drawing me in for a hug.
I didn’t resist, and I felt myself rolling over onto my messy bottom, and another wave of waterworks beginning.
“Oh Bea, you’re safe. It’s really okay,” she said softly. “I’m sorry this happened to you.”
I don’t know how long I spent in her embrace, balling like a toddler. Eventually, I started to believe her affirmations as I calmed down. My tears stopped, and I could tell Ms. Ive’s shoulder was wet with them. It was shameful.
She gracefully pushed me away, but still made sure to hold on to my shoulders. Then she asked, “Do you want to get changed? I got you some new underwear.”
I swallowed, and nodded sheepishly.
“Good girl,” she stated. Her hand went for my hair, and almost rustled it. But she hesitated, turning it into a mere glance. I slumped slightly, feeling unsatisfied.
I looked at her, and she giggled hesitantly. “Sorry,” she said, holding my hand as we stood up. She guided me back down the stairs and around the corner to the bathroom. She was hesitant to actually close the door on me. And I felt it too, my jitters not completely gone. “Oh, and, if you need anything, I’ll be here,” she said, her voice muffled by the door.
And just as my first time, I was left alone and motivated. It was far more involved than cleaning a wet one, and every motion I took was awkward and careful. I led by dropping the diaper to the floor, and spreading out over to clean up. I grabbed the wipes from under the sink and went to work, and after a dozen passes I felt… good enough. I wrapped up everything into as tight a ball as I could.
Then my attention turned to the item I never thought I’d be missing so much: real, adult underwear. I was so happy. They were as plain and cheap as they came, but they were my cheap panties. I pulled them up, and was simultaneously overjoyed and put off by how flimsy they were; they managed made me both strong and mature and yet vulnerable.
But with my sobs stopped, my pants clean, and a new vigor instilled in me, I left the bathroom. My mood was soured slightly as I saw my expectant boss sitting on the couch, facing me. I knew the conversation she wanted was going to be difficult.
I sighed as I walked over to her and sat down, happy that my underwear didn’t lift me off the ground.
“Bea,” she started immediately. “Do you want to talk about what happened? I thought I told you not to play,” she scolded me.
I felt small, but I could still be confident. “I didn’t… It… happened in my sleep…” I said slowly.
“Bea, that’s…” she said, contemplating something profound. “Has this ever happened before?”
I shook my head. But I knew that hiding from her wouldn’t help. There was a mystery afoot, after all. “Well… actually…”
“Actually?”
“It happened last night. I wet the bed,” I said, my face as ripe as a tomato.
Ms. Ive was paralyzed. I could tell she was scared, possibly more so than me. I was scared of her, but whatever she was frightened by must have been something fierce.
There was a long pause as she stared her hands. She took a deep breath. “Bea, I’m so sorry,” she croaked.
I had never seen her so distraught; after all, this was Ms. Ive, my beacon of womanhood; Ms. Ive, always cheery and diligent, always with the answers, never broken.
“W-what for?” I asked in guilt. I felt like I had made her upset.
“My daughter. I… knew… but…” she said, the correct words not coming to her.
“It’s not her fault,” I quickly retorted. “Candice doesn’t know what she’s doing, and besides… it might not be her…” I said, trailing off.
“What?” she asked slowly, confused.
“When I… wet myself… and… you know…” I squeamishly explained, “Both those times, I was by Emmy—Emily, the stuffed tiger. And she was the one… uh… wearing diapers. I mean… I can’t explain it, but Candy was nowhere near me when… I… wet the bed, and… you know…” I struggled.
Ms. Ive seemed both hopeful and perturbed. “We need to take it away,” she whispered to me.
I nodded.
But when I looked around the couch, and Emmy was nowhere in sight. “Candy must have taken her.”
I walked up the stairs and to the playroom—and I noticed a distinct lack of crinkling as I did so, renewing my confidence. We opened the door, confronting the little girl who was sitting in a small chair, drawing on a piece of paper. When she noticed us, she hastily flipped it over and looked up at us, grinning. “Bea? Are you okay now?” she asked.
I nodded. “Yeah…. Have you seen Emmy?”
Candy shrugged. “I dunno. You had her las’.”
“But she wasn’t on the couch where I saw her last. So who could have taken her?” I asked rhetorically.
Ms. Ive looked at me with a raised brow.
Candy pouted. “I dunno. She’s y’urs, Bea.”
I was taken aback. “She’s not mine. She’s your stuffed animal, Dear,” I condescended.
Candy just shook her head. “Nope. You brough’ her.”
I scowled. Why was Candy lying? She wasn’t my stuffed animal. Candy and I both knew that, yet she was making me doubt everything.
I started to raise my voice. “Candy—”
“Bea,” Ms. Ive cut me off sternly, “It’s okay. There’s no need to get upset. We’ll find it.”
I looked between Candice and Ms. Ive. Candice smiled brightly, on the verge of smirking, while Ms. Ive frowned worriedly. I was extremely upset.
Ms. Ive tried to assuage my fears. “What did it look like?”
“She—it was a tiger, about this big,” I motioned with my hands, frustrated.
“Maybe we can find it if we look,” Ms. Ive suggested with a smile.
“Okay,” I agreed, still peeved.
We scoured the house, going over every possible option and plenty of impossible ones as well. But it was no use. The stuffed animal was nowhere in sight. I wanted to cry. It didn’t help that Ms. Ive had discovered my diaper I’d forgotten to stowed away under my bed.
Once Candice was out of earshot, I spoke to Ms. Ive. “You have to believe me, it’s not mine and it was with me when I… you know…” I stammered.
Ms. Ive sighed. “I believe you, Bea. But I also believe my daughter. I don’t know what to think.”
“Have you really never seen it?” I asked.
“I don’t recall a tiger, no.”
I felt like I was going insane. “But you bought it for her…”
“I’ve gotten a lot of clothes and stuffed animals for her, it’s very possible that I picked it up and forgot.”
“Ok, I guess.” The whole thing made me unbearably uneasy. I knew I wasn’t crazy. I just hoped Ms. Ive also knew that.
“If you see your stuffy again, I’d love to see her,” Ms. Ive tried reassuring me. Or maybe placating. In either case, it didn’t sound like she believed me. It sounded like she thought I was child.
“I just… I swear it’s real,” I pleaded.
Ms. Ive contemplated, her brow twisting. Finally, she glanced downward before saying, “I believe you.”
All I could do was sigh. “Thank you.”
“By the way, I keep forgetting to tell you, but I figure we’d split a mechanic for your car. They said they could come tomorrow morning for the lowest rate.”
“You’d do that?” I said, enamored. It was one of the nicest things anyone had ever offered me.
“Yeah,” Ms. Ive smiled. “It’s no problem. I get stuff comes up.”
I wanted to hug her so bad, but it just felt too awkward. I nervously bit my lip, fidgeting as if to hold myself back. “Thank you,” I said. “Will they need to tow it?”
“I don’t know. They said they’d come and look at it, and that they might be able to fix it here even.”
The night progressed similarly to the last one. I helped Ms. Ive with dinner. Then I ate dinner, but there was very little to discuss. Still, it was pleasant to just spend time with Candy and Ms. Ive. My normal evenings alone of watching television or reading low grade literature were much less engaging. I wasn’t using the opportunity, but having someone who would listen to me was reassuring.
After dinner, I did some routine checks of my email and sparse social media with my phone, and then I started getting ready for bed. After I had brushed my teeth and put on my employer provided pajamas, Ms. Ive came to visit.
“Bea?” I heard after a soft knock on the door to the extra room I stayed in.
“Uhm… come in.”
“Bea… Oh, how do I approach this?”
I looked at her, confused.
“Bea, you had those accidents in your sleep… and… what if it happens tonight?”
I was crestfallen. Surely she didn’t think that I was a bed wetter. “I swear it’s not… I don’t usually—I don’t do that. It was that stuffed animal, probably, or something…”
“I know, I know. I’m just worried… what if it’s not? I believe you, but…”
“But?” I croaked.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I know this is humiliating. And I’m sure that I’ll just be jinxing it. I was going to ask you to wear another diaper, but I can’t. I’m afraid their what’s causing this.”
I was disappointed that a part of her thought that I needed to be back in diapers, but I was also relieved that she trusted me enough to overrule that part.
“I won’t disappoint you,” I vowed.
Chapter 4:
My dreams were muddled and my sleep was fitful. Scenes of the animal friends molded into each other in ways that didn't make sense, but there was a distinct lack of diapers.
I woke up many times in the night, always jolting awake to check my crotch. I explicitly went to the bathroom every time it happened, and I would nervously scan the dark out-of-date house for any signs of the cursed doll.
Granted, I didn't actually know if it was Emmy, but she was a common denominator. It didn't help that her doll... she... the doll had mysteriously vanished.
When I woke up, I was soaked in sweat—but not urine. I sighed in relief.
I heard Ms. Ive leave her room, and I bolted to the kitchen to meet her. She and I were still wearing out pajamas.
"All good, Bea?"
I nodded eagerly.
Ms. Ive sighed. "I'm glad. I just hope we can put this whole bizarre thing behind us."
I nodded again, wholeheartedly agreeing but still weary. I prayed that whatever was causing my accidents wouldn’t follow me home.
Ms. Ive and I ate breakfast as mutes. The only sounds we made were sips of coffee and crackles of toast bites. It seemed the only person at the table who had any excitement left was Candice.
After breakfast, Ms. Ive gave me back my own, finally washed clothes. It was a sign that things were returning to normalcy.
"Well, girls, I'm off to work. Bea, the mechanic is supposed to come and take a look at your car around one. He said they can tow it if need be."
"Okay."
After Ms. Ive left, Candy was quick to pop the question. “Bea, do you wanna go do d’e park today?”
It caught me off guard. “Which one?”
“Mmmm. I dunno. Zoe said she wan’ed do go,” she shrugged.
I shivered, my face lighting up. “Oh,” I said. “Uhm. No thank you. I mean, I can’t… play pretend anymore this week, Candice. I’m sorry.”
She was crestfallen. “Okay,” she said. But her mood seemed to turn around quickly. “I’ll be playing d’en!”
I inhaled through my mouth and exhaled through my nose, trying to sort through my feelings. They were much less confused that day. For one, I felt bad that I had to ignore Zoe and the gang, even as… imaginary as she was. Secondly, I was anxious about the rest of the day, especially about what the mechanic might say. And lastly, I was excited to get to go home.
I sat on the living room couch and stared blankly at the lifeless television set, my worries looping in my head. Strangely, sitting on the couch without my diaper felt more bizarre after the previous sixty-ish hours. At that terrible realization, I turned on the TV to distract myself.
As I watched, I realized that I had never once used it since I started babysitting Candy. We always had something to do. In the beginning, her pretend was just endearing and funny; but right as I started to get bored of that, it got more engaging and as I started to... hallucinate, I felt as though I didn't need the television.
I was honestly surprised at how little I enjoyed it. All I wanted to do was spend time with my fake animal friends.
I started to wonder what constituted "real". None of them felt particularly fake. All my memories with them were as vivid as any other, even though the contents were usually quite dreamlike.
After a bout of not-really-watching the TV, mulling over my predicament, and wistful staring, noon rolled around. I decided to make some sandwiches.
I made sure to take my time. I didn't want to go back to that boring idiot box.
I called Candy down, heard her usual pitter-patter, and we ate at the table together. My chewing slowed though as I remembered something mortifying: I hadn’t fed Candy lunch the past two days. I had slept the day away, had an accident in my pants, and relied on my boss to tell me "it's okay." But it definitely wasn't okay, because I had failed my most basic job.
I stared at Candy, unsure how to broach the subject. "Candice," I hesitantly started, "Uhm...."
She looked to me, eyes full of curiosity.
"I forgot to... make lunch the past two days. I just got completely got lost in—" I stopped myself, realizing I was making excuses. "But never mind that. I'm really sorry."
Candy shrugged. "I''s okay, I go' food a' d'e cafe anyway."
"The cafe?" I asked, baffled.
"Yeh. I had cake!"
"That's—" I wanted to tell her "that's not real" but I didn't want to know what her response would be. I was half afraid she’d prove me wrong somehow. Instead, I went for the easier approach. "It's not good only eat sweets for lunch. Those are for desert."
"Oh," Candy said, downtrodden. "Sorry."
"No, the fault is mine for not feeding you properly."
Candice accepted the apology, thankfully. It's not as if I was expecting any differently; she was never a stubborn or obstinate girl. She excitedly dismissed herself after lunch, and we went our separate ways.
And not much later, there was a knock at the door. I opened it to find a man in a dark blue shirt: a literal blue collar worker. "Hello Ma'am, I'm the mechanic."
"O-oh," I fumbled. "Uhm... it's the beige car with the... uh... bit of rust."
"I see. I'll take a look and see if we can get it to the shop without towing it. Could I get the keys?"
I nodded, shakily looking for my keys. I handed them off to the man and waited.
I held my breath as I examined his every move. He walked to car, opened the door, sat inside, adjusted the seat, and started the engine.
He started the engine.
It just… started.
I bit my lip, my mouth going dry. It didn't make sense. Why would it just start working all of the sudden?
The man furrowed his brow. He seemed to shrug, backing out of the driveway and heading down the street. I blinked at the empty plot of concrete that my car had previously sat on.
I heard light but frantic footsteps behind me, and I turned around to see Candy, wide eyed and curious. "Wha''s goin' on?"
"I'm... getting my car looked at...." I said.
"Oh," Candy said ambiguously, "Ok."
I sighed. Standing there on the porch and staring at the road was just starting to get boring when the mechanic showed back up in my car. He got out and walked over to me.
"So what was the problem, exactly? I was told it wouldn't start," he said, confused.
"Yeah. Yeah, I don't know. It uh... wouldn't start the other day, I swear," I claimed.
"Well, maybe it was a lose wire or something," he said, shrugging. "Do you still want me to take it to the shop?" he asked.
"N-no, no, that's fine, I'm sorry for wasting your time," I said.
"It's alright, it happens," he dismissed. “Would you like to pay now, then?”
“Ah… I….” I said, frantic. “Ah, sorry. C-can I have a bill? I was supposed to split it with someone. I probably only have my half right now.... I was expecting to pay for it later. I—I…. Sorry.”
He just looked at me, smiling, patronizing. “Okay, Ma’am. I’ll leave a bill here for you,” he said, getting out a notepad. He jotted down some information on a piece of paper and handed it to me. “Please have it paid by the end of the month,” he chuckled.
The bill was for thirty dollars.
It wasn’t exactly nothing, especially for my paycheck… but it probably wasn’t worth having a panic attack over. I sighed. “Okay. Thank you, Sir.”
He nodded and got into his truck. As he drove off down the road and disappeared below a hill, I felt a wave of dread wash over me. I spun around, looking for answers. But none came.
I looked back to Candy, still standing in the doorway. I blinked, the keys having somehow ended up back in my hand. The man must have had given them to me while I was too dazed to remember properly.
“So yur car works, Bea?” Candy asked me.
“I-I don’t know, I guess so?” I said. I examined the keys in my hand. Then I walked to the car, opened the door, sat down, undid his adjustments, and started the engine.
And it came to life.
I leaned back in my seat, hands on my forehead, wracking my brain for answers. This place is making me crazy, I thought seriously. It must have been something in the air or the water or... the people. Whatever it was, I didn't feel sane anymore.
I sat there for a moment just trying to understand everything. Maybe it was the dolls, maybe it was Candy, maybe it was some other thing that I couldn't even fathom.
Candy just stared at me from the doorway, her expression completely unreadable.
I felt bad when I saw her, shutting engine off and going back inside. “Are you gonna leave now?” Candy asked, quietly.
It plucked at my heartstrings. “Well, not now, but when your mom gets home, yeah. But I’ll be back on Monday just like normal.”
“And then can we play?” she asked.
“I don’t know.”
She sighed. “Why not?”
“Candy, I’m sorry, I just don’t know. I think when I play with you, I get too distracted. And I don’t know how not to. Okay? But maybe we can again later. We’ll just have to see.”
She pouted. “Okay….” And with that, she went back to her own devices upstairs, sulking the whole way.
I just folded into the couch, and went back to not-watching TV. Looking at the time, I realized that Ms. Ive would be home soon. Where had the time gone? It barely felt like ten minutes since I had eaten lunch.
Ms. Ive got home not long after that. By that time, I had actually turned on the television and was watching it. “Hey, Bea,” she called out as she walked in.
I turned to her and simpered. “Hey.”
“Hey. Anything happen today?”
“Well… no. I mean, not, any of that stuff. But the guy came for my car.”
“Oh? I was confused when I saw it in the driveway still.”
“Yeah. It… started. Just like that,” I shook my head in disbelief. “He didn’t do anything to it.”
“Does it really run fine, though?” She quirked her head.
“Yeah. It does,” I shook mine.
Ms. Ive blinked, before her mouth curled up pleasantly. “So then, you’re free to go home! I’m sure you’d like to get back ASAP, huh?”
“Yeah…” I said, sighing. I didn’t really care to get back. I wanted to eat dinner with Ms. Ive again, but I couldn’t just invite myself like that.
“Unless—” she started, before clamping shut. She brought her hand up to her mouth, fingers curled gingerly. She chuckled. “Ah, anyway. I think you should get going before it gets too dark. Will I see you back on Monday?”
I deflated. “Yeah. Same time as usual,” I gave her a thumbs up. “Well…” I trailed off.
“’Well’ indeed. It was nice having you here, Bea. Sorry about everything that happened.”
I nodded.
“Oh, and I’ll keep an eye out for Emily the Tiger for you,” she winked, smirking.
I blushed, turning away. “Uhm… thanks,” I said walking out the door. “Bye!”
I walked out and sat in my car, a weight lifting off my chest and being put down on my limbs. It was hard to bring myself to go. I looked up from the dashboard and saw Ms. Ive waiting on the stoop, happy, giving me a little wave.
I returned it, and started the engine. I sighed as I backed up, pulled out and watched the house shrink in my mirror. The house sat right on the edge of a forest; and the forest was dark.
I blinked, watching it pass by, wondering if anything was different.
I looked over, and sitting on the passenger seat was Emmy.
I glanced again.
Sitting on the passenger seat was Emily the Tiger.
I glanced again.
Sitting on the passenger seat was the stuffed animal I’d lost.
I glanced again.
Sitting on the passenger seat was Candice’s stuffed animal.
I glanced again.
Sitting on the passenger seat was—
My world collapsed.
I felt my blood pumping, threatening to pierce my eardrum it was so intense. My body ached all over.
I tried opening my eyes, but all I could see was the white of…
...an airbag.
My face felt tender and hot, and I tried pushing the bag down. It didn’t work very well.
The dashboard looked fine. The radio was even still shining bright, the battery apparently intact enough. But beyond the windshield, I could see the mangled, crumpled up hood. My car was off, and I would have been shocked to learn it could turn on.
My door opened with the same ease as always, but I had to remember to take my seatbelt off. My hands shook as I pressed the red button.
I looked around at the lush, dark forest, the afternoon light fading quick. The rock face I had crashed into shined bright in the setting sun above the trees. I realized what had happened. When I reached the infamous ninety degree turn at the valley’s edge, I had been too distracted by… the doll.
I felt a cool breeze on my shorts, and I looked down. The sight made me squeeze my legs together. Apparently I was so shaken by the ordeal, I wet myself. My lip wavered. Can I go one day without peeing my pants? I asked myself rhetorically. Apparently, the answer was no.
I looked back at my car, swallowing. I let out a raggedy breath. Why am I crying so much? Why can’t I just be an adult about all this?
Can I really say that with my pants like this?
That was all it took. I balled my eyes out, falling down on the side of the tar-and-chip road. Pebbles clung to my wet shorts.
The cicadas were replaced with crickets and frogs as the world turned to night. All the while, I sat there, unable to do anything. I looked up, seeing the first stars through the canopy.
I needed help. I knew that. I also knew there was an obvious choice. She was close by and probably keen. But it was so hard relying on her. I was an adult, after all, and maybe she had seen me in arguable worse states, but I was past that. Or at least, I should have been past it. But that wasn’t true, was it? I was sitting on the ground in my own soiled shorts, having just wrecked my car because I was too distracted by… a toy. It simply wasn’t mature. I simply wasn’t past it.
My eyes still salty and red, I got my phone out of my pocket. Luckily, it was spared from my spill. I opened it up, and found Ms. Ive’s contact. My finger hovered over the call button. My hand turned green from the light of the screen.
And then I pressed it. It only took two rings to pick up. “Hello? Bea?” she asked. “What’s up?”
I didn’t know what to say. I just breathed into the microphone like a serial killer.
“Bea?” she asked. “Are you there?”
“Y-yeah,” I finally replied.
“What’s up?”
“I—” I stuttered, ashamed. “I—uhm, I had an accident?” I upspoke.
“...You… had an accident?” she asked with a hint of amusement and a dash of worry.
My breath caught in my throat. “N-n-no, I mean, a c-car accident,” I said, looking down at my shorts. “I-I mean, and… well….”
“You what?! Are you okay?!” she flabbergasted.
“I-I-I don’t know….”
“What’s wrong?”
“I-I don’t know. Nothing. I don’t know. I mean, I don’t know what to do,” I choked.
“Oh my god, where are you?”
“I’m at the sharp bend. In the woods.”
“Oh my god! I’m coming, I’m coming,” she said. I could here something rustling in the background.
“I-I don’t….” I said, unsure about what I meant.
“It’s okay, Bea,” she said, “I’ll be there soon. Okay? I’ll stay on the line with you.”
I could hear her talking to Candy in the background, probably telling her they needed to go. The little girl’s chirps sounded confused but eager.
Time seemed to stand still as I sat there in the dark, only illuminated by my phone screen and starlight. Ms. Ive tried talking to me about… something… but I was too distracted to pay it any mind. It didn’t take long for me to see lights in the distance; I didn’t get very far, after all.
I was a metaphorical deer in Ms. Ive’s literal lights, and she stopped. I couldn’t see her until she was out of the car, and standing over me. She bent down and hugged me. “Are you okay?” she asked.
I blinked. “Y-yeah.”
“What happened?”
How could I tell her? How could I explain that I really was crazy?
But… no! Emmy! The stuffed animal! “It’s… I don’t know how to explain it, but I found Emm—the stuffed animal. It’s in the passenger seat,” I said, standing up and walking over to my crumpled car. I threw open the passenger door, and shined my phone’s flashlight on the seat. There Emily the Tiger was, still buckled in.
Ms. Ive’s face was plastered with shock. “This is the thing you were talking about?”
“Yeah!” I said, “It just appeared out of nowhere, and it… freaked me out, or something, and I didn’t make the turn….”
She rubbed her finger on the bridge of her nose. “What do you want to do with it, Bea?’ she asked.
“I, uh,” I said, flustered. “I don’t… I….”
Her eyes appeared sunken in the light beams. “It’s okay. We have time. Did you call the police already?”
My eyes went wide. “W-why would I—I mean… I didn’t—” I stammered, the mention of law enforcement throwing me off guard.
She shook her head, smiling. “It’s just the for insurance, Bea,” she said. “But also, you’re car’s still in the road slightly. So don’t worry, okay?”
I nodded eagerly, embarrassed. “Okay.”
“I’ll car for you,” she said, before taking out her phone and dialing. She held the phone to her ear, and cupped her mouth and the speaker as if she were talking over a symphony. The operator’s response was instant. “Hello, yes,” she said.
The operator’s voice was muffled.
“Ah. Yes. Juneau Ive. But—
“Yes, I am.
“This isn’t for me. You see, my…. Ah, there’s been a crash. I’m—
“No, no, this is uhm….” she paused glancing my way. I shriveled. “My babysitter.
“Yes, Beatrice Smith.
“She uh… was dodging a deer, and ran her car into a cliff—
“No, not off a cliff, she hit a big rock.
“Yes, I—” she paused looking me up and down. I could see her frown as she finally noticed my wet shorts. She pulled the phone away, muffling the speaker. “Bea, are you okay? Anything hurt?”
“N-no, I’m okay,” I eeped, squeezing my legs together.
She sighed. “We’re all okay, Ma’am. But the car is totaled and is still in the road.
“Yes, that’s fine.
“Okay.
“Bye!” Ms. Ive hung up. “Are you hanging in there, Bea?” she asked me.
I could only nod.
“Did you wet from the crash?” she asked.
My face ripened like a tomato. I tried to speak, but only a wisp of air came. I nodded instead.
“Oh, dear,” she said. “The man said an officer would be here in about half an hour. I think we have enough time to run home and change. How about it?”
If I was alone, I would have waited, as humiliating as it would have been when the officer finally showed up. But I also probably wouldn’t have called the officer. My first instinct was to get Ms. Ive, after all. It seemed a little silly to not defer to her after all that. “Okay.”
She nodded. “Okay. I’ll get some bags for you to sit on,” she said, walking to the back of her car and pulling out some grocery bags. She opened the passenger door and made my seat. She called me over and had me sit down.
When I got into the car, Ms. Ive finally noticed something. “Bea, your face!” she said, reaching over.
“My face?” I said, bringing a finger up and touching my cheek. It stung.
“Oh no, you’re burned. Does it hurt?”
“A-a little,” I said, my face flushing, causing my burns to warm uncomfortably.
“Oh dear. Will you be okay?”
“Y-yeah. I think so.”
She sighed.
Candice piped up from her car seat in the back. “Are you okay, Bea?”
“Yeah,” I said, as Ms. Ive got in.
“Wha’ happened?” Candice asked.
“I crashed my car….” I said, clearing my throat.
“Because y’u peed y’ur pants?” she asked.
“No!” I denied, grimacing.
“Candice!” Ms. Ive chided her daughter, glaring into the rear-view mirror as she spun the car around. “That’s very inappropriate and insensitive.”
Candice shrunk back. “Sorry, Bea.”
“I-it’s… uhm… okay,” I coughed.
Ms. Ive glanced at me as I fiddled with my thumbs.
We pulled in to the driveway, and Ms. Ive spoke to me as she unbuckled Candice. “Oh, Bea, do you still have that package of underwear?”
I blushed. “Uhm… I think I left it in the closet.”
“Oh. That’s fine. How about you grab a pair and wait in the bathroom. I’ll get you some new pants while you freshen up.”
It was back to the bathroom again to change my soiled pants. How many times had it been, I asked myself. It definitely wasn’t normal. I started to wonder if it really was just a medical issue with my bladder and I was too scared of the bill to go to a doctor.
I didn’t dwell on it long. Ms. Ive was down with the clothes told me to be snappy since it’d be better for us to be at the car when the cops got there. I listened, and we were all back at the scene of the accident, our detour taking a little over twenty minutes.
The police were faster than the operator told us, arriving not long after we got back. I wondered if they used the call as an excuse to use their fun speeding powers.
The forest was dyed blue from the flashing lights. Candy stayed in the car with the window down, watching everything unfold. The officer looked like he should be wearing sunglasses, his gaze squinty but friendly. Him and Ms. Ive exchanged greetings and names. “Okay, Miss, I need to make a report,” Officer Tom said, talking to Ms. Ive. “Am I understanding correctly that this was your daughter’s car?”
Ms. Ive looked at him. “My little—” she started to ask, before her eyes lit up in realization. “Oh! No, no, this is ju—my babysitter. But yes. She can tell you what happened. Bea?”
Tom chuckled uncomfortably, getting his pen and paper ready. “Apologies, Miss.”
“No worries. It’s an easy mistake to make,” she said, winking at me.
I felt my heart flutter. What did she mean by that? The confusion made my first words come out blended into a fine puree. “Ah-ah-uhm….”
“Take your time, Ma’am,” the officer told me.
“Uhhm… y-yeah. I was…” I looked around, my gaze settling on Ms. Ive. She smiled. It gave me clarity. “Well, yeah. I saw a… deer in the road. And I swerved to hit it—I mean, not hit it—I mean, I swerved so I didn’t hit it. And then, the cliff was in the way. And then… I got out.”
“I see. Any injuries?”
“N-no,” I replied.
“Oh… Well,” Ms. Ive said, “She does have some burns on her face.”
I furrowed my brow and looked down. How had I not noticed, while Ms. Ive had? The answer was simple, but it still made me feel silly.
“From the airbags, I take it,” Tom replied.
I just looked between them, bewildered.
“Bea?” Ms. Ive asked.
“Uhm, yeah,” I said.
Tom continued writing, his pen inaudible over the forest.
He stopped writing, looked up at us, and pursed his lips. “Well, Ladies, is that everything?”
I looked to my boss, and she nodded. “I think so.”
“Alright. I’m going to put up some markings for now. You have 24 hours to arrange a tow, or unfortunately we’ll have to fine you. Will that be an issue?” he asked sincerely.
I was so crestfallen I couldn’t muster a response. It was the biggest metaphorical whiplash possible: one moment, I’m ready to be done with my car troubles, and the next, my car is completely gone.
“No, Sir,” Ms. Ive said, squeezing my hand. I jumped.
“That’s good. Sorry, I’m not trying to be a jerk about it,” he said. He got to work setting up cones and signs. After he was finished, he told me “I hope you have a better rest of your night. Be safe.” And with that, he was off.
That left Ms. Ive and I standing in the road. “So,” she asked me, “What do you want to do about… the stuffed animal?”
It felt so inconsequential when put up against this new huge development. “I don’t know. Take it back? I… I need to get everything out of my car, anyway.”
Ms. Ive agreed. We pulled apart my car, dumping everything into hers. I let her touch the stuffed animal. “Hm. I still don’t recognize this one,” she said. “I wonder where it came from.”
I just shrugged, closing my trunk as I pulled out the last of my things: a single shoe and a pair of dusty socks. How they got there, I didn’t remember.
Ms. Ive asked me if we had everything, and after an affirmative answer, we left.
“I know it might be…” she faltered, before picking back up, “Bea, but why don’t you stay one more night?” she asked me. Her words were gentle; tentative. She could tell I was still on a razor’s edge.
I looked at her, my eyes drooping and my mouth hanging open just enough for breath to pass through. I must have looked like caveman. “Yeah. Whatever.”
She nodded. “We’ll get all this sorted first thing in the morning.”
“Okay,” I said.
Dinner was quiet when I got back.
That night, I when I went to bed, I noticed Emmy sitting on the chair next to my bed. Without any hesitation, I set the toy outside my door. I told myself I was done with toys and games and pretend. I told myself I was an adult, and I needed to start acting like one.
P.S.
I'd like to thank @kerry for suggesting the title way back when. I hope that's the right person.
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