jaycanrdezum

Really impressive story - I love the pacing (the fact that I'm itching for the chapter where Maddie gets her wish probably means you've done your job!), the character development, and the believable characters. The number of people who have commented with theories about the story is a testament to its quality. It's also pretty much completely non-sexual, which is a welcome departure from typical stories (especially given Maddie's age). Many of your readers probably empathize with Maddie or identify with her. If I'm tossing in my two cents, I think it would be cool for Maddie's plans to backfire. Right now she seems to think she'll be able to bedwet her way into pull-ups without actually losing control of her bladder or having to suffer any of the indignities of actually being a bedwetter. But if she ends up in diapers on long car rides/flights, or ends up having to report to the nurse before bed at soccer camp to make sure she has her diaper on, will the whole experience still be worth it for her?

Chapter Five - May 1, 2017 'Hey girllll . . . drinks tonite? Gotta celebrate our first long shift!' Natalie sighed. She wasn't a hermit. She liked people - really, she did. Not in a perfunctory way, either - she genuinely enjoyed her time with patients each week, she genuinely liked Tracy, and she genuinely wouldn't mind meeting some new people. But she also genuinely wanted to remain flopped on her couch in her gym shorts, ideally watching something on Netflix and recovering from a long day while enduring the embarrassment of her headgear in splendid isolation. Besides, drinking had always been a dangerous trigger for her - her bladder was skittish at the best of times, and introducing any kind of diuretic often served as the straw that broke the camel's back. She'd learned that the hard way when as a seventeen-year-old she and her friend Kayleigh had stolen a bottle of her dad's whiskey. The evening had ended with a drenched pair of jeans and frantic protestations to Kayleigh (who, to be fair, was in no position to remember much of anything) that this had never happened before. Ever since then, she'd been wary of drinking too much. She'd even worn Goodnites to several sorority mixers (and needed them more than she cared to admit). She had just lifted her finger to text Tracy with a polite refusal when another message flashed the screen. 'My friend Jamal will be there . . . he's cuuuute.' Well, one or two couldn't hurt, right? Twenty minutes later, Natalie had finished applying her makeup and getting dressed (sans Goodnite). She wore a cute, gauzy, baby-blue blouse and a pair of belted skinny jeans over a black thong. She'd never thought of herself as a particularly girly girl, but she had to admit that dressing up always felt nice. She'd spent so much time earlier in her life worrying about whether her Pampers were visible or making her butt poof out that she had to take full advantage of any pants/underwear combo that allowed her to show off her diaper-free behind. Admittedly, most twenty-three year olds weren't worried about advertising that they'd successfully completed potty training, but Natalie wasn't letting that bother her. It was a quick Uber ride to the bar, and Natalie hopped out to see Tracy sitting with two men on a busy patio under an umbrella. She recognized one of them as Tracy's boyfriend Brian, which meant the other must be Jamal. Tall, dark, and handsome, Natalie thought, Tracy knows how to pick 'em. "Hey, babe!" Tracy exclaimed, seeing her friend walk up, "we've been waiting for you." She put her arm around Brian and nodded at Jamal. "Someone is very excited to meet you." She laughed, and Natalie cast Jamal a shy glance. He smiled back and stuck out his hand, which she shook as demurely as possible. "There ya go," Tracy continued, "now why don't we get this party started?" Tracy's idea of a party seemed to involve a constant stream of vodka and cranberry juices. Natalie slow-played things initially by nursing her first drink for an hour, but after that her willpower started to fade. It's been forever, she thought, and you're an adult. You deserve to have a few drinks from time to time. And Jamal proved to be quite charming, enough so for her to ignore the alarm bells going off at the back of her mind. He worked in the city as an engineer; he'd played basketball in high school and still liked to play with his friends on weekends; he volunteered at an animal shelter (she'd practically begged him to steal her a puppy). They both liked Game of Thrones and '90s rock. They played a game of cornhole against Tracy and Brian, and despite Natalie not sinking a single beanbag they almost won. Four drinks in, however, the world started to spin a bit, and Tracy, noticing her friend's growing loopiness, decided enough was enough. "Whoa, there, tiny dancer," she said, as Natalie attempted a pirouette and landed in Jamal's lap, "it might be bedtime for those of us who weigh under a hundred pounds." Natalie just giggled, and Jamal laughed with her. Tracy, undeterred, signaled for the bill. "I'll catch you tomorrow, Bri - lemme get this one home." Brian nodded, and after Natalie and Jamal said their goodbyes (she gave him an appropriately-chaste peck on the cheek) the two nurses called an Uber. "Why don't you stay at my place tonight?" Tracy asked. "I'm a little worried about you making it upstairs to your apartment right now." The same alarm bells from before sounded dimly somewhere in Natalie's subconscious, but instead of objecting she simply turned to her friend and stuck out her tongue. "I'll take that as a yes." The inside of Tracy's apartment was an eclectic mix of design styles - there were orange chairs, a sleek black couch, and a frumpy king-size bed. Exhausted, Natalie pulled off her jeans and blouse and curled up under the covers in just her thong and an oversized t-shirt Tracy had tossed her. Standing, it went down to her knees - she figured it provided plenty of protection for her modesty. Within minutes, she was asleep. When she woke, it was still dark, and someone was poking her. "Babe . . . Nat . . . wake up, girl." She whimpered. Her head hurt. And as the fog of sleep began to lift she realized with horror that both her thong and the backside of Tracy's old t-shirt were thoroughly soaked.

Nice story!

Still planning to continue it!

Chapter Four - May 1, 2017 Natalie woke to Tracy poking her in the side. "Wake up, Nat," Tracy hissed, "we're on shift again in five minutes." "Mmphft," Natalie responded, "Imma . . . sleepy . . . upinaminute." She tried to roll over, but Tracy grabbed her by the shoulder and shook her until the fog of her drowsiness cleared and she woke with a jolt. "Holymotherofgod," she whined, "whyyy . . . ". "I told you. We're going to be late. Now move your tush." With that Tracy gave her a firm swat on the backside - if she noticed anything strange about the cushioning provided by Natalie's just-in-case toilet paper, she gave no indication. "Fine," grumbled Natalie. She swung her legs over the side of bunk, yawned, and blinked. Fully awake, it hit her for the first time that she didn't feel any kind of dampness around her lower body. Which meant she was dry. Which meant that her anxieties of the previous night hadn't been realized. She felt jubilant. Bouncing up from the bunk, she stepped jauntily over to the bathroom and un-stuffed her panties. Suddenly, it seemed very silly that she'd ever been worried. It's been a month, she thought, it's no longer an issue. She tied her hair back, smiled at the mirror, and marched out to begin the day. Going through her rounds, Natalie felt as though she had infinite energy. She spent most of the day in pediatrics, where the advantages of such boundless enthusiasm were most apparent. Jalen, an eight-year-old boy who'd had his leg amputated below the knee, was one of her favorite patients. It was difficult to explain the implications of such a dire injury to someone of any age - the need for a prosthetic, the re-learning how to walk, the phantom limb pains - but in a child it was almost unbearable. Jalen, however, was inclined to see the humor in his situation, and had played all manner of pranks on the nursing staff. Most recently, he'd slithered out of his bed, hopped over to the door, and climbed the privacy curtain (you could do things like that when you weighed forty pounds, Natalie thought ruefully) in order to lay in wait for the next nurse to check on him. When Natalie'd stopped by shortly thereafter, she'd been subject to a terrifying dive-bomb attack that had almost undone all her bladder's progress from the previous night. Another of her favorites was Maddie - a twelve-year-old who had a problem with which Natalie could thoroughly empathize - she had to wear diapers. Unfortunately, Maddie's ulcerative colitis was a bit more serious than anything Natalie'd ever endured, and in consideration of the various (serious) medical ailments - the weight loss, the vomiting, the stomach pain - with which Maddie was afflicted, her accidents almost seemed like a cruel joke, the cherry on top of an already painful situation. Natalie'd had to clean up the sobbing girl more than once, but she hadn''t yet mustered the courage to tell her about her own struggle with evil absorbent undergarments. There had been a period where Maddie was weak enough that they'd abandoned attempts to make it to the bathroom and pursued a strategy based purely around containment, with thick institutional diapers and (at least from Natalie) lots of post-accident comforting. But today she was transitioning to thinner pullups and a mandate to try and make it to the toilet. She'd gained back some of the weight and looked less gaunt than in the past. By the time Natalie's shift was over, she was practically vibrating in place with elation. She hummed a song to herself as she gathered up her purse and keys; she almost skipped to her car. She drove home, kicked off her scrubs, and threw on a pair of gym shorts. Then, sprawled on her couch, she received a text from Tracy that changed her evening plans.

Eagerly awaiting more!

Chapter Three (continued) - April 30, 2007 The plastic panties were terrifying. Natalie looked at the displays in horror. They were brightly colored - pink, blue, and purple. Some had frills or ruffles. There were cheerful designs covering many of them - Natalie could see the princesses, bunnies, unicorns, rainbows, and twirling ballerinas, among others. And all of them looked as though they were sized to fit over the gargantuan pin-on diapers Rhonda was holding. Natalie gaped soundlessly at her parents, both of whom appeared merely bemused. They didn't seem to appreciate the gravity of the situation. "Natalie," Craig began, trying to hold back his laughter, "I think your cousin might like the rainbow-print frilly ones with the dancing kittens. Don't you?" "Oh!" Karen interjected, "I wonder if they make a version that glow in the dark. Or maybe something that plays a song when it's wet." "No!" yelped Natalie. "I . . . I mean she . . . that's too much." "Are you sure?" asked Karen, "She's trusting you to make the choice for her." "I'm sure." Natalie put her hands on her hips and prepared to stand her ground, but both her parents collapsed in laughter. "OK, honey," said Karen, wiping a tear from her eye. "Well, you like Frozen, right? I always see you watching it with Ellie. Maybe you . . . I mean, your cousin, would like those. Or, I don't know, just pick out whatever you think works best." The pair of panties Natalie's mother was pointing to had a smiling portrait of Frozen's Anna on the front (Natalie had to admit, her mother was right about her movie preferences) and modest, translucent pink coloring. They had a small row of ruffles at the bottom, but otherwise lacked some of the more flamboyant touches of the other panties. She'd initially gravitated toward something plain white, but comparing the two pairs the white ones suddenly seemed like something an old person might wear, or a hospital patient. She picked out two pairs of the Frozen panties - one in blue and one in pink - and silently handed them to her mother. Rhonda had watched the exchange without saying a word, but now she smiled and offered the diapers back to Karen. "Great choice," she said, "very cute. Perhaps you'd like to have her try on your selection?" "Oh, no, I don't think-" started Natalie. "Of course," Karen cut in, "that's why you're here, honey, isn't it?" Natalie's shoulders slumped, but she realized that if she refused to try them on any pretense that she was there as a sizing model would be out the window. So she trailed after her mother to the changing room, plopped her bum on the provided changing mat, crossed her arms, and stuck her legs straight in the air. "Well, someone's grumpy," said Karen. "We could've told' Rhonda who these were for. And we didn't have to let you pick out your own designs, you know - the clear ones were cheaper." "I know, I just . . . I . . . I hate this. I hate diapers, and I hate being changed." "I'm sorry, honey - but isn't it better doing it this way? After all, nobody's going to see. It's just me." Natalie sighed. She wasn't really angry with her mother. But being changed was on her short list of Least Favorite Moments. Most of the time, as annoying and embarrassing as her Pull-Ups and Pampers could be, she could at least try and pretend they didn't exist once they were under her clothes. Sometimes they'd rustle or crinkle, and it'd all come back. Or sometimes, like in Leesman's office, an inopportune accident could bring the reality of her situation back to her in a particularly cruel way, but for the most part her weak bladder and bedwetting didn't dominate her life. But during a diaper change (previously only conducted if she was very sleepy or sick when it was time to get ready for bed) it felt as though a voice came into her head, saying You're having your diaper changed like a toddler. Babies need these. They might as well give you a pacifier. How pathetic. So she always tried to dissociate while she was wiped, powdered, and taped in. Cloth diapering did not ease this process. Karen didn't have much experience with pin-on diapers, and it took a few tries for everything to sync up. The diaper felt impossibly, uncomfortably bulky, and once she pulled her new plastic panties on it felt as though she'd wrapped her thighs and midsection in a pillow, then encased the pillow in plastic wrap. At least she didn't crinkle. But after she sat up (rolled, really) and took a few hesitant steps, two things became very clear to her. She wouldn't be able to walk normally in these, and they'd be impossible to hide under clothing. "Mom," Natalie said, in the voice you might use when explaining some blindingly obvious fact to a toddler, "these are huge. I can't wear these. I can barely walk. And my pants won't fit over them!" "Don't be silly, Nat - here, give me your best runway impression. Walk to the end of the room." Natalie turned on her heel and pamped over to the opposite wall, waddling hesitantly with her legs forced apart by the bulky diapers. She turned to her mother and crossed her arms. "Well," said Karen, "you're only wearing them at night. Planning to run marathons in your sleep?" Natalie stuck her tongue out. The diaper-removal and re-application of her Pull-Ups occurred in silence, as did their exit from the store. It was only once they were back in the car, that Natalie spoke. "Dad," she asked, looking down in her hands, "you guys love me, right?" Craig turned around and looked her full in the eyes. "Pumpkin," he said, "if you died, I would die. I wouldn't want to live in a world without you." And then, after a pause, "But if you pee your pants, I might not pee my pants in solidarity." Natalie laughed so hard that she peed her Pull-Ups again.

Chapter Three - April 30, 2007 "Dad, are we going home?" "No, pumpkin - we're going to the medical supply store the doctor mentioned." said Craig. "But . . . what would we need to do there?" Natalie asked, although she had a sinking feeling about what the answer would be. "Well," Karen began, "your father and I believe that Dr. Leesman's idea about cloth diapers is a good one." Natalie cringed at hearing the word diaper out loud. "But Mom, I'm not a baby. I don't need you changing me, and I don't want anything babyish!" "I know, honey. We don't think you're a baby at all." "Then why're you doing this?" "Nat, do you think it's more babyish to accept a solution that will save money for our family and protect your mattress from leaks? Or is it more babyish to throw a tantrum about a slightly different type of underwear." Natalie's mouth moved wordlessly for a few moments. She badly wanted to argue with her mother. Her first instinct to any intervention with her wetting issues always revolved around its fundamental unfairness, but she had to acknowledge that her parents never sought to demean her. And her mother's logic was persuasive - at the end of the day, Natalie did want to help her family - her selflessness as a thirteen-year-old was the same selflessness she'd show later as a nurse. "What if we kick a few dollars out of the savings into your allowance?" Craig chimed in. "Plus, you won't have to wash the sheets as often." If there had been any doubt before, Natalie was sold. She'd been recruited for Team Nighttime Cloth Diapers. "Well . . . that makes sense. But it has to be a secret from Ellie." Natalie had no desire for her younger sister to know anything about her bedtime routine. Craig maneuvered the Outback into a parking space in a nondescript suburban strip mall that Natalie didn't recognize. There was a Wal-Mart in the distance and a Chipotle just down the block. Natalie eyed the latter hopefully. "Mom, can we get a burrito after this?" Karen glanced up in surprise. "Um, sure, Nat." Natalie deserved a small reward, after all. She was being very mature about the current situation. Karen was surprised though, that Natalie hadn't seemed to consider making another stop in her barely-concealed Pull-Ups. Craig unfolded his lanky frame, spilled out of the driver's seat, and absent-mindedly locked the car behind him. Turning around, he saw his wife and daughter giving him exasperated looks from its interior. Sheepishly, he unlocked it. "Honestly, Craig," Karen sighed, "it's not hard to see why the kids are all day-dreamers." He gave her a kiss. "That's why you love me, though." He ambled off in the direction of the storefront. Karen and Natalie trailed after him, with Natalie walking in a half-crouch in order to make sure that her hoodie came down almost to her knees. There was only one employee in the store, a heavyset middle-aged woman with a pert brown bun and friendly face. 'Rhonda,' read her nametag. "We're looked for . . . um . . . prot- . . . um . . . " Craig began, stammering., "that is to say, incontinence garments for - " "For our niece," Karen cut in, elbowing him in the ribs, "and our Natalie here was kind enough to volunteer to help us try a few, as she's a similar size." When Craig started talking, Natalie had slowly, surreptitiously moved behind her mother, but Karen's quick thinking lifted a weight off her shoulders. "Yes," Craig added lamely. "Our niece." Rhonda looked back and forth at Natalie's parents and smiled. It wasn't her first rodeo - she was happy to indulge Karen and Craig's desire to protect their daughter's dignity - in fact, she admired it. Just last week a young boy had come into the store with his parents, only to listen to them tell the salesperson that they needed 'something for them that piss themselves like babies.' His face had crumpled. Some people shouldn't be parents. "Well," Rhonda began, "it's very good that Natalie is being so helpful - that will make it much easier for us to get a good fit." She smiled at the teenager, who tentatively smiled back. "What type of product were you hoping to consider? Maybe I can help you pick one." "We're interested in cloth diapers for nighttime wear," Karen said. "Ideally something that minimizes leaks. We'd also need some plastic panties." "Bowel or urinary issues?" Karen glanced at Natalie, who blushed so furiously that she almost turned purple. "Well - we're mainly concerned about bedwetting. But we'd like to be on the safe side." "Of course, of course. Well, we'll find the right solution for your niece. We have a children's aisle just over here, if you'll follow me. - I think she's too small for most of our youth products" Rhonda turned on her heel and bustled down a long row of medical supplies. There were casts, canes, and bandages. And in the back, where they were headed, a variety of diapers in a large range of sizes and styles. Natalie had never worn anything other than Pampers and Pull-Ups - she supposed she'd known in the abstract there must be more brands, but certainly not to this extent. Suddenly, Rhonda was turning around with three impossibly large white . . . things . . . in her hands. Natalie gaped - surely, she couldn't be expected to wear these? Yet Rhonda and her parents were talking earnestly about the benefits and drawbacks of each, and when she'd picked her jaw up from the floor she heard what sounded like a deadly-serious conversation. " . . . and you say the pin-on ones are the least likely to leak? I don't know much about it, and this might be stupid, but is there any danger to having metal pins so close to her . . . you know . . . body parts?" Craig was saying. "Honey, that's why they call them safety pins." Karen said. "It's just as your wife says - safety pins. Personally, I'd pair these with a pair of plastic panties - then you'll never have to worry about leaks. Assuming she's only wearing these at night, so slightly impaired movement isn't a factor. If so, we have some slimmer fits. But lots of kids like picking out plastic pants because of the designs." Natalie was skeptical of this last statement - she couldn't imagine anyone she knew getting jazzed to pick out a fashionable diaper cover. "What about the slimmer-" Natalie started, but Karen cut her off. "We'll take the pin-ons - can you show us some options for plastic panties?" Extra allowance, thought Natalie, no matter how bad it gets, I just have to keep my eye on the prize. Rhonda turned, took ten steps, and with a flourish revealed a row of printed plastic panties. This might not be worth it, thought Natalie.

Chapter Two (continued) - April 30, 2007 Natalie needed to act quickly. She couldn't imagine anything more mortifying than leaving a puddle on Leesman's chair. She'd always seen herself as a problem-solver, though - it was more productive to view her terrifying situation as an opportunity for ingenuity than a cause for despair. Ideas abounded. Maybe she could fake her own death? No, too logistically complicated. And she didn't think she could hold her breath long enough to pull it off. What if she killed the lights, then used the cover of darkness to sneak out with the offending piece of furniture? That wouldn't work, either - the only way she could think of to hit the light switch without leaving her seat involved drilling it with Leesman's paperweight, and she'd never had a very accurate arm. She was so focused on figuring out a way to hide her accident that she tuned out of the conversation completely, missing the substance of Leesman's suggestion to her parents. "We don't want to affect Natalie's self-esteem, but other patients have found it motivating to have their incontinence garments be visible while they're at home." Craig furrowed his brow. "I'm sorry, doctor - I know you have her well-being in mind, but I'm struggling to see what purpose that would serve other than embarrassing her. What am I missing?" "I very much understand how you feel. And I want to assure you that I'm not out to embarrass her." Leesman cast a sympathetic glance at Natalie, who, having identified the open container of iced tea on his desk as her means of salvation, was utterly oblivious. "I see two benefits. One is that it encourages intervention whenever she has an accident - she needs to know what's happened and know that corrective - but non-punitive - action will be taken. The other is that until her issues improve, it's important for the entire family not to relax your focus on helping her overcome this. To be clear, I would recommend prioritizing discretion for Natalie in any situation where she might interact with a stranger or otherwise be vulnerable to feeling less safe or secure." "Thanks, Dr. Leesman. That makes sense. I don't know that we'll pursue that right now, but it's good to know that there are multiple ways to address things." Craig stood up as if to conclude the meeting, and Natalie knew it was time to make her move. She reached out and moved toward Leesman, arms outstretched to give him a hug. The doctor's eyes widened, but he smiled and reciprocated. At the last moment, however, Natalie feigned tripping, and, throwing out her arms to catch herself on the desk, intentionally swept the iced tea off its perch. The tea splashed all over her recently-vacated chair, and Natalie breathed a sigh of relief. Her secret was safe. "I'm soooo sorry!" She exclaimed, pressing her hand in front of her mouth. "I'm so clumsy - it's all my fault." Leesman waved his hand dismissively. "Don't concern yourself with it. These chairs have been through plenty. I'll see you all next week!" Through all of this, Karen stayed silent, but there was a suspicious gleam in her eye that made Natalie nervous. They made it out into the parking lot, and were almost to the car, before Natalie's anxiety was justified. "Natalie," Karen began quietly, "turn around." Natalie gulped, then performed a quick, cursory twirl. "No," her mother said, "I want you to lift up your hoodie, and slowly turn around." In splashing iced tea on her chair, Natalie had forgotten to conceal one important detail - the leak on the seat of her jeans.The twin half-moons around Natalie's bottom confirmed what Karen had already believed to be true. "Honey," Karen began, trying her best to be patient, "did you spill that tea on poor Dr. Leesman's chair to cover your accident?" Natalie hung her head. "Yeah," she said, "I know I shouldn't have, but . . . it would've been so embarrassing." Karen sighed. "I'm not mad, Nat. I'm just worried that you've had another accident and your Pull-Ups leaked again." Natalie looked at the ground. "I'm trying my hardest." she said. There was a moment of awkward silence while Craig stood with his hands in his pockets watching his wife and daughter talk. "Well, you can't go on wearing those jeans." Karen continued. "What?" asked Natalie. "I don't have anything else to wear!" "You can't just sit in your wet Pull-Ups and pee-stained jeans," Karen insisted. Natalie winced. "You still have your leotard from gymnastics. Why don't you change your Pull-Up in the back of the car, clean yourself off, and put that on over the new one?" "Do I really have to wear another one? My leotard is so tight, and it doesn't have any, you know, legs. I feel like it won't hide anything. Besides, I didn't have to wear a Pull-Up at gymnastics earlier." "Maybe you should've. But we knew it would embarrass you, so we let you try to go without one. If your accidents don't stop we might have to have you wear one next time - maybe we can think about a fuller leotard if we need to do that." "I'll be good tonight! I don't need another Pull-Up! And I won't need one at gymnastics next week, either." Natalie was close to tears. "No," said Karen, "we're not trying to be harsh, Nat. But you've had too many accidents lately. We're not risking you having another one and ruining the upholstery in the car. In fact, if Pull-Ups aren't enough protection for you, we might need to use your Pampers for car rides." "Okay, okay, geez, I'll go change." The threat of diapers was enough to make Natalie appreciate the comparative modesty of her mother's request. Craig cleared his throat. "Well, I guess I'll just look over there, then, and give you some privacy." He turned on his heel, stuck his hands in his pockets, and whistled tunelessly to himself. Natalie and her mother shared a glance - they both giggled silently. Craig was six-four and rail-thin, with the easy-going bearing of a professor. Much beloved by his students, he was utterly incapable of any sort of harshness toward his own children, whom he adored and tended to spoil. Karen was the driving force, then, behind most of the management of Natalie's challenges. Natalie climbed into the back of the family's Subaru Outback and retrieved her dark red leotard. She sniffed it. Ugh, still sweaty. Well, at least it's not pee. Quickly, she removed the sodden Pull-Up, and threw it in a garbage bag her mother had provided. She cleaned herself quickly with a wipe, then tossed that in the garbage bag as well. There was a stack of new ones in a small, unlabeled duffel bag in the trunk, and Natalie pulled out a Disney princess-themed training pant, smoothed it out, and pulled it up her legs. It was a little snug, but Natalie was small enough that she could still wear it comfortably. She unfolded her leotard and stepped into it. As she'd feared, the bottom part of it barely covered her Pull-Ups. Who would've thought I'd ever be desperate for a tutu? She pulled her hoodie down even more aggressively - it basically looked as though she wasn't wearing pants, but that seemed like a secondary concern next to the risks of diaper-discovery. Cued by his wife's tap on the shoulder, Craig turned around and slid into the driver's seat. Looking up into the rearview mirror, he could see his daughter's glum face. "It's okay, pumpkin," he said, "once you get to be our age, they make you wear pants all the time. I'm jealous of you for being a rebel!" Despite her nervousness, Natalie had to laugh. She leaned back in her seat and looked out the window and watched the world go by as they pulled out of the parking lot and onto the main road. It's so unfair that this is all happening, she thought. Wasn't bedwetting enough? She was so consumed by self-pity, in fact, that it took her a full ten minutes to notice that they weren't driving home.

Just wanted to post that I'm enjoying this story and eagerly awaiting more!

Chapter Two - April 30, 2007 Her Pull-Ups were wet. It had happened without her knowledge or consent. Probably some time over the prior ten minutes. Natalie shifted uncomfortably and wondered how much longer her appointment would take. Once the initial warmth of her accident had worn off (it didn't take long) she was left with a cold, clammy feeling that seemed to amplify the shame of having wet herself at thirteen. And, moreover, having wet her Pull-Ups at thirteen. "And you said the tests didn't find anything medically wrong with her?" Dr. Leesman asked. Natalie hated when doctors addressed her parents directly, as if she weren't even present. Leesman, a child psychologist, was better than most in this regard, but it seemed as though talking about things in clinically medical terms had drawn it out of him. "Well, she has an underdeveloped bladder," Natalie's father Craig responded. "The doctors said it was closer to the size they'd typically expect from a three- or four-year-old. But she potty-trained fine during the day, even if it was a little late. It's just recently that things have taken a turn." "And at night?" "She's never quite gotten the hang of that." Natalie blushed furiously. "It's okay, Natalie," said the doctor, "many girls your age still have a little trouble at night." He gave her a condescending smile and blinked his eyes owlishly behind their horn-rimmed glasses. Natalie was seized by an urge to pull out his overabundance of nose hairs. One by one. An urge followed immediately by shame - the doctor clearly thought he was being kind. "I know." she said in a small voice, eyes downcast. She was dressed in an over-sized lavender hoodie and tight jeans, and she'd pulled the hem of the hoodie down to mid-thigh in order to eliminate any possibility that the outline of her Pull-Ups would be visible through her jeans. While they spoke, she fussed continuously with her hoodie to make sure it hadn't rolled up at all. "This doesn't surprise me much," Leesman said, turning his attention back to Craig."In my experience, anxiety tends to worsen existing stress incontinence, and in Natalie's case her bladder control was already weak enough that her recent anxiety issues were enough to tip her over the edge. How frequently is she wetting?" "Three or four times a day," replied Natalie's mother, Karen, "and . . . " "And . . .?" "Well, last week she had the . . . other kind of accident." At this point, had a trap door opened in the floor to reveal a tank of half-starved alligators, Natalie would've gladly jumped in. As it was, her blush's intensity had migrated from a dull fuchsia to what she had to assume was now a purple hue to rival her hoodie's. It was true - once the previous week she'd gotten so anxious that she'd messed her panties, something she hadn't, to the best of her knowledge, done since she was two. That had been the final straw that broke the camel's back and convinced her mother that a more aggressive containment strategy was necessary for the various fluids exiting Natalie's body. Daytime Pull-Ups had been the law of the land ever since. "Ah." Leesman seemed taken aback. "Well, that's a little . . . more unexpected. But, certainly, understandable. How have you been managing all this?" "We've been using Pull-Ups during the day. Fortunately she's still small enough to fit into baby diapers, so her nighttime Pampers still do the trick. We wanted to try the Pull-Ups in order to be more discreet, but we're starting to worry a bit about the expense." Natalie shifted again and felt a cold squish around her bottom. As much as she hated her Pampers, she had to admit that if she were wearing one she'd feel much more secure about possible leaks. "That seems reasonable. It's a very delicate tightrope to walk - we want Natalie to feel safe and comfortable, but we also don't want to normalize the situation too much. That would risk stagnation with her progress." "I'm right here," Natalie began indignantly, ready to object to Leesman yet again ignoring her presence. At the last second, however, her confidence deserted her - it was difficult to feel as though you deserved more adulthood while sitting in your own pee. "But . . . that makes sense." she trailed off lamely. Leesman smiled at her and continued. "Of course you are, Natalie, and you're at the center of all of this! But I just want to talk to your parents for a quick sec here to make sure we're all on the same page, then you and I can have a rap session. How about that?" He winked at her. Defeated, Natalie nodded. She didn't have the energy to fight back. "I have two suggestions for you in terms of managing this. One is related to the products you use." "We're all ears, doctor." "If you're concerned about expense, I'd recommend considering cloth diapering. It's true that they're much bulkier, but they're more absorbent, more environmentally friendly, and will save you a boatload of money compared to disposables." "That all makes a lot of sense," Craig replied, "but won't it be difficult for her to get them off if she needs to go to the bathroom?" Natalie nodded vigorously. "Yes, that's certainly a drawback, and it's why in Natalie's case I'd only recommend them at night. During the day, we still want her to do her best to make it to the potty." Leesman used the word 'potty' with no apparent rancor, but Natalie's mind conjured a disturbing image of herself sitting on a toddler's potty chair. "It also means that one of you would likely need to help Natalie get ready for bed." "What?" exclaimed Natalie, "Mom would have to change me every night?" "Honey, it's okay - I don't mind." Karen responded. "Besides, I already change you sometimes." "But, like, only when I'm really sleepy," Natalie whined, "but every night is too much." "Let's think about it, honey. We want to keep all our options open." "Thank you, Karen," said Leesman, "I'm simply making a suggestion that other patients have found useful. If it helps, I know that the local medical supplies store offers a variety of different cloth products and plastic panties, so you should be able to find a size, fit, and color pattern that work for you." He continued, "My second suggestion has to do with the daytime, at least for as long as it's still an issue. What made you choose a thinner product than Pampers for Natalie to wear during the day?" Natalie felt her heart sink. "Well, we don't want to embarrass her at all," Craig responded, "and we know it'd be tougher to hide her Pampers than it is to manage the Pull-Ups under her clothes. Easier with school and her friends and all. Plus, she's an active girl - she's in soccer and gymnastics right now, and there's ballet and cheerleading in the fall. I don't know if Pampers would work for that." "I think those are all very reasonable concerns," said Leesman, "I agree completely. Natalie has a right to privacy when it comes to her friends and schoolmates, and we don't want to restrict her participation in activities at all. But I'd suggest that when she's at home, around your family, you consider her protection a bit less . . . unobtrusive." As they spoke, Natalie could feel a creeping sense of dread. She'd poked her hand underneath her bum for the thousandth time to make absolutely sure her Pull-Ups were covered, and it had come away damp. The worst had happened - her hoodie had flipped up, and the urine she felt on her hand had come from touching her pants. The outside of her pants.

Chapter One (continued) - April 30, 2017 Natalie looked down at her phone. It was ten minutes until her shift began. She'd be on duty for a full twenty-four hours. Which meant sleeping in shifts, in a designated bunk. At work. Which is what accounted for the tears she'd only recently managed to stifle. She squared her shoulders, adjusted her ponytail, and looked in the mirror again. You can do this, she thought. You're pretty, you're fierce, and you're good at this job. It hasn't happened in months, anyway. You have nothing to worry about. She ran a hand nervously through her chestnut-brown hair and smiled at her reflection. A row of braces with bubblegum-pink elastics smiled back at her. She giggled. She'd hated the thought of getting them at first - it was hard enough to be taken seriously when you were five-one and looked like a teenager - but she wanted perfect teeth badly enough to grin and bear it. Improbably, she'd come to like them - her pediatric patients loved them, while most of the adults thought she was cute. In particular, the seniors would call her 'honey' and 'sweetie' - they liked her before she even did anything. Which made her job easier. One middle-aged man, admittedly, had taken one look at her and snorted 'I didn't realize they were letting freshmen practice on us,' derisively. But her supervisor had stood by her and said 'Natalie is one of our very best nurses - and I have every confidence that her standard of care will be exemplary,' at which point the man had the decency to look abashed. Suddenly, Natalie's reveries were interrupted by a knocking on the door. 'Nat, come out, girl," a voice called, 'we've gotta clock in.' 'Coming, Tracy,' Natalie replied, 'just finishing my lipstick.' She took a quick pass at her lips (a light shade, to match her braces) to cover the lie. As she walked out of the bathroom, Natalie took care not to betray even a hint of her previous anxiety. She knew that fear was like an avalanche - if she gave into it even a bit, things could snowball. So she held her head high as she smiled at her friend. 'I'm so excited!'' she said. 'We've been waiting for this for months - I feel like we're about to become real nurses.' 'We're already real nurses," Tracy rolled her eyes, 'but yes, it's good to finally feel like we're fully part of the team.' 'Like we've been benchwarmers and everyone was nice about it but now we're in the starting rotation.' Tracy laughed. 'Okay hon. Let's just clock in. Then we can worry about you trying to dunk - maybe get you a trampoline,' Natalie stuck out her tongue. Both woman walked over to the check-in computer, swiped their ID cards, and turned to each other with mock-serious faces. 'Spartans,' began Tracy, 'what is your profession?' Natalie leaned over and blew a raspberry on her shoulder. Tracy, eight inches taller than her friend, yelped. The night began. May 1st, 2017 Usually, eight hours seemed an interminably long time. Even on the good days, it was exhausting to be on her feet for hours on end - especially if she had to deal with difficult patients. Thankfully, this had been an easier shift - the most challenging situation she'd encountered was an elderly man who'd become confused and insisted upon leaving his bed in search of what he called the 'pancake monster.' Natalie, skeptical of the monster's existence but also sympathetic to his relative lack of entertainment options, had patiently completed a full circuit of his floor with him, checking in each public space to confirm there were no monsters hiding there, breakfast-food-related or otherwise. After their journey, the man (Mr. Flowers, a kindly widower in his eighties who was, when lucid, fond of reading old murder mysteries) had laid down without a fuss and told her that if he couldn't find a monster, he wouldn't mind a nap. Normally she'd agree with him, but on this day a nap was the last thing she wanted. In fact, while she'd usually be looking forward to the end of eight hours, today she'd been dreading finishing work. At 5 AM, exhausted and disheveled, she lurched into the sleeping room before realizing her mistake and tiptoeing to the bathroom. She set her purse on the side of the sink and looked at herself again. Her orthodontist had told her that wearing her headgear at night could speed her treatment up, but whatever unflappable confidence she professed regarding every other aspect of her appearance, she didn't think she could bear that particular indignity while visible to her co-workers. So she was taking a night off. Her other issue, though, worried her more. Should I have brought a Goodnite? To do so had seemed, when she'd considered it twelve hours before, like an admission of defeat. After all, as she reminded herself, it had been a long time since she'd had a nighttime accident. But she'd also had stress-free nights, all in her own cozy bed in her downtown studio apartment, and the string of dry nights that had inspired her to ditch the Goodnites a month prior hadn't included any nights sleeping with others. If the thought of her coworkers discovering her in Goodnites was petrifying, the thought of actually wetting herself at work induced a level of terror that threatened to overwhelm her. It was the same fear that she remembered from junior high sleepovers, from high school dances, from college frat parties. The fear of being exposed and ridiculed and having her deepest secret advertised to others. Having all her dignity stripped away. Maybe I've been arrogant. She shivered and felt a flicker of anxiety. She cast a nervous glance at the roll of toilet paper resting by the closest stall, then walked over, sat down, and tried her hardest to pee. After five urine-free minutes she stood up, looked over, and ripped off a huge swath of toilet paper. Balling it up with her hands, she pulled out the elastic band of her pants and shoved it into the crotch of her panties. A makeshift pad. It'll have to do, she thought, or, hopefully, it won't have to do anything. Thus armored, Natalie stepped out of the bathroom, slid into a bunk, and - after fifteen minutes of tossing and turning - slipped into a fitful, dreamless sleep.

Thanks guys! Haven't really written anything before so I'm kinda hoping it doesn't turn out too terribly. Going to work on chapter two tonight so I think there should be more content within the next few days at latest. Will probably be another short-ish chapter.

Long-time lurker, first-time poster. Hope people enjoy this - not the most original idea, but I wanted to try my hand at writing. Natalie's Nighttime Issues Chapter One - April 30, 2017 Natalie was happy with her job. She'd worked since she was sixteen - she'd been (in order) a babysitter, a camp counselor, and a waitress. She'd worked at her university's library to pay her sorority dues. And now, having graduated cum laude from her nursing program, she finally had a job that gave her a sense of purpose and dignity. There were still tough parts, to be sure. Cleaning up vomit would never top her list of favorite activities. But cleaning up a patient's vomit still felt as though she were contributing, albeit in a small way, toward their care. It was different than cleaning up a drunk's vomit in the bathroom of the bar at which she'd worked. Maybe that was why the less glamorous parts of being a nurse never bothered her - everything was easier to tolerate in service of some greater goal. She'd started in August and spent her first several months terrified that she'd be responsible for some major medical disaster. Marking the wrong leg for an amputation (not that she'd been involved in many of those), or giving the wrong medication to a patient. It wasn't that she felt incompetent - the stakes were just too high. She had the sort of low-grade impostor syndrome that every young nurse encounters. But in time, she'd settled into a routine that moderated her anxiety, even if it didn't totally eliminate it. Natalie even imagined that she might be good at nursing - certainly, the bedside manner came naturally to her. She'd spent her share of time feeling small, powerless, and scared in doctor's offices and hospitals as a child. Experiencing the full range of empathy (and lack thereof) the medical profession was capable of exhibiting had left her with a profound appreciation for those who treated their patients like human beings and a desire to do the same. So she took time to help the patients in the pediatric oncology ward name their stuffed animals. She never rolled her eyes when her older patients told her the same stories for the fourth time. And she tried her best not to look disgusted whenever she had to deal with someone else's bodily fluids (which happened a bit too often for her taste). In other words, she hoped that she was the type of nurse who would've comforted her childhood self. All of which was to say that on the night of April 30th, Natalie had no outward reason to be standing in front of a mirror, hugging herself tightly and trying to control her breathing as she fought back a panic attack. Her light blue scrubs were bunched at the shoulders; she'd worn a long-sleeved t-shirt underneath and the wrists were damp when she'd tried to stem the tide of tears. She looked in the mirror and tried to fix her smudged mascara and set about psyching herself up for the night ahead. Because this was Natalie's first overnight shift, and she had an embarrassing secret.