MinnesotaWriter

December 31, 2023

Chapter 58: Nightmare on Christmas

I always had trouble sleeping the night before Christmas.

In previous years, the anticipation of what might be waiting for me underneath the tree kept me up all night. I'd lay in bed for hours, unable to sleep until after midnight. Then I'd wake up a few hours later, looking eagerly at the alarm clock to find out it was only four in the morning.

In the days leading up to Christmas, when Mom wasn't looking, I would grab each of the presents she had labeled for me, weighing them carefully in my hands while gently shaking them to guess what might be inside. The theories about what those present might be had me eagerly expecting the arrival of morning.

Even if new video games or electronics were waiting for me under the tree this morning, I'd be grounded from playing with them. They would be confiscated and hidden away in Mom's bedroom as soon as I'd finished taking all the wrapping paper off.

If I was lucky, after about a half-hour of tossing and turning in bed, I'd be able to get back to sleep, hopefully until just before it was time to get up and open presents.

Mom had a strict rule on Christmas mornings. We weren't to wake her up until 8 a.m., and we couldn't go to where the presents were waiting under the living room tree until she was ready to do so.

As I lay in the crib this Christmas Eve, with the alarm clock finally showing that it was past midnight, I wasn't close to falling asleep. It wasn't for any of the usual reasons.

Mom had not let my punishment relent in the three days between the shopping trip to the mall and Christmas Eve.

I had never received this severe punishment from Mom before. Sure, I hadn't ever lied to her over such a long period, but even then, couldn't she see she had more than made her point? No matter how poorly my toilet training went after this punishment was over, I had no desire whatsoever to be not entirely truthful with Mom about my progress or lack thereof.

In the meantime, my efforts to work on potty training had fallen entirely by the wayside. I was no longer even attempting to hold my bladder in as long as I could. When the need to pee arrived, I simply went right then and there in my diaper.

Not that I didn't still want to be at least partially toilet trained, but working on it before I was back in pull-ups was simply pointless.

Every day, Mom continued to insinuate that I must either somehow like being a baby or that my problem was that I was simply too lazy to go to the toilet. It took all of my self-control not to argue back and not to demand that punishment end and that I be given a chance to prove her wrong.

But even if that opportunity came, what chance did I have of succeeding?

I rolled over in the crib until my head was in the one corner where I could just barely make out the alarm clock. Twenty-four minutes after midnight. Still, nearly eight hours to go. After more than a week of sleeping in the crib every night, I'd finally found a position that didn't leave me feeling completely aching the following day when Mom finally let me out.

Tonight, I wasn't stuck with only a t-shirt that would barely cover my diaper. The same as every year, Mom had given me a new set of pajamas on Christmas Eve.

Christmas was Mom's day. As soon as it was over, she spent the next 364 days preparing for the next one. That meant certain traditions simply had to be followed.

The first was pajamas. That was the one and only present I was allowed to open on Christmas Eve. Mom always had a matching set of pajamas for her and me. And, when Emilia came along, she also joined that tradition.

Last night was no different. Before getting ready for bed, Mom had my sister and I join her in the living room. She handed each of us a box covered in candy cane wrapping paper and took a nearly identical box for herself. I didn't have to guess to know what was inside.

This year, it was a light blue pajama set with pants and a shirt with snowman designs scattered across them.

The pants must have been ordered before my punishment had begun. They would have been mostly fine had I been wearing regular underwear, even if they were a bit low-rise. Not only did the diaper prevent the pajama pants from going up as high on my waist, but they stuck on well about the waistband of the pants.

The shirt that came with the pajama set had a similar issue. It didn't quite reach my pants, leaving a large gap where the diaper was obviously showing.

Other than that, the pajamas were incredibly comfortable and soft to the touch, so they had that going for them, at least.

I clenched my mouth shut to stifle a yawn. Didn't want to wake Emilia up. Even with my body finally beginning to physically express that it was time for me to shut my eyes and attempt to sleep, I resisted the urge to do so.

I wasn't looking forward to Christmas morning. Barring some sort of Christmas miracle, it appeared that my babying would continue at least through tomorrow. Knowing Mom, it probably was going through the end of Christmas break.

But did I want school to start up again? I'd spent the last three days replaying those brief moments with Lisa at the mall over and over again. Each time, I tried to think of what I could have done differently. Each time, I came away with the conclusion that I had done what was necessary.

I couldn't bear the idea of my friends finding out how deep my incontinence issues went and the punishment I was receiving for covering it up from Mom. I couldn't have Mom knowing about Lisa's incontinence either. I'm sure Mom would view her as a bad influence, someone I wouldn't be allowed to hang out with anymore, especially if she viewed Samantha and Desi as being co-conspirators in the effort to keep my incontinence hidden.

And that was the worst of it. I'd ended up isolated anyway, and Mom had nothing directly to do with it.

I hadn't yet figured out how I would explain everything to my friends when school started back up in a little over a week. I had nothing but time, considering how boring it was to sit around in a diaper and be a baby all day long.

And I very much had been bored out of my mind the past few days. It had actually been a relief when Emilia had finally acted on the big sister authority Mom had given her for my punishment and had demanded that I play house with her.

I hadn't even minded pretending to eat the toy food or doing the silly chores she assigned to me. I was just glad to be doing something, anything different from the routine I'd gotten stuck in.

My mouth opened with a wide but quiet yawn. This time, the reality of sleep felt more tangible, and I drifted off to sleep.

I woke up twice in the middle of the night. Once because I needed to pee and a second time because I'd dreamed that all of my presents had been nothing more than packages of additional diapers.

The next time I woke up, it was nearly time for Christmas morning.

---

Emilia was still sound asleep when I woke up a few minutes before 8 a.m.

She was young enough that Christmas was still an abstract concept. Give it another year or two, and she'd be experiencing the same sleepless nights that I had.

The sound of water running in the sink told me that Mom was already up and getting ready for the morning.

Some specific rules had to be followed when it came time to open presents, aside from needing to wait for Mom to be ready.

The first was that the stockings came before any of the presents. Emilia and I both had one with our name on it. Once we had gone through our stockings and perhaps snacked on some of the candy in them, we were to take turns opening our presents.

That would be followed by breakfast, which was always cinnamon rolls. Then, after the presents, there was a marathon of Christmas movies to watch. In other years, I would slip off to play video games on my computer. That wasn't an option with how I was grounded. I think Mom was more likely to make an exception to my rules to force me to watch a bunch of Hallmark movies with her than allow me to play video games.

The second rule was that we had to take turns opening presents. Emilia would go first, then me, and then Mom, though her pile was much smaller than ours.

I realized belatedly that I had gotten no gifts for Mom or my sister this year. To be fair to myself, there was a lot I had been dealing with the past two months. I had been planning on getting gifts the week leading up to Christmas, plans which had been completely derailed by being forced to live as a baby.

I shielded my eyes with my forearm as Mom opened the bedroom door and flipped on the light. What was a rude awakening for me was entirely ignored by Emilia, who remained sound asleep, buried beneath her covers.

Mom went to get my sister out of bed first.

"Time to go to the potty," Mom said to the still bleary-eyed three-year-old girl. "But stay in the hallway. You can't go to the Christmas tree till we're all ready."

I could feel how soaked my diaper already was as I lay on my back in the crib. My eyes had gradually adjusted to the light, and I no longer needed to cover them with my arm.

My diaper squished beneath me as I rolled onto my back. Why did the idea of being put into a clean, dry diaper have to sound so good?

But a diaper change wasn't in Mom's plans for the first stage of Christmas morning. I knew better than to say that I needed one. Babies didn't get to choose when their diapers were changed.

Instead, the only thing I got from Mom was a pacifier that she placed firmly in my mouth, along with a look that told me she expected the pacifier to remain in until she said otherwise.

Mom opened the gate to the crib, and I followed her out into the hallway. Emilia was squirming in the corner of the hallway. She was technically obeying Mom's instructions not to go around the corner into the living room. Still, she pushed that limit as much as possible. With how squirming she was, I would have thought she was doing a potty dance if not for the fact that Mom had sent her off to use the toilet only a few minutes ago.

Emilia ran ahead eagerly into the living room. Had it been a typical Christmas, I might also have found it hard to show any restraint. Instead, I trailed a few steps behind Mom.

As we entered the living room, A video camera was sitting on a stand in the far corner, pointing directly at the Christmas tree. I made eye contact directly with it, nearly spitting the pacifier out of my mouth.

---

The video camera was one Christmas tradition I had completely forgotten about.

I turned away from the camera, but the damage was already done. For the rest of my life, every time Mom replayed this Christmas tape, there would be stark evidence of this period in my life.

Mom loved to replay her Christmas tapes. She'd get them out at random times of the year to watch in the evening. I didn't understand what she got out of it, but every present I'd ever opened was preserved on camera for posterity.

For my fifteenth Christmas, every video of me opening a present would show off the unmistakable waistband of my diaper. As if seeing those few inches of plastic wouldn't be enough, the pajamas fit tightly against the diaper, exposing the bulky outline around my crotch and bottom, an outline that was even more obvious because of how soaked the diaper was. I also doubted that Mom would let me remove the pacifier, though that was a much lesser indignity than what I had on beneath my pants.

Emilia and I had a stocking with our name sewn on the top. Mine had a snowman on it, while hers had a bunch of reindeer.

Emilia grabbed her stocking and held it upside down, shaking out the contents into a scattered pile on the carpet in front of her.

On a typical Christmas, a stocking would include lots of candy, snacks, socks, lipstick, or other assorted odds and ends.

I gasped in dismay when I saw what had spilled out of my stocking and onto the floor.

A couple of pacifiers, two baby bottles, a sippy cup. Some tins of Playdough, a beanie baby. Large crayons. Some small glass jars of baby food. Rubber safety spoons and forks.

"This year, you are getting presents that are more appropriate for how you have been behaving," Mom said.

My heart sank at that announcement. I glanced over at the presents under the tree that bore my name on them, tears beginning to form in my eyes. What else did Mom have in store for me?

What made that worse was that I would have to open those presents with the camera rolling.

Even my little sister's stocking contents were more mature than mine. I looked over to where Emilia was seated to my right. She unwrapped a chocolate kiss and popped it into her mouth for a pre-Christmas snack. She did it right in front of Mom and didn't even get even a gentle rebuke for it.

Completely unfair. Mom never let me eat any candy before breakfast, even if it was Christmas morning.

My diaper suddenly no longer felt cold. The sudden warmth seemed to invalidate all the complaints running through my mind about how I was being treated this morning. I was a baby who couldn't help peeing herself.

"Let's try out one of your new pacifiers." Mom grabbed a bumble bee pacifier from the pile in front of my empty stocking, pulling it out of its plastic cover. She popped my current pacifier out of my mouth. "Buzz. Buzz." I held my mouth open as she inserted the bumblebee one.

I kept thinking that there wasn't any way that this morning could get worse, but I had a nagging feeling in the back of my head that I would not enjoy what was inside my presents.

---

I had hoped Mom would change my diaper before putting me in the highchair for breakfast, but I should have known better. It was common for her to change me after the first feeding of the morning.

My cinnamon roll had been cut into a bunch of tiny pieces. They were set in a pile on my kiddie plate with white frosting drizzled across. To the side were some banana slices. Mom had taken one of the sippy cups from my stocking and filled it with iced coffee.

I had to admit that it was a much better breakfast than I had gotten this Christmas break. Not an open jar of baby food in sight.

But I was still outfitted with a bib around my neck, and with no utensils, I was forced to eat a messy meal with my fingers again.

Despite my attempts to clean my fingers off on the bib, my hands were incredibly sticky by the time that breakfast was over. Mom wiped my hands with a wet cloth before allowing me to exit the highchair and follow her to the bedroom.

It was about time. Even with how my new pajama pants had a tight fit, my diaper was sagging badly as I walked beside Mom in the hallway.

Mom had sent Emilia on ahead to use the bathroom. I suspected Mom would be extra careful with reminding my younger sister to go to the toilet today, given how many more descriptions there would be for her on Christmas Day.

It would have been quicker if I could have taken my pajama pants off myself before lying down on the bed for the diaper change. But I wasn't allowed to have any part in dressing myself. Rules were rules, and Mom followed the ones she had set for me, even if it meant inconveniencing herself.

It was a rare pacifier-free moment. Mom hadn't given me another one after taking away the bumblebee pacifier before breakfast.

Outside of that one outing to the mall, I hadn't been allowed a single non-baby moment for over a week. Everything Mom said to me was baby talk or a pointed reminder of my babified condition.

Mom struggled for a minute to tug off my pajama pants. They really were a size too small. They didn't fit on a dry diaper, which was even worse with a soaked one.

"These didn't fit you that well anyway," Mom said. She rolled the pajama pants up and tossed them toward my laundry bin. The under thrown pants landed on a heap in front of the basket.

That was fine with me. Could do with an outfit that at least covered my diaper most of the time. I wouldn't be upset if Mom put me in a skirt or a dress.

The cold morning air felt good on my bottom as Mom removed my wet diaper. I didn't shiver as the wet wipes made contact with my bottom. Another aspect of being a baby that I was getting accustomed to.

I tried not to think about what the rest of the morning would be like. I dreaded going back into the living room to open presents in front of the camera.

But did it really matter that much? It wasn't as if Mom didn't already have video of me sucking on a pacifier with the top of the diaper sticking out of my pants. Another few minutes of me being on camera wouldn't change anything.

"Upsie!" Mom said as soon as she had finished taping the clean diaper around my waist. She took hold of my hands and pulled me forward off the bed and onto my feet.

Mom typically dressed me while I was lying down. Sometimes, she would put clothes on me while I was standing. But she had retrieved nothing from my dresser or closet and was headed toward the hallway instead.

I guessed what she had in mind. "But Mom!" The complaint left my lips before I realized I still couldn't talk like a big girl at home.

No sooner had I raised my voice at her than Mom had slapped her hand across my face.

The stinging pain on my face shocked me into silence. Mom firmly grabbed hold of my left hand and tugged me out of the bedroom and into the hallway.

I followed behind her. One hand held firmly in Mom's grip, the other held in front of my diaper in a feeble attempt to cover it up.

Emilia was already sitting eagerly in front of her pile of presents when we entered the living room. I sat on the floor in front of a pile with my name labeled.

In line with tradition, Emilia went first. She started with the biggest of her presents, a box that was nearly as large as she was.

I squirmed as Emilia tore off the wrapping paper. No. Not now. I could feel a churning beginning in my bowels. Mom had made it clear from the start that the toilet being one hundred percent off limit meant it was one hundred percent off limit, so I had messed myself nearly once a day since the punishment started. But if I could just hold off on doing so until we finished opening presents.

Emilia finished opening her first gift. It was a massive playhouse for her miniature plastic dolls.

I reluctantly picked up one of the presents in front of me and sat it on my lap.

"Not yet," Mom said. She leaped up from the couch and went to stand behind the video camera. She readjusted it so that the camera was pointing directly at me.

My hands shook as I slowly undid the wrapping paper on the box. I could have ripped it open much faster, but I wanted to avoid learning what would be inside. I tried to hold the box out in front of me in a way that shielded my diaper from view from the camera, but it was hard to know if that was working.

At last, I had enough of the wrapping paper off to see what was underneath. It was one of the plastic boxes with holes cut for different pieces. A circle, square, triangle, rectangle. Mom hadn't even purchased any new baby toys for me. I recognized this from when Emilia was playing with it to learn her shapes a couple of years ago.

Then I felt another lurch in my bowels. I wasn't able to prevent myself from squirming.

"Tell mommy what you got."

"A puzzle."

"That's right.

Mom opened a present that supposedly was from my sister, though I knew it was just something Mom had picked out for herself. It was a box of new Christmas-themed cookie cutters.

Emilia was back up. And continuing with the theme from earlier, she picked the biggest of her remaining presents.

I tried to focus on watching her open her gift. Still, the discomfort was becoming too great as the squirming continued to increase.

I saw the look on Mom's face from the corner of my eye. She knew. She knew exactly what I was trying to prevent myself from doing. It was all that iced coffee I had with breakfast. I knew how that was likely to cause me to need to poop in the morning.

It wasn't as if the urge to defecate was that immediate. Under any normal circumstances, there wouldn't have been any question whether I could have made it to the toilet in time.

If one aspect of Mom's punishment was the most humiliating, it was this.

I could accept peeing in a diaper because, deep down, I knew I wasn't toilet trained anymore. Even being treated as a baby, with the pacifiers, bibs, bottles, and diaper changes, was a punishment I understood. It was no different from what Emilia had received, and the punishment's scope matched how long I had been deceiving Mom.

But despite all my issues over the past four months, I had never once messed my pants on accident. I'd only done so in a diaper because I'd been given no alternative.

A bit of gas escaped as a loud fart.

Emilia giggled and then placed both hands over her nose. "Eww!"

Far from relieving the pressure in my bowels, the fart appeared to have cleared the way for everything else to come out. The countdown before I would uncontrollably mess myself could likely now be measured in seconds rather than minutes.

I was sitting on my knees. At the last moment, I lifted my butt off of the ground and groaned as I felt shit smear across my bottom as the mess filled my diaper.

"Mommy, Sarah made a poopie!"

I forced myself to look up at Mom. Pleading with my eyes for her to please take me back to the bedroom for a diaper change before resuming with the present opening.

"Your turn to open up a present." Mom reached into my pile and handed me a soft package wrapped in green and red striped wrapping paper. "Let's do this one next."

I wrinkled my nose as Mom returned to the video camera and readjusted it to be pointed directly at me again.

I spread my feet apart so that my bottom wasn't touching anything when I sat back down. I still had four more presents to open, including the one currently in my hands.

I unwrapped this next present much faster than my first one, now that I was feeling a sense of urgency to get my diaper changed. It was another example of re-gifting by Mom. A pair of strap-on butterfly wings, leftover from a fair phase Emilia had been when she was two years old.

"Now you can play dress-up with your sister," Mom said.

I sighed and forced a smile on my face as I held my gift up for the camera. At least it wasn't as bad as the puzzle blocks. I wondered if there were some age-appropriate presents Mom had purchased that I would get later.

"Let's try those on to see if they fit." I obliged and slid my arms through the bands that held the glittery pink wings in place on my back.

"So cute," Mom said. "Stand up and give me a twirl."

I froze in place. I didn't need to look in a mirror to imagine what the backside of my diaper must look like right now.

Mom asked again, in the same cheery voice. But from behind the camera, she was glowering, and I knew right away that if I didn't obey, if I were to mess up her Christmas, the consequences would be severe.

I stood up, looking in the general direction of the camera, but I couldn't bring myself to look directly at it or Mom.

"Do a twirl. Let's see how it looks on you."

I obeyed, spinning in a circle as fast as I could. Knowing full well the camera had captured a clear image of my messy diaper.

Worst Christmas ever.

December 27, 2023

11 hours ago, thedman said:

At this point I have to hope that Lisa's bullshit detector has gone haywire and that she will find a way to get the right adults involved and save her friend

That's a theory. She certainly has experience being in that situation herself.

10 hours ago, Nappygirl97 said:

I hope Lisa is smart enough to know what's going on and continue to help Sarah.

Also although not ideal but with how she's been getting worse it's good to see Sarah get closer towards giving up fighting and accepting diapers.

Hopefully Sarah can be saved by her friends and accept she needs diapers by the end of this.

That's always a conflicting point in ABDL stories. Is success accepting diapers or overcoming the need for them?

7 hours ago, kerry said:

WTF??? This is so mean and unnecessary! I'd hope that Sarah was trying to send some signal to Lisa, but the narrative makes it clear that she is not.

Like others have pointed out, Sarah is panicking at the potential for any interaction between her mother and Lisa. I think I made it clear that she is saying what she is saying to drive Lisa off before her mom returns, not out of genuinely believing it.

7 hours ago, Jayme said:

Fear does some weird crap to people. Sarah fears what her mother would/could do to her.

Part fear of her mom, part embarrassment of her incontinence situation and punishment being revealed to Lisa, and partly just generally not being in the right mindset because of how she's been treated the past week.

Sarah's been on a downward spiral for a little while now, so I wouldn't judge her decision-making too harshly.

4 hours ago, GQLF said:

Because Sarah believes that protecting her own secrets is far more important than getting help from others, she believes that being discovered by her mother and seeking help from others will make it worse because it means doing things behind her mother's back, which her controlling mother absolutely cannot tolerate.

That's another good way of looking at the situation.

3 hours ago, spark said:

I don't think Sarah is protecting secrets. She is protecting her safety. Her mom spanks the holy hell out of Sarah just for talking like a normal person. What do you think Mom will do if she catches Sarah speaking to one of the friends that led her astray?

I wonder what would have happened if Sarah chose to say: "Help me, Please! My mom is holding me captive and forcing me to act like a baby."

Could always do a series of alternative episodes a la the Marvel "What If" series.

1 hour ago, Night Rain said:

Sarah's situation just keeps getting worse overall. What will Christmas be like or worse yet once school starts again.

Next chapter takes place on Christmas Day. We'll have the answer for that then.

15 minutes ago, spark said:

There is a terrible book on Amazon about a girl who started wetting her pants and her mother forced her Pull-ups, and then put her diapers with mittens and made her use baby talk and kept her that way for years. The whole family participated, including an evil cousin who secretly likes diapers herself. In the end, the evil cousin ends up in a similar position. I love Regression, but that story was terrible.

I don't know what Mom could do to Sarah that's any worse than what she has done and still stay true to her character.

I think I've read quite a few stories that follow that pattern. I can't say what else the mom has planned in store. Obviously, nothing good for Sarah, but there could still be some depths she could realistically sink to.

December 26, 2023

Chapter 57: Chance Encounter

I extracted every last drop of liquid that I could from the baby bottle, sucking on it as hard as I could, not because I was still thirsty, but because Mom wasn't going to remove the rubber tip from my lips until the bottle was completely empty.

Mom had switched to having me drink baby formula instead of warmed-up milk. It was sweet and creamy. I had to admit that it did taste better than the milk, at least when it was either warm or cold, but not when it was at room temperature—another incentive for drinking it quickly.

"All done, such a good job," Mom said, as she used a small cloth towel to wipe my face dry of some formula that hadn't quite made its way into my mouth.

This was the morning routine Mom had settled in for me the past week. At least, I think it had been a week. It was getting hard to keep track of which day it was now. Mornings would begin with a diaper change in bed, followed by being fed in the highchair, which Emilia often assisted with. After that, Mom would have me come with her to the couch, where I would lie in her lap and attempt to drink a bottle of warm baby formula as fast as possible.

Each time I had attempted to hold my bladder in until the feeding was finished. I had only succeeded in that once so far. Mom never changed me out of my pajamas until after breakfast was finished, which today meant that I was only wearing a short nightgown to go with the diaper.

But even outside of bottle feedings, it was getting harder and harder to find the motivation to even try to hold in my bladder. It didn't help that the diaper was so much more absorbent than a pull-up that if I did have any small accidents, I was completely unaware that they had happened.

"Looks like someone went pee pee in her diaper," Mom said. She gave my exposed diaper a completely unnecessary squeeze with her hand. Even with how I was lying down, I could clearly see that the diaper was wet.

"Shall we go get your diapie changed?" Mom asked.

I was spared the indignity of needing to respond. The question was clearly rhetorical as Mom had just replaced the bottle with a pacifier.

There were few circumstances where it was more difficult for me to try to hold in my bladder. Something about sucking the warm liquid out of the bottle made it more difficult for me to focus on holding my bladder in. My goal had been for my diaper to still be dry by the time the feeding was over, but as was obvious to Mom, that had not been the case.

Mom had as much time off from work for Christmas as I did from school, so there hadn't been any question of what would happen to my babying should she need to go into the office. Emilia was also on break from going to her preschool classes. There were times when she had delighted in taking on the role of older sister in Mom's seemingly endless punishment of me, but Emilia was still a few months from turning four, and her attention span was short enough that she was easily distracted from that task.

Endless was the right description for how long Mom was keeping me in this punishment. I knew it would have been foolish to expect it to have gone on for only a day, like the previous times Mom had disciplined me for having multiple accidents in a day, but I had expected something like three or four days at the most. It was now only three days before Christmas and Mom had shown no sign of relenting.

One of the most important things not to do in the middle of one of Mom's punishments was to ask her how much longer it was going to continue. I couldn't recall a single instance where that question had ever been answered to my satisfaction. Any sign of impatience was only going to result in Mom deciding that I needed more time to learn whatever lesson she was attempting to impart.

The rare occasions where I had been successful in getting Mom to change her mind had always been ones where I had definitive proof that I was in the right, and even then, the topic had to be approached delicately.

I didn't have a single leg to stand on to argue that this punishment wasn't deserved. Even if I hadn't been stupid enough to give Mom a full confession during the stressful minutes after my secret had been outed, the evidence for my disobedience well exceeded the threshold of reasonable doubt.

Besides, one had to believe in an argument for it to be successful.

---

Every bit of clothing Mom had dressed me in this week had been intended to serve one purpose, to make it obvious to me that I was wearing a diaper. Anything that left the diaper covered with its outline completely obscured, such as a knee-length dress or high-rise baggy sweatpants, was completely out of the picture.

Mom didn't usually have the heat running heavily in the winter. She preferred to bundle up to deal with the cold. But she had made an exception for a few days this week, meaning that it was possible to have me spend the day wearing only a diaper and a t-shirt without going around shivering.

I waddled along behind Mom as we walked to the bedroom.

"Can I help with diapie change?" Emilia asked as we passed her in the hallway.

Of all the things that my younger sister had to be most excited to help with, it had to be diaper changes.

"Not now," Mom said. "You need to go use the potty. We're going to get in the car once I've got your sister changed and dressed."

Emilia ran off to the bathroom. I followed behind Mom. Glad she couldn't see the horrified look on my face.

Where exactly were we going, and how long was I going to be out in public?

"Mommy. Where we going?"

I'd only forgotten to use baby talk on one occasion the past week, for which I had been punished with a spanking on my bare bottom. Mom had at least proven to be receptive to small outbursts so long as they came in the correct format.

"You'll just have to wait and see," Mom said.

I shivered as Mom ran a cold wet wipe along my bare skin. It had been one thing to go on a walk to the park. It was another to go somewhere where I would be surrounded by a bunch of people. Christmas was only a few days away. There wasn't anywhere we could be going that wouldn't be completely packed.

I remained on the bed after Mom had finished taping on a clean diaper. The amount of powder she had applied was more than usual. Not a good sign for how long Mom expected me to be going without a diaper change. Also not a good sign for anyone I might walk past in the hallway, though they could easily attribute that smell to Emilia.

I couldn't count on Mom to avoid doing anything that might embarrass me, but I could count on doing anything that she felt might embarrass herself. That left me hopeful that whatever outfit she selected would be one that wouldn't make it obvious that I was wearing a diaper.

I was barely able to stifle a laugh as Mom retrieved a pair of jeans from my dresser. I already knew that they weren't going to fit over the diaper, but that wasn't something Mom was aware of, so I had to try to stand still as Mom struggled and failed to get the jeans over the diaper. Skinny-fit jeans and a thick diaper simply aren't a good combination.

Mom finally gave up and tugged the jeans off in frustration. That was fine with me. Mom may not have been super attentive to how I had taken to wearing dresses to school the couple of weeks before Christmas break. But the dresses I had gotten from Lisa were still hanging in my closet. Mom would have to be blind to miss them. That would have been my preferred choice if we were to be going out in public.

But instead of heading over to the closet, Mom continued to sift through my dresser, until at last she pulled out a pair of leggings that had been tucked away in the very back of a drawer.

"That's what I was looking for," Mom said, as she walked back over to me with the dark gray leggings. "Need something stretchy to get over your bottom."

I bit my lip before I could begin to argue. Best to wait until I could see how the whole outfit would turn out. Perhaps the leggings would be paired with a skirt, dress, or a shirt long enough to cover my bottom. If not, pointing out how obvious the diaper was beneath the leggings might be enough to get Mom to adjust the outfit without having to throw a fit over it.

I laid down again on the bed and held my legs out so Mom could pull the leggings onto my feet. I had intentionally avoided this pair of leggings when I had been looking for something to wear to the mall on Black Friday. I had figured they would be too snug, which would make the diaper more noticeable.

I caught a glance of my bottom in the mirror before following Mom out of the bedroom. It felt off, not because the outline of the diaper was visible, but because I knew my bottom wasn't that big. The snugness of the leggings had worked somewhat in my favor, compressing the diaper around my body in a way that made my butt look bigger but didn't make it look as those there was something other than underwear under the leggings.

Any of my friends, and especially Lisa, would notice right away that I was in a diaper, but to a random stranger, it wouldn't be noticeable, at least when dry. I hoped whatever errand Mom was bringing me along to run wasn't going to take so long that I would be soaked by the time we got back.

The long-sleeved shirt didn't go down quite as much as I would have preferred, but I felt confident it would do when combined with my jacket, as long as I didn't bend over or raise my arms all the way up into the air.

My young sister was waiting for us by the doorway once I had gotten dressed. Emilia and I had matching outfits, well, matching on the outside at least. I glanced around for Mom, but she hadn't followed behind me. It took her a few more minutes to be ready to go. She had exchanged her normal purse for a shoulder bag that I could make an educated guess as to what it contained. What on earth did Mom have planned for today?

I walked out to the car, looking down at my waist to reassure myself that the diaper wasn't noticeable as I moved around.

With each turn Mom made as we began the drive, I grew more and more suspicious of what our destination was going to be. The direction we were going in was clear. The only question was whether we were going to stop somewhere else along the route we were taking. There was still some hope, slight hope at least, that we weren't going where I feared we were.

Those hopes were dashed as Mom exited the highway on the ramp that led directly to the shopping mall.

---

I exited the car cautiously after Mom finally found a parking spot in the two-story garage, giving my jack a slight tug down to make sure it was covering as much of my leggings as possible.

The crinkling sound I made while walking was noticeable while in the parking lot, but once we entered the mall, it was drowned out by all the surrounding noise of shoppers rushing to get their last-minute gifts.

It was less busy than it had been a month ago on Black Friday, but only barely so. I remembered what had happened to Samantha when she had drunk so much and held in her bladder for so long that her diaper wasn't able to contain everything when she finally wet it.

I wasn't likely to have that problem. The bottle of formula I had for breakfast was nowhere the size of a large coffee, and either way, I couldn't hold my bladder long enough to the point where a single accident would cause a diaper to overflow. I suppose that would be a sign of potty training progress if I were to ever manage that.

Today wasn't the day to try to find that out. Emilia and I stood next to Mom as she scanned the mall directory. I wasn't sure what it was exactly that we were shopping for. There had been a ton of Amazon packages arriving over the past week, many of which I had been instructed not to touch. With how Mom wasn't leaving me on my own, I assumed that the majority of the shopping for this Christmas was being done online.

I felt my diaper warm up as I waited impatiently for Mom to find the location on the map for the store she found in the directory. Not now. At least it felt like it had only been a small accident. I hoped that was the case, given how there were now people waiting behind us to look at the directory.

With each day of being in a diaper, my determination to work on holding in my bladder waned. It all felt rather pointless. Besides, I'd have Mom providing me with a ready supply of pull-ups once school started again, so it wasn't even as if there was some rush to have all my problems solved when school started again in less than two weeks.

Mom's shopping list took us through several children's stores. First, we had to spend nearly an hour in a shoe store getting new sneakers for Emilia. She complained that every pair of shoes Mom put on her made her feet her, at least until she tried on a pair of shoes with her favorite Disney princess on them.

My diaper continued to get wetter as the shopping trip progressed. I made use of every possible opportunity to keep my bottom out of view, whether that was leaning up against a wall or sitting down at a bench while Mom had Emilia try on some new winter jackets.

After several more tiny accidents, I was able to discreetly check my bottom in the mirror at a store. It wasn't as bad as I feared, but if I went longer without a diaper change, I couldn't help but imagine how my leggings would begin to sag.

I finally couldn't hold in my question for Mom any longer.

"How much longer are we going to be shopping?"

"We still have some more things to get," Mom said. "Your sister has had quite the growth spurt lately." The question did cause Mom to look at her phone. "We have one more store to go to, then we can get lunch before finishing the shopping."

The next store was at least the quickest one. The first few pairs of leggings that Mom picked out for Emilia fit her without any issues.

We stopped at a family restroom before heading to the food court. The three of us entered the family restroom together. That wasn't as embarrassing as I had feared a diaper change at the mall would be. Anyone watching would be assuming that we were going in to assist Emilia rather than me.

Mom did have Emilia sit on the toilet as she pulled down my jeans to change my diaper. I turned around to give her some privacy. I was glad Mom was having me change in a standing position. Aside from not wanting to have to lie down to be changed on such a hard surface, the floor wasn't exactly looking immaculately clean.

Mom ordered a cheeseburger meal for herself and a kid's meal with chicken nuggets for my sister. She turned to me, and I realized it was my turn to order. This restaurant wouldn't have been my first choice, but at least I wasn't stuck with a kid's meal. I hadn't put any thought into what I wanted to eat. I quickly chose a hamburger meal for myself, not paying much attention even to the toppings that came on it with that particular combo meal.

I devoured the hamburger. Each bite was incredibly delicious. It was so good to have something to eat that wasn't baby food. I slowed myself down when I got to the fries, eating them one by one with ketchup. I knew it was going to make me hate whatever baby meal Mom had planned tonight even more, but it was wonderful to eat real food for the first time in a week.

The last thing Mom needed to purchase for my sister was several pairs of jeans. She still was too young to figure out how to do buttons on her own, so they were all ones with stretchy waistbands. Like the leggings, it was easy to find ones with a good fit, and there weren't any with princess designs on them for Emilia to get distracted by.

Personally, I was just glad to be finally on the way home. As nice as it was to go out and get regular food for once, I simply wanted to be able to not be in a constant state of worrying about the condition of my bottom and who might be looking at it.

We made a restroom stop on the way to the car. Emilia might be potty trained, but Mom still wasn't taking any chances with her.

There wasn't a family restroom near the mall entrance, just regular ones with normal stalls, so I was left to stand outside in the hallway while waiting for Emilia to finish her business.

"Sarah, is that you? What are you doing here?"

I turned around in shock. Lisa was standing a few feet in front of me, holding a couple of shopping bags. I looked around but didn't see her aunt or uncle.

"I'm shopping. What else am I supposed to be doing at a mall? Where are your aunt and uncle?"

"My aunt dropped me off so I could get in a bit of Christmas shopping. But that really doesn't matter. Are you OK? None of my texts have been getting through, and I didn't even see you online on Fortnite. You need to tell me if something is wrong. I can help."

"I don't have my phone. I'm grounded. No video games either. Which sucks for Christmas break."

"What for?"

"Doesn't matter. I don't want to talk right now."

Under no circumstances could I have Mom realize I had spoken with Lisa, let alone allow them to have any interaction with each other.

"It's not like I don't know when things don't look right," Lisa said.

I just needed her to go away. The amount of trouble that she could cause if this argument expanded to Mom was more than I wanted to think about.

"Look, just fuck off. I don't want anything to do with you."

I felt sick to my stomach as the words left my mouth. Lisa looked as though she was about to start crying. But she wasn't leaving. Mom had to be ready to come out at any minute. It couldn't take Emilia that much longer to use the toilet. I hated myself for what I was about to do. But I didn't see any other choice.

"Just go, OK. And stay the fuck away from me. We're not friends anymore."

Lisa gasped. I saw a couple of tears run down her face before she turned and ran down the hallway. She was out of sight by the time Mom and Emilia rejoined me a minute later.

---

I usually found it hard to avoid crying when I was upset. But I hurt so much that I didn't even seem capable of crying. Three months of knowing Lisa. Gone. Just like that. I'd burned that bridge to the ground with napalm.

But I had to move on. Mom was already motioning for me to hurry up and follow her and Emilia to the exit and to our car. And I already needed to pee again, so good luck with even being able to stay dry until we got home.

But as we continued to walk toward the exit, the need to pee began to become the least of my problems. I wasn't sure what it was about my lunch, but it seemed as though it had caused my bowels to speed up. Everything inside me was beginning to speed up uncomfortably.

There were a few minutes while we were walking to the exit of the mall that I thought there would be a chance of at least making it home until I shit myself, but as we stepped into the parking garage, I realized that I was now going to be lucky if I made it until we got into the car. Even if I were to ask Mom to let me go back and use the toilet just this once, with the restrooms even further away, I wouldn't get there in time either.

I slowed down my pace until both Mom and Emilia were a few feet ahead of me, and then I came to a stop.

I didn't have any say in the matter as I simultaneously messed and wet myself while standing in the parking lot. I kept my distance from Mom and Emilia as I followed them to the car. Emilia was the first to notice what I had done.

"Mommy, Sarah has a poopy diaper."

"She what?" Mom turned and sniffed, only to wrinkle her nose in disgust.

"Really Sarah, you couldn't wait until we got home?"

"I had to go really badly. I couldn't hold it any longer."

"Then you should have said something. Could have taken off your diaper to have you go in the family restroom."

Like Mom actually would have believed I needed to go that urgently. I didn't understand why Mom was so angry with me. What the fuck did she expect with bringing me in public? I'd messed my diaper nearly every day at home since this punishment first began.

"Seriously," Mom said. "It's almost as if you like going potty in your diapers rather than in the toilet."

"That's not true."

"Who spent the last few months being too lazy to go to the toilet?"

I didn't say anything. I wasn't going to give Mom the satisfaction of admitting to anything further. But was she right? Was my bladder just not as strong as my friends? Were the accidents my fault for not going to the toilet as frequently as my body required?

"I'm not taking you back inside the mall to get changed. You'd be stinking up every hallway on the way to the restroom. And I'm not having you sit in the car all the way home in a messy diaper."

I was grateful not to be headed back inside the mall. I couldn't run into Lisa again, not like this. Not to mention all the strangers who would be made uncomfortably aware of my accident. But I wasn't sure what Mom could be planning to do instead.

I found out why Mom's bag was so full as she removed a changing pad from it and placed it in the back seat.

"Not here. Please."

"You should have thought of that before you decided to poop in your diaper."

There wasn't anyone else around, but the longer I argued, the more I risked other people witnessing this scene. I laid down on the changing mat, unable to prevent myself from pressing down on the diaper, causing shit to spread further across my bottom.

Emilia's car seat was right behind the passenger seat. Which left just enough room for me to lie down, though my lower legs and feet would be sticking out. We were at the far end of the parking garage, with the open door facing a wall. Unless a passerby got too inquisitive for their own good, there wouldn't be any issues with doing a diaper change.

Mom pulled my jeans down to my knees, grimacing as she cleaned me up in record time. I pulled my pants up myself while she wrapped up the diaper and put the changing pad back into her bag.

"Here," Mom said. She handed me the rolled-up diaper.

"What am I supposed to do with this?"

"Go toss it in the garbage. I'm not having it stink up the car."

"Mom, I can't carry a diaper around. People are going to see."

"Then you better hurry."

I looked both ways as I exited the car. I could see some shoppers off to my left as I speed-walked to the mall entrance, where there were a couple of large trash bins. I shifted the diaper to my right hand, trying to keep it out of their view.

I tried to focus solely on my destination, trying to pretend as though I didn't have a single care whether someone saw what I was doing. I tossed the diaper in a trash bin and hurried back around to the car.

I didn't think Mom had thought through this situation all that well. There was still a lingering, unpleasant odor from the diaper change as we spent the next twenty minutes driving home. And it was far too cold out to crack the windows open to let in some fresh air. At least everything would have remained inside the diaper had Mom waited until we got home.

I tried to breathe through my nose as little as possible. What was even the point of trying to get toilet trained? All the evidence of the past few months suggested that I wasn't even capable of that anymore.

Sure, it would be nice to be back in pull-ups during the day. But the mission of getting back into big girl underwear had never seemed so difficult before than now.

December 21, 2023

This works

<spoiler> This is what I was trying </spoiler>

And thanks, that was a very easy solution, lol.

December 20, 2023

On 12/19/2023 at 3:31 PM, AdultInnocence said:

She is thinking like someone that is abused and that it is what she deserved. She hasn't linked the fall at school with when things started to get bad because she was wetting the bed at that time. It isn't like she was completely dry and then all of a sudden started having issues.

I really hope her friends see her on her walk home and go to Lisa's uncle. If there was a time she needed someone to change her way of thinking and rescue her from this, it's now.

To clarify the timeline. Sarah had been dry at night for a few years leading up to the story. Her daytime accidents and the return of her bedwetting happened at about the same time.

On 12/19/2023 at 3:40 PM, nadine_enough said:

The declaration of the rules is so reminiscient of classic ABDL stories. I love it. This story is so good!

Thanks!

21 hours ago, GQLF said:

When Sarah began to comply with her mother's rules and thought it would be better, she even began to feel that it was right to comply with her mother earlier. If there were no external influences, this matter would have become irreversible.

I'm counting eight chapters left at this point (that number is subject to change as they get written). A lot can happen in that amount of time.

19 hours ago, spark said:

The narcism is out of control. Based on the chapter, Sarah is feeling hopeless, and this is way crueler than what she has ever been. The forced baby talk and putting her in a crib that isn't big enough is just evil, and there is a chance that she becomes brainwashed. Fortunately, Emilia is acting like a three-year-old and unable to really participate in the behavior.

Another issue is Emilia isn't even four years old. At some point she will do something that will earn her mom's wrath. It might be an accident because sometimes four-year-olds get distracted. It could be a tantrum, becomes she wants to do something, or maybe it's just doing something stupid like drawing on the wall. I have a sense that something is going to break soon.

Mom would likely be arrested for that behavior, but it would be a short sentence. Based on experience, narcissists don't change, so Mom will not change. There is no coming back from this relationship. Mom has proven that she is not a reliable parent, nor one who can be trusted. Without completely isolating Sarah from the rest of society, Mom can only exert so much control before Sarah seeks her escape. That even happened with the Turpin children, and they were so isolated that they didn't realize how unnatural their parents' behavior was. Right now, Sarah feels like she deserves this, but that won't last very long.

Hard to say that Emilia will be getting into trouble anytime soon. Narcissists tend to have a favorite "golden child" and a least favorite "the scapegoat." With how much the mom is focused on Sarah, it seems like Emilia is going to be safe for the time being.

19 hours ago, BabySofia said:

I would guess it'll last a lot longer than you think. At this point she's going to need counseling to deprogram the idea that she 'deserves this.' Mom needs to have her custodial rights revoked... Question is does anyone figure out something is wrong before the end of the break? These poor girls need removed as soon as possible, and hopefully a doctor can evaluate Sarah. I would hazard she'll be incontinent for the rest of her life at this point with any treatment being so far delayed.

Appreciate the updates... hope you won't leave us in suspense too long.

Thanks, the next chapter will be up next week after Christmas. Sadly, I couldn't time things perfectly to have the Christmas chapter on Christmas day, but it will be close enough. Chapter 58 is the Christmas one.57 takes place before then.

16 hours ago, Night Rain said:

I think Sarah's punishment is a tad extreme and something I don't agree with.

I would be more than a little concerned if someone thought the mom's behavior was defensible at this point in the story.

10 hours ago, Kahlez said:

We don´t really know a lot about her mother yet and maybe this is could be one of the situations where her mother went through the same or some abuse in her past. I would guess at least something happened because being that kind of mother out of nothing seems weird (or lazy writing which I don´t think). So maybe in a way both of them are victims but further chapters may give is more on information's. Regardless Sarah blaming herself is a really bad sign... I can speak out of experience.

Not planning on going more into the mother's past, but yes, abuse is something that does tend to be cyclical through generations. It would be fair to speculate that the mom didn't have a great upbringing herself.

7 hours ago, Lost Little Neppy said:

This is so sad. It's cruel for her mother to take her outside when her diaper could easily be seen under her leggings and jacket, and while her mother is certainly responsible for this (who the hell doesn't notice this in their kid and call their pediatrician?), Sarah doesn't seem to think that's the case at all.

I recall earlier in the story when her mother mentioned that she had to wear diapers, and it makes me wonder if this is generational abuse going on. Maybe this is something that worked on her, and therefore her mom thinks that it will work on Sarah. It would explain some of the eccentricities of her (baking Christmas cookies during October, readying for Christmas as soon as she possibly can, her potty training with Emilia and how it just ended up with her making constant steps back until the suppository idea Sarah came up with), but I think the mother wants to do more extreme methods to try and punish this out of Sarah.

I don't know how much public babying she'll do with Sarah, and I definitely don't know if she would want that placed on her. I don't think Sarah's mother wants people to know that her teenage daughter has a wetting problem, as it would reflect on her as a mother. But at the same time, maybe she would risk it to punish Sarah more and get her to "understand how inappropriate this is."

Once again, does this woman not believe in taking her kids to the doctor? I wouldn't be surprised if she considered all doctors to be quacks and saw to her daughters' healthcare herself.

It's been mentioned a few times in story, but the mom does the absolute bare minimum for interacting with doctors. Only recent time Sarah went was a required checkup so she could be eligible for the cheerleading team.

That's part of it, she's also expressed views that suggest she views Sarah's accidents as more of a personal failing rather than a medical issue. I.e. she views Sarah as being too lazy or distracted or careless or even accusing her of wanting to be a baby, rather than considering the problem to be something that Sarah doesn't have any control over.

December 20, 2023

Not seeing a way to add spoiler tags to text in a post. Wondering if that's a feature that can be added.

December 19, 2023

Chapter 56: What I Deserved

Mom's pronouncement didn't come as a complete shock. As much as she liked to be specific when disciplining me, setting an indefinite timeline was a tactic she used when she wanted to be extra certain that I would be on my best behavior. With the potential for any slip-up to serve as an excuse to lengthen my time in diapers, I had no room for any mistakes.

"Go brush your teeth."

With that abrupt conclusion to Mom's lecture, I was dismissed. I waddled out of the room, crinkling all the way to the sink. As I spread a bit of toothpaste onto my brush, I couldn't shake the impression that the full details of Mom's plan to discipline me had yet to be revealed.

If past experiences were to serve as precedent, I was going to be treated very much like a baby for the next few days. I didn't think I was going to get away with spending just a single day in diapers, but as long as I did everything Mom asked, I doubted it would extend too much longer than that. It was an exhaustive punishment for her to have to enforce for multiple days in a row.

It was way before my bedtime, but with everything that I was now banned from doing, it wasn't like there was much point in staying up any later. At least I wouldn't have to help Mom with getting Emilia ready for bed when help basically meant doing almost everything for her.

But the diaper was dry when I returned to the bedroom. I'd at least had an accident in my pull-up right before Mom changed me into a diaper, so I wasn't going to have to worry about trying to fall asleep in a wet diaper.

Mom was still in the bedroom when I returned. Couldn't I at least be trusted to tuck myself into bed on my own?

"Babies sleep in a crib," Mom said.

I was capable of fitting in the crib, but only if I curled up on my side or scrunched in my legs if I was lying on my back. There were times when I might be able to get away with pushing back against Mom. This was not one of them.

Mom unlatched the gate to the crib, and I obediently crawled in and squeezed myself under a blanket without saying a word. I was going to need to make sure I spent time stretching in the morning with how sore I was likely to be from an entire night of sleeping in this position.

Even Emilia was getting too old for the crib. It wasn't as though she didn't still fit in it, but as a nearly four-year-old girl whose potty training was one hundred percent complete, she was due to have a regular bed. Mom had talked in the past about setting up a bunk bed when that time came, since trying to squeeze in two beds in our tiny room would be nearly impossible. I wasn't opposed to the idea, assuming that I would be on the top bunk.

I didn't respond as Mom said goodnight and then turned off the lights and shut the door.

Even with the lights off, I didn't close my eyes right away. I could hear the water running from the bathroom. Mom was filling up the tub to bathe Emilia before bedtime. I could picture what her reaction would be to learn she would be trading places with me for the next few nights. Hopefully, she would avoid rolling off the side of the bed.

Even if I were to close my eyes and fall asleep now, I was bound to be woken up when it was time for Mom to tuck Emilia into bed, so it made little sense to try to fall asleep.

I normally would have been more comfortable lying on my back, but with how thoroughly Mom had spanked me, that wasn't an option tonight. Might not even be an option tomorrow night, either.

The darkness and silence created a moment of calm, and I was able to take a deep breath and begin to rationally assess everything that had occurred in the past half-hour when my whole world had turned upside down.

What is strange is that I almost felt a bit of relief.

That wasn't to say that I in any way was happy with the situation, with my bedwetting and incontinence, and Mom's attempts to punish and shame me out of it. But after months of struggling to keep everything hidden, of struggling to keep my story straight all the time, this punishment, as bad as it was, at least came with a sense of certainty.

Or had the stress of the last couple of months just now been replaced with something worse?

The diaper crinkled again as I shifted under the blanket. Mom had left me in the t-shirt I had been wearing beneath my jacket, and she hadn't bothered to put anything over the diaper after changing me. She had better make sure the heat was on well tonight.

But even after this punishment ended, the next step was going to be pull-ups and a return to Mom's dreaded potty-training routine. I might even be able to make it seven days without an accident, if I were to spend the entirety of those seven days at home, but I had to face the reality that I was not going to be able to go without having accidents at school, and with Mom monitoring my pull-up use again, I couldn't think of any way I would be able to hide those accidents from her.

The sound of splashing in the bathroom had come to an end. The bedroom door swung open a few minutes later. Mom didn't turn on the bedroom lights, but the light coming from out in the hallway was able to illuminate the bedroom enough that she and my sister could navigate it without bumping into anything.

I was already facing the wall, so I didn't have to watch to see what my little sister's reaction was to her new bed. There weren't any exclamations of surprise from her, so Mom must have told her before bringing her into the bedroom.

Then the door was shut, and the bedroom was again shrouded in darkness.

I was going to be on my best behavior tomorrow, regardless of what level of babying I was going to be forced to endure. That was my only hope to get out of this discipline.

The next few days were going to suck. But I knew what was in store for me, and things would have a chance of getting better once I made it through them.

---

Mom woke me up by leaning over the edge of the crib to rub my shoulder.

I yawned as I glanced around the room.

My bed, the one Emilia was temporarily using, was empty, the sheets haphazardly strewn across the mattress. Emilia was probably already watching morning cartoons in the living room, maybe eating a dry bowl of cereal while she did that.

The less time I spent around her in this condition, the better. I had worried a lot the other day about how Samantha's younger brother might not be able to keep a secret, but that made sense for a nine-year-old. But with Emilia getting closer to her fourth birthday, what would she be able to recall from all this?

I had to admit that she had a much better awareness of what was going on around her than I often gave her credit for. Would these experiences with our role reversal eventually fade from her memory? Or could this be something that I would risk having held over me once she was older?

Mom unlatched the side of the crib and swung it open. My legs ached as I stretched and sat up on the side of the crib. I lifted them in the air and held them straight out, straining to reach my toes as far as I was able. It was a start, but I was going to need to spend a lot more time stretching to recover from my cramped sleeping conditions.

It was a miracle that my diaper hadn't leaked overnight, given the position I had fallen asleep in. From how much it squished beneath my slightly less sore bottom, I could tell it hadn't been a small bedwetting accident last night, either.

As much as I didn't want to admit it, a heavily padded diaper was the perfect solution for dealing with a sore bottom.

While I was stretching, Mom was straightening out the sheets on the bed, making room to put the changing pad down. If she had managed to get that out of storage, I had to expect that all the other baby things would be awaiting me as well.

I got up from the crib and walked over to the bed without needing Mom to tell me to. I had to be on my best behavior today. The more I demonstrated to Mom that I could be responsible and mature, the sooner I'd be out of diapers and back in pull-ups. Besides, a dry diaper was greatly preferable to a wet one.

Mom didn't begin to change my diaper right away as I lay down on the changing pad. She had another lecture for me.

"There are new rules for you to follow while you are a baby again."

I braced myself for what Mom was about to say. It couldn't be good, not after she'd had a whole night to think it over.

"Unless the request is dangerous or contradicts another rule; you will obey Emilia when she asks you to do something. You won't use any adult words; only baby talk is allowed. You aren't allowed to use the toilet; everything goes in the diaper. You aren't allowed to feed or dress yourself; that will be done by me or your sister."

Except for needing to obey my sister, the rest of it was as I had expected it to be. But Emilia was still only three years old. Worst-case scenario would be getting roped into playing dolls with her, or something like that. If she had been even a few years older, I might have worried about how she might creatively abuse that newfound authority over me.

"Is that understood?"

"Yes, Mom."

"No big girl words. Only baby words."

I paused before answering a second time. How exactly would a baby respond to that question? I made my best attempt at baby talk.

"Wes, mommy."

"Good girl. I got all the baby stuff back out of the basement for you. That includes your pacifier, which you are to keep in until it's time for breakfast."

"Uh-huh."

I opened my mouth wide as Mom inserted the pacifier. I sucked on it softly as Mom changed my diaper. This was going to be a long day.

---

The highchair was waiting for me in the kitchen. That came as no surprise. A bib and a sippy cup sat in front of it on the table. There wasn't any food set out yet. My stomach was beginning to rumble. I hoped I was at least fed in adult portions rather than baby ones.

I lifted the tray took a seat in it, and pulled my hair up so Mom could secure the bib around my neck.

The sippy cup on the table appeared to be full of orange juice, but it was out of reach for me. I started to ask Mom for it and then realized I would need to find a way to use baby talk to make that request.

"Mama. Sippy." I pointed at the sippy cup for extra measure.

Mom appeared pleased that I had remembered to follow those new rules and walked over from the counter where she had been chopping something on a cutting board to place the cup on the highchair tray.

I had forgotten how much of a pain it was to drink out of a sippy cup. No matter how hard I strained, it only came out in tiny amounts. The entire sippy cup was about the amount of liquids I had been drinking before going to school in the morning.

That reminded me of something important. I couldn't allow this time in diapers to cut into my toilet training attempts. While I couldn't use the restroom as normal, this did provide me a unique opportunity to hold my bladder in as long as I could, without worrying about what would happen when I eventually peed myself.

The only downside was that without access to my phone, I wouldn't be able to accurately time how long I was waiting or keep detailed track of the results. But perhaps I would see some signs of improvement when out was back in pull-ups in a few days.

I was about halfway through the sippy cup when Mom sat down beside me at the kitchen table. She was holding a bowl of chopped-up fruit: slices of bananas and strawberries, and grapes that were cut in half.

It should have been finger food. Messy finger food, yes. But still finger food.

But Mom insisted on feeding it to me with a plastic fork. I opened my mouth as wide as I could each time she lifted the fork to my face. Even though the fork was blunt, I still didn't want to get stabbed with it.

Mom didn't make any cute noises for me this morning during the feeding. It was a good breakfast, at least. It certainly beat cereal.

Mom hadn't done much to dress me this morning. She had only swapped up my nighttime t-shirt for a clean one. That didn't matter much, as she had the heat running enough that my legs didn't feel cold. I was fine with bare legs so long as Mom didn't make me crawl around as part of my rules for being a baby.

Mom had said that watching TV was prohibited when she detailed exactly how thoroughly I was going to be grounded last night, but that prohibition didn't extend to watching kids' shows. After enduring an episode of Caillou, I wished I had been banned from watching that as well.

I was watching the show about that annoying Canadian brat from on the couch, while Emilia sat on the floor next to a nearly empty cereal bowl. My pacifier was back in my mouth. Mom had put it there as soon as I had finished breakfast, complete with an admonishment that it was not to come out again until she said so.

My diaper remained dry for the moment, but that wasn't going to be the case for long. I had drunk every last drop of orange juice from the bottle, and the large bowl of fresh fruit surely contained a decent amount of additional liquids.

Based on the number of episodes I had watched after breakfast. I estimated that I maybe was approaching a little over an hour since Mom had changed my diaper this morning. I squirmed anxiously on the couch. At least Mom was in the other room so she wasn't around to witness my discomfort.

I was getting to that point of holding my bladder in where the discomfort was so great that it was tempting to just let it go. The wetness and warmth in the diaper couldn't possibly be worse than what I was currently feeling.

I counted slowly, trying to keep myself at a one-second pace and not speed up. I made it to one-hundred and ninety-six before my bladder finally gave out.

Another thing I had forgotten since the last time Mom had babied me was how much more absorbent these diapers were compared to my pull-ups. The diaper was noticeably wet, but it would take at least a few more accidents of this size before it was as full as it had been when I woke up this morning.

But if I was to continue practicing holding my bladder in, I was going to need to stay hydrated.

Emilia didn't even notice me step up from the couch and walk to the hallway. I don't think she had noticed when I had entered the room early, for that matter.

I checked Mom's bedroom first, but she wasn't in there or anywhere else on the first floor. From the kitchen, I could hear the washer and dryer running. I found Mom downstairs ironing clothing.

"Mommy. I need baba."

Trying to say that phrase with a pacifier in my mouth only made my question sound even more babyish. But it was still coherent enough that it caught Mom's attention, and she was able to make out what I was requesting.

"Of course, sweetie. Let's get you one upstairs."

Mom caught up with me as I turned to walk out of the room. She placed a single hand on the bottom of my diaper.

I wasn't lucky enough to get a diaper change yet. Mom wasn't going to be wasting any diapers today. She was going to use them to their full absorbency.

I stood in the kitchen as Mom warmed up milk in the microwave and mixed in a small amount of sugar before filling up a baby bottle. I followed Mom to the living room, expecting her to feed me the bottle on the couch. That wasn't what Mom had in mind for me.

Mom had me lie down on the couch, using a large pillow to prop up my head, but didn't sit down with me.

"Emilia, I need you to come here."

Like me, my sister knew better than to disobey Mom, even when she was in the middle of watching one of her favorite TV shows. Emilia jumped up and ran over to where Mom was standing next to the couch.

"You remember what I told you last night about being a big sister?"

"Yeah!"

"That's right. Big sisters need to take care of their baby sisters. You want to be a big sister and take care of Sarah?"

"Yes! I be big sister."

I should have figured that Emilia would be thrilled about this assignment. She loved playing house with her baby dolls. Now she had one big, live baby doll to play with.

"It's time for your baby sister to drink from her bottle. Here's how you need to hold it."

Mom knelt on the floor and held the bottle of warm milk to my face. I didn't want to drink the bottle in front of Emilia like this, let alone have her be the one holding it for me, but I had to finish it all to stay hydrated.

Mom had filled the twelve-ounce bottle all the way. I wasn't going to have any problem drinking sixty-four ounces today at this pace.

"Here, place your hands around the bottle now," Mom said to Emilia.

My sister accidentally pulled the bottle away from my mouth when she first took hold of it, causing some milk to drip onto the front of my shirt.

"Careful, now," Mom said. "We don't want things to get too messy."

Emilia adjusted and put the bottle back into my open mouth and held it still for me to suck on.

"We need to make sure your baby sister drinks all her bottle. So you need to hold it until she is all done, OK?"

"OK!"

---

While I was sure Mom had informed Emilia that she was allowed to be in charge of me, I think Emilia must have forgotten about that, as she wasn't involved in any further babying once she had finished feeding me the bottle.

Mom let Emilia sit and watch TV all morning, but I knew she would have it turned off after lunch was over. I wasn't sure how I was supposed to fill my time in the afternoon, but it had to be better than this.

I had just wet my diaper for a third time. Even with how hydrated I'd been so far today, I had been able to go about an hour between each accident.

I wasn't sure if asking for a diaper change was something that Mom would be OK with me doing, even if it was done completely in baby talk. The diaper was now full enough that it was still feeling damp after the most recent accident, though I hadn't leaked out onto the couch as far as I could tell.

Mom was on a break from doing laundry. She had been sitting on the other end of the couch, tapping away on her laptop for the past fifteen minutes or so. I couldn't imagine that she hadn't noticed my diaper when she entered the room. My shirt wasn't long enough to conceal how wet it had become.

I was just finalizing how I could phrase that diaper change request to Mom when she shut her laptop and looked over at me.

"Seems like someone needs a diaper change. Come on. Let's get you to the bedroom."

If I thought I had been waddling before, I was mistaken. I followed after Mom in what was truly a baby waddle.

The sensation of the cold wet wipes running across my bottom was a welcome relief as Mom got me cleaned up. At least for the next hour, I would be in a dry diaper. After taping the next diaper on, Mom also added leggings to my outfit for the day. I lifted my feet in the air while she got my leggings on and then lift my butt to allow her to pull the top to the leggings up above my waist.

The leggings covered the diaper completely but didn't leave any doubt that it was a diaper beneath them. These leggings weren't normally see though, but with how tight they were stretched around the diaper, you could make out some of the markings on it through the fabric of the leggings if you looked hard enough.

The doorbell rang.

"I got groceries delivered," Mom said, heading toward the front door. "Since we aren't going to be running any errands today."

What could have been so urgent to have today that Mom would pay to have it delivered instead of waiting to get it tomorrow?

---

Baby food. That is what Mom had ordered for me. And it wasn't the fun stuff either. The cans of baby food resembled applesauce, with some other fruits mixed in. No, the flavors she had ordered to be delivered included one with yams and another with pumpkins. Neither appeared appetizing.

Emilia had a regular meal for a preschooler. On her plate was a grilled cheese sandwich and some carrot sticks. Mom had a grilled cheese sandwich for herself as well, along with a small bowl of tomato soup to dip it into.

I had four jars of baby food. One each of the pumpkin and yam varieties, and two that were apples and bananas.

Instead of feeding me herself, Mom left that task to Emilia. It wasn't going well.

To be able to reach the spoon to my mouth, my younger sister had to use the same stepstool she had in the bathroom that let her reach the sink to wash her hands.

For someone who had only recently mastered being able to feed herself without needing a bib, feeding another person was still a challenge for Emilia. The bib I was wearing came in handy, as there was a fifty-fifty chance of food dripping off the spoon as it made its way into my mouth.

On more than one occasion, she had bumped my teeth. That would have hurt if not for the fact that Mom had given Emilia a rubber spoon to feed me with.

Mom had opened the apple and banana baby foods first, but Emilia was now reaching the bottom of both of those containers. She struggled to try to twist open the pumpkin baby food on her own and had to hand it to Mom for her to open.

I grimaced as I sucked the baby food off the spoon as Emilia pulled it from my mouth. There were worse flavors of baby food that Mom could have chosen, but there were a lot of better ones as well. It almost reminded me of unsweetened pumpkin pie.

Emilia eventually got bored with feeding me halfway through the pumpkins. She returned to eating her sandwich, and Mom finished feeding me the remaining baby food. The yams were even worse than the pumpkins, but at least Mom fed me at a faster pace, so I was able to get it over with quickly.

"Emilia, why don't you go use the potty?" Mom said. "It's a nice day for a walk. We're going out in a few minutes."

There were several objectionable things in that statement. Aside from the fact that I had no interest in leaving the house while wearing a diaper, nice wasn't a description that I would use to describe the weather. It wasn't even up to 50 degrees outside, and the sky was overcast. It wasn't a windy day, at least, but other than that, there wasn't much going for it.

I got out of the highchair myself as Emilia ran down the hallway to the bathroom.

The only other time Mom had taken me out in public while I was wearing a diaper, she had at least had me wear a dress. These leggings were the opposite of discreet.

"Come on," Mom said. She motioned for me to follow her. "We need to get you dressed to go outside."

That alleviated my concerns about my leggings. Except Mom led me to the closet near the front door rather than back to the bedroom.

"Arms up."

Mom grabbed my winter jacket from inside the closet and slid it onto me.

After the jacket was on, I reached back to touch my bottom. The jacket seemed to come down a decent way. Perhaps enough to mostly hide the diaper from view.

I twisted my head in an attempt to get a look at my backside in a mirror, but I wasn't able to get a good enough angle to tell if the bottom of the coat was coming down long enough to cover the diaper bulge in my leggings.

My diaper wasn't wet yet, but the signals coming from my bladder told me that I wasn't going to stand a chance of being dry by the time we made it back to the house from the walk.

I waited in the entryway for a few minutes while Mom was getting Emilia dressed for the weather as well. I grabbed a pair of mittens from a plastic bin in the closet and put them on. I tugged the hood of the jacket over my head as I stepped outside into the brisk December weather.

Going on a walk could mean everything from a ten-minute stroll around the block to an hour-long round trip to and from a nearby park. Mom's insistence that Emilia use the toilet before we left the house, combined with how thoroughly my younger sister was bundled up, suggested that the latter option was what Mom had in mind for this afternoon.

Well, if I got cold, at least I would likely have a wet diaper to warm me up at some point along the walk.

True to my expectations, we made a right turn when we reached the end of our street, which would have us headed to a nearby park. I hoped that it would be too cold for Emilia to want to play in it for more than a couple of minutes.

It felt good to be able to stretch my legs after a night of sleeping in the crib and a morning spent sitting watching TV. And being outside meant that I didn't need to use my pacifier either.

We didn't say anything as we walked along the sidewalk in the cold. I was grateful that there weren't many other people out for a walk. Of the ones that were out, most of them had at least one dog they were walking with them.

I couldn't help but to keep tugging at my coat jacket, trying to make sure it was covering as much of my bottom as possible. At least the only people who passed us on the sidewalk were coming from the opposite direction, so unless they turned around after passing us, they wouldn't have even looked at my bottom in the first place.

But the silence as we walked also gave me time to think about everything that had happened yesterday before I'd come home to Mom discovering my secret.

What were my friends doing at the moment? There probably were even more missed texts and calls piling up this morning.

My phone was likely powered off by now, having run out of juice overnight. Mom had confiscated it and left it somewhere in her bedroom. At least she didn't have my password. I shuddered at what she might come across on there, the messages in our group chat, the notes on my potty training. That would be disastrous for her to find out.

I wouldn't give in easily if she tried to get that information from me.

With my phone off, all the messages from my friends would be shown as undelivered, the same result that might show if I had blocked them.

What would that lead them to think? Did they feel like I'd abandoned them, that I just didn't want anything to do with them anymore? How was I going to explain any of this once I got my phone back?

It wasn't even so much that I was mad at them. I was just so angry at the situation I'd found myself in, and they happened to be there when all that pent-up frustration couldn't be contained anymore.

It wasn't as though Samantha, Desi, and I hadn't had arguments before in the decade that we had known each other. But nothing like this, where we'd abruptly ended all contact for days on end.

The park was rather tiny. There was a small playground with one slide, a swing set with three regular swings, and one baby one.

I sat down on the swing and pushed off. Even if Mom had wanted to insist that I use the baby one, there was no way I could have fit in it, especially with a diaper on.

I was nearing the breaking point for my bladder again. The walk had helped me hold off the need to pee for a little while longer than I would have been able to do if I had been standing still. There was a picnic shelter with a restroom nearby that I would have used had I had a pull-up on.

But Mom and Emilia didn't need to take a bathroom break at the park. There wasn't any question that they would both be just fine waiting until we got home, and it wasn't as if they would need to go the moment they walked through the front door.

What if I had told the truth to Mom right from the start? If I had come to her on my own about the bladder issues I was experiencing, if I hadn't lied to her and gone behind her back to steal pull-ups from my sister and purchase ones of my own from the store. Would things have turned out differently?

I swung my legs back and forth to keep myself moving through the air, getting as high up as was safe on this small swing set. In the distance, Mom was sitting on a park bench, looking at her phone, while Emilia was repeatedly climbing to the top of the playground tower and going down the spiral slide.

I allowed myself to finally pee into the diaper while wishing I had been seated on a toilet rather than a swing while doing so. At least that would keep me warm on the way home. I wanted to be angry at Mom for being in this situation. There was a toilet only a couple hundred feet away from me.

But it wasn't Mom's fault that I couldn't even last a short trip to the park without peeing myself. It wasn't Mom's fault that I had lied to her or spent the past couple of months actively deceiving her. Mom wasn't responsible for me waking up in a wet diaper every night. Mom wasn't making me urinate in my pull-up after forgetting to go to the bathroom or preventing me from being able to hold my bladder long enough to make it through two classes in a row at school.

No, that was all me. I was the baby who couldn't help but keep pissing herself. I could be angry at Mom all I wanted to for how she chose to discipline me, but the only person who could be blamed for the position I found myself in now was me.

This was what I deserved.

December 18, 2023

9 hours ago, nadine_enough said:

Based on how engaged your audience is (including me) with discussing theories and debating implications of plot points, I bet you yourself probably could have enough to say to fill an entire bonus commentary track like some directors do for their movies lol

Thanks again for contuining to share your story! I'm really excited for the next chapters.

Thanks, I'm glad you're enjoying the story. I'm really enjoying writing these latest chapters. Took long enough to get to them, lol.

But yes, I think I may have a lengthy post with some commentary on the story once it is all wrapped up.

8 hours ago, flowerdaddy22 said:

Oh FUCK is all I can say. How on earth could Sarah be so negligent not to take special care of disposing of the receipt in a safe way?

As far as speculating about possible endings goes, I trust @MinnesotaWriterto end this on an at least somewhat positive note - similar to Lisa's story (temporarily slipped my mind what it was called)

But if you betray my trust I'll never get over it

She's a teen, little things like that receipt can be neglected. I may or may not be drawing on something that may or may not have happened with something I may or may not have bought myself as a teen.

The other story with Lisa's background is "Diapers Never Lie."

8 hours ago, spark said:

I just checked. It's currently 8th in replies and 7th in views. It might not be the GOAT, but it's my GOAT.

Just noting, this started back in March 2020, which wasn't the greatest month for a lot of us. 😁 All of us have gone through a whole bunch since those days- and I've always checked the Story Thread consistently, and primarily to get an update for this story.

I also want to thank MW, because I think my stories have improved tremendously through reading this story. It's tedious work to get exactly right, and I probably don't come that close with my stories, but I've been inspired.

Thanks! Getting the responses I've gotten to my writing has certainly been an encouragement to keep it going (and begin on other projects as well.)

Yes, I had a lot of spare time on hand to write in early 2020. That has ebbed and flowed over the years since (hence some longer hiatuses), but I'm at a spot now where I feel confident, I'll be able to get this wrapped up, and then begin some other projects.

I've got a lengthy story planned for when this one is wrapped up. I think it has the potential to be a lot better. I've learned a lot just through the process of writing in the last few years that as much as I will miss writing this story, I'm very excited for starting another one, which I'll begin posting here once this story is done. I've also got another book planned to post on Amazon as well. It's been a busy past few months of writing.

8 hours ago, flowerdaddy22 said:

This! It sounds like you had the very unfortunate opportunity of a first hand experience with a narcissist. Am I right? If not, you did some serious research, because this mom is spot on. That last part of your sentence here: "doubling down on her behavior" rings so many bells. Most people cannot fathom the amount of hatred narcissists can spark in their victims (so long as the victims are aware of their abuse).

The funny part is I haven't had any personal experience with them. I could claim a former boss was one, but he was more just your run-of-the-mill asshole.

6 hours ago, spark said:

My story: My Summer With Aunt Amanda was very much inspired by this story Technically, it's a refurbishment of a story based of this story The Girl who wanted to wear diapers,, but my Aunt Amanda was kind of a version of the mom character, but written from the perspective of a character with Stockholm Syndrome. FTR- my rules are based on an idea that I had long before I read your stories, and likely from 2010

A comparison of the two antagonists:

No big girl panties unless you’ve gone seven straight days with no accidents (mine is 3 straight days)

Any accident, no matter the reason, meant you were back in pull-ups (same)

If you had two accidents in the same day, you’d be back in diapers for all of the next day (2 accidents in 5 days)

Once every thirty minutes, you had to sit on the potty for three minutes (Big kids don't need to be told to use the potty)

No lying about whether you’ve had an accident (You can't lie, because she will check your Pull-up)

In my story (and my stories), diapers mean the character sleeps in a crib, uses a highchair, sippy cup or bottle, and rides in a stroller (yes), that's a reach

Based on those rules, Aunt Amanda would have had Sarah in diapers by chapter16 and would still be in them until this day. AFAIK, Sarah hasn't made it through a full day without an accident since October.

Sarah might have had the odd day without an accident, but if so, there haven't been many. I had a calendar I was following for a while to keep an exact timeline of events, but I've played a little loose with things. I've probably had more like six months of events take place between mid-September and December, but hey, that's fiction for you, and mostly a result of how the outline greatly expanded as I started writing, and the fact that Christmas was a key setting to the final act.

Just now, Bonsai said:

No grandparents, aunts, uncles or cousins were ever mentinoned. Since at least grandparents must biologically exist, I'm guessing that sweet mommy did cut all bridges behind herself.

This sort of background will probably matter when judgement will eventually be hammered down on her.

I would say that is due to a couple of factors. The absence of extended family is something that, in retrospect, would have probably been better addressed earlier in the story. For extended family, I'm going with them not existing, can chalk that up to Sarah's parents being only children and such.

I've toyed with the idea of doing a re-write at some point in the future. One thing that I would almost certainly add would be a better, if brief, explanation on the state of the family dynamics (both extended family and the non-existent father figure).

December 18, 2023

I would consider chapter 55 to be the start of the final act. I think we have less than ten chapters to go, but that depends on how long they end up while I'm writing them.

One hard thing with a serialized story online is getting a sense of where you are at in a story, whereas in a book you would know when you are getting close to the end. The last chapter won't come as a surprise. I'll be sure to give a heads-up when we are a few chapters out.

I appreciate all the comments/theories. I have lots I'd like to say about some of them, but that will have to wait until we reach certain plot points in coming chapters.

7 hours ago, BabySofia said:

I'm really hoping her friends get worried and call for help for her. Lisa, at least I would hope, would see the signs of abuse. For a moment I hoped her mom would figure out the problem was bigger than her and she should see a doctor, but clearly the woman is out of her mind...

I like my happy endings... I'm a bit worried this poor girl will never get even close to that.

One of my favorite stories that I read way back when I was first getting into ABDL stuff in my teens was Mimi's Struggle. Not sure if you'd be familiar with it or not. That was one of the inspirations for this story, though I'm not going to say whether I preferred the original or alternative ending.

7 hours ago, spark said:

That was what I was afraid of but thought would happen.

I want to check on the timeline. I believe Sarah is already on her winter break, which means there is no way for any of the girls to contact Sarah without her phone (teens are helpless w/o phones). Sarah will be treated like a baby the entire break, and then the question will be how she will handle it when school returns. School is important to Mom, but she has proven that she forgo school in the name of punishment.

My question is: what did Mom want from Sarah? She punished Sarah for wetting like a baby and for lying to prevent her from being punished for wetting herself. She said that Sarah wasn't behaving like a mature teenager, but in reality- Sarah was dealing with incontinence issues independently, which I think is better than I would expect from a 14-year-old.

To get into my mindset for the mother:

The first thing is, as others have pointed out, that she is intended to be portrayed as a narcissist. The second is she has a very black-and-white mindset of rules and discipline and the importance of that in raising a child.

The mother has been giving Sarah such extreme ultimatums/punishments not because she wants to do them (we've seen since early in the story that even taking care of baby Emilia is something she doesn't enjoy doing), but because she thinks that by making the threat so big, Sarah will have no choice but to comply. The idea of Sarah willingly and continuously being disobedient in the face of such a punishment (or doing what the mother would view as disobedience) is something that the mother simply can't comprehend her daughter doing.

But with Sarah failing to get her incontinence under control, that puts the mother in a dilemma of either needing to follow through with the threats of all the potty-training rules or admit that she was wrong in putting those rules/punishments in place. Narcissists don't admit fault. The problem has to be with her daughter, not her, and thus she follows through on the punishments. That's why instead of seeking some other solutions, she is doubling down on her behavior.

4 hours ago, GQLF said:

The situation has already happened, unfortunately it will be unstoppable. At this point, any speculation about the plot is meaningless, and Sarah is completely unable to grasp the situation, even though all readers know it will happen sooner or later.

There are still lots of potential ways this story could go at this point (though I'm still set on the ending I started with).

3 hours ago, spark said:

I'm sure MW would have mentioned that it was the conclusion if this was the final chapter. If that was the climax, it's kind of weak, because there are still a lot of unresolved issues. There are also no winners. The Mom may seem like a winner, but she doesn't want to have a 14-year-old baby to take care of, which she would pass off to Emilia if she was a little older.

Like I mentioned above, we've just started the final act. The ending of the story won't be a surprise.

55 minutes ago, AdultInnocence said:

He did mention number of chapters so I highly doubt this will be how it ends. He did say a lot of questions would be coming in the upcoming chapters, so it's a bit early to think this will be the direction it ends at. Especially considering what we just witnessed is definitely child abuse.

Yeah, ending on this chapter would be really dark.

53 minutes ago, spark said:

I want to imply that Mom would put that chore on Emilia if Emilia was old enough to be parentified. Sarah was parentified at the beginning of the story. She essentially was Emilia's nanny.

That's true. And that can be seen in some of the ways that Emilia was brought in to help with babying her older sister during previous punishments. Obviously, there is only so much that a three-year-old is capable of doing, but it is fair to say that if she were older, mom would be making her more involved.

39 minutes ago, Night Rain said:

An here we go Sarah finds herself in a even bigger mess. Even though the punishment would have far worse it was. The perfect chance to come clean about everything. Though one question is how long will it be until she finally has enough and stands up to her mom.

I think she has come clean about as far as one could expect (even if it came under duress). She's told her mom everything except details that concern Lisa and Samantha.

24 minutes ago, GQLF said:

Well, it's entirely possible, but there is still an age gap. Normally, Emilia would have to go through more than ten years to have this ability.

However, it cannot be ruled out that under this assumption, Sarah's mother will find a baby nanny for Sarah who is on leave at work. Regarding the possible candidate for this nanny, Sarah's friends are unlikely, perhaps it could be Claire, who has not appeared in a long time?

In short, MW said there are still more than ten chapters left, and there are still many possibilities for the story to exist.

The mom needing to work does present a question of how things will continue. There is an answer for that, but that will be for a few chapters down the road.

December 17, 2023

Chapter 55: Receipts

My phone buzzed multiple times with messages from my friends as I sat down in the car. I flicked the notifications away with my thumb and turned my phone on mute.

I just couldn't deal with this right now.

If Mom noticed that I was in a sour mood, she didn't say anything to me about it. I fiddled with my phone as we made the ten-minute drive home in silence. The only noise was Emilia babbling to herself in the car carrier in the backseat.

Why did all my friends have to be so freaking nosy? It all started with Lisa. What was her deal anyway? Spying on other students to try and find someone who also wore pull-ups until she came across me. Of course, now her condition was magically getting better, leaving me as the odd one out.

And why did everyone have to care so much about what I was wearing under my pants? All three of my friends had been checking on my toilet training status practically every day for the past month. And now Lisa wanted to talk directly with Mom about my issues. Why couldn't anyone respect my privacy?

I couldn't find any satisfactory way to explain to my friends that they needed to keep my mom out of this. And the longer my incontinence persisted, the more chances there would be for all my carefully planned deceptions to be revealed to Mom.

I opened my phone one last time and muted all of my friends' numbers. They weren't going to be able to help me now. I was going to need to deal with potty training on my own for the next two weeks.

I grabbed the keys from Mom and unlocked the door to the house while she got Emilia out of her car seat. I left the front door ajar and raced inside to my bedroom. I needed some time alone, which I hopefully would get until it was time to put Emilia down for bed.

I sat at my computer desk and turned on Fortnite, I manually set my status to away, in case Lisa were to log in again once she got home. I didn't need her to try and message me.

I hadn't looked at my phone since getting in the car to leave Samantha's place. I didn't even want to guess how many messages were probably on there.

But the video game didn't prove to be the distraction that I needed. I had maybe an hour or so before it was time for Emilia to get ready for bed and that is when the gaming would need to stop.

I had finally gotten used to the new mouse I'd purchased a month back, but even finishing third out of a hundred players didn't make me feel any better. I clicked the button to start one final round before calling it a night when Mom called out to me from the living room.

"Sarah, you come here right now," she yelled.

It wasn't Mom's request that worried me the most, but her tone. I couldn't recall the last time that she had sounded so angry with me.

As I stepped from my bedroom into the hallway, I was racking my brain to try and figure out what I possibly could have done wrong to deserve that type of response from Mom. I couldn't imagine that I had failed any recent assignments at school. The only grade that was even slightly in question was the history test, but there wasn't any way that had been graded and posted online already.

There had been that extra diaper I had taken on Black Friday, but that had been a month ago already. There wasn't any way she had noticed that the number of diapers in the closet was off by just one.

Maybe I hadn't done anything wrong after all. Maybe there had just been some sort of misunderstanding. Or maybe there was some urgent task that she needed my assistance with.

I turned the corner to where I could see Mom standing in the living room from where I was in the hallway. Mom was staring at me from the other end of the hallway. One of her hands was raised up, holding a thin slip of paper.

"What the hell is this about?" Mom demanded.

It took me a moment before I recognized what she was holding. That was the receipt from the pull-ups I had purchased earlier today.

I was in so much fucking trouble.

"Here. Right now." With her free hand, Mom pointed at a spot on the carpet directly in front of her.

Compliance with Mom's directions was ingrained in me in such a way that despite my terror I began to walk toward her. My mind was completely blank as to any excuses I could come up with to save face.

Each step felt heavier than the last. Eventually, I stepped from the hallway into the living room, where Mom was standing with the receipt. I stood a couple feet in front of her, my eyes fixed on the floor.

"Look at me."

I couldn't. I didn't need a mirror to know I had a guilty look written all over my face.

"Look at me."

I raised my head an inch but then lowered it again. It felt as though my brain had turned to mush. None of my thoughts were making any sense.

"Look at me." This time Mom enforced her request, placing a hand beneath my chin and lifting my head up until I was looking directly at her.

Mom didn't blink once as I looked at her. Her eyes were narrowed as she stared down at me with pursed lips.

"Explain this." Mom shoved the receipt in my face. I could make out the two lines indicating the only items I had purchased at the store this morning. The two packages of pull-ups were now hidden away in my bedroom.

Of all the questions in Mom's interrogatory playbook, there wasn't a more dangerous question.

A chance to talk my way out of a punishment was just as likely to result in me talking myself into more of one.

I shook my head back and forth, not with any intention of actually wanting to defy Mom and risk her wrath. I just couldn't get any words to come out of my mouth. And even if I had managed to speak, I wasn't sure what exactly I would have said.

"Answer me!"

I said something. But it wasn't anything intelligible. Just a garbled string of words in a run-on sentence.

"You tell me right now what this is about. Why the hell are you buying pull-ups."

I tried to turn away. I didn't know where I could possibly go to get away from Mom. But that proved useless. Mom pinched my ear with her fingers, the pain freezing me in place. I couldn't move. Any attempt to try and get away at this point was only going to hurt even more.

Mom led me to the couch, my ear still firmly in her group. And, in a non-unfamiliar motion, she sat down on the couch pushing on my back in a way that had me laying across her lap with one hand on my back holding me in place.

That I was going to be getting a spanking was a given. I think I knew that the moment I heard the tone of Mom's voice as she called me into the living room. The only question was how much further the punishment would go beyond that.

Mom placed her hand firmly on my bottom. This was different than the time she had smacked my bottom while setting up the Christmas tree. Her hand lingered on my jeans, pressing firmly as it slid across my bottom. The denim was not enough to disguise what lay underneath.

That Mom was checking for a pull-up wasn't much of a surprise. That seemed to be a reasonable conclusion for her to draw after coming across that receipt.

But Mom rarely spanked anything other than a bare bottom.

She wiggled her hand under my waist, undoing the single button and zipper that held my jeans in place. Pulling my pants down from this position wasn't easy, but she managed to do it.

"What the hell, Sarah."

With my jeans pulled down, Mom pressed her hand against my pull-up. I felt it squish against my bottom. Wet. Of course, I hadn't even noticed that I'd pissed myself.

Mom tugged the back of the pull-up off of my bottom. And then the spanking began.

Even though it was with her bare hand, the spanking hurt more than any I had ever received. Mom was striking my bottom as hard as she could, despite how that must be stinging her own palm.

I had never been spanked this hard in my life before. My bottom felt as if it was burning. Tears streamed down my face as I squirmed and cried, unable to escape her grasp.

"You. Will. Ex. Plain. Your. Self. To. Me." Mom said as the spanking concluded with a solid swat to my bottom serving to emphasize each syllable.

Staying silent didn't matter anymore. Mom already knew enough to decide my punishment. My fate had been sealed the moment that receipt must have slipped out of my pocket unnoticed and landed on the floor.

I told her how I had taken my sister's pull-ups to hide my accidents, how I wore those to school until Emilia was potty trained. I told her how after that I would go to the store to purchase pull-ups for myself.

Saying it all out loud for the first time made the whole thing seem so much worse. I wasn't just telling the truth to Mom. I was telling the truth to myself. I was lying to myself if I thought I was anywhere close to being toilet trained.

I didn't deserve to wear big girl underwear. If the last week of school was any indication of where things stood, I didn't even deserve to wear pull-ups either, not when I was pissing myself multiple times a day.

I did limit the truth to myself. I didn't out Lisa or Samantha, as angry as I had been with them. I couldn't risk Mom viewing either of them as co-conspirators. And, in Samantha's case, I had no desire for Mom to associate me with Samantha's desire to be a baby. The last thing I needed was for Mom to think that I wanted any of this.

Mom remained silent for a minute after my explanation ended.

That didn't matter. I already knew what was going to happen next. There were almost a hundred diapers in the closet with my name on them. I suspected I would be going through them a lot faster than in three months.

Mom's punishment for wetting myself twice in a day was spending the following day in pull-ups. What was she going to do with the knowledge that I had secretly wet myself dozens and dozens of times over the past couple of months?

I turned my head to look at Mom. She was massaging the hand she used to spank me with her free hand. I felt a small amount of schadenfreude over how her hand must be feeling, though it couldn't come close to how my bottom was still aching.

"You are going to show me where these pull-ups are," Mom said, breaking the silence at last as she tugged the pull-up over my waist again and helped lift me off her lap and onto my feet.

Mom kept a firm grip on my wrist as we walked back to the bedroom. I had been keeping the pull-ups in my gym bag, which I no longer needed since I had gotten kicked off of the cheerleading team.

Mom eyed the pull-ups in the bag, comparing them with the brand names listed on the receipt. She also grabbed the single extra-absorbent pull-up Lisa had given me the other day, but thankfully didn't ask me how I had acquired it.

My pull-up got warmer again as I watched Mom dump the contents of the bag onto the floor, making sure nothing was missed.

"Is there anything else?"

"No."

"This is your last chance to come clean. It's going to be worse for you if I find anything else you've been hiding."

"That's all Mom. Really. That's all of it."

Mom tossed a towel on the bed and motioned for me to lie down on it. I wondered if the changing pad was also gone, or if that was just packed away and Mom didn't want to deal with grabbing it now.

I sat down on the bed without removing my wet pull-up. I hoped that it would provide enough cushioning to protect my bruised bottom, but it wasn't enough.

My bottom hurt too much to lay still on the bed. I rolled over on my side as Mom grabbed a diaper from the closet.

The intensity of the spanking had taken away any desire to resist whatever discipline Mom decided on. The thought of what would happen next if I disobeyed her any further was enough to keep me complacent as Mom returned to stand in front of the bed and change me out of the pull-up into a diaper.

Then she grabbed my hands and pulled me to my feet.

Like a new convict standing handcuffed in front of a judge, I stood ready to receive my sentence.

"You're grounded permanently. No phone. No video games. No TV. No Computer. No hanging out with your friends. No leaving the house unless it is with me."

I gulped. What exactly was I supposed to do then for two weeks of Christmas break.

"If you are going to keep pissing yourself like a baby, if you are going to lie and run around and do things behind my back if you aren't going to behave like a mature teenager then you're going to be treated like a baby until you can prove that to be that you're mature enough to handle your normal responsibilities."

"How long will that be?"

Mom glanced over her shoulder to the closet, where an open door revealed the stacks of white diapers sitting on the shelf.

"It will be as long as I decide it will be."

December 16, 2023

Appreciate all the theories/speculation. Not going to respond to all those comments directly, other than to say that we're getting really close to getting answers to a lot of those things.

On 12/13/2023 at 2:29 PM, AdultInnocence said:

And down the hill she goes! She is going to hit the bottom of it hard.

She better hope that her bottom is padded when that happens.

On 12/13/2023 at 6:01 PM, Shotgun Diplomat said:

That is some stubborn foolishness. Coming clean (pun intended) is really the only course of action she has at this point to properly address the issues. Not that I have any faith in her mothers ability to handle it with any grace or skill, thus far she has come across as mildly unhinged.

The question then would be: who should she come clean to?

On 12/13/2023 at 10:02 PM, nadine_enough said:

It's been a while since I caught up with this story. Thank you as always for sharing it!

Not sure if anyone else is feeling this way, and my own opinion may even change on the next reread, but right now I'm feeling like Lisa seriously needs to back off. Especially since the sleepover, she has kinda been trying to dictate how Sarah handles her condition. Sure, Sarah's not been doing a great job at it herself, but I don't know, I think Lisa's pushiness is not helping as much as she wants and is just frustrating Sarah.

Thanks, glad you could get caught up.

I would note that at the end of the sleepover, that it was Sarah who asked Lisa directly for help with toilet training.

On 12/13/2023 at 11:14 PM, Night Rain said:

Sarah should just come clean in the car ride home and confess. To everything that has been happening as of late.

I think it's hard to see her making that choice, given everything she's done since her accidents began is precisely to avoid having that conversation.

On 12/14/2023 at 9:05 AM, GQLF said:

Sarah feels that she can conceal and handle all her problems, which has led her into paranoia. She believes that the understanding of her problems by those around her can make things worse. She tries her best to conceal her differences from others, but she has never truly faced the problem. Even if Lisa recommends a doctor to her, she will not use it as a solution to the problem, but rather as a means of evading it, because as long as she insists that "the doctor cannot detect my problem," there will be no outcome to this matter.

I don't Sarah is opposed to going to a doctor, it's just that she can't see one without her mom knowing (and then having her mom know about the accidents and how she had lied to cover them up).

On 12/14/2023 at 10:28 AM, AdultInnocence said:

I agree that Sarah needs to come clean, but not to her mom. Her best course of action would be to tell Lisa, which was said then Lisa would tell her uncle. At this point it is not something she can take care of herself. If she comes clean to her mom, her mom will come unglued, and Sarah will probably be on the receiving end of more abuse. The fact she has had to hide this from her mom so far with how her mom has treated it in the past, plus how her mom was with her when setting up the tree, sets the narrative that her sister is more the golden child and Sarah is getting the brunt end of it all.

Lisa has provided Sarah some really direct opportunities to come clean, and each time Sarah has only revealed the bare minimum or refused to say anything at all.

December 13, 2023

Chapter 54: None of Your Business

The argument resumed in hushed tones the second we closed the door to Samantha's bedroom.

Samantha's parents and younger siblings were all downstairs, but the topic was sensitive enough that all four of us knew better than to raise our voices, even in the privacy of Samantha's bedroom.

"I don't see why you are insisting on keeping your bladder issues a secret," Lisa said to me. "I'm not saying you need to be going around in a pull-up. But better to have it mentioned beforehand so you don't have to sneak around trying to change or dispose of your pull-ups."

When we had been planning the get-together, I had been insistent that Samantha hold off on telling her mom about any of my bladder issues. My friends all thought that it was best to let her know, just in case of any leaks and to make it so I didn't have to sneak around to deal with any changes.

Lisa's problems weren't a secret to Samantha's family. I didn't know how that had happened, whether Lisa had mentioned that issue to Samantha's mom or Samantha herself had let it slip, but either way, her secret at least was out.

I was trying to find any excuse I could think of that they would go along with to prevent the same from happening to me. Our moms did chat occasionally, and this was just the thing that couldn't ever come up in a conversation between them.

"It's not that I don't trust your mom, Samantha. Your younger brother is too much of a blabbermouth to keep any kind of secret."

"He wouldn't do it," Samantha said, in defense of her nine-year-old brother, Tommy. "Besides, who would he tell anyway?"

"Doesn't Tommy still wear pull-ups for wetting the bed?" Desi asked. "Not like he'd want to be tattling on someone with a similar condition."

I glanced over at Samantha to gauge her reaction. I was the only one of her friends who was secretly aware that she was responsible for her younger brother's bedwetting.

"Oh, not anymore," Samantha said casually. "He outgrew it a month back. Don't think he's worn a pull-up to bed for at least a couple of weeks."

At least Samantha had given up on tormenting her brother now that Lisa was her go-between for getting diapers.

"You do know that you don't need to be ashamed about your condition," Lisa said to me.

"It's not that," I said. "It's just, like, it isn't anyone else's business what type of underwear I have on. Can we just agree to keep this on a need-to-know basis?"

"Fine," Lisa said. "But if it does come out, you're on your own for needing to explain it."

We had initially retreated to Samantha's bedroom to escape from her annoying younger brother. Samantha's dad was taking Tommy out bowling in about ten minutes, which would leave us with a lot more privacy to do what we wanted while Samantha's mom looked after three-year-old Lilian.

Since it wasn't a school day, I was back to my normal outfit of jeans and a jacket, which perfectly obscured the new pull-up I was wearing beneath.

Mom had taken Emilia out to get a haircut this morning. I had taken the opportunity of being left home alone to bike over to a pharmacy to purchase some additional pull-ups. I grabbed one package of the peach-colored ones that I had grown to like over the past month. I noticed the same brand also had a design that came in black that was advertised as being low-rise. That sounded intriguing, so I purchased a package of those as well.

These low-rise pull-ups had the same soft feel as the peach ones, but, unlike the peach-colored ones, they managed to stay below the top of my jeans. I would need to test out their absorbency over the next couple of weeks, but when school started again after Christmas break, these might be my go-to if I ever got back to wearing jeans to school instead of dresses.

After coming home from school yesterday, I took off the extra pull-up Lisa had given me in the restroom and tucked it away in my pull-up stash, exchanging it for one of my normal ones. I wasn't sure when I would need that extra-absorbent pull-up, but better to save it for later when there might be an actual need for it.

I didn't have any ability to purchase those online. Lisa had mentioned that you couldn't get those types of brands in person. What I was curious about was seeing how that type of pull-up would do overnight. If it was good enough to avoid leaks, perhaps I could convince Mom to purchase those instead of the diapers she was using for my bedwetting.

"Let's get this emptied while we are in here," Lisa said, heaving a full backpack onto Samantha's bed. "This is a lot to haul around."

Lisa unzipped the backpack, pulling out a half-dozen brightly colored diapers.

"You're the best," Samantha said, giving Lisa a hug.

Samantha handed Lisa an Amazon gift card that looked a lot like the one I had sold to her right after Thanksgiving.

"You sure you don't want to try one on now?" Lisa asked.

"Yeah, I don't want to be stuck up here all afternoon, and those are way too crinkly to be wearing around my parents. Besides, I think I've gotten pretty good at putting them on myself."

---

Samantha's bedroom window faced the front lawn. Once we saw that Tommy and her dad were on their way out, we made on own way back downstairs.

"It's a shame it's too cold to use the pool," Desi said as we got down to the main floor. "Would be nice to go for a swim."

"Are you sure that would be a good idea?" Samantha asked. I could make a good guess as to what she was thinking with how she looked at Lisa and me.

"I mean, I assume they make swim diapers for adults, right?" Desi said. "Sorry, no offense intended with that."

"None taken. I'd need a lifejacket more than I'd need a swim diaper," Lisa said. "I've never learned how to swim before."

Samantha's mom was thankfully far enough away to not catch wind of what we were talking about. I could hear her playing with Lilian from far off in the basement.

"You've never been swimming before?" Samantha asked.

"No, the closest I've come to being in the water was getting my feet wet while building a sandcastle at a beach. My parents... well, that's a story for another time."

I knew the story that Lisa was referring to. But that wasn't something that Samantha and Desi were privy to, and they both knew better than to press Lisa on things that had occurred prior to her moving in with her aunt and uncle.

It was time to change the subject.

"How about we get a movie on before dinner?" I suggested.

We settled on a rather cliché action flick, but boring proved to be better as I was able to pay attention to my bladder, getting up twice during the movie to make a quick trip to the bathroom. Lisa had used the restroom right before the nearly two-hour-long movie started and was able to wait until the movie was over to go and use the toilet. She didn't mention anything about having an accident, and I trusted that she would have if one had happened.

Samantha's dad and brother brought back Chinese takeout for a late dinner after their bowling outing. No one said anything when Lisa abruptly left the table and rushed off to the bathroom in the middle of dinner. Tommy watched her exit curiously but didn't say anything either. That left me wondering if he might take after his older sister in some ways.

We were allowed to have the basement to ourselves after dinner. While there was also a TV in the basement that we could stream a show with, we instead opted for more old-fashioned entertainment.

We began with a very unapologetic game of Sorry, followed by a complicated version of Uno that had reversible cards. That second game was interrupted by a ten-minute-long debate on house rules and whether the "Draw 4" cards could be stacked.

I lost that debate and was left as the unfortunate recipient of drawing twenty-four cards. I now had more than three dozen in my hand and a lot of ways to get revenge on Lisa and Desi. I hadn't decided whether I wanted to have Desi skip her turn or draw an additional two cards.

As I decided which card to play down for Desi, the front of my pull-up began to get warm. I was sitting cross-legged on the floor, so there was little I could do to immediately stop the stream of urine. Even with a toilet just around the corner, running off to it would do me no good. I'd be finished peeing by the time that I got there.

The worst part of it was that I hadn't even had the slightest forewarning from my bladder this time. Most times, an accident would at least be preceded by an urgent alert from my bladder that going to the toilet soon would be in my best interest, but these silent accidents, as infrequent as they occurred, were incredibly annoying.

If Lisa, who had been incontinent her entire life, could regain bladder control, why wasn't the process working for me? I'd only been dealing with this problem since shortly after the start of the school year.

"Are you doing OK?" Desi asked. I guessed that I hadn't been able to keep my annoyance about the accident off my face.

"Nothing." I decided instead to play the only "Draw 4" card I had in my hand. I slapped it down angrily on the card pile, knocking over the draw pile adjacent to it.

"Jesus, chill out," Samantha said, as she reached to clean up the mess I'd made.

"What else is going on?" Lisa asked. "You can talk to us about it."

"I told you. I'm fine."

"No, you're not," Lisa said. "You've been lashing out at us the whole week. What's going on?"

"The only thing that is going on is I'm fucking tired of pissing myself every day. And you have it so easy with getting better while I'm stuck like this."

Lisa scooted over to me, her arms stretching out to give me a hug, but I got up from the floor and stepped away from her.

"I need to go change," I muttered and went upstairs to where I had left my backpack in Samantha's bedroom.

I angrily ripped off the wet pull-up and dropped it on the floor. I cleaned myself off with a small packet of baby wipes I had brought with me before getting into a dry pull-up.

I listened for the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs but didn't hear anything. I wondered what they were saying about me in the basement.

I had taken some plastic baggies from the kitchen at home when I had packed to come to Samantha's place. I wasn't going to be leaving any evidence of my pull-ups at her house. I triple-bagged the pull-up and wet wipes and placed them in my backpack, hoping that would be enough to keep the smell down until I had a chance to dispose of it discreetly back at home.

I brought the backpack downstairs with me. Mom was due to pick me up fairly soon. I just wanted to go home. I plopped down on a couch near the front door, not bothering to go back downstairs to resume the game of Uno.

It was a few more minutes before Lisa came looking for me, followed shortly by Samantha and Desi.

I pulled my feet off the floor and onto the couch, where I sat curled up and looking out the window, not bothering to look in their direction.

"Is your mom coming over soon?" Lisa asked.

"Yeah, she should be here in another ten minutes."

"I could give her some info about the doctors I've seen and such. Maybe it would be easier to understand if she heard it from me instead."

I nodded. Lying like that felt better than actually saying something untrue. I had no intention of letting Lisa have a conversation with my mom anytime soon.

My response to her question was enough for everyone to leave me alone as I sulked on the couch for the next few minutes.

I was keeping a close watch on the window through the corner of my eye. When I saw Mom's car begin to pull up the driveway, I saw my chance to make a break for it.

I dashed out the door without even bothering to say goodbye.

December 7, 2023

17 hours ago, CDfm said:

Wonderful new chapter. I just see things continuing to get harder and harder for Sarah. I don’t see how she can continue to hide this problem from her mom. In doing so she is only making things worse on herself by continuing the deception. I have a pretty strong suspicion that mom is going to discover what she has been doing and like has been pointed out many times during the story, it’s much better if mom finds out from her first. She will probably be disciplined but it will be worse if she continues to try and hide it. I believe her mom loved her and will do everything she can to help her and protect her.
I will be looking forward to reading more.

I think that is a pretty generous description of the mom.

16 hours ago, Night Rain said:

Sometime over Christmas break everything will fall apart.

Hey! No spoilers allowed. But seriously, we've got 10-12 chapters remaining, so it's fair to say that things are going to be getting really interesting, really soon. Lots of good stuff is coming later this month. I think the story will finish mid-January at the latest.

15 hours ago, spark said:

I believe mom would punish her because it makes mom look bad. Mom also doesn't trust medicine, which is why Sarah hasn't let mom know

That would be on par for the mom's behavior so far.

13 hours ago, GQLF said:

Sarah has not even considered medical issues until now. After Emilia completed her toilet training, Lisa is also moving towards breaking away from diapers, while Sarah herself is still stuck in place. This clearly cannot be a problem with the training methods. When everyone around her is moving forward, and only Sarah's efforts are fruitless, coupled with her deteriorating financial environment, the problems caused by all of this have reached a critical point and will soon erupt comprehensively.

The plot of Chapter 53 develops rapidly, and Lisa's rapid progress and Sarah's deepening predicament have been explained clearly. Perhaps within two chapters, Sarah will face further crises. And judging from the situation of the people around her, her strict mother, ignorant sister, and three friends who were completely unaware of her own situation.

Until now, Sarah has never truly revealed her true situation to anyone she can trust, and she has also numbed herself with lies, which has led everything to move in the worst direction. Unfortunately, this seemingly normal life filled with continuous lies and concealments cannot ultimately achieve the result Sarah wants. Her rebellion against the rules was problematic from the beginning, and now this situation is a complete dead end for Sarah who is deeply trapped in it.

Yep, she's been digging her own grave and hasn't stopped yet.

13 hours ago, GQLF said:

Even if Sarah truly realizes the difference between her bladder and others, she will still assume the direction with the least cost, because it means seeing a doctor, and seeing a doctor means being unable to hide from her mother. Until now, Sarah still succumbs to her mother's discipline, believing that avoiding her mother's discipline takes priority over thinking about her own physical condition.

Throughout the story, her perspective on problem-solving is always "how to hide" rather than "how to solve it." Whether it's Emilia's previous toilet training, Lisa's overnight stay at home, or the current toilet training challenge with Lisa, her starting point has never changed. Sarah always puts herself at the center of her thoughts and does not trust anyone around her, at most only with limited trust, because she believes that other people's help to her may also come into contact with her mother.

And once her mother appears in her thoughts, this thought will be directly abandoned. Sarah herself has trapped herself in a dead end of lies and concealment, and the plot of the situation collapsing should happen soon.

Sarah tried to conceal her situation to the greatest extent possible and tried to solve the problem unilaterally. She had already tried this three times, but without exception, it was a failure. The plot has progressed to this point, and there is no need for any further groundwork. I can't wait to see the final outbreak of these events.

The story has gone on a lot longer than I initially intended it to do. I haven't done a recent word count since each chapter is in a separate Word document, but I wouldn't be surprised if it's passed 200,000 already. That's a lot of groundwork leading up to the final act, but I think it is going to pay off.

December 7, 2023

28 minutes ago, abdlwpg said:

Not gonna bother listening to this as the hosts are not credible. Jesse Singal's whole career is basically built on writing weird transphobic articles. Katie Herzog seems to be pretty much on the same page with him. I would take anything they have to say with a major grain of salt and definitely don't view it as facts.

Thank you for pointing that out. I hadn't listened to these hosts outside of this podcast. Probably should have looked further into their background. That's unfortunate that they have anti-LGBT views. Certainly not a mark in their favor.

That said, I don't think we should dismiss what they are saying about NaNoWriMo and ABLD STories Club out of hand, even if it does need to be taken with a large grain of salt, particularly because of what you noted about their other views.

Their description of what went down does line up with what I've personally seen on both sites and with what's been said elsewhere about this situation. And there isn't anything they said during their podcast about the situation that I knew to be false either. That isn't proof that everything else they said was true, but that's why I find it to be a plausible description of what took place.

December 7, 2023

Episode 193: NaNoWriMo's Diaper-Lover Dumpster Fire (blockedandreported.org)

This is a fascinating write-up about all the shit that went down recently between NaNoWriMo and the soon-to-be-defunct ABDL Stories Club site.

I'd been waiting for this to make news somewhere, cause it's just absolutely bizarre. Allegations of a stabbing/murder, child grooming, and doxing and a lot more got both forums shut down. And that isn't sensationalizing the situation in the least.

I recommend the transcript, rather than trying to listen to it. The NanoWriMo section begins at the 22:00 minute mark. It really gets into the ABDL issues around 33:00, though it's all worth reading through (or listening, if that is what you prefer).

To summarize the info from the podcast (like anything on the internet, this should be taken with a large grain of salt):

The podcast alleges that the person who ran ABDL story form (Claudia/Dani) was also a mod in the NaNoWriMo forum.
The podcast alleges that Claudia has gone by a bunch of different aliases over the years: Penguin, Dani, Jamie (people are all related to each other in some way, but appear to be actually the same person, as one of these characters died off, another would assume control of ABDL Stories Club. It's honestly hard to keep track of)
The podcast alleges that on the NanoWriMo Board, Claudia had conversations with a minor, who was writing an ABDL themed story. Claudia allegedly was encouraging the minor to go on the ABDL Story Forum site and post the story there.
This was one of many other unrelated problems that caused the NaNoWriMo Board of Directors to shut down their own forum.
On the ABDL story forum, Dani claimed that there were stalkers from NaNoWriMo trying to out people
Dani shut down the forum temporarily, then restricted access to approved users
Per Dani's alleged lawyer, she was allegedly stabbed and seriously injured in an attack by someone who got her address. Attacker allegedly left a note calling her a diaper loving perv
A week or so later, the alleged lawyer said that Danni died. The forum is still locked down and is supposed to be shutting down permanently soon.
Any comments questioning Dani or the lawyers version of events were quickly deleted from ABDL Stories Club.
I've tried extremely hard to find any news articles about this stabbing/death/murder and have been unsuccessful. I'm personally skeptical that it happened. As were the people making the podcast.

Seriously though, just read the podcast transcript or listen to it. I haven't even come close to touching on all the craziness with that recap.

Like all things on the internet, that should all be taken with a grain of salt (or more than one). But the narrative being put out by Dani and her alleged lawyer on ABDL Stories Forum never quite passed the BS meter for me either.

I'd love to hear from people who might have some more insight into what exactly went down.

December 7, 2023

Chapter 53: Potty Training

I made a beeline for the nearest restroom the moment I stepped out of the school bus on Monday morning, leaving Samantha and Desi to go save a seat for me in our first class.

Our bus had been one of the first to arrive this morning, so I at least didn't have a massive crowd of other students to contend with as I speed-walked through the main entrance. This was my first time wearing my new peach-colored pull-ups to school, and while they had been thoroughly tested over the last week, I felt slightly more self-conscious than before.

While these pull-ups were only slightly less thin than the ones I had previously been wearing, they were made for adults, not young teenagers. That meant a much higher rise on my waist. If I hadn't folded the waistband of the pull-ups down, more than an inch of them would have been peeking out from the top of my jeans.

And for all the advertising about these pull-ups being discreet and underwear-like, there wasn't any way that a close observer could mistake them for a normal pair of panties. It was just another thing I'd have to be aware of throughout the day. Potty training while at school was going to be much more mentally taxing than doing so at home.

My gambit with admitting my accident over the weekend had paid off with Mom, as she had only kept me in a diaper for the remainder of Friday. I spent the rest of the weekend doing everything I could to ready myself for a return to school.

Going to and from home to school was going to be the hardest part of this initial stage of toilet training.

I had the short end of the stick when it came to the bus ride to school. There weren't many others on the bus when it picked me up a half-block from my house. I'd used the restroom as the last thing I did before getting on the bus. Mom had left before me to take Emilia to daycare before going to work. Her hybrid job had her spending a mix of time between working at home and in the office.

Before, the bus ride had been less of an issue, as I had avoided drinking almost anything during breakfast. But with Lisa's insistence that I stay hydrated, I had a full cup of orange juice with breakfast. I at least made sure that drinking the orange juice was the very last thing I did before stepping out the door, but even then, I now had a dire need to reach a restroom in time.

The closest restroom was only a hundred feet or so inside the main entrance, and most of the stalls weren't occupied when I entered.

Our knowledge of the public restrooms at our high school was second to none. We not only knew which ones were on the most direct route between all of our classes, but also which ones were busiest at which times of the day, and which provided garbage bins discreet enough to dispose of a wet pull-up or diaper in.

I pulled my jeans and pull-up down simultaneously, making sure the jeans weren't pulled too far down and that the pullup was tucked into them. The walls on the bathroom stalls didn't go down as far as they should have. It was possible to see the feet of the person adjacent to you.

I tried to exert some final control over my bladder as I sat on the toilet seat, straining my muscles to try to last even another minute or two without peeing. But it was no use. My bladder had already reached its limit.

I passed the first test of the morning. I'd survived the bus ride to school without any accidents. As I sat on the toilet, not rushing to get up as I wanted to make certain that I had fully emptied my bladder, I made a note in my phone of the success, and how long I had gone between trips to the toilet.

That was one successful trip to the toilet down for today, but I had another eight more to go.

Samantha and Desi were loitering in the hallway outside of our first class with a few other students, as the classroom door was still locked. We had all of our classes together, while Lisa only shared two of them with us.

They both were aware of the potty-training plan that Lisa and I were following and had the common sense not to make any comment about it while there were other students around.

While I was standing in line, I got my water bottle out of my backpack and took several measured sips from it. Lisa had given me one of her extra water bottles, the kind with the measurement marked off in dashes going up the water bottle. I checked how much I had drunk after each sip until I had drunk four ounces of water.

Sixty-four ounces a day was the measurement we both were aiming to hit. If I did four ounces between each of my classes, that allowed me to be over halfway to that mark by the time I arrived home in the afternoon.

It was a stupidly large amount of water to be drinking while at home, let alone on a school day. I had been insistent that this amount of hydration had been unnecessary until Lisa had made me count up how much water I had drunk in the past three days, which only amounted to about seventy ounces.

I was forced to admit that she had a good point, though I had still pushed back against drinking too much water before going to bed, even though doing so had yet to bring my bedwetting to a halt.

Lisa's argument was that dealing with the daytime accidents was more important and that we could both worry about the bedwetting later. I had reluctantly relented, the only result being that my morning diapers had been more soaked than usual.

It wasn't supposed to be a competition between Lisa and me, but that is what it felt like now. And it wasn't just about that time in the mall where she had outlasted me in a competition to see how long we could go without going to the toilet. We had been sharing our potty training stats with each other every evening. Not only was Lisa having fewer accidents than me, but she was consistently managing to go longer and longer without needing to get to the toilet.

Her gradual improvements contrasted sharply with my experience. There wasn't any rhyme or reason to what I was dealing with. Some days I'd have multiple accidents, with my bladder seemingly going from zero to one hundred in a matter of seconds. On other days, I'd stay dry the whole time without much effort on my behalf, leaving me confused as to why I could repeat that result day in and day out.

"Hey, are you all set for the test?" Samantha asked.

"When would I ever not be?"

Teachers who assign a test the day after a weeklong break from school are the embodiment of evil. Instead of spending several hours last night playing Fortnite, I'd been forced to go over a study guide for this math test. I probably could have aced it without studying, but I wasn't leaving anything to chance with how Mom monitored my grades.

"Good," Samantha said. "I can borrow your review notes, then, right?"

It was one thing to cram for a test the night before and a completely different thing to cram for one in the final fifteen minutes. I mean, at least study on the bus ride over.

Samantha was in luck that I had brought my notes with me just in case something came to mind that I wanted to check.

I had been so focused on toilet training that I hadn't paid much attention to Samantha's outfit for the day. The fit of Samantha's leggings made it clear that she was back to wearing underwear. Her time as a baby wasn't going to extend to school hours. Not unless we had another costume party.

It really wasn't fair how she could move back and forth between both worlds, wearing diapers on one day and regular underwear on the next, passing back and forth between those two sides of herself without any issue.

Me, I was stuck with pull-ups during the day and diapers at night for the foreseeable future, barring some sudden, unexpected improvement in my toilet training. It wasn't that I hadn't accepted her explanation about her desire to be a baby. It was just another annoying reminder of my own lack of control.

Our teacher finally arrived to unlock the door about three minutes before class was set to begin. She was holding a large mug of coffee and seemed as though she hadn't fully woken up yet.

I passed both tests during this first morning class. None of the questions on the test were particularly difficult. I suspected our teacher had timed the test as a way to partially extend her vacation. She sat up front at her desk, sipping coffee and idly tapped away at the keyboard.

The only difficulty I had during the test was making sure I wasn't so absorbed in making sure I was answering the questions correctly to not be paying attention to any signals my bladder might be sending. I had to remind myself to take a short pause every few questions to make sure I wasn't getting too distracted.

For this class at least, my bladder was on its best behavior. I was only feeling the slightest need to pee by the time I put down my pencil with just a few minutes remaining before the bell rang to let us out.

Samantha joined me on the next trip to the restroom, while Desi, with her bladder of steel, went to grab something from her locker and go on to our next classroom. I took the stall at the far end of the restroom, and with Samantha in the only one adjacent to mine, I didn't have to worry so much about someone accidentally getting a peek of my pull-up.

Things got progressively worse during the next three classes before lunch period. The small amounts of water I was drinking between each class were beginning to add up.

It was the final class period before lunch and my streak of potty-training successes was very much in danger of coming to an end.

I was unable to keep my eyes from constantly returning to looking at the classroom clock near the doorway. But with each glance at the clock, it felt as though less and less time was passing by.

One of the bathroom passes hanging up next to the door was still available. For this teacher, I didn't have to ask permission to leave and use the restroom, so long as there was a pass for me to grab.

But that was against the rules that Lisa and I had agreed to.

Lisa had insisted that toilet training meant training to be able to be on a normal toilet schedule that someone wearing underwear would follow and that working to do that was more important than just trying to avoid having any accidents at all, that an accident wasn't shameful as long as you were making your best effort to hold in your bladder as long as possible.

I casually rested one of my hands on my lap. Anything to try to stop the need to begin squirming. I looked to the left at Lisa. Her eyes were attentively glued to the whiteboard at the front of the room where our teacher was jotting down points we would need to be aware of for an end-of-semester test.

She didn't appear the least bit concerned about the state of her bladder. I highly doubted that she'd had an accident at all so far today.

There were still ten minutes left in the class period, and it would take me at least another several minutes before I'd be able to get to the nearest toilet. I struggled to admit to myself that I wasn't going to make it.

It was no use. I felt a warmth spread throughout the inside of the pull-up. It wasn't even lunchtime yet, and I'd already failed my first day of potty training at school.

---

My new pull-up worked as expected, avoiding any embarrassing leaks after wetting myself at my desk.

This new pull-up was certainly an improvement for having to sit in class for ten minutes after having wet myself. The initial warmth and wetness faded away quickly after the accident, and the squishiness of the wet pull-up was only noticeable if I shifted at all in my seat.

I managed to avoid looking at the classroom clock anymore until the bell finally rang, and I followed Lisa off to the nearest restroom while Samantha and Desi headed toward the cafeteria.

I didn't say anything to Lisa about the accident as we walked down the hallway. Could she tell I'd had an accident? She seemed to have some kind of sixth sense about those things.

Midday was the worst time for trying to use the restroom. Finding a restroom where I didn't have to wait in line was the main challenge. That was even worse right now because I needed a bathroom stall where I could discreetly change out of a wet pull-up.

The restrooms Lisa was leading me to were a little off the main hallways, so they often had quite a few stalls that weren't full. They also had a handicap stall that was the perfect spot to change a wet pull-up in an emergency.

But we weren't in luck today. The restroom was nearly full as we walked in. Worst of all, the handicap stall at the far end of the restroom was already taken.

The last thing I wanted to deal with right now was having to stealthily change my pull-up without anyone in the stalls next to mine becoming aware of what I was doing.

That was probably the only benefit for Lisa with her incontinence issues being more widely known. If someone did happen to catch a glimpse of her pull-up from under the restroom stall walls, it wasn't as though some big secret was being revealed.

I didn't have that luxury.

I motioned for Lisa to step into the first stall we passed, while I had to go about two-thirds of the way down before I came to an open one. But that wasn't a problem. I preferred to be as far from the entrance as possible to minimize the amount of people walking past the stall I was in.

It took me about a minute to slowly tear the sides of the pull-up. As noisy as the bathroom was, the sound was so different from anything else happening in the room that I was sure it would stand out if I were to rip the sides as quickly as I would at home.

Getting the new pull-up on was the trickiest part because that involved taking both my shoes and jeans off.

It would all be a lot easier if I just went the route Lisa did and wore dresses every day. But in my mind, changing clothing styles like that would be tantamount to admitting defeat. I'd be already preparing myself for a yet-to-occur potty accident. Still, as I slipped my feet out of my jeans to allow myself to slide on a new pull-up, I found myself pondering the idea of a brief wardrobe change, if only until I was doing better with the toilet training.

With my jeans all the way to the floor, I wiggled my feet out of my shoes, which I had laced up extremely loosely for that purpose.

The next part was the worst. The stall to the left of me was empty, but there was someone in the stall on the right. If I slipped my pull-up on now, there was a chance that it would be noticed briefly before I had gotten it all the way up my legs.

I waited for several minutes, praying that the stall on my left would stay empty until the girl next to me flushed the toilet and stood up.

I immediately slipped the new pull-up on, now that I had a window of opportunity where I could do so sight unseen and breathe a sigh of relief once that was done.

I really needed to reconsider wearing a dress.

---

Desi and Samantha had been first to arrive in the cafeteria, courtesy of not needing to rush off to the restroom after our class had ended. They had secured a table in a more out-of-the-way corner of the cafeteria, giving us enough privacy that we could talk about whatever we wanted without fear of being overhead unless someone happened to walk by.

I had taken to keeping my lunch bag in my backpack. I didn't care for the additional weight I had to lug around before the lunch period, but it made it easier to have enough time to not rush through lunch despite the frequent trips to the bathroom that I was making.

Lisa also beat me to the lunch table today. Probably hadn't needed to change her pull-up while she was in the restroom.

"Finally," Desi said as I sat down next to her at the four-seat table.

I rolled my eyes and caught Lisa giving me a look that told me she suspected my lengthier stay in the restroom was due to needing to change my pull-up.

"My mom actually found time to pack a lunch for me today, and of course, she forgot that I hate pears," Samantha said. "Anyone takers?"

"I'm good," Desi said. Lisa, who had just taken a bite out of her sandwich, shook her head back and forth.

"I'll take it," I said, sitting up in my seat and stretching across the table to grab the pear.

I realized after I bit into it that the extra water content wasn't going to be doing me any favors, but I didn't care as much since I already wasn't going to achieve my goal of staying dry the whole day at school.

"Hey, um, your underwear is showing when you do that," Desi said.

I lifted up the front of my jacket. Sure enough, the top of the pull-up was sticking out above the top of my jeans. I looked around, before hastily scrunching the pull-up back beneath my jeans. The case for wearing a dress was getting stronger by the minute.

"Underwear?" Samantha asked. "That's great. Things are going that good for you already?"

"It's not that kind of underwear," I said.

"Oh," Samantha said, glancing at Lisa and turning her gaze back to me. "But like, your plan has been going good so far?"

Lisa saved me from having to answer that question immediately.

"It's gone perfect for me so far today," she said with a smile.

"How have you been doing?" Lisa asked me.

If I lied to Samantha and Desi, Lisa would know, and I knew how she felt about me not being forthcoming with my friends.

"It's gone mostly well. Just one accident. It's harder to drink this much water," I said, pointing to the half-empty water bottle sitting in front of me on the table."

"That's it?" Desi asked. "I think I had nearly that much coffee to drink this morning."

I didn't even want to think about what would have happened if I had drunk that much before even stepping outside of the house this morning. Even these new pull-ups wouldn't have survived that large of an accident.

"You think you're on track to be like, fully back to normal?" Samantha asked Lisa.

"Maybe, might even get to the point that I can donate all my pull-ups to a thrift store by the end of the year," Lisa said.

"Or you could donate them to Samantha's backpack," Desi joked.

"Hey, that's not funny," Samantha said. "But actually, I wouldn't exactly mind that either."

I watched in silence as my friends laughed as they bantered back and forth. There wasn't anything funny to me about the topic of diapers and pull-ups.

For Samantha, it was just a game of dress-up and make-believe. For Lisa, it was a competition to see how quickly she'd be able to get to wearing underwear. For Desi, it was just this quirky thing about her three friends.

For me, with the threat of all of Mom's discipline hanging over my head, pull-ups and diapers and potty training were almost a matter of life and death, or at least it certainly felt like that on some days.

"Hey, is something wrong?" Desi asked me.

"I'm fine," I said, in a tone that suggested I was anything but fine. "I'll see you guys at the next class. I forgot. I need to grab something from my locker."

I got up in a rush. I would have forgotten to grab my new water bottle if Desi hadn't picked it up to hand it to me.

It simply wasn't fair. Both Lisa and I wanted out of pull-ups, but only she was on track to do that. Both Samantha and I wore pull-ups and diapers, but only she wanted to. And Desi, outside of being dared to pee in a pull-up once at a sleepover, was completely clueless about what any of us were dealing with.

I didn't actually need to grab anything from my locker, but I wandered over in that direction anyway. I had some time to kill before I went to find a restroom to use before the next class began.

The pear proved to be a poor decision. I had yet another accident in the class immediately after lunch. This time I at least was able to secure a handicap stall so I could change quickly enough to be on time for my next class.

After that, I did manage to avoid any further accidents until the bus dropped me off a half-block from my house.

Two accidents on the first day of potty training at school. There wasn't any way to go but up from that.

---

In the four weeks following Thanksgiving, my theory that my potty training couldn't go any worse was tested and found to be lacking.

Lisa and I had stuck to our schedule of taking potty breaks between each class for three weeks. Lisa only wet herself on one occasion, at the beginning of the second week. For me, the most I could do was two consecutive days without any accidents.

That wouldn't be so bad if there had been signs that I was making some sort of progress, but the random nature of my accidents continued to befuddle me. There were days where everything was good, and then days where nothing seemed to be able to go right, with no clear idea of what was causing the difference between them.

It was the last day of school before our two-week-long Christmas break began. Christmas break was always something to be excited about, but I needed it now more than ever. Two weeks of being able to continue practicing holding in my bladder, free from the stress of midterms and crowded restrooms. I'd be all ready for a fresh start next year. I already knew what my New Year's resolution was going to be.

We had a number of get-togethers already planned, though we had to work around the holiday plans everyone's families had.

We were getting together at Samantha's place Saturday afternoon, though a sleepover wasn't going to work because Samantha was going to be off to California the following morning.

There wasn't anything else planned until after Christmas when we were going over for a sleepover at Lisa's place on New Year's Eve.

The only good thing about this next meetup at Samantha's place was that it wasn't going to be a sleepover. The last thing I needed was Mom calling Samantha's mom to inform her of my bedwetting, and all the questions that would come of that because that topic hadn't been discussed prior to the one and only sleepover I'd had at Samantha's place.

The nice thing was that Lisa, with her lack of any siblings, made for the ideal place for future sleepovers, so it was possible that I could avoid spending the night at Desi's or Samantha's places in the near future at least.

After a week of struggling with being able to change wet pull-ups quickly enough to get to class on time, including two occasions where a teacher had publicly chastised me for being late, I worked up the courage to make a massive change to the outfits I was wearing to school.

A thorough examination of my closet revealed that I did, in fact, have two dresses that would work for me to wear to school, as long as I wore some thigh-high socks to compensate for how much colder it was getting.

Lisa proved to be more than happy to pass along another trio of dresses that she had outgrown. Our height difference came in handy. While I wanted a dress that would make sure my pull-up was fully covered, I didn't want to wear something that went all the way down to my ankles. I felt incredibly self-aware the first few days I started wearing the dresses, but apart from my friends, I didn't receive any comments about the sudden change.

For Mom's part, she wasn't even aware that I was wearing different clothes than usual. I would usually get dressed and leave for school after she had dropped Emilia off at daycare and gone to work. And on days she was working from home, she was too focused on her computer to notice what I was wearing. The dresses also came off the moment I got back to my bedroom, swapped for my familiar jeans and hoodie.

As disappointing as the first three weeks after Thanksgiving had been, this most recent one had proven to be far worse.

Emboldened by her recent successes, Lisa wanted to change the potty-training schedule, moving ahead to a much more difficult phase.

I hadn't yet managed to stay dry at school for three consecutive days, let alone nine like Lisa had, but in my zeal to keep up with her, I offered to move ahead to the next phase this final week before Christmas break was to begin.

This was the schedule that we agreed upon: Use the restroom and drink four ounces of water, sit through a class, drink another four ounces of water, and sit through a second class. Then we could use the restroom and repeat that cycle again.

I wasn't ready yet. Not even remotely close to being ready.

Lisa was doing well, though it was clear that having to go multiple classes without using the restroom was something that she was going to need to spend more time practicing. Through the first four days with that new schedule, she managed to stay dry twice the whole time.

The first four days of following that routine had gone worse for me. I'd only been able to make it to the toilet without having an accident a little over half the time, but that meant I was averaging more than two accidents a day just while at school.

Today, however, was a complete and total disaster.

The last class of the day was history, which was taught by Lisa's uncle.

Mr. Higgins was one of the stricter teachers I'd had regarding allowing students to leave his class to use the restroom. That was something that struck me as a bit odd, given the issues that his own niece had to deal with. He didn't even make any exceptions for her.

I'd already had three accidents in my pull-up today. The only time I'd made it to the toilet successfully was when I used the restroom right after getting off the bus. Since then, I hadn't been able to last two class periods without wetting myself.

I had an important choice to make in his class this afternoon. Because we were doing a midterm test on the final day before Christmas break, Mr. Higgins had offered to let us out early after we had completed our test.

About twenty minutes into the exam, my bladder was beginning to tell me that I needed to get to the toilet soon. If I rushed through the rest of the test, I could perhaps make it to the toilet in time and spare myself the indignity of having to let Lisa know about that failure.

But if my rushed answers weren't accurate enough, by the time the grade came around in January, I could be due for a spanking or worse from Mom, depending on exactly how bad the grade was on the test.

I stopped rushing through the test, though I still attempted to answer every question as quickly as I could while making sure I wasn't forgetting anything important in my answers. There was still the chance that I could shave off ten, maybe even fifteen minutes from the class period while still getting an 'A' on the test. But would that be enough?

My bladder was telling me to write faster.

Then I came across a paragraph response question for a topic that I somehow had missed when I was making my review sheets earlier in the week. It was worth enough points that I needed to at least get partial credit or risk a lower grade than Mom wanted from me.

It just wasn't my day. I simply couldn't concentrate on both holding my bladder in and trying to recall what Mr. Higgins had taught us about the topic two weeks ago. Something had to give. And like usual, it was my bladder.

I spent the next twenty minutes answering the question as thoroughly as I could. I didn't think I would get full points on it, but I had done well enough to get an 'A' on the test. My predictions on my grades were rarely wrong.

Lisa, Samantha, and Desi had all finished their tests before me, which was a rarity, so I headed to the nearest restroom on my own before settling in a handicapped stall to change.

There was a massive problem when I opened up my backpack. I was all out of pull-ups.

I checked my phone. I only had twelve minutes to go before I would need to get on the bus.

I frantically texted Lisa to come meet me in the restroom, letting her know which one I was in. Mom would go haywire if she had to come and pick me up from school.

This was my fourth accident of the day, and I was all out of pull-ups. I hadn't considered a scenario where the three pull-ups I had brought with me wouldn't be sufficient to last until I had gotten back home.

I couldn't bring myself to say that I needed pull-ups in the text message to Lisa, but I think I made it clear what type of assistance I needed from her.

The expense of the pull-ups I was purchasing was beginning to weigh on me. I had managed to sell Samantha the Amazon gift card I'd received in the Halloween contest. She thankfully had been willing to pay me an equivalent amount of cash for it. Mom often gave me some cash along with my Christmas presents, but even if that gift came through as expected, I was going to be out of funds to purchase any more pull-ups for myself in several months.

And that was assuming I could go most days with only needing one pull-up. With the new training routine Lisa was following during the day at school, I was lucky if I got away with just one accident.

Each time I had to go to the restroom to change into a fresh pull-up shortened the number of days I had left to get potty trained.

A summer job would fix that problem, but I'd be out of pull-ups well before then, and, besides, I didn't even want to think of a scenario where my incontinence hadn't been solved by then.

It was another one of my problems that I couldn't bring up with my friends. They all assumed Mom was purchasing my pull-ups, and there was no way to explain otherwise without raising further questions.

Lisa arrived in the stall next to mine three minutes later. The restroom was empty except for us, but I kept my voice to a whisper nonetheless.

"I'm out of pull-ups. Do you have an extra I can borrow?"

"Sure, but it needs to be dry when you give it back."

"Haha, very funny. Can you hurry? I need to run to catch the bus."

Lisa handed me a thick, black pull-up from beneath the toilet stall wall. It was a good thing I was wearing a dress.

December 4, 2023

On 11/30/2023 at 9:44 PM, CDfm said:

Awesome new chapter. That couldn’t have been a very enviable position to find yourself in. Risk the little sister telling mom or step up and cut your own throat. I think she actually made the right choice. Something tells me this punishment isn’t going to be over with in just a day though. Mom’s punishment for having a daytime accident is a week of pull-ups and keeping dry for the full week. I can’t imagine mom changing her punishments now. Because she chose diapers it wouldn’t surprise me to find her in a diaper for the week.
I am excited to see what happens next.

Thanks! We'll have to see if Sarah was successful in convincing her mom that this shouldn't be treated like a normal daytime accident since she was asleep.

On 11/30/2023 at 9:44 PM, spark said:

That was a great chapter

Not only is Mom controlling, but her methods are counterproductive. As she said, if shame was productive, she would have stopped a long time.

You've written mom in a way that she is almost absurdly cruel, but I posted with a similar theme My Summer With Aunt Amanda. It the older child who has accidents, ends up in diapers, and is treated. In your story, Mom puts Sarah in a diaper and treats her like a baby for a whole day after she has two accidents, and then she goes back to Pull Ups. In my story, one accident gets you put in Pull-ups until you can stay dry. After two accidents in Pull-ups (in five days), you're back in diapers and treated like a baby. On paper, Aunt Amanda is harsher than Sarah's mom. But I wrote her in a way that sounds more sympathetic. Mind you, mine is a case of extreme Stockholm Syndrome, and this is a story about surviving horrific emotional abuse.

Thanks! Sarah's mom certainly is not meant to be a sympathetic character.

On 11/30/2023 at 11:13 PM, Night Rain said:

Sarah really needs to tell the truth fully about her problems. As all this is going to royally mess things up

That does seem to be the direction things are going.

On 12/1/2023 at 2:04 AM, GQLF said:

I tried using AI on this website to create images, but the results were similar when using only TAGs such as "diapers", "mother and daughter", and "swimsuit". Additionally, when TAGs for “dress” and “diapers” appear, there are often no diapers in the images. Can you recommend some TAG combinations. For example, in a picture, what should I do if I want my mother to wear diapers and my daughter to wear mature clothes?

AI with more than one subject is going to be complicated if you want the two to be differentiated. Not enough of an expert to give you any advice on that.

On 12/1/2023 at 8:42 AM, Kahlez said:

Sooner or later this tangled web will be a massive problem for her.

At least she should explain to her friends not mention anything in case they have contact with her mom. Otherwise I can see a disaster in the making right there.

The more lies you tell, the harder it is to keep your own story straight. We've got school and then a get-together with her friends in coming chapters, lots of chances for things to get discussed further.

On 12/1/2023 at 10:07 AM, bubble-pop1 said:

Amazing Chapter! Looks like the role reversal makes Emilia grow up even faster, soon outrun Sarah in terms of privilege and responsibility.

For Sarah, things are not easy as she is trapped in Emilia's shoe. Sooner or later she will be the one being full-time baby sister if she cannot overcome her current situation.

Thanks! We'll have to see how far the role reversal ends up going.

22 hours ago, BabySofia said:

Just finished reading this, really enjoyed it!

Thanks! Glad you liked it.

November 30, 2023

Chapter 52: Tangled Webs

With the Christmas tree in front of the window now fully decorated, Mom left me at home to babysit my younger sister while she went out to run some more errands and bring back something to eat for dinner.

As much as I disliked unpaid babysitting duties, it was preferable to going out with Mom for an hour or two and risking an accident in my pull-up. And even though it was later in the afternoon on Black Friday, stores were still bound to be pretty busy at this point.

Whenever Mom left me at home with my three-year-old sister, I was supposed to stay in the same room as Emilia, to make sure she didn’t get into any trouble, not that there was much she could do in our fairly child-proof house.

At least with Emilia being toilet trained, she was semi-self-sufficient. Yes, she did need reminders to wash her hands after going potty, but she was getting good and going to the toilet on her own without needing any prompting. However, if Mom or I noticed that she hadn’t gone in a while, we would tell her to go to the bathroom, a command that was typically obeyed without any fuss.

All I needed to do was to make sure she was properly entertained and had access to any drinks or snacks that she might want.

The easiest option with Emilia now was to simply turn the TV on to her favorite show and give her a sippy cup and a bag of gummies. That was almost guaranteed to keep her full attention while I went and did what I pleased. If Mom wanted more active babysitting, then, well, she was getting exactly what she paid for.

What I really wanted to be doing was trying out my new mouse with a round of Fortnite. But for now, I was sitting next to her in the living room, working on the pelvic exercises that Lisa had demonstrated for me last week. I tried and failed to stifle a yawn as I worked to stretch my pelvic muscles. All the effects of the coffee from this morning were wearing off, and I was beginning to feel the impact of having gotten out of bed before five in the morning.

Lisa described the pelvic exercises as pretending that you needed to pee and then attempting to hold it in. It seemed a rather silly thing to practice, as I had plenty of real-life experiences attempting to do that.

If it hadn’t been for Lisa telling me that these exercises were the number one reason she had been able to regain control of her bladder, I would have given up on them already. It didn’t feel like it was making any kind of difference.

I thought back to all the different medical tests Lisa had mentioned undergoing to try to find the root cause of her own continence issues along with all the medications she had experimented with.

It left me wondering again what exactly the cause of my bladder issues was. The loss of control had been both gradual and all at once. Would those tests be able to tell me why? And would knowing make any kind of difference?

But there was no way I would be able to go to the doctor without first telling Mom about all the issues that I had been having, and doing so would mean both disclosing that I was having accidents again, and admitting to all the steps I had been taking to avoid them. Mom would go ballistic if she were to find out how I had been biking off on my own to purchase pull-ups.

The more likely outcome would be Mom putting me back in diapers, rather than any trip to the hospital.

After we had finished putting together the Christmas tree, Mom had made me re-stock the closet with the diapers. I counted all the diapers after stacking the new ones in the closet. There were now eighty-three diapers on the shelf. Almost enough for three months.

It was probably for the best that I was doing this task myself. It would make it less likely for Mom to notice the extra diaper I swiped this morning for the outing to the mall.

I had gone through the diapers a lot faster during that month where I had been punished on and off for repeatedly wetting my pull-up. I had spent entire days held home from school, forced to wear diapers, and be treated like a baby. I was trying my best to block out those memories, as recent as they were. But every time they popped up again, it only reinforced my resolve to take every precaution against Mom discovering my bladder issues and to do whatever it would take to get them fixed.

The exercise didn’t seem to be going anywhere. At least Emilia, who was sitting on the carpet closer to the TV, was too engrossed in her show to pay any attention to my straining.

Emilia remained fully toilet trained both during the day and at night. I couldn’t believe how she had managed to avoid having even the slightest setback.

I caught myself almost wishing that Emilia would wake up to a wet bed or perhaps wet her pants in the car while riding home from preschool, anything to help restore the balance in our relationship as older sister and baby sister. Either of those scenarios would have Mom putting her back in pull-ups for at least a week.

An intrusive thought slipped into my mind, the idea of perhaps doing something to make my younger sister have accidents again. I could find a way to prevent her from being able to get to the toilet on time during the day, or perhaps I could use the warm water trick in the evening.

That had worked for Samantha and her brother, after all, right?

But I couldn’t bring myself to do something that cruel to Emilia. I had no choice but to continue this re-potty-training process all on my own.

I leaned my head back against the couch. I could get away with closing my eyes for a few seconds.

---

“Wake up, Sarah. Wake up.”

I blinked rapidly. Emilia was kneeling on the floor in front of me, nudging my shoulder with both of her tiny hands.

“You went pee pee.”

I did what? But that didn’t make sense. I had a pull-up on, after all. Then I felt a wetness around my side that was coming from outside the pull-up.

I had committed a cardinal sin for a bedwetter wearing a pull-up while sleeping. I had fallen asleep on my side. The right side of my skirt and leggings were soaked, while my left side, which had been facing up, remained dry.

I looked up at Emilia, who had a confused expression on her face. How does one even begin to offer an explanation to their younger sister for why they wet their pants while taking a nap?

We just stared silently at each other while the reality of the situation soaked in.

How long had I been out? I frantically grabbed my phone off the coffee table and checked the time. I had only been asleep for about twenty minutes. That was a relief, as I would have plenty of time until Mom got back home. But it was annoying as well. It was one thing to wet the bed overnight while sleeping for eight or more hours. It was another thing for that to happen during a tiny nap. That shouldn’t even have been possible.

I wanted to blame the exercises I had been doing before I went to sleep, but that really couldn’t have been the cause of that accident. It was my own fault. I should have gone to bed to take a nap, or at least have laid down in a safer position.

“Shoo,” I said, waving my hand at Emilia, who was still watching me. “Go watch your show.”

She didn’t budge. It was a miracle that she still obeyed me even once in a while when Mom left me in charge, given the times our roles had been reversed when Mom had put me back in diapers.

Even if I wouldn’t be able to prevent Emilia from informing Mom of the accident, I could at least keep her out of the way while I got things cleaned up. I grabbed another two baggies of gummies from the kitchen cupboard, telling Emilia that she could only have them if she were to behave herself and go back to watching TV. That was an easy deal to sell. With her snacks in hand, she plopped herself in front of the TV again.

But I had more pressing problems than dealing with Emilia.

With Emilia quickly engrossed in her show once again, I went to the bedroom to get cleaned up.

After removing my wet clothes, I rolled the wet pull-up into a ball and stuffed it in a plastic baggy to help hide the smell. I would then wrap it in paper towels and bury it as far down as I could in the garbage can in the kitchen, leaving Mom with no chance of coming across it.

I started to head toward my secret cache where I hid my pull-up, but paused before grabbing one.

There was no way of hiding this accident from Mom. Emilia was a massive tattle tale. I’d be lucky if news of this accident wasn’t the very first thing out of her mouth the second that Mom was home.

There was a non-zero chance that I’d either be receiving a spanking or being forced to wear a pull-up, or worse, a diaper, as a punishment for wetting myself during that nap. Wearing a pull-up under my clothes would be too much to risk.

I opened the more rarely used top drawer of my dresser and pulled out a pair of underwear. This was going to be a massive challenge, but I didn’t have any other choice left to me. I went back to my typical outfit of jeans and a hoodie.

The next thing to deal with was my wet clothes. Those went into the washing machine with clothes that needed to be washed. Staying on top of my chores would at least be a positive in Mom’s eyes.

Finally, there was the carpet to deal with. I applied a liberal amount of carpet cleaning spray to the wet spot on the carpet and then waited impatiently for five minutes before getting some wet and dry paper towels to finish cleaning up that spot.

I got down on my hands and knees to sniff the spot on the carpet wasn’t it was nearly dry. I couldn’t detect any trace of urine, just the slightly irritating scent of the cleaning solution. I hoped that this successful cleaning would help keep Mom in a better mood once she got home.

Now there was nothing to do but wait.

---

I tried to watch along with Emilia while waiting for the inevitable sound of the front door opening, but I found myself unable to pay attention to the show. My bladder had to be a higher priority right now. If I were to have another accident that my sister was to witness, my problems with Mom would get even worse than they were already shaping up to be.

There simply was no way that I was going to be able to avoid having Mom find out about the accident. The only question that remained was what was the best way to inform her to reduce whatever consequences came to mind.

I was running all the possible options through my mind.

It was imperative that Mom find out about the accident from me and not Emilia, lest she think that I had been attempting to hide it. Mom always claimed to be more lenient if I came and told her about something I had done wrong rather than waiting for her to find out about it herself.

I was also going to need to put an immediate focus on the fact that I had fallen asleep. Mom would be unhappy that I had done that while watching Emilia, but as long as I could convince her that it had been simply another bedwetting episode rather than a return of my daytime accidents, I could perhaps get out of having her force me to wear pull-ups or diapers, even if I faced some other discipline for being lax in my babysitting duties.

Mom had only been gone for about forty-five minutes at this point. She had said she’d be gone for one to two hours, so I was potentially going to need to wait a while before her return, especially with how busy stores were still likely to be at this point.

Only one short TV episode had passed before I was beginning to feel the need to pee. The need to go wasn’t super strong this time, but without a pull-up on, I couldn’t afford to stay and watch the show for a little while longer. I slipped off to the bathroom, leaving Emilia to watch the show by herself. That she had managed to not need to go to the toilet at all since Mom had left on the errand was infuriating. Why did it have to be so easy for her and so difficult for me?

I nearly sat down on the toilet right away before remembering that I needed to make use of every opportunity I had to try to strengthen my bladder.

I instead stood in front of the toilet, with my legs crossed and my hands pressed tightly between my legs. I had let my underwear drop down to my knees, so when the moment came to finally need to sit down on the toilet, I could do so in less than a second.

My phone was sitting on the floor. On the screen was a timer out counting upwards. I had started the timer the second I entered the bathroom. It was already past the ten-minute mark now, but I was attempting to hold out as long as I possibly could.

There had been times when I had attempted to hold my bladder as long as possible, accepting an accident in my pull-up as the inevitable consequence of that decision. But this time I wanted to have my cake and eat it too. I would hold my bladder until I absolutely needed to go, and then I would sit down on the toilet to do my business.

I squirmed desperately in front of the toilet. Being able to wait ten minutes after I had gotten the urge to pee was good. While I had been tracking how long I was waiting between going to the toilet, I realized there was another equally important measurement. I need to also work on how long I could hold my bladder after it began telling me that I needed to pee. This would be essential for when I was going back to school on Monday.

While I was feeling proud of the ten minutes I had lasted so far, I really wanted to push for fifteen minutes. I had rarely been able to make it that long, and if I could somehow manage to make it to that count consistently, I would be able to drastically reduce the amount of accidents I was having away from the house.

Then I heard the sound of knocking. I almost begin to pee myself in surprise.

But it was only Emilia knocking on the bathroom door, not Mom at the front door.

“I need to pee.”

“I’ll be done soon,” I replied, as the need to squirm increased even more.

If I were to make Emilia have an accident, perhaps I could convince her that it would be best for the both of us to make no mention of what had occurred to Mom.

But could I trust a three-year-old to understand that it was in her best interest to keep a secret?

Then I remembered how well that had worked out the last time Emilia had come across me peeing my pants, back when all my accidents were first beginning. Yeah, I wasn’t going to be able to trust her on this.

I sat down on the toilet, my bladder letting go the second my skin made contact with the frigid plastic of the toilet seat. There wasn’t a lot that came out, but what needed to come out did so with some urgency.

“Please. I need to pee.”

I wiped myself clean as fast as I could, as the urgency in Emilia’s whining only increased. She squeezed right past me without so much as a thank-you the moment I opened the door. At least she hadn’t left a puddle on the floor for me to clean up.

I washed my hands in the sink as Emilia did her business. I did remember this time to make sure she washed her hands as soon as she was done, though she had to use a little stepstool to be able to reach the sink.

With any luck, I’d be able to at least hold off on going to the bathroom again before Mom made it home. I still needed to practice my explanation.

---

There were no knocks on the front door or the ringing of the doorbell to announce that Mom arrived home about ten minutes later, just the bang and creak of the front door being pushed open.

I stood up immediately from the couch. Even if I hadn’t been needing to tell Mom about my accident, I knew I was going to be expected to assist with bringing in groceries from the car.

Emilia was still sitting on the floor right in front of the TV as I walked over to greet Mom. I was probably going to get an earful as well for letting my sister watch TV the whole time, but there wasn’t anything I could do about that.

“There you are,” Mom said. “There’s a bunch of stuff that needs to be brought in from the car.”

Mom rarely had to phrase her requests as questions. There were just statements about things she expected me to do without any delay. But there was no way I was doing that before having this conversation with Mom. This had to happen before Emilia finally got up from her TV show.

“I have something I need to tell you first.”

“That can wait. All the frozen foods need to get inside ASAP.”

“It’s important.”

Mom gave me a silent look that told me that she expected it to be pretty damn important for me to delay doing an urgent chore.

“I had a bedwetting accident.”

Mom’s jaw dropped a little. I figured that admission wasn’t on the list of things she was expecting to come out of my mouth.

“You did what?”

I took a deep breath.

“I was watching a TV show with Emilia. I was really tired. I dozed off and fell asleep in front of the couch. When Emilia woke me up, I was all wet.”

I had worked hard on my explanation for the past hour. It needed to be concise, with a clear emphasis on this being a bedwetting accident, with Emilia as evidence for that.

“What the hell am I supposed to do with you?”

Here it comes. That, at least, was a rhetorical question that I knew very well not to answer.

“You’re fifteen years old, for crying out loud. You shouldn’t be peeing yourself during the day.”

“Is an accident during a nap any different than at night? I’m asleep for both of those.”

“It’s still completely irresponsible. How am I supposed to discipline you for this?”

This was the worst of Mom’s questions. There was never a good enough answer. If she didn’t think what I had suggested was sufficient, I was liable to receive a much more severe punishment, but if I went too far in the other direction, she would go with what I suggested rather than tone it down.

I decided to try to make the punishment fit the crime, while hopefully avoiding any actual future ramifications.

“You could make it a rule that I need to put on a diaper before taking a nap?”

I had no intention of taking any more naps any time soon, so that wasn’t likely to ever come into play. And, given how I did seem to be prone to wetting myself while napping, wearing a diaper would be better than the alternative of dealing with a leaking pull-up.

“That’s a really good idea,” Mom said. “But that doesn’t deal with the fact that you were being neglectful with watching your sister. She could have gotten into so much trouble while you were asleep. You’re very lucky that she didn’t get into anything that she shouldn’t have.”

“Emilia was fine. She wasn’t going to get up from the TV, anyway.”

“Don’t talk back like that, Sarah. If you’re not going to be a responsible older sister, perhaps you should be the younger sister for the rest of the day.”

I had to bite my lower lip to prevent myself from arguing any further with Mom. I could see the direction this conversation was heading, and I didn’t like it one bit.

“If you can’t be trusted to behave like a responsible older sister, you can be treated like a baby instead. Now, you can come with me to the store to get some pull-ups, or you can wear the diaper for the rest of today.”

I hated how Mom made me choose my own punishments, especially in scenarios like this where I wasn’t left with any good choices.

I weighed my options.

I had no desire for Mom to put me back in a diaper for the day again, not after having been able to successfully avoid that for so long.

On the other hand, going to the store to purchase the pull-ups with Mom was a massive risk. There was a chance that I might run into someone who knew me, and with Mom around, coming up with an alibi for why the pull-ups were being purchased would be next to impossible.

Not to mention that with one of Mom’s pull-ups on me for the rest of the day, she would be watching me like a hawk to check on any possible accidents. One more slip up and I’d be in a world of trouble.

Wearing a diaper would suck, but at least things would be back to normal tomorrow for sure.

“I’ll wear a diaper,” I said, taking the lesser of the two evils.

---

I had time to contemplate whether I had made the right decision as I walked back and forth to the car, taking a half-dozen trips to bring in the remaining groceries, which I helped Mom put away in the refrigerator and cupboards. Chores were about the only thing that could delay Mom from immediately meting out discipline.

I may have taken a few more trips to bring the groceries in than necessary, even if I knew it was only prolonging the inevitable.

It was already nearly time for dinner. The smell of the rotisserie chicken Mom had brought home was making my mouth water. Wearing a diaper for several hours before bed wasn't the punishment I wanted to have, but I knew from my experiences over the past several months that it could have gone much worse for me.

"Mommy, I'm hungry," Emilia whined, as she joined us in the kitchen, acting as if I somehow hadn't given her way more snacks than normal for the afternoon.

"Not yet," Mom said. "Your sister wasn't doing a good job babysitting you this afternoon. She took a nap when she was supposed to be watching you and peed herself. She's going to be wearing diapers the rest of today, and you can be the big sister tonight."

"Yeah, I can be big sister," Emilia said with a giggle.

Mom hadn't bothered to check with Emilia that I had, in fact, peed my pants. I suppose Mom wouldn't think I'd have any reason to say so if it actually hadn't happened.

"We better go get a diapie on your sister then," Mom said to Emilia.

That was my cue that I needed to head to our bedroom.

I stripped off my pants and underwear and laid down on the bed as Mom grabbed a diaper from the closet, as if I could retain some dignity by doing some of these steps myself rather than waiting for Mom to undress me.

The process wasn't any less humiliating than it had been the first night Mom had brought me to her bedroom to tell me that I was going to be needing to wear diapers to bed as pull-ups weren't sufficient to contain my nighttime accident.

In fact, with the addition of Emilia looking on, it was even more so.

I wasn't sure what was worse, Mom saying nothing to me as the silence was broken only by the crinkling of the diaper as she slid it under my bottom, or hearing her ask Emilia to help with fetching the baby powder, which was applied liberally on my bottom before the diaper was taped shut.

But Mom wasn't finished with turning me back into a baby. She had me lift my arms in the air as she pulled off my hoodie. That was replaced with a short t-shirt that only barely made it all the way down to the top of the diaper.

Getting all my skirts out of the closet this morning had been a bad idea, as it only served to give Mom additional ideas of how to dress me. Mom grabbed a skirt from the closet and slid it on me while I was still lying in the bed. This was one I had passed on wearing this morning because it didn't come nearly as close to reaching my knees.

I would have preferred sweatpants or even leggings. I didn't care if the outline of the diaper padding was visible, so long as it was at least covered up in a way that didn't make it totally obvious that it was wet whenever I peed it in. I stood up from the bed only to realize that not only did the skirt only barely cover the bottom of the diaper, an inch or so of the waistband was sticking out above the skirt as well.

"I have an important job for you since you're going to be the big sister this evening," Mom said to Emilia. "You need to keep an eye on your little sister's diaper and let me know when it needs to be changed."

---

Dinner was largely uneventful. There wasn't a highchair to sit on or bib to wear, and Mom didn't make me drink out of a bottle or a sippy cup.

Perhaps those items had been discarded when Mom believed that daytime accidents were a thing of the past for Emilia and me. Mom didn't have any additional pull-ups for me, and I knew that she had tossed all of Emilia's pull-ups and diapers.

Emilia was taking her role as big sister for the evening very seriously. My diaper was checked right before and after dinner. My diaper was dry both times. I didn't think that would be the case the next time that Emilia lifted up my skirt.

With my punishment not having extended to full-on babying, I slipped off to the bedroom after dinner, partly to get away from Emilia, who was liable to forget about the diaper checks as long as I was out of sight, and partly to finally try out the new gaming mouse I had purchased this morning.

I got it plugged into the USB slot in my computer, made sure the proper drivers were installed and turned on Fortnite. I probably could have gone another five or so minutes without wetting my diaper, but it was hard to concentrate on playing video games while I was that squirmy, so I let my bladder empty a little into the diaper.

There would be a noticeable wet spot should Emilia wander over to the bedroom and check, but I knew it wouldn't be nearly enough yet for Mom to change me. That probably wasn't going to happen until it was time to hop in the shower before bed.

The new mouse fit nicely in my hand, though it was going to take a little while to get used to how much more responsive and sensitive it was to my inputs. There were probably some additional settings I would need to adjust before I had it working exactly as I wanted.

I yawned again as the first round got underway. The nap this afternoon clearly hadn't been enough to allow me to make it all the way to my normal bedtime without feeling exhausted again.

My character was gunned down a lot earlier than normal for the several rounds that I played. It was tempting to blame the new mouse or being tired for my troubles, but that wasn't really what the issue was about. After the latest death, I didn't start a new round right away. I was finding it hard to focus on the game. I stared at the main menu for the game, but my mind was elsewhere.

My mind kept wandering back to this morning, the first time I had hung out with all my friends since the sleepover at Lisa's place.

For Samantha, Desi, and Lisa, they seemed to feel like they had come out of the sleepover with closer connections to each other because of the secrets that had been revealed. Having someone's deepest secrets revealed to you is as impactful as the process of letting those secrets out to someone else.

And now they thought everything was all good now between us. But I knew better.

Samantha was hiding her diaper desires from her parents. And the secret she was keeping from everyone was how she was responsible for her younger brother's bedwetting.

I was hiding my accidents from Mom, but I was hiding that I was hiding those accidents from my friends.

And the circle of people who were aware of my accident had expanded to include Lisa's aunt and uncle. One stray comment between them and Mom would be a disaster for me as well. They didn't realize they were holding that secret for me, but they were.

All the lies. All the deceptions. How long was it going to last?

While I had initially felt some relief when I had gotten away with only partially revealing my secrets at the sleepover, I was now on a razer's edge, trying to find an impossible balance between keeping my secret hidden from Mom while being open to my friends about my struggles.

I had worked hard to come up with excuses for why it wouldn't work for my friends to come over and hang out at my house.

Having them over was simply not feasible. I couldn't tell them that I was hiding my accidents from Mom. They wouldn't understand. But if they weren't aware that I needed to hide that situation from Mom, there was no way to prevent it from potentially coming up in a conversation around her.

But I was going to run out of excuses at some point, or my friends would just begin to get suspicious about the situation, and what was I supposed to do then? The only option out of this mess was that I would need to get my daytime potty training complete to the point where I could be wearing underwear all the time during the day.

It wasn't as though I hadn't made any progress so far. I was beginning to be able to hold my bladder for slightly longer periods of time, and I was getting more of a warning before needing to pee, which also reduced the number of accidents I was having.

I was not looking forward to attending school this coming Monday, when classes resumed after having a week off for Thanksgiving. That was going to prove to be the bigger challenge.

At least now that my friends were aware of my dilemma, I wouldn't be feeling as self-conscious about going to the toilet between every class period.

Lisa and I had worked out a plan for potty training during the next week of school. We would use the restroom between each of our classes, which would mean going about every fifty minutes. Practicing waiting for longer periods would be useful, but trying to go two class periods while staying fully hydrated simply wasn't going to be possible.

The only reason I had even managed to last two class periods previously had been because I had been drinking almost no liquids at all while at school. I knew now from Lisa that while this reduced accidents in the short-term, it only served to reduce the amount of liquids my bladder was used to holding and leave me out of practice with actually holding in my bladder.

As I let myself wet the diaper again, this time without making any effort to practice holding onto my bladder for a little while longer, I almost think I understood why Lisa had switched back to only wearing diapers for a time, back when she had been dealing with the bullying from Claire. It all could be too much.

A pitter-patter of footsteps from the hallway informed me that Emilia had finally remembered her big sister duties.

"Diapie check," she yelled with excitement.

I rotated my swivel chair enough that she could reach my diaper.

"Wet," she announced, as she pulled her hand back from my warm diaper.

She ran back out of the bedroom and down the hallway, presumably to inform Mom of her findings.

If shame was a cure for bedwetting and incontinence, I'd have been better a long time ago.

November 30, 2023

1 hour ago, spark said:

I read the story during my breaks and after work, today and wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed it. The realism and way you wrote the characters were similar, but they were very different characters

Thanks! I'm glad you enjoyed it. I prefer to write in first-person, but that does get tricky with wanting to make sure that characters stay distinct. I've tried to write some stories in third-person, but it never felt quiet right. I like the way you can get inside a character's head from a first-person perspective.

57 minutes ago, BabySofia said:

Which AI Generator did you use?

I ran a local version of Stable Diffusion on my PC with this ABDL model from CivitAI: Omorashi Omutsu Pomello - Pomello v1.0 | Stable Diffusion Checkpoint | Civitai

November 30, 2023

17 hours ago, AdultInnocence said:

We also got to see how strict her mom is. Things that I wouldn't think were talking back or sass, it's like her mom looks for excuses to have her older one in trouble.

The younger one gets a lot more leeway. We get to see that when she is allowed to watch TV, even if their mom had to choose the show. She seems to be very controlling and we got to see a lot of that interaction this last chapter.

I have enough credits to buy it. I'll have to do that and give this a read.

Yep, I wanted to really use this and the next chapter (which will be a much longer one) to get back into the family dynamics. Your description matches what I was trying to go for there.

And appreciate that you're interested in taking a look at my book.

8 hours ago, Lost Little Neppy said:

I like the pen name you chose, haha. Love the image, too, I would love to wear padding like that!

Thanks, I had a fun time coming up with the pen name. Was very glad when I decided on it, that it didn't seem like it was taken by anyone else.

For the cover photo, I used an ai art generator for it. Just need the machines to start making our diapers as well, and then we'll be sitting good.

8 hours ago, thedman said:

I have to echo CDfm's thoughts on the whole butt pat thing here. It has happened to me a time or twelve before as well. Most notably I was at a concert in a well boosted M4 and this chick was grinding up against me from behind when suddenly she eased up and next thing I knew I felt the back of my shirt get lifted up for a few seconds, grinding resumed not long after :😀

As for the story, I feel a sense of premonition about her leaving the box of diapers for mom to unbox, I feel like what comes out of the box may not be what she was expecting to see.

I may or may not have drawn on a butt pat experience of my own for writing this may chapter. I think I didn't get caught, at the time at least, when it happened to me.

As for the box, we'll find out its contents in the next chapter.

November 29, 2023

4 hours ago, AdultInnocence said:

Dun dun duuuun, there was a little bit of suspense there. I also wonder if her mom is aware of things more than she is letting on and that is why the full box of diapers in the order. Could also be like she thought and just got them for a good holiday price.

I like to use Black Friday / Cyber Monday myself to stock up on diapers. I don't go through too many, so a few cases can last most of the year, and the nice ones aren't cheap.

4 hours ago, CDfm said:

That could have been a closer call than you might think. I always wonder what someone thinks when they give me a swat on the rear. There have been times where I get a puzzling look from them and I am sure they have felt the added paddling. I haven’t had anyone say anything though. It also seems like lately there have been several times where I know someone has seen my diaper. In Physical therapy, I have been caught by three different people. I had my shoulder replaced so you would think that the last place they would need to have access is my bottom but twice now they ran tape from the shoulder to the hip and the third time I had to remove my shirt and the top of the diaper was sticking up a little farther than normal. Now I know that my medical records have that information in it but I don’t know they have access to that part of it. Again no one has said anything but the looks of confusion are there.
I am looking forward to seeing how the rest of the evening goes and if mom suddenly realized something was different.

We've got another chapter at home. We'll have to see how careful Sarah is about keeping her pull-up a secret.

31 minutes ago, spark said:

Wow, congrats on the book.

I have to wonder what her mom knows. It's been a awhile since her mom was present, and she is more of a b-- than I remember.

Thanks, it was an interesting experience writing a story all at once, rather than a chapter at a time.

And for Sarah's mom, yes, we've been away from her for a little longer than intended. Felt like we were due for a re-introduction to her.

November 28, 2023

Going to take a quick break from our regularly scheduled programming for a brief announcement.

I published my first book on Amazon: "The Baby Once Again." It's free to read with Kindle Unlimited.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CP398RYN

Ava Greene has big plans for the summer after her high school graduation, but the discovery of an old photo album awakens a desire she never knew existed.

The only child of divorced parents, Ava Greene’s final summer break before starting her freshman year of college is off to a lousy start. Her two best friends are unexpectedly away for the summer, and her parents remain absent from her life as they pursue their own careers. She finds herself longing for a time when life was simpler, when the discovery of her old baby photo album raises an intriguing question. What would it be like to be a baby again?

The answer to that question is simple enough, at least until her secret gets out.

November 28, 2023

Chapter 51: Extra Layers

A large brown box was sitting in front of the doorway when Samantha’s mom dropped me off at home that afternoon. I had an inkling of what might be inside it. Mom must not think that my bedwetting was likely to end anytime soon if she was already stocking up on diapers. Knowing her, she probably got some kind of Black Friday deal on them.

“I wonder if someone’s Christmas present has arrived early,” Desi said, commenting on the box as we pulled into the driveway.

“Who knows?” I replied, trying to feign ignorance. “I’ll have to see what it weighs like when I carry it in.”

After Samantha had to be rescued because of a leaky diaper, we took things slower the rest of the morning at the mall. For Samantha’s benefit, we stayed far away from the corner of the mall where the accident had taken place. We grabbed some cinnamon pretzel bites to eat and browsed through other stores. Lisa and I didn’t make any further purchases, but Desi was able to find a pair of new shoes and Samantha came away with a new jacket, one that was long enough to cover her bottom and keep the pull-up outline out of view.

After conceding the potty-training contest to Lisa, both of us managed to avoid any further accidents during the remaining time at the mall.

When Samantha’s mom picked us up early in the afternoon, Samantha lied about why she was wearing new clothes, saying she had needed to get them after having spilled coffee on herself, a claim the rest of us casually backed her up on.

When I picked up the box on my way inside the house, I recognized the brand name of the company Mom ordered my diapers from written in small print. With these diapers, combined with the ones remaining in my closet, I’d probably be set for the next two or three months at this point.

I jiggled the handle on the front door to find that it was already unlocked. I called out to let Mom know I was home as I stepped inside the doorway, but didn’t hear anything back from her. I carried the box to my bedroom, setting it down next to the closet. I’d let Mom deal with opening and tucking the new diapers away. I tried to keep any conversations with my mom about my bedwetting to a minimum, outside of what was necessary when it was time to get ready for bed.

I took a quick pit stop in the bathroom, and when I got out, what Mom was up to came as a surprise.

Mom was back in the dining room at the front of the house. A separate large box that I must not have noticed when I was walking in was sitting in front of the window. The contents of this box weren’t ambiguous. It was another Christmas tree. Next to that were another five dusty boxes Mom must have retrieved from the attic.

As if the nine-foot-tall one in the living room wasn’t enough for our small house.

Our Christmas tree had already been up since the start of the month. Mom wasn’t one to wait until after Thanksgiving to begin her Christmas decorations.

“There you are Sarah. Why didn’t you let me know you were home?”

“I yelled when I stepped inside. You must not have heard.”

“Hey, don’t talk back to me.”

I wisely chose not to continue that argument.

“Why do we have another Christmas tree?”

“I went out to get it this morning,” Mom said. “There were still a couple of boxes of ornaments that didn’t fit on the tree, and I didn’t want them to go to waste.”

Mom didn’t bother to ask me anything about how my own shopping trip went.

“I’m going to need your help getting this put up.”

I knew better than to complain about the request. I had been drafted into the war for Christmas, and I was going to need to do my part.

This newer tree model was at least easier to assemble than the one in the living room. It was only three separate pieces that had to be unfolded and connected together. And it came with built-in lights on the branches.

“Go help your sister with the ornaments,” Mom asked without looking up from the box she was digging through.

Mom had opened up a box of safe ornaments for her. Old candy canes. Plastic figurines with strings loop over the branches rather than metal hooks. Nothing that Emilia would be capable of breaking or hurting herself with.

And definitely no glass balls. It was only last year that Emilia had accidentally crushed one in her hand, thankfully not ending up with anything more than a few scratches. Those were going to be out of reach again this year, even if she could probably be trusted with them at this point.

Emilia had already begun putting a few things on the tree. but what that actually meant was that the lower branches of the tree were drooping under the weight of all the ornaments she was putting on, as that was all she could reach.

I spent the next hour re-arranging the ornaments my little sister had put on, spreading some of them out over the rest of the tree, while also getting out the more fragile ones that she was still forbidden from touching. Those were placed safely out of her reach. Emilia grew bored after a while. After she begged Mom to turn on the TV for a few minutes, Mom finally relented, but she only was willing to put on something Christmas-themed, so I was stuck listening to the sound of Frosty the Snowman coming from the other room as I carefully hung ornaments on the tree.

“I need to go potty,” Emilia announced as she ran past us through the hallway on the way to the bathroom.

Her annoying habit of loudly announcing when she was going to the bathroom reminded me that I hadn’t gone since right after I had come home.

My pull-up at least didn’t feel wet. However, that wasn’t a guarantee that it was dry. There had been a couple of occasions where I had sat down on the toilet thinking that I had made it without an accident, only to look down at the pull-up between my knees to notice that the padding wasn’t completely white.

That was probably the only downside to the new pull-ups I had switched to. They worked so well that if I had a tiny leak when I wasn’t paying attention to my bladder, I might not even know that it had happened.

I wasn’t sure if I had already needed to pee, or if my sister’s loud announcement had caused my bladder to begin to get antsy, but either way, I was soon going to need to take a trip to the restroom myself.

To my relief, Emilia returned very quickly from the bathroom. I strongly suspected that she hadn’t washed her hands. I would have said something to Mom, but I was now needing to get to the toilet rather soon and didn’t want to cause any further delays.

I put one last ornament on the tree and casually walked toward the hallway. Even at times when the need to go was incredibly urgent, I had never sprinted to the toilet in front of Mom. I couldn’t do anything to give the slightest clue that I was having any struggles with my bladder during the day.

“Sarah, come back right now. We’re not finished decorating.”

“Geez, Mom, I’m just going to the bathroom.”

That was a big mistake.

Mom was setting up a nativity scene on a shelf. As I walked by her on my way to the bathroom, she reached down and firmly smacked my bottom.

“You watch your tone with me, young lady.”

“Yes, Mom,” I said demurely. That was the only proper response to getting scolded like that. If I had responded in any way that sounded like I was talking back to her or otherwise being disobedient, I would have found myself getting a much more thorough spanking.

But the scolding was the least of my worries. I averted my eyes from Mom and sped up my pace ever so slightly as I made my way down the hallway and to the restroom.

The single spanking had been quick. Mom’s hand hadn’t lingered on my bottom. But with as many spankings as I had received over the years, she was surely aware of what my bottom was supposed to normally feel like.

This was a scenario I had worked really hard to avoid before this slip-up. Spankings were Mom’s preferred method of discipline, and even though that happened with less frequency as I had gotten older, they were still always a risk if I broke one of Mom’s rules.

I had never before paid more attention to my grades or been as diligent in my chores as I had been the past month. I couldn’t afford a scenario where Mom insisted on spanking me without having an opportunity to discreetly dispose of my pull-up beforehand. Outside of a few minutes while getting ready for bed, there weren’t any times when I was wearing normal underwear at home.

I sat on the toilet with absolutely no idea of what I should be doing. Was it safe to have the pull-up on when I left the bathroom? Was Mom standing in the dining room, wondering if something had felt off when she had given me that single spanking?

Mom had smacked my bottom over my skirt, and not underneath it. That was the only breadcrumb of hope I had at the moment, and I was clinging to it for dear life. That extra layer of clothing between her hand and my bottom may have saved my life.

Still, my options were not good. The tiny trash can in the toilet was empty at the moment. There wouldn’t be any way to dispose of the pull-up in there. I didn’t have any easy way to hide the pull-up on me if I were to take it off and bunch it up.

Besides, if Mom were waiting for me outside in the hallway, none of that would matter. I wondered what she would say if I managed to conceal the pull-up and she found I wasn’t wearing any underwear at all. I doubted that situation would bode well for me either.

I stayed in the toilet for another five minutes, as long as I felt I could pull off without making Mom suspicious. I loudly ripped more toilet paper off of the roll than I actually needed, trying to make it sound as though there was an actual need for being in the bathroom this long.

I smoothed out my leggings as best as I could after I had tugged them up over the pull-up. The pull-up was far more discreet under the leggings than the diaper had been, but without a mirror to look into, I couldn’t help but imagine the worst-case scenario in my head.

I opened the bathroom door normally after washing my hands. I couldn’t allow the anxiety I was feeling to show through my actions. Mom wasn’t waiting for me in the hallway. I returned to the dining room to find her exactly where I had left her.

“About time,” Mom said.

If I hadn’t been wearing a pull-up. I might have considered a snarky reply that might have been worth the ensuing spanking.

“Go grab the stepladder from the garage. We need to get the star on top of the tree.”

Even though Mom was a good eight inches taller than me, she couldn’t reach the top of the tree either.

“Here you go,” Mom said, handing me the star after I had put the stepladder down in front of the tree.

I couldn’t think of any excuse not to put the star on the tree. In past years, I would ask Mom to allow me to do it, even though it had been difficult even with the assistance of a stepladder when I had been shorter.

I could only hope that the outline of my pull-up wasn’t visible from the angle I was at as I got to the top of the stepladder and reached out to place the star on top of the tree. In my rush to complete the task, the tree topper nearly slipped from my fingers, but I was able to at last screw it in place and get back down to the floor.

If anything had seemed out of place to Mom, she didn’t give any indication of it. Skirts might need to become a more normal part of my daily outfits.

November 26, 2023

4 hours ago, CDfm said:

This was a good chapter and full of good advice. You have to give the diaper a chance to do its work. You also need to change when it is full. They only hold so much. I will be looking for more.

Thanks! Sarah and Samantha would be smart to take Lisa's diaper advice.

22 minutes ago, kerry said:

Do you mean compunctions?

I did, thanks for catching that!

November 26, 2023

Chapter 50: The Contest

All the doors to the mall had been propped open, and employees with bright neon vests over their uniforms stood to the side as the crowd squeezed its way through the entrance before dispersing throughout the mall.

I grabbed hold of Lisa’s hand as the crowd squeezed together as everyone attempted to cram through the doors. It wouldn’t do to get separated at this point. The cramped, chaotic entrance to the mall reminded me of an hourglass, and we were stuck right in the middle of it all.

This was Lisa’s first Black Friday experience, but she had come prepared. Lisa had her uncle take her to the mall a couple of days ago to scout out the best route to the store, along with where the items she wanted would be once inside. I was vaguely familiar with the layout of the mall, but in my still slightly sleep-deprived state, I probably couldn’t have pointed out the fastest way to get to our destination.

Samantha and Desi were already a dozen feet ahead of us in the crowd. They had no compunctions against pushing and jostling their way to the front.

Everything got easier once we were through the main entrance and the crowd thinned now that there was more room to spread out. Our group split in two at the first intersection. Samantha and Desi went right, headed to a beauty store, while Lisa and I went in the opposite direction.

I had learned my lesson from attempting to jog in a wet pull-up last weekend and settled for a quick walking pace next to Lisa, even if that meant allowing some sprinting shoppers to get ahead of us. I was beginning to regret not applying a more thorough layer of baby powder this morning, but I had been worried the scent would stand out in the car ride to the mall.

There were only about two dozen people in front of us by the time we got in line in front of the game store. While the lights were on inside, the metal grate in front of the entrance remained closed, forcing us to line up in the mall hallway.

We were at least inside and away from the wind for the final thirty minutes. We needed to wait until all the stores opened.

“You have your list still?” I asked.

“Of course.” Lisa pulled out two identical scraps of paper and handed one to me with a list of seven video games on it. “I’ll start from the top and you can work your way up from the bottom.”

We both had agreed the other day that the video games were more likely to sell out faster than the gaming mouse, so I had offered to help Lisa look for her items first to beat the initial rush of the crowd.

I was keenly aware of the additional accident I had while we were waiting in line for the store to open. It technically was an accident because I had been trying to practice holding my bladder as much as possible again. I wasn’t as successful as earlier this morning, as this time I made it only forty-five minutes between needing to pee.

That iced coffee was doing me absolutely no favors.

That made me wonder about how Lisa was holding up. Her coffee had been about fifty percent larger than mine, and the ones Samantha and Desi got had been even larger than that. The fact that Lisa hadn’t shown any concern either about needing to use the restroom made me certain she had a diaper on.

With about fifteen minutes to go before the store opened, I made it my goal to not have any further accidents in the diaper. I would take a break after this first store to use the restroom and get changed into a pull-up so I could resume working on my toilet training for real.

After what seemed like forever, an employee already inside the store began to open the front gate, but motioned with his hand for us to stand back, keeping an eye on his watch for another thirty seconds before waving the crowd in.

I followed Lisa’s directions as we dashed inside. We had to hurry. While there were a couple dozen shoppers in front of us, there were three to four times that amount following us into the store. Lisa knew what section of the store we were headed to, but once we were there, she was going to need my help to hunt down the game titles she had on her list.

After ten minutes of frantic searching, we managed to get all but one of the games on her list. Lisa was a bit disappointed, but I reassured her that this would count as an extremely successful Black Friday shopping run.

True to my expectations, I had no difficulties getting my gaming mouse. I probably could have waited to come and get it this afternoon, but where would the fun have been in that?

“Where are we off to next?” Lisa asked as we left the store with our purchases. The hallway was packed, as the mall was only getting busier.

“I need to use the restroom before we meet up with Samantha and Desi,” I said. “We’ve got plenty of time. If you thought the video game store was crazy, you should see how insane some of the other stores get.”

Lisa gave me a look that told me she knew what I actually meant.

The downside to going into the restroom to change with Lisa was that there was only one handicap stall with a big enough waste back to dispose of a diaper in. I let Lisa have that stall while taking the smaller one adjacent to hers.

Red marks on the inside of my thighs were an indicator that I was going to regret how little baby powder I put on before leaving the house. I made up for it this time around, hopeful that the smell would go unnoticed in the larger crowds.

I shoved my wrapped-up diaper underneath the stall to her so she could toss it in the trash discreetly. Once we were out of the restroom, we found a bench in a quieter spot where we could wait for Samantha and Desi. I texted them our location but hadn’t heard anything back from them.

“Don’t forget to keep track of your toilet training today,” Lisa said.

“I won’t forget. Only had two accidents the whole time we were in line.”

“You beat me there,” Lisa said. “I lost track, but trying to hold it in wasn’t worth the hassle with that long of a wait.”

“I bet I can make it without going to the toilet longer than you can,” Lisa said.

“First one to wet their pull-up loses? You’re on.”

While Lisa had been making more progress with her toilet training the past week, I liked my odds, considering I’d had fewer fluids.

We waited another ten minutes before Desi sprinted up to us from behind, completely out of breath.

Desi didn’t have any shopping bags in hand, and Samantha was nowhere to be seen.

“What’s going on? Where’s Samantha?” I asked.

“Her diaper leaked.”

“What happened? Was it bad?” I asked.

“Yeah, it was bad. We were just standing in line, and it was right before the store was about to open. Her pants were soaked, and it left a bit of a puddle on the floor. I don’t think either of us is going to be able to show our faces in that store ever again.”

“Where’s Samantha now?”

“I gave her my jacket to wrap around her pants to cover up a little. She’s off in a restroom stall. I said we’d get some clean clothes for her.

“Couldn’t have picked a better day to do it then. Everything is all on sale,” I said.

“You guys didn’t have any issues?” Desi asked.

I knew Desi was referring to our diapers and not whether we had gotten all our purchases.

“Nope,” Lisa said. “We went and got changed after we finished with the first store.”

“But why was Samantha the only one who had a problem?” I asked. “You guys both had as much coffee as Samantha. I got a small cause I knew better.”

“Guess I just have a bladder of steel,” Desi said.

“Some people have all the luck,” Lisa muttered.

“But what happened with Samantha?” I asked, turning to Lisa. “I mean, you didn’t have any issues with leaks, and you had as much to drink with her.”

“Just because a diaper is super absorbent doesn’t mean it can’t be overwhelmed if you pee all at once, rather than in smaller amounts. I bet Samantha was just holding it in as long as she could before she wet the diaper. I wouldn’t have made it myself regardless of having the coffee, but I needed the caffeine to wake up this early.”

“That makes sense,” Desi said. “She was getting antsy before it happened. I thought she was just being impatient for the store to open.”

We stopped in the first clothing store we passed and purchased a new set of sweatpants for Samantha. At least they were marked as being seventy-five percent off. The worst part of it was needing to wait in line for almost twenty minutes to make the small purchase, as everyone in front of us seemed to be ringing up dozens of items.

By this point, I was beginning to feel a slight urge to pee, but since I had already peed three times after drinking the coffee, and hadn’t had any additional liquids since then, I felt that I would be able to hold out for a while longer. Surely Lisa couldn’t be doing any better with our challenge. She glared at me after I gave her bottom a pat while we were leaving the store. She was just as dry as I was.

Samantha was still hiding in a family restroom when we arrived with the sweatpants, passing them through the door as Samantha opened it slightly.

“You guys didn’t buy any underwear?” Samantha whispered.

Lisa looked around to see if anyone else was watching, and then grabbed a pull-up from her bag and tossed it to Samantha, who shut the door without saying anything.

It was all I could do to avoid breaking out into a potty dance. I could just give up on the challenge and go and use the toilet, but I didn’t want to admit defeat to Lisa. The women’s restroom was just around the corner. It would still count as a win for my own personal potty training if I were to get there in time without an accident.

Samantha was back out a minute later. The sweatpants we purchased had a tighter fit on her than anticipated. There wasn’t any question to me that Samantha had put the pull-up on.

“Can we please just leave? I can’t stay in the mall after that. What if someone recognizes me?”

“We don’t have to go back to that store,” Desi said. “Maybe we can give Lisa and Sarah a shopping list?”

Lisa and I exchanged glances. Navigating through a beauty store would be a challenge for either of us on a normal day, let alone Black Friday.

The slight urge in my bladder changed from a minor one to a large one in a matter of seconds.

It was no use.

My pull-up was now full. Somehow, I hadn’t even managed to outlast Lisa. I don’t know how Lisa knew, but a few seconds later, she reached under my skirt and quickly patted my bottom, turning to claim victory with a triumphant look on her face.

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All My Mother's Rules (Ch. 70 & Epilogue - 2/13/24)

All My Mother's Rules (Ch. 70 & Epilogue - 2/13/24)

All My Mother's Rules (Ch. 70 & Epilogue - 2/13/24)

Can we get a spoiler tags feature?

All My Mother's Rules (Ch. 70 & Epilogue - 2/13/24)

Can we get a spoiler tags feature?

All My Mother's Rules (Ch. 70 & Epilogue - 2/13/24)

All My Mother's Rules (Ch. 70 & Epilogue - 2/13/24)

All My Mother's Rules (Ch. 70 & Epilogue - 2/13/24)

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Blocked and Reported -- Episode 193: NaNoWriMo's Diaper-Lover Dumpster Fire (Or what's been going down with ABDL Stories Club)

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