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As a child, What were the rules in your family when you wet the bed? For me, I usually woke up after wetting, put a thick towel over the wet spot and put the wet pyjamas in the laundry. Then I went back to sleep.😴 In the morning I had to confess the „accident“ to my mother and latest at breakfast all family knew.😳 While I was at school, my mother washed everything and the mattress stood on the balcony to dry. In my room (I shared with my younger sister) usually I found my yellow plastic pants (snap on) on the blue mattress protector, with a pile of cloth diapers, waiting for my afternoon swaddling. 😔 This always was the worst moment. Being put back in diapers after I was „dry since months“ (usually it was maybe 4-6 weeks)🫣 🧏‍♀️First „rule“ I had to wear my diapers every night for a week. After dinner I had to leave before my siblings and follow my mother „to get my baby pants on“, as my sister usually said. I hated that and was ashamed. 🧏‍♀️Second „rule“ If the diaper was wet within the week, one week turned into two weeks in which I had to wake up dry to be allowed to sleep like a big boy again. 🧏‍♀️Third „rule“ I then had a plastic cover in my bed for two months. 🧏‍♀️Forth „rule“ If I was wet I had to wash out the diaper pants (plastic pants with buttons) after school and hang them up to dry with the diapers my mother had already washed. This usually was in the garden (summer) or in the hallway outside the bathroom (winter). That way, everyone knew: “Tom has wet his bed again”. In the evening, my mother would get the diapers again and change me. Sometimes if my parents where out for theatre or meeting friends, this happened even before dinner, before our babysitter arrived. I remember I had to help set the table in some PJs over my thick padded bum. And after dinner watching a film with my siblings and the babysitter and feeling the diaper in my crotch, poking out for everyone to see. Strictly speaking, it was not a “rule” but a “tradition” (introduced by my aunt who had some younger kids but also a boy two years older than me. She recommended this part of „potty training“ to my mother) Potty training worked for all children in such a way that if you were dry during the day, the diaper was soon left off at night as well. If the bed was wet, there was another week of diapers, or two if the diaper was wet. But the younger siblings were careful not to treat me any differently. Then my bed was often dry for two months and when it was wet I was given a diaper again. Later, when all the children were dry at night (I was already 12), it stayed that way for a year, or two for me. Did your family had rules for your Bedwetting?

Tess isn’t a baby. She’s practically an adult already, in her own mind. She’s small enough that people often think she’s younger than she is, and that’s enough for her to get bullied every time she starts at a new school. Something that happens depressingly often, as her parents are sent to manage a new office in a new part of the world every year or two. This time, Tess is determined that she won’t go through the usual torment of being the new girl. She won’t have to say goodbye to people she’s spent the last year getting to know, and she won’t have to say goodbye to her first boyfriend just because of Dad’s career. This time she might be able to stay, because Grandma Forton says that there’s family in the area. Tess’s cousin Gabby has a house on the far side of the school district, and she has a spare room where Tess might be able to stay. Just long enough to finish school, until she’s old enough to look after herself in the eyes of the law. The only problem is that Tess and Gabby haven’t spoken since the previous time she lived in this country, and after the big move it’s hard to persuade Gabby that she isn’t a child anymore. Cutesy clothes that aren’t really appropriate for her age; decor that would be better suited to a nursery; and a regular stream of gifts that, while thoughtful, show that Gabby never stopped thinking of Tess as a child. Tess needs to find some way to prove her adulthood, and wetting the bed certainly isn’t the best way to go about that. … I figured I should try posting some of my older stories that have been taken down from Wattpad. So here's The Last New Start. I'll be posting it alongside My Cousin's Keeper, which is basically the same story from a different point of view. Each story is designed to work on its own, but you might see a little more of what the narrators are missing if you compare what you're told in each version. For convenient navigating, here's a link to later in the story (where it might be easier to jump into the story if you're impatient to get to the present): Act II / Chapter 36 1. A Plan “I can look after myself! I’m not a baby,” Tess growled, and stormed out of the lounge. They were words she’d been saying for as long as she could remember, but that didn’t make it any easier for her to cope when people insisted on treating her like a child. It was bad enough at school; she’d probably started at a new school a dozen times already, and every time there was someone who treated her like a baby just because she was a couple of inches shorter than everyone else. Her family would just repeat things like “Good things come in small packages”, they could never do anything to actually help with the bullying. And even if the school took it seriously, by the time she could make some real friends they would be moving on again. Tess didn’t like being underestimated. She wanted everyone to know that she was almost an adult, just like everyone else her age. She wondered if she should write in her diary, nurture the anger like a flame. If she kept on arguing, perhaps she would be able to make her parents give in. But then she thought about something that Spike had said; he always had the right words. He’d told her that the feelings that grow are the ones you feed, and she knew that she didn’t want him to see her like this. She needed to get over it, and work out if there was some way to change their plans. They said she wasn’t old enough to look after herself, and throwing a tantrum would just prove them right. She thought about writing in her diary, but she didn’t want to be reminded of these feelings in future. She thought about calling Spike, but she didn’t want him to see her in distress. Not when he couldn’t do anything to help. So she sat and thought, hoping that a solution would present itself. Twenty minutes later there was a faint knock on the bedroom door. That had to be her father. She barely noticed, still desperately hunting for a solution to her problem. “Tess?” his voice came from the hall, but she didn’t respond. Another few minutes passed, and then the door whispered open. Her father was still in his business suit; he hadn’t found time to get changed after work. He found his daughter hunched over the computer, head in her hands and trying to hide the tears. “Tess, dear? Are you okay?” She shook her head slowly. “Is it changing schools again?” A nod. “New places are always scary, I know that. It’s taken me a long time to get used to moving. But San Lorenzo is going to be fun. They’ve got museums, and galleries. We’ll be living in the Orange Quarter, so there’s modern art all over the place, statues on the street corners and murals on the walls changing every couple of weeks. Won’t that be a thing to see?” Tess didn’t say anything. She wanted to yell, but she couldn’t deny that it sounded interesting. Still, interesting places were for vacations, a couple of weeks over the summer break. Not for moving to in the middle of the school year, and having to start over learning a new set of rules. “Okay, you’re worried about school, I know that. But you’ve managed it before, haven’t you? Remember your first day at Raybridge High? You were crying like it was the end of the world, like you’d never have friends again. How did that turn out?” “It was hard,” she mumbled, not even sure if he would be able to hear. “Cobbles and Wrench were making up stories as soon as they saw me, and it took months before…” “Before you could make friends? But you’ve got friends now. People who care about you. And how long did that take? Less than a year before you were spending every weekend with Chloe and Liz. It feels like they’re your world, doesn’t it? But if you think about it you haven’t even known them for long. You’ll have new friends, you did every time before. You can still keep in touch with them, Chloe will still email you with her drawings. You’ll still know them, and you’ll have new friends too.” “You think… I can meet a new Chloe? A new Kim? People who care?” “Of course! You’re still young, and friends will always–” “And a new Spike?” “Of–” This time she didn’t need to interrupt. The single word was barely more than a grunt, and her father stopped. After a long pause, he tried again: “Look, you need to be objective. You’ll have to move around a lot in your life. When you have a job of your own, or if you go to college out of town you’ll have to move anyway. You and… Spike… you don’t have all the same interests do you? You’re not the same person. So sooner or later there’ll be something dragging you apart. There’s no sense hoping you can stay together forever, not at your age. You can’t hold yourself back just because he… he…” “You don’t understand,” she sobbed. “Maybe some day, but not right now. Not when we only just… I never get a chance to get to know people properly, we’re always moving on. Well maybe you need to move, but why me? Go do your job, Dad. Go to this San Lorenzo place, sure. I can look after myself, I can…” “Tess–” he interrupted, but she didn’t stop. The emotion in the girl’s voice now was clear, and she kept on talking over him. “…cooking and cleaning for a week when you went on that ski trip with Mr Draper. You can leave me here until I finish my exams. I’ll be moving away when I go to college anyway, right? So it’s only a year and a bit. I’ll finish off without having to get used to a new syllabus, and by then I’ll know if Spike is going to get bored with me. Maybe we’ll go different directions, maybe we’ll go the same way. I might stay with you over the break, or go straight to college, and I’ll already have practice looking after myself so you don’t need to worry. Why do you have to treat me like a little kid? I can finish school where I want to, I don’t need you to be here.” Now she was glaring at him, but the tears were still running down her face, which probably softened the defiant image she wanted to create. “Tess, that’s a brave thing to say, but–” “But you still think I’m a baby who needs you to hold my hand?” “I think you’re growing into a strong young woman, but you still need someone to pay the mortgage, and ensure the bills are paid. I did talk about it with your mother, if your plan could be possible. We thought hard, but… San Lorenzo is a nice country, but immigration there is mostly on retirement plans. The Marble Quarter is practically a golden parachute drop zone, so moving there is expensive. EGR helps us out, of course. But we don’t have enough money to keep the lights on here as well.” “I…” Tess mumbled, her rage running out of steam. She hadn’t even thought about that, and she hadn’t stopped to listen. She hated the situation, hated that she had to leave behind her school, that she would need to start over rather than using the projects she’d half completed, that she would need to make new friends again, that she would need to find a new way to get a whole new set of bullies off her back. And perhaps most of all, a problem that she was only just grown up enough to deal with, she would have to say goodbye to her almost-maybe-boyfriend. She didn’t think she could cope with that. But as much as she hated knowing all that, she couldn’t hate her father. “You really talked about…” “We did. You said could you stay here, and I wanted to know if there was any way. But the boiler here is old and expensive to run, the pipes will need replacing in six months, we’d need to find new insurance for you if we’re out of the country. It’s just more expensive to live by yourself. We even looked at other options. If you got one of those little apartments in the block opposite your school, perhaps we could have afforded that, got one of your teachers to check in occasionally in case you need help. But…” “But?” Tess raised an eyebrow, seeing the unexpected ray of hope vanishing again. “But it’s illegal. Buying or renting a house, you have to make a declaration for utility taxes. Who lives there, which tax bands they’re in, and all that jazz. The law says the tax certification needs to be signed every year by an adult with a financial stake in the upkeep of the property. And whoever signs it can’t be absent for more than ten weeks, three times per tax year.” “You could–” Tess cut herself short. She wasn’t going to suggest he lie; he was important enough that cheating his taxes could create a scandal. “How do they do holiday homes? Or like timeshares?” “There’s separate legislation. That’s actually a good thought, but I suspect it wouldn’t work for a whole year. You could only register with the doctors as a temporary resident, like you’re on holiday here, so anything non-emergency they’d tell you to see our doctor when you got ‘home’. And I’m not sure, but I think you wouldn’t be eligible for the school, either. They need a permanent address within the district for your parent or guardian.” “Then I… I have to go?” “I’m afraid so. I’m sorry, I don’t want to do this to you again. But I don’t see any other option. I’ll keep on thinking about it, if there’s any way we can let you stay. If you really don’t want to come with us, I’ll try to find a way. But you have to understand that you can’t always get what you want.” He held her tightly then, and Tess wept on his shoulder, just like she was still a little kid. She wanted more than anything to stay here, but it seemed the whole world had turned against her. She just had to keep on hoping that something else would come up. 2. Asking for Help “I’ll miss you,” Spike whispered. Tess just nodded, and held him tighter. She wasn’t smiling now, but she felt like it was an option. Just being with him, even when they were sitting together on a bus, waiting for the town centre gridlock to clear. “I’ll miss you too,” she said a few minutes later. “I don’t want to leave while you’re here.” “Then call me. Every day, if you can. Send me souvenirs from this island. I hear the weather’s great, or pictures when you’re lying on some Mediterranean beach. Keep in touch, and say it’s a long holiday. We’ll be together again when it’s over, and we can go to college together.” “I hope so,” she mumbled. “I asked my family if you could stay with us. For the rest of the school year, you know, so you’re not disrupting your education.” “You did?” She gasped, eyes wide for a moment. Then she thought about Spike’s stepfather; about the reasons she didn’t come round to his house when they had any other options. She glanced down, and saw a faint bruise on the side of his arm. What would Mr Torrance say about a suggestion like that. “Really?” “No. You think Mum would be sober long enough to answer? But maybe one of your friends could. Middle class guys with a spare room, or whatever. Your folks would pay for your food and that, right? Never give up. Unless you really want to see San Lorenzo…” “I’d like to visit. Dad made it sound glorious, but not somewhere I want to live. But you’re right, I’ll ask everyone I know. Might get lucky.” The phone in her pocket buzzed, and it was in her hand instantly. “What’s that, got an answer already?” “No, it’s… Oh! It’s from Aunt Mary. I asked if she had any ideas. You know, she gives good advice sometimes. Or crazy. She probably said the same as you.” She looked down at the screen, and swiped across to see the message. The first line that caught her eye was the subject. “Fwd: Cousin Gabby” “Who’s that?” Spike asked. “You don’t talk about your family much.” “Oh, she’s… my dad’s cousin, I think. I’ve got dozens of cousins, but we barely talk to them. Some kind of argument about church, they never told me the details, but most of my aunts and uncles don’t want anything to do with my mum. It’s only Mary who keeps in touch. Gabby… I kind of remember her, she used to babysit. Like, when I was really little. I bet she’s an adult by now, that’s weird to think.” “Maybe she wants to get in touch. You want to read it?” “I better. Aunt Mary’s not good with email, you know. Worse than Grandma sometimes, they’ll write about a dozen things so it’s like you’re reading a novel, and the thing in the subject line might not even be mentioned if you’re looking at a third-hand message. Never know, Mary could have wanted to send me some idea for dealing with moving, and instead of hitting ‘new’ she forwarded an email from somebody else and added her message in the middle.” “People really do that? I… wait, my brother does that. I guess it’s not that weird, so…” Tess already wasn’t giving him her full attention. She was skimming over the email, desperate to see if there was anything that might help. And then she was scrolling back up to the beginning, to read in more detail. Spike sat and looked out of the window, never giving any sign of impatience or boredom. He was so happy just to be there with her that he didn’t need to demand her attention; a feeling unfamiliar to both of them, but strangely comforting. As they got off the bus and started walking around the shops, Tess tried to explain what she had learned. It was hard to put into words, after reading such a jumbled series of messages that had apparently passed through six different aunts and cousins. But she thought she had the basic gist of it: “Cousin Gabby lives in Palmerston.” “What, Palmerston, Oregon?” The quote from a favourite TV show would normally elicit a chuckle, but Tess’s mind was on more serious things now. “No, Palmerston the trashy development north of Pine Ridge. I had no idea she was so close.” “You should tell your parents then, it would be weird to live like a dozen miles from a cousin and not even pay a visit before they leave the country. And…” “And ask if she’s got a spare room. Right. She’s looked after me when I was little enough to need it, but I’m not a baby now. I can do my own food, do my share of the chores, all that stuff. Dad can’t be upset about me staying with family, can he? If I can stay there, I’m still in the catchment area for the school and I don’t have to change. Avoid disrupting my studies, they’ll care more about that than not leaving my friends behind.” “Think she’ll go for it?” Tess paused to think. She barely remembered Gabby from the last time they’d met. She remembered having a lot of fun, but more details were buried in the mists of ancient history. More than ten years ago; it was more than two thirds of her life. She had a vague impression of an older girl with a range of glittery T-shirts, a lime-green streak in her hair, and a room practically wallpapered with Paramore merchandise. But beyond those superficial details, she really had no idea what kind of person Gabby might be, or how far she would be willing to go to help a distant relative. “I don’t know,” she said eventually. “I remember her being fun, but that was years ago. She’s not some fashionable teenager now. And even if I say I can do everything myself, she won’t know I’m there, I bet to her it’ll seem like looking after a kid again. That’s a big ask for anyone. They kept on talking, going over and over the possibility of a plan. Refining the things that she could say, trying to think of the best way to convince her parents, and her cousin, that this was a good idea. By the end of the day, they were mostly retreading old ground, saying things they’d already said. But Tess didn’t mind; she’d happily listen to Spike reading a phone book if he sounded interested. She loved talking to him whatever the subject was, and planning to stay in the country was a great excuse to keep on talking. She felt safe, and she felt hope. That was one of the reasons it would have been so hard to leave her friends behind, and now if everything went right she might not have to.

A quick note before the story: I'm mostly a visual artist, and for years I've been more of a lurker here than a writer, But this story has been living in my head for a long time, and I finally decided it was time to share it. While Abi isn't exactly me, she's loosely inspired by who I was at that age, along with bits and pieces of my own memories and experiences. June Gloom is my first attempt at sharing a longer story, and I'm excited (and a little nervous) to finally put it out there. Thanks for stopping by, and I hope you enjoy the story. June Gloom Part 1: Mornings like these. The June gloom came heavy that morning. Outside her apartment window, the coastal town of Westbridge looked like it had been erased. Fog clung onto the narrow streets like a damp sheet, softening the usual sounds of seagulls and passing cars. The sky was a blanket of grey, the kind of muted morning that could trick you into thinking summer was still months away. Up on the third floor, in apartment 3B, the light was still pale and grey, barely touching the faded lavender walls and all the posters scattered across it. Abi Gonzales, age ten and a quarter, laid tangled in her sheets, limbs askew, with one arm particularly in danger of dangling off the bed. Her brown hair splayed across the pillow like a wild storm cloud, messy and uncooperative. She had fallen asleep wearing her favorite pajamas: pale pink Hello Kitty Faces, soft from a hundred washes. She stirred slowly in bed, still partly inside her dream. She had been hiking the hills above westbridge with her cousin Mia, weaving through trails full of wild flowers and wind bent trees. She’d been laughing, happy, at peace. Until now Her face twisted as she turned onto her side. Cold, Damp, Heavy. Abi's eyes snapped open. She didn't need to look, she already knew. The familiar scent hit her first: salty air from the cracked window, a faint trace of her strawberry shampoo, and that other smell; faint and sour, the one that always came with mornings like these. Her throat tightened, swallowing hard against the sudden knot of panic She lay there for a moment, frozen. Then, slowly, miserably, she sat up and pushed the blanket aside. The pale pink fabric of her Hello Kitty pajamas was soaked, and clinging uncomfortably to her skin, heavy and damp. The sheets beneath her were darkened and wet clear through to a mattress protector that was barely holding on. Abi froze. Her heart dropped, her face tightened as the full weight of it hit her. This wasn’t just a little leak. This wasn’t even a "quietly throw the pull-up away and change the sheets before Mom wakes up" kind of accident. It was a full blown disaster. “No, no, no,” she whispered, her voice cracking. Her eyes filled before she could stop them. “Why me...” The tears spilled over her cheeks as she slowly sat up, legs sticking uncomfortably to the soaked pajamas. She took a deep breath and looked down at herself, the fabric clinging coldly to her skin. Even her shirt had gotten wet well above the hem. Her pajamas were ruined. The worst part wasn't even the mess. It was the shame, that deep, gnawing feeling in her chest. The quiet voice that whispered you’re too old for this. When will you stop. You’re such a baby. She hated it. She hated waking up this way. She’d been doing so well too. In May, she’d made it a whole week without a single accident, her longest streak in ages. She’d let herself believe things were getting better. That maybe, finally, this part of her childhood was over. But now this. Worse than any accident she could remember in years. She sobbed small, hiccuping cries, her fists clenched, face red with frustration. Angry at herself. Ashamed. And unsure what to do next. “Abi?” her mom’s voice broke the thick silence of the room, gentle but with a hint of concern. “Sweetie, are you up?” Abi didn't answer, she just turned her face away from the door too ashamed to answer. The door opened slowly, and her mother, tall and tired eyed, wearing an old green sweater and fuzzy socks stepped in, coffee mug in hand. It didnt take a detective to figure out what had happened. One glance at the bed told her everything. “Oh, honey…” she said gently, setting the mug on the dresser and crossing the room. “Bad dream?” Abi didn't look up. “I didn't mean to,” she mumbled through her tears, wiping her nose on her sleeve. “I was just sleeping. I didn't even feel it…I don't know what happened…” “I know, baby,” her mom said softly, carefully sitting on the dry edge of the bed, and brushing Abi’s long bangs from her forehead. “It's okay… Accidents happen.” “I ruined everything,” Abi whispered, with tears welling up in the corners of her eyes again. “The sheets, the bed, my pajamas…It’s all so gross, I hate it!” “I know it feels that way, but it's really not that bad…it's just a little extra laundry” her mom said, giving her a little squeeze on the shoulder. Abi sniffed, unconvinced. “Come on,” her mom said gently, “go jump in the shower, and I’ll help strip the bed” Abi gave a weak nod and sat up slowly, a shiver running through her as the cool air hit her skin. Shame prickled at the back of her neck, she kept her eyes fixed on the floor, unable to meet her mom’s gaze. The soaked pajamas clung to her legs, and the sagging pull-up bunched awkwardly between her thighs, forcing her into a stiff, waddling step as she made her way down the hall. The small bathroom, with its leaky sink and old blue tiles, was chilly and dim in the early morning light. She stepped inside, flinching at the cold floor beneath her bare feet. For a moment, she just stood there, arms wrapped tightly around herself. With a quiet breath, she slid down her pajama pants, then reached for the pull-up. Heavy and wet, its insides swollen and useless. She stared at it for a second, her throat tightening. It didn’t even work, she thought bitterly. It was supposed to stop this, to stop the mess, to make her feel less awful in the morning. But it hadn’t. It had leaked everywhere, just like it had been doing more and more lately. Now she was just soaked and humiliated. She let it drop to the floor with a wet thud, like something defeated. Like herself. Tears began to pool in the corners of her eyes. Blinking fast, she stepped into the shower and pulled the curtain closed behind her.

Dear Reader This is the sequel about “Lila's Family Vacation”. I already finished the story, and it has approximately 105 000 words and about 250 pages. I will try to publish a chapter regularly when my work schedule allows, that I correct and proofread a part. (Hopefully I will be able to do that every two weeks or so). But I probably will skip the weeks when I am on vacation (one in August and two in September). The first part can be found here: Criticism and praise is greatly appreciated. For some scenes, I added some hand drawn illustrations. Showing some nice/key scenes of the plot. I want to explain here that none of them is AI generated, so criticism and nice words on the drawings is also welcome as they were a lot of work to create. You will notice that some storylines will be still open at the end, another book is planned for the future !!! PLEASE DO NOT COPY THE STORY. !!! !!! IF THAT HAPPENS, I WILL STOP POSTING/WRITING NEW PARTS !!! You should understand that posting it elsewhere is taking away comments and criticism from the author. This is my only reward I get from some hundred hours of work, and it is the same as stealing! In that case, I would rather sell on Amazon and hand it out to people via PM. If you want to have it on your site, contact me and we will find a solution. If you prefer a PDF Version this will be available, when I complete posting it here via PM and at the enormous cost of some words and a comment from you. !!! SO KEEPING IF FREE IS UP TO YOU. !!! What happened so far Last week, Lila was on a flyover trip with her family and as every time when they went on a trip, her mummy put her child in diapers for the flights. Despite her doubts about needing her special underwear at the age of thirteen, it made her vacation much more relaxing and enjoyable. So she had a lot of fun exploring the city, and that changed her feelings toward the step back into her childhood that she did. But it was not only her diapers coming back into her life, she noticed soon that making friends was easier when you can play carefree like a little child. Now that Lila has come home from her vacation, she is not ready to take back all her teenage responsibilities anymore. And she can not face her math teacher any longer who always demands answers for his difficult exercises. No, Lila would love to step back from her teenage life just as she did on her vacation, and it also seems that the teenage lifestyle is not what is right for her anymore. Her life is strange. She is not a baby, but she is not a big kid either. This is the story about Lila coming home and finding a path in her life that leads her away from the stressful routine and closer to a life that she thought had ceased to exist. Back to School “Honey it's time to get up”, Maria slowly was waking Lila, who was still in her dreams and smiling about the wonderful time they had. But her girl just turned away, as if her mum was reality that came closer. “Lila, wake up!” she repeated herself a little louder, rocking her daughters belly a few times. The young girl slowly opened her eyes, not willing to accept that the sun had risen, and the new day had started. Her mum let her time to stretch for a second. “You have to get ready for school”, she said, slowly removing her blanket and revealing that Lila wet her diaper she wore overnight. Now that they came home from their trip her mum had expected her daughter to stay dry, but at night her precious child never fully mastered potty-training and with her diapers she at least knew she would be safe, comfortable and dry during the night. For a second, her mum wished her kid could just stay so sweet, childish and innocent. And she could allow her to shamelessly go potty in it, as she did on their entire trip last week. The idea of letting her child continue using pampers during the day was in her mom's mind, but using her diaper would surely embarrass her little girl, especially when she was in school with all her more mature looking classmates. So her mum was glad that she had convinced her daughter to try wearing her good old panties for their return to school. And she doubted Lila would put enough dedication in keeping herself dry, as her girl did not mind using her diapers anymore. Now, she had her little girl laying on the bed, trusting her innocently, as she had on all the days of her vacations. And as she knew that the next days would be hard for Lila going back to her problems in class, she wanted to give her as much love and security as she could. “Do you mind if I help you get dressed?”, her mum offered as the little girl did not move and looked as if she wanted to stay in bed. Her still sleepy daughter nodded, looking forward to getting a little bit more from the love she experienced in the last days Her mum softly slid down her pyjama pants and removed the baby panties. With a smile, she opened the tapes of her childish looking but sodden wet diaper and softly cleaned her child. For a short moment it seemed that her mum was searching for one of these cartoons themed paddings as she was done with wiping her girl. “Can you get one of your panties on after you take a shower?” “Are you sure, just panties?”, Lila asked back, sounding a bit disappointed and worried, while pressing Noah on her chest, who naturally found its way in Lila's bed. “I am sure you will manage to stay dry when you remember to always go potty when your phone rings.”, her mum reminded her about the app on her phone that they had installed together yesterday. “Hmm”, the girl summed in inevitable approval, the app was a potty training helper for older kids and would send her to the restroom with a ringing sound whenever Lila had a break at school. While this was surely helpful, it put back the load and responsibility on the small kid's shoulders. Lila already wished she would be back on vacation. Carefree, happy, protected and joyful, like a small child, and surely not responsible for everything that could happen to her panties. “Come hop over to the shower”, her mum sent her to start her daily routine. Hopefully this day would go by without any new catastrophe happening in her life, she wished as the warm water tried to wash away her sleepiness. “Lila come ... don't waste too much time, your school bus is leaving in 20 minutes”, her mum yelled opening the bathroom door. She clearly did not want to hurry to get on this bus, not today and not on a math day. She hated her math teacher, even more than she hated school. With an unhappy face, she dried herself and ambled back to her room. “LILA, come on, we need to hurry.”, her mum was already standing there. She had prepared a fresh set of teen-style school clothes on her bed. Without letting her child time to realize it, she pulled the new shirt over her head, but it was not the loving help of her mum that she enjoyed so much in the last days. The stress that pulsed through her mum’s arteries felt like poison on her soul. She could not fight her off with her teenage temper. The sadness swapped over her, and she noticed tears rolling over her cheeks. “Sniff ... Sniff”, she tried to swallow her desperation and was still crying for help in this childish but irresistible way. Her mum placed her hand on her shoulder and waited for a second. She could still call her boss and tell them she would be late and bring her daughter to school. She took her phone and sent a short note. Before she hugged her child, rocking her until all her tears dried. “Baby wait I will help you”, her mum said, and she started to dress her into her mature teeny clothes, which actually would look quite out of place on her. She noticed her little girl actually also wet herself, when she was in tears, and she left a big wet spot on the well protected bed. “Did you already forget to go to the toilet?”, she asked patiently, as you would ask a toddler. She sent her little girl to the porcelain throne and changed the sheet on the mattress. Before she finally dressed her girl for the day. ### If we now examine the two binomials together we can reduce the denominator, we get a simple equation, the math teacher tried to explain to them. Lila, on the other hand, had been thinking for minutes about all these numbers and squares and why the teacher always expected her to find the solution. She rested her head on her arm in despair and had long since given up on solving this calculation. If she could at least get some rest during the break. But every time that stupid phone rang and sent her to the loo. Hmm, but at least she's stayed dry so far. Well, apart from the slightly damp feeling in her panties. ‘RRRRR’ The bell rang for a break and all the children wanted to get up to recover from the exhausting lesson before their teacher would talk for another hour about the different binomial formulae and their various applications. “Stop children STOP. Today, we have a two-hour lesson and next week we have exams. We're not taking the break today”, he explained sternly, that there would be no rest for what he saw as lazy math students. “So, let's summarize this”, he angrily continued in his class, while Lila's mind had already dreamed herself away before he had even finished writing the term. Why did it all have to be so difficult and complicated? She cursed inwardly. She did not dare to close her eyes but listening to her teacher's voice was almost painful for her right now. So she just tranced herself away into her beautiful memories of their last trip and her friendship with Alex. ‘Bumm’’ .... He suddenly slammed his fist at the table. “LILA, ARE YOU SLEEPING?”, the old math professor impatiently demanded her attention. “Can you explain to your classmates why you stare out of the window and not pay any attention to this important stuff?” The silence he left and the expectation from all the surrounding pupils embarrassed her even more. “No ... Nothing ... as always.” “So because you clearly seem to know everything about the binomial formulas, you can show it to us.” With a vengeful grin, he wrote the most difficult term on the blackboard and put the chalk on her desk. “Go, Lila, I want to see what you learned in your sleep.” “I Just ... I”, she stumbled as she anxiously got up. She had no glue, what she was supposed to do with that math problem, not even where to start. Her heart was beating like crazy and there was this crowing need in her blather urging her to head to a bathroom, as she did not go in her break. She could not ask her professor to leave for a potty break. It would surely be denied as an attempt to chicken out of her make-up exam. Desperate, she tried to remember the formula to at least put that on the blackboard and remembered her dad explaining that to her before their vacation. It had brackets in it, she was sure, starting with an opening one. Assuming it was something with a and b, she was pretty sure as well. “You don't even know the basics”, the angry teacher yelled from her place, where he seemed to be inspecting her booklet. “You will never make it this year, and you just rob the time from your classmates.”, he went on, talking so loud that all her efforts not to cry failed, and she started sobbing in tears. ... “You finally have to grow up and take responsibility”, he shouted once more, sending the girl deeper into her desperation. And as Lila lost all her self-control, she noticed how the warm wet feeling was spreading in her crotch. “Lila is wetting herself, look how an immature baby she is.”, one of the rouged girls who already wanted to look somewhat attractive, jeered. “You did really just pee yourself in my classroom”, the teacher added while sounding mad. Lila could no longer stand being in class; she was feeling embarrassed and beaten up. She just wanted to hide ... or run away ... as fast as she could. Without giving anyone a chance to catch her, she started to move, kicked the door open and flew even further down the hallway. She wanted to be back home, but she knew it would be empty. Without even stopping, she passed some of her teachers and slipped out of the main door. “LILA stop, please”, she heard a voice calling for her but like a herd of buffalos she could not. ‘QUICK ... TuuuT ... TuuuT’, she ignored the signal horn of a car right behind her as she crossed the street and noticed that she was on her way over to the house where she normally would attend the afternoon program. She needed a place to be safe. To think for a moment about her options. About where to go....

21-year-old Jillian Jenners is down on her luck and accepts her younger twin sister Jennifer's invitation to stay with her at her cozy three-bedroom apartment in Philadelphia. Having just finished college and earned her degree, Jillian is still jobless and desperate to find a new start in her life. When Jillian begins to have her nighttime accidents, she turns to diapers as a solution to her embarrassing problem. A new opportunity presents itself when Jillian discovers the world of streaming and begins to build a sizable following. When a "wardrobe malfunction" happens during one of her streams, it further boosts her fame in the streaming community. Does Jillian keep wearing diapers to please her fans, or does she stop altogether? And what part does her twin sister Jennifer have in this whole story? Find out in this original tale of discovery, acceptance, and, of course, diapers. Foreward: The JJ Diaper Twins - How it all Started Hi! First of all, thank you very much for purchasing our book! I am Jillian Jenners (but you knew that already!). I am sure that you are all very much aware of me and my sister Jen. Whether you stumbled across our YouTube channel, our Tiktok, found us on Instagram, our Facebook page, X (twitter), JustForFans, or happened to catch one of our many exciting Twitch streams, you all know us as the JJ Diaper Twins. The two J’s consist of me, Jillian Jenners and of course my identical twin sister Jennifer Jenners. We are basically diapered celebrities and have even caught attention of the mainstream media. But how did it all start? That is just what this book is going to tell you. Consider this book as a biography of the lives of me and my twin sister getting our exciting start in the city of brotherly love: Philadelphia. Home of those delicious cheesesteaks, tastykakes, and tomato pies. My aim for this book is to very clearly tell all of you my story and how the JJ Diaper Twins even became a thing in the first place. Now, I am sure that some of you will want to come and bother us with requests to be our caregivers. Just to be up front, both I and Jen are already taken. We will take no requests, but feel free to support us on our Crowdfunder (the very reason why this book exists) or buy our branded pacifiers, bottles, bibs, blankets, stuffys, and clothing made for every one of you JJ Littles. We have footed sleepers, onesies, cute frilly dresses and skirts, shortalls, socks, changing mats, plastic pants, and even our very own line of diapers coming very soon! The JJ Cozy Crinklez (coming soon!) will be the comfiest, most absorbent diaper on the ABDL market. We assure you that these diapers are able to handle the most destructive floods that you can unleash on them. My sister and I agree that these diapers are the best ones that we have ever worn (and believe me, we have tried them all!). Keep supporting us through your donations as each donation helps to keep the cost of these diapers affordable and competitive with the other brands. We are working on getting proper supply channels so that you won’t be waiting too long for your next exciting order. The JJ Nighty Nites are just a little more absorbent and can handle the heaviest of your overnight super soakings. Jen and I have tried them a number of times before bed and we both agree that there has yet to be a leaky diaper. We are both excited to bring this new addition to our J&J Merchandise. We are also working on a documentary and our first show on CuriosityStream, so be on the lookout for that. Why CuriosityStream? This platform will grant us greater freedom to tell our story to all of you JJ Littles, without the restrictions that YouTube would place on us. Besides our current projects, I will get back to the most current project that we have just recently completed: this book. Both Jen and I would like to thank you for all your help and support for without it, we wouldn’t be the JJ Diaper Twins that you know and love today. Now, how will this book be structured? To get the full story, both Jen and I have devoted sections to this book to each tell our own story of how this all started. It’s a crazy story, but every bit of it is true. My story will be told first in “Jillian’s Story” so I would recommend starting with that one. Following that one will be “Jennifer’s Story” and everything there will be told from her point of view. The next section of this book will contain a thank you message from my twin sister, so don’t forget to read that before you get to the table of contents! This whole book has been a labor of love and we devote this book to every one of you who purchased it. So to all my JJ Littles out there, stay diapered! Live full, laugh long, play strong! Love You Always, Jillian Jenners July 21, 2028 Foreward: A Very Special Thankies to All of You! Hi hi everyone! I’m sure that you have all read my twin sister’s previous section. Knowing (and trusting) that you have, you know that we are both very excited that you have picked up this book to hear the full story of how Jill and I became the JJ Diaper Twins that you know and love today. So thankies very muchies for all your help and support! Prior to my sister Jill’s meteoric rise to fame, I was a CPA working at one of the leading CPA firms in Philadelphia: Conway, Phillips, & Associates. Prior to Jill’s fame, I provided her with a place to stay at my apartment. You all know the rest of the story, but the purpose of this book is to fill in all of those details in between my sister’s anonymity and our now shared fame that is celebrated by all the JJ Littles. I will be honest, everyone. I at first was hesitant to follow in my sister’s footsteps. Due to the stigma of this kind of lifestyle, I wasn’t at all comfortable to join my sister in all the facets of her lifestyle of infantilism. But after seeing all the benefits that she reaped and seeing the endless stress and anxiety that came from the continual demands of my CPA firm, the initial experience that I had with diapers proved cathartic to me. How did I go from my insistent reluctance to join my sister to combining with my sister to become one of the biggest names in the ABDL community? That is the purpose of this book. I will not reveal anymore, as you will have to read my side of the story (Jennifer’s Story) to get all of the replete details recounting the genesis of the protection that “changed” my life. I will be honest again. As a result of taking that padded red pill, it has cost me relationships that I will never be able to rekindle again. But as a result, I have a wonderful and supportive community of the most caring and loving people that I have ever met. At every meet and greet, you all have never ceased to amaze me with your kindness and support. My sister has already detailed you on our future projects, so that redundancy will be avoided here. Just know that we have both mutually discussed every project together and I (thanks to my stellar financial background) have reviewed everything financially before moving forward with each project. Each project benefits all of you, and is FOR every one of you lovely littles. As is this book that you are now holding. Consider this miniature tome a passion project conceived by both I and my twin sister (who I love with all my heart) Jill. We want to share with you the story on how we both became the JJ Diaper Twins. How we can now wear our diapers proudly everyday and help out our ever-growing family of JJ Littles. To satiate your curiosity, yes. Both Jill and I are fully diaper dependent now with no sign of ever returning to urinary or fecal continence. Also (as she already told you), we already both have wonderful caregivers that are sweet and wonderful to both of us. With that knowledge in your possession, please refrain from making any solicitations to be our caregivers. You are all a wonderful community and neither of us could’ve ever made it this far without all of you. To address the needs of both Little and Caregiver alike, my sister and I are in the process of creating a network to match you JJ Littles to a wonderful caregiver that will care for all of your needs. We want it to be a good system so we are taking our time on it. Please be patient. Whether you’re the little or the caregiver. Please be patient. Again I would like to say thankies very muchies to all of you! The movement that my sister started has allowed me to discover and fully embrace my inner little. A side of me that I prefer to keep mostly private, but for your sake show it every now and then. Remember. Littlespace is nothing to be ashamed of. It is therapy for every one of us to escape from the overwhelming difficulties and challenges of everyday life. Love every moment of that littlespace, but take care of those adult things that need to get done (ESPECIALLY if you don’t have a caregiver!) Well, my sister and I need to get this final draft to the publisher so all of you can see our curious and interesting tale from full anonymity to full blown ABDL stardom. It’s surprising, embarrassing, exciting, and rewarding. This experience has taught me so much, and I hope that it will teach all of you as well. I will close with the closing that both Jill and I use to close out our Twitch Streams that served as a foundation of Jill’s career: Live full, laugh long, play strong! Stay diapered, all you JJ Little besties! Love You All Sincerely, Jennifer Jenners July 21, 2028 I. Jillian's Story Chapter 1 : Down on my Luck Hi! I know that all of you already know who I am, but here it goes. In case any of you just skipped the introduction or for some reason have not heard of me yet, I will tell you again. My name is Jillian Marie Jenners. And before you’re left wondering, yes. The same Jillian Jenners that’s part of the Jenners Twins, or the nickname that’s more familiar in the community: the JJ Diaper Twins. I’m the one “J” and my twin sister Jennifer is the other “J”. We are identical twins, but we couldn’t be anymore different! Yes, we shared the same egg and womb at birth, but that is where the similarities end. And to address your comments on the tabloids and fake news, don’t believe any of the fake stories that the media conjures about us. None of it is true (as I’m sure that all of you already know). Their agenda is solely there to silence us and our cause. A cause that they for some reason see as a threat to their agenda. What? Do they not want us to share the spotlight with the other celebrities? It’s clear that the Hollywood Elites write all the rules of who stays and who goes in Hollywood and it’s very clear to them that a pair of ABDL twins are not allowed to have any of the spotlight as they want it all to themselves. What gives them the audacity to try to silence or cancel emerging icons representing a cause that they don’t even understand? They don’t want to, so they’ll make up fake stories to keep us from becoming stars. Well you know what, Hollywood? Your attempts are not working. Our movement is stronger than ever, and it’s about to tear down the walls of your Elitest club of yours. But anyway, I digress. Now for the most intense burning question that any of you ever gave me. And believe me. I hear this one every time when I stream with my twin to this day: “How did you and Jenny become the JJ Diaper Twins?” I get this question every single stream. Every. Single. Stream. Well, question no more my fellow JJ Little Besties! I am about to tell you everything. How my life was changed forever. How my sister’s video game console launched my career. How an embarrassing accident and mishap during a stream transformed my career. All of you are responsible for making my career the success that it is, and I thank every one of you. Now after I tell you everything, please help the mods in answering the question. All of you will have the answer now, and you’ll be able to share it with every person that doesn’t know about this story yet. So, you wanna know how Jillian Jenners (that’s ME!) went from a nobody to a big YouTuber and streaming celebrity? Hang on to your diapys (and make sure it’s a fresh one) and listen to my story. This is my humble beginning and I hope that it can inspire you from wherever you are to achieve your dreams and aim for the very best. How did I get into wearing diapers in the first place? To answer that question, we have to go all the way back to June of 2023. Yes. Five years to get to the very beginning. I was a fresh college graduate from Cleveland State University while my twin sister chose Penn State to get her Master’s Degree in Accounting and earn her CPA. Yes, we went to different schools. As I said earlier, we may be identical but we couldn’t be more different! It was only one month since I graduated. But since my sister was in an accelerated program (that, and she used all her free time to take extra classes), she graduated one year ahead of me and went on to earn her CPA license. She just celebrated her fourth month at Conway, Phillips, & Associates (one of the leading accounting firms in Philadelphia where she lives now). What was I doing? I was starving. My emergency fund was starting to dry up. My sister’s numerous scholarships (plus her firm paying for her Masters Degree while she interned there) got her a full ride through all of her college education. On the other hand, I was sacked with debt from the Bachelor’s of Science Degree in Communication that was doing nothing for me at the time. And my parents couldn’t help me with my schooling either since my sister and I came from a poor family. I mean, $145,000 in college debt? Everyone, all I did was cry that entire month after I graduated. Failed interview after failed interview. My grades were really good, but the market was competitive. Who would hire me as a news anchor when so many other candidates had better qualifications than me? Wasn’t the news station that I interned at in Cleveland good enough for all of you? Well laugh it up, because my sister and I are making more than all of you now! Five figures? Try seven! But seriously. The economic times were really tough in 2023 (and they still are now in 2028). After spending a solid month of dried-up job leads, failed interviews, and zero job offers, I drowned my sorrows with a pint of Mint Chocolate chip ice cream. It was my guilty pleasure, but the refreshing mint at least tried to sweeten my rotten month of failed prospects. I was crying in the kitchen halfway through my pity pint of minty goodness. “You still crying, Jill pill?” My roommate Natasha asked me. What else could I do? Everything that I tried led to a dead end. And now, I was about to run out of money… “Yes, I’m still crying!” I told her. “You would be too if you had over $100,000 in unpaid college debt and no job prospects…” Natasha placed her hand on my shoulder. I didn’t know why she did this, as it DEFINITELY didn’t make things any better. “Jill? I know that you’re going through a rough patch right now. I know that I can’t do much to help you, but do you have anyone else that can help?” I sighed as I repeated the question in my mind over and over. “Well, I know that my parents can’t help me,” I told her matter-of-factly. “I already told you that they’re poor. My sister on the other hand is in Philly, rolling in money from her CPA job…” “Just ask your sister!” Natasha told me. I ignored her and dug up another generous scoop of mint chocolate chip ice cream. I shoved the heaping spoonful into my mouth in my futile attempt to numb the pain of my miserable existence. Why did I ever go to school to be a news anchor? Who would ever want to hear a loser like me? Besides, most of the candidates that got the job were men. So much for gender equality… The explosion of sweet mintiness filled my mouth and I quickly swallowed it. “My sister?” I said in a forlorn sigh. “She’s got her own life now! What would she want with me?” That’s when I heard a knock at the door. “Miss Jenners!” the voice boomed, sounding like a crotchety old lady. It was the landlady. My rent was due. Aw shoot! I thought I already paid it! I KNOW I did last month! “Your rent is due, miss!” the voice repeated. “$950! Do you have it?” I opened the door and sighed. “Mrs. Steinbeck, just one second…” I woke up my cell phone and opened my banking app. I checked the balance and my heart sank. $20.89. I only had $20.89 in my account! “Well, I do have $20.89…” I told the landlady, my sheepish voice beginning to choke. The landlady shook her head. “Cash dear. I need it all in cash. You have until tomorrow night to give me the money. Give me it or you will be evicted. I will seize all your property as collateral and will return it once the rent is paid in full. I WILL do this if you don’t have the rent tomorrow. Do I make myself clear, Miss Jenners?” “Crystal…” I choked. The landlady slowly but firmly closed the door. I then started crying again. Natasha looked at me and sighed. “Girl, I can give you $100, but I still need to pay for my half.” I half smiled when I heard her say “girl”. This was a Natashaism and her favorite word to use before beginning a sentence. I guess it’s more common with her being from the Dallas-Fort Worth Area of Texas. I have nothing against any of you Texans (your accent is AMAZING!). It’s just that my accent is very boring compared to yours. And Natasha’s accent was Texas Golden. I grabbed my pint of mint chocolate chip ice cream (which was now starting to turn into a melty mess) and began to shovel the next melty mouthful. Natasha opened her purse and pulled out five 20-dollar bills. She firmly placed the money in my hand and gestured me to place my spoon down. “Set your ice cream down and look at me.” Natasha said firmly. “Both eyes, Jill…” I fixed my gaze on Natasha and ran my fingers through my brown hair. Okay. I’m staring at her. What now? “And stop playing with your hair!” she ordered. “I need you to act like a proper lady.” Proper? Lady? What is this, finishing school? I let go of my hair and sighed, placing both hands to my side. “Okay. No nervous fidgets or stims. What?” Natasha smiled, happy that I have her undivided attention. “Take the money. You need it, girl…” There she goes with that “girl”, again! Even after a year of living with her, I’m still not quite used to it… “Now,” Natasha continued. “You told me that your sister is ‘rolling in money from her CPA job’…Why don’t you just ask her for help? She’s your sister and I’m sure that she would love to help you if she knew that you were in need. She seems like a pretty cool girl, too. I saw you two at graduation…” “Yeah,” I muttered. “She visited me a month ago to watch me graduate. At least my parents congratulated me over the phone…” Natasha nodded. “She seemed pretty nice, though. You’re both twins, right? You get along with her?” I slowly nodded. “Yeah. We both grew up together! Then we grew apart during college…” “But she visited you! Your sister actually cared enough to fly from Philadelphia all the way to Cleveland to watch you graduate. Girl, don’t you think she still cares?” I folded the $100 and stuffed it in my pocket of my grey jogging pants. I then shoved another now liquidy spoonful of mint chocolate chip ice cream in my mouth. “My sister only did that as a polite gesture,” I told her. “If she really cared, wouldn’t she check in on me now and then?” Before I could even finish saying the word “then”, my cell phone vibrated with the song “Shallow” playing. (This song was both I and my sister’s favorite song in high school) The caller ID read “Jen” with a picture of her happily smiling below it. At this moment, I totally lost it. I began crying again. Knowing that my sister has heard me cry many times, I answered the phone. “Hello?” “Are you crying again?” Jen asked me. “I just wanted to check in on you since it’s been a couple weeks now. Now what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” I sighed. “I thought that you didn’t care! Didn’t you just visit me as a polite gesture?” “Aw Jill…” she said in a voice that seemed to explode with sympathy. “You know that my level of concern for you far exceeds what you may think it does. Now I visited you last month because I love my twin sister and that’s what loving sisters are supposed to do.” “Why didn’t mom and dad come to the graduation?” I asked her. “Jill, we already discussed this. They didn’t want to come to your graduation. They didn’t come to mine either. I offered to pay both times, but they refused my offer. I don’t know what they have against either of us. Despite that being the case, we have to love them back. After all, they were the ones that raised us!” I sighed. “I think it’s the money…We’ve always been poor…” “But look at us, Jill! We both have college degrees and I am now on my fourth month at an amazing accounting firm.” “So you’re just going to gloat about your new job? Jen, I thought you were going to check up on me!” Natasha gasped and left the room. I guess she wanted to give my sister and I some privacy. Thanks I guess? “Jill, I am not gloating. I am very happy about the success that I achieved. And I want you to be happy about your success too! You graduated Magna Cum Laude from Cleveland State University!” “Sis, you graduated Summa Cum Laude! A year ahead of me with a Masters that your cushy accounting firm paid for. That same firm that you interned at! And now you got a cushy job there! Meanwhile, I am having failed interview after failed interview. They are favoring men over me! I guess an anchorMAN is better than an anchorwoman, huh? I thought we were past all the sexist crap…Besides…” I lost it again and burst into tears. “Jill, you’re crying again! What is pulling you into despair?” “What is pulling me, Jen? I’ll tell you!” I raised my voice. “My landlord…um lady…knocked on the door and wanted the rent tonight. I thought that I paid it! But it looks like that I didn’t. $950! I checked my banking app. All that I had was $20.89. She didn’t want it. She wanted it all in cash. Now if I don’t give her the money tomorrow, she will evict me and seize all the belongings in my apartment. She will only return them once I pay the rent in full. So go back to your perfect life!” “Perfect? Jill, you have no idea of the tribulations that I experienced today. Work was very stressful…” “Work? It must be a lot of stress to make all that money…” I sarcastically retorted. “You’re absolutely right Jill! It is! Now, I had no idea of the financial turmoil that you’re going through. And before you reiterate your crackpot sexist theory back to me, I have the perfect rebuttal. On four out of the five local news channels that I perused, I saw women news anchors. Not men, Jill. Women! You need to come out here, Jill. The northeast is more progressive and liberal. They don’t see any glass ceiling for us. Plus, most of the CPA’s that I work with are women. There are a few men in our group, though.” “So, how do you propose I come out?” I whined. “Earth to Jen! I’m broke! I have $145,000 in college debt and owe the landlady $950. How do you expect me to come out there with a plane ticket to move to Philadelphia. And the other problem would be a place to stay. Now, where would I stay.” “Jill, you would stay with me! My apartment is a 3 bedroom. I’m not using the other two rooms for anything. They are still empty. Okay. Not quite. Just a few of my extra belongings…I will take you in. You need to get out of Cleveland!” I sighed as I looked at the Mint Chocolate chip ice cream. “Just two more problems, Jen. One: my rent. And two: a plane ticket to Philadelphia? Now my roommate had pity on me and gave me $100, but that’s not going to be enough for either expense.” “Jill, just let me help you! I will pay for your rent and your plane ticket. I will buy a round trip ticket for me and a one-way ticket for you. You’re going to get a job out here, Jilly Bean. I will be out tomorrow afternoon, with $950 to pay your landlady for another month. Sound good?” I was now crying my eyes out. I never knew that my sister could be so loving and kind! “Oh, thank you!” I joyfully weeped. “You don’t know how much this means to me…” “Oh, but I do Jill!” Jen told me. “I’m your twin sister, remember? We’re two halves of one whole. I could feel that something was wrong with you tonight before I called you. That’s a twin thing. It’s like having a best friend, only waaaaaay better…See you tomorrow! Love you!” “Love you, too.” I told her. The call ended and I wiped the rest of the remaining tears out of my eyes. I then guzzled the rest of the thick and syrupy mint chocolate chip ice cream liquid and wiped off the sticky residue with my hands. Natasha came out of her room and smiled. “I heard some of the conversation but not all of it. Now girl, look at me again…” Well, I’m in a better mood now. So okay…I looked at Natasha and stared at her. “Yes Natasha?” “I was right!” she told me. “Your twin sister really does care about you and love you! And she just proved it!” She then proceeded to pat me on the shoulder. “It looks like the good Lord is looking out for you…” I shrugged my shoulders. I guess he is…I dug into my jogging pants pocket and pulled out the $100. “Do you need this back? My sister is paying my rent tomorrow and taking me to Philadelphia to live with her.” “Keep it!” Natasha pleaded. “It’s the least that I can do in your situation. Now, are you just going to have ice cream for dinner? I can order us some food. You don’t have to pay me. I got this, girl…” I nodded. “Thanks Natasha.” The rest of the evening was okay. Natasha ordered a pizza with my favorite toppings. They happened to be her favorites, too. Either that, or she was just being nice. A supreme pizza cooked to perfection. We were both so hungry that we ate all but two slices. As I was finishing my last slice, Natasha gave me that stare again, so I stared back. “Jill,” she addressed me. “Or Jillian?” “Only my mom calls me that,” I sighed. “Jill is fine…” “Jill then…” Natasha continued. “It was very nice having you as a roommate. Granted we were busy and we didn’t see a lot of each other, but I wish you the best. I have an interview in Columbus next week and if I get the job, I’m moving down to Columbus. This apartment will be vacant again. You will have to sign a release and pay another fee to get out of your lease early. I believe that our lease doesn’t come up until August.” “I will just have my sister pay it,” I told her. “I don’t want to take advantage of her, but I’m broke right now…Oh. Good luck on that interview! I hope you get it!” Natasha smiled back at me. “Thanks Jill Pill!” “Ha…” I grinned. “I can remember a few friends in high school calling me that…” To those of you still following the story, not much more happened that evening. I shed my t-shirt and jogging pants and slept in my bra and panties. And I just…slept. Yeah. That’s it. if you think you’re going to get more information than that reader, sorry. This is my story, and I will spare some of the unnecessary details, like my snoring or anything else that you don’t need to know about. You’re probably wondering “Jillian, when are you going to get to the diapers?” Doncha worry, my little besties. I will get to how I started wearing them very soon. I just needed to get to my departure from Cleveland first. I can actually remember sleeping really well that night. I felt so happy that my sister really cared about me. But finding a job was something that I really needed to do. Now my sister TOLD me that female anchors were more common in Philadelphia. I closed my eyes and fell asleep, hoping that she was right…

Welcome to "Winter Break on Wet Alert" – A Ski Trip with No Emergency Brake A ski holiday in St. Anton with the family's best friends should be a dream come true. Especially when you are 17, finally allowed to drink wine with the adults, and the girl you've been in love with since kindergarten is sleeping in the loft right next to you. It is the recipe for the perfect "coming-of-age" romance. But for Liam, it is the recipe for a social nightmare. He is fighting a secret that doesn't fit into the cool after-ski lifestyle: A body that fails him, and a bladder that lives a life of its own at night. What starts as a practical challenge involving discreet night diapers hidden in a gym bag, quickly spirals into an avalanche of control, lies, and humiliating revelations as the facade begins to crack. This is more than a story about an accident, I try to make it a "slow-burn" psychological thriller about power, helplessness, and the desperate struggle to maintain one's dignity while slowly being wrapped in cotton wool – and plastic. Meet the Families: Liam (17): The protagonist of the story. He is a typical teenager attempting to navigate the awkwardness of a family vacation while trying to appear independent and cool. He often hides inside his hoodie or behind a beanie and is currently balancing the tension of sharing a cabin with Mathilde, whom he has known since childhood and has secretly had a crush on since he was twelve. Sophie (17): The childhood friend Liam has secretly been in love with since he was twelve. She has grown from a playmate into a stunning young woman with messy blonde hair, often seen wearing oversized wool sweaters that make her look effortlessly cool. She shares the open loft space with Liam, sleeping on the mattress just a few feet away. Grace: Liam’s mother. She runs the family—and the vacation packing—with efficiency and a calm, controlled voice that leaves very little room for discussion. She is organized, persistent, and keeps a sharp eye on the logistics of the trip to ensure everything goes according to plan. James: Liam’s father. He is a somewhat conflict-avoidant man who prefers focusing on the skiing conditions or staring into his coffee cup rather than dealing with tension. He generally steps back and leaves the hard decisions and organization to Hanne. Claire: Sophie’s mother. She is practical, cheerful, and deeply involved in the domestic side of the cabin life, often found stirring a pot of stew or knitting in the sofa corner with Hanne. She has a direct, practical manner and treats all the "kids" with equal familiarity. Rob: Sophie’s father and the loud, wine-loving patriarch of the host family. He dominates the room with boisterous laughter and "alpha" energy, often walking around in boxers and a t-shirt in the mornings. He treats Liam with a mix of loud camaraderie and fatherly teasing. The Format: The story is planned as a long serial of approximately 50-60 chapters. Although the plot only spans a single, intense week in Austria, we get up close and personal. Every chapter dives deep into the details, the dialogue, and the small, claustrophobic moments where the balance of power tips. Expect a pace that allows room for both the romantic tension and the creeping horror of losing control over your own life. Sit back, put on a dry diaper (just for safety's sake), and enjoy the ride down the black slope. Prologue is coming up... __________________________________ Prologue: War Council at the Dining Table The sound of a zip being pulled up cut through the silence in the living room like a tear in the fabric. It was a sharp, metallic sound signalling an end, but for Liam, it sounded like the beginning of the end. The large black Nike holdall stood open on the dining table. Surrounding it were piles of wool jumpers, ski socks, and thermal long johns in neat stacks. But it wasn’t the clothes that caught the eye. It was the package lying isolated next to the bag. A square, soft package in dark blue plastic with the words DryNites printed across the front and a picture of a cartoon skater boy who looked far too cool to represent the contents. "We have to be realistic, Liam," said Grace. Her voice was calm, controlled—the voice she used when presenting unpleasant facts that were not up for discussion. She stood at the end of the table with her arms crossed, her gaze resting heavily on the package. "We can’t take the waterproof sheet. It’s out of the question." Liam sat on the chair opposite. He rocked on the back legs, a nervous tic he couldn’t stop. He had his hoodie pulled up around his ears, as if he could hide inside the fabric. "Why not?" he asked, hating how whiny his voice sounded. "That’s what we use at home. It works fine. I put it under the sheet, no one sees it." "At home, you sleep in your owace, taking a step forward. She placed her hand on the blue package. "We’ve been through this for four months now. Four months where the bed has been wet four out of seven days on average. You know the doctor said your body must be 'overloaded' and that you sleep so deeply the signal doesn’t get through. That’s fine. It’s a physiological condition. But we can’t ignore the statistics." She paused, and her gaze softened but became more insistent. "What is the scenario if we don’t take anything? What happens if you fall asleep after a long day of skiing, exhausted, maybe after a glass of wine, and then you wake up at three in the morning and the mattress is soaked? Right next to Sophie? What do you do then? Do you wake her? Do you carry the mattress down through the living room? How do you explain the smell in that small space?" Liam closed his eyes. The image was so clear and terrifying it made him nauseous. He saw Sophie waking up from the heat or the smell. He saw her face. "I’ll wake up," he said stubbornly, but without conviction. "I’ll set an alarm on my phone. Every three hours." "And wake up the whole chalet?" James shook his head. "That won’t work, Liam. Rob wakes up if a mouse farts in the basement. If your alarm goes off three times a night, it’ll be a holiday in hell for everyone." "Therefore," said Grace, sliding the package of DryNites across the tabletop towards him. "This is the only solution. It’s discreet. They’re silent under pyjamas. And they guarantee that the mattress—and your dignity—survives if an accident happens." Liam looked at the package as if it were radioactive. "I can’t wear them, Mum," he whispered. "Not up there. She’s lying right next to me. Imagine if she sees them? They’re... they’re night pants for kids, it’s a fucking diaper!" "It’s protection for young men who have a temporary problem," Grace corrected. "And we’ve practised this. We pack them. Right at the bottom of the bag. You put it on under the duvet when the lights are out. Or in the bathroom, if you can sneak out there. I really want to help you, you know? It requires planning, I know that. But the alternative is Russian roulette with a full bladder." Liam felt a familiar anger bubbling in his stomach. Anger at his own body. It had started in the autumn. First just once after a party. Then again. And suddenly it had become a thing. A secret that required washing machines running at night and strange, clinical conversations with a doctor who just talked about "immature nervous systems" and "deep REM sleep". They had tried fluid restrictions after 6 PM. They had tried voiding schedules. Nothing helped once he was asleep. And now this defective body had to go on holiday with the girl he had been in love with since they were in kindergarten. "I’ll take them," he said quietly, grabbing the package. He squeezed it hard, making the plastic yield. "But I’ll only put them on if I feel it’s absolutely necessary. If I’ve had a lot to drink. Or if I’m really tired." Grace and James exchanged a look. One of those parental looks that communicate volumes of worry in a split second. "Liam," said Grace gently. "The deal is that you wear them every night. We can’t take the chance with someone else’s mattress." "I said I’ll take them!" Liam snapped, standing up so quickly the chair scraped against the floor. "I’m packing them. Right at the bottom. I’ll hide them in a towel so no one can see what they are. Is that not enough?" Grace hesitated. She assessed him. She could see the desperation in his eyes. She knew that if she pushed him any further now, he might refuse to go. "Fine," she said slowly. "You pack them. Well hidden. But then you promise me one thing: If you feel the slightest uncertainty... if you are in the slightest doubt... then you use them. for my sake. For your dad’s sake. We don’t want to be explaining to Rob and Claire why their chalet smells of pee." "I’ve got it under control," Liam lied. He took the package. He walked over to the bag. He lifted the stack of hoodies. He placed the blue package right at the bottom, into the corner. He found a dark towel and wrapped it tightly around it so it looked like a washbag or a pair of shoes. Then he put the wool jumpers on top. The salopettes. The thermal underwear. Layer upon layer of normality burying the shame. He zipped up the bag. The sound was final this time. "There," he said, lifting the bag. It was heavy. Heavier than it should be. "Now we’re ready." James cleared his throat and patted him awkwardly on the shoulder. "It’ll be a good trip, lad. You’ll see, the fresh air will do you good. Maybe the problem will disappear on its own up there." Liam nodded stiffly. He knew better. The problem wouldn’t disappear. It was packed at the bottom of his bag, and it would travel with him all the way to Austria, like a ticking time bomb under the seat. "I’m going to bed," he said. He walked out of the living room without looking back. Grace remained standing by the table, staring at the spot where the bag had stood. "Do you think he’ll wear them when we get there?" asked James quietly. "No," said Grace, turning off the light over the dining table. "Or well, I don’t know... He’s so proud. So I think I’ll have to check every morning while we’re there, and then we just have to hope he soon puts a cork in that night bladder." Chapter 1: The Winter Palace The car's tyres crunched heavily against the packed snow as they rolled the final stretch up the steep driveway. The engine was cut, and a sudden, deafening silence settled over the cabin. It was that particular, muffled tranquillity found only in the Austrian Alps, where the snow swallows every sound. Liam sat in the back seat, leaning his forehead against the cold glass. Outside, the world was bathed in the blue-violet light of twilight. The chalet ahead of them wasn’t just a cabin; it was a massive two-storey log structure with large panoramic windows, where yellow light was already spilling out, landing in soft squares on the snow. The Thompson family had already arrived. Their black Audi was parked next to them, and smoke rose lazily from the chimney. "Here we are, chaps," said his dad, James, tapping the steering wheel with a gloved hand. "St. Anton. The adventure begins." Liam felt a lurch in his stomach. It was a mixture of expectant joy and that underlying, cold knot he had carried around the entire journey. He adjusted his beanie in the rear-view mirror, checked that the stubble on his chin looked right, and took a deep breath. You are here to ski. You are here to have a good time. You are 17 years old. Relax. He opened the car door, and the freezing mountain air hit him in the face like a wet towel. It smelled of pine needles and frost. He stepped out and stretched his legs while the cold nipped at his cheeks. "Liam, are you grabbing your own bag?" shouted his mum, Grace, from the boot. She was already organising the unpacking with the military efficiency she was known for. "And mind your back, it looks heavy." Liam walked round to the boot. His large, black Nike holdall was wedged in behind crates of food supplies. He gripped the handle and hoisted it out. It was heavy. Not just because of the ski boots and thick jumpers, but because of what lay right at the bottom, wrapped in an opaque bag and rolled tightly inside a towel. His secret cargo. His safety net. He swung the bag over his shoulder and straightened his back. As long as the bag was zipped shut, he was just Liam. The door to the chalet opened, and the sound of voices and laughter streamed out into the cold. "Is that the lost travellers?" Sophie stood in the doorway. Liam's heart skipped a beat, as it always did when he saw her. She had grown even more beautiful since the summer holidays. She was wearing a large, white wool jumper that made her look small and cosy, paired with tight black leggings. Her blonde hair was gathered in a messy bun, and she held a wine glass in her hand—probably just elderflower cordial, but the way she held it made it look elegant. "Hey Sophie," Liam said, flashing his best, crooked smile as he walked up the steps to the veranda. He tried to walk casually, even though the strap dug into his shoulder. "We just took the scenic route. You have to enjoy the view, right?" Sophie rolled her eyes but smiled broadly. "Classic James tactics. Come inside, it’s freezing." She stepped aside, and Liam walked into the warmth. The chalet smelled of woodsmoke and red wine sauce. The adults were already in full swing, hugging and exchanging stories about the drive in the hallway. It was chaos in a good way. Boots were kicked off, coats hung up. Liam and Sophie stood a little on the outskirts of the commotion. "So," Sophie said, sizing him up. Her gaze was direct, curious. "Are you ready to be left in the dust tomorrow? I’ve heard the pistes are absolutely perfect this year." "Left in the dust?" Liam laughed huskily. "You’ll be lucky if you see anything other than the spray from my skis when I fly past you." "We’ll see," she said, nudging his shoulder lightly. The touch burned through his jacket. "But seriously, it’s going to be brilliant. The oldies have taken the rooms on the ground floor, so we have the entire top floor to ourselves. Or, well, the loft." "The loft?" Liam repeated. "Yeah, come on. I’ll show you." She turned and started walking up the steep wooden staircase leading to the upper floor. Liam followed, bag still over his shoulder. He didn't dare put it down yet. Not until he knew where he was sleeping. Not until he had secured the territory. The loft had a low ceiling and was incredibly cosy. Sloping walls of light timber, a small round window in the gable looking out over the valley, and thick rugs on the floor. But what caught Liam's attention were the sleeping arrangements. There were two wide mattresses on the floor. They lay at opposite ends of the room, separated by a small communal area with a low sofa and a table, but there were no doors. No walls. It was one large room. "I’ve taken the one by the window," Sophie said, hopping onto one of the mattresses, which was already made up with a duvet and pillows. Her bag stood open next to it, with clothes strewn about a bit. "So you can have the den over there." She pointed towards the mattress at the opposite end, nestled under the lowest part of the sloping roof. It was a cosy nook, but it also felt... exposed. "Fine," said Liam. He walked over to his mattress and set the bag down. He did it carefully, terrified that something might clink or rattle, even though there were only soft parcels inside. "It looks... cosy." "Doesn't it?" Sophie leaned back on her elbows and looked at him. "No parents. No big sisters. Just us." Liam nodded and started taking off his jacket. He could feel sweat trickling down his back. The heat from the wood-burning stove downstairs was rising to the ceiling. "Are you planning on standing there sweating in full gear, or are you going to unpack?" she asked teasingly. Liam hesitated. He looked at his bag. The zip was closed. He knew exactly where the package was. At the bottom. Under three hoodies and his thermal long johns. If he opened the bag now, while she lay there watching, would she be able to see it? No, it was wrapped up. But just the thought of moving things around while she observed him made his stomach turn. On the other hand, it would seem odd if he didn't unpack. They were staying here for a week. "I’ll unpack later," he said, sitting on the edge of the mattress. "Right now, I just need to sit down. The drive was long." "Fair enough." Sophie stood up and walked over to the small window. "Come and have a look. You can see the lights from the après-ski bars over there." Liam stood up and walked over to her. They stood side by side, looking out into the darkness where the floodlit pistes glowed like golden scars on the mountainside. He could smell her perfume—vanilla and something fresh. She stood close to him. So close that their arms almost touched. "It’s going to be a good week, Liam," she said softly, without looking at him. "Yeah," he replied, daring to relax his shoulders a tiny bit for the first time. "It really is." From downstairs came the sound of laughter and clinking glasses. His mother’s voice cut through. "Liam! Sophie! There’s hot chocolate and scones if you’re hungry!" Sophie sighed theatrically but smiled. "Duty calls. Shall we go down and be social before they think we’re up to no good?" Liam smiled back. For a moment, everything felt normal. He was just a guy on a ski holiday with a cute girl. The bag lay on the bed behind him, zipped and safe. "After you," he said. Chapter 2: Adults in the Snow The smell of slow-cooked stew had spread throughout the chalet, mingling with the dry heat from the wood-burning stove. It was a heavy, spiced scent of beef, red wine, and juniper berries that Sophie’s mum, Claire, had left simmering in a pot for most of the afternoon before they arrived. Liam sat at the end of the long plank table. He had been given the seat next to Sophie. On the other side sat his dad, James, who was already flushed in the cheeks after two glasses of Amarone and the heat from the fire. "Cheers to the chalet!" James exclaimed, raising his glass. "And cheers to getting the roof box on without scratching the paintwork this year!" A cheerful laugh went around the table. Liam grabbed his own glass. There was red wine in it. It was one of those unspoken transitions; on previous holidays, he and Sophie had been given Coke while the adults drank wine. This year, they had just been poured a glass without question. A silent rite of passage. He was one of them now. He clinked glasses with Sophie. The glass made a clear, singing sound. "Cheers," she said, smiling over the rim of her glass. Her eyes caught the light from the candles on the table. "Do you think you can handle it? Amarone is heavy fuel for tomorrow." "I run better on premium unleaded," Liam replied cheekily and took a sip. The wine was heavy, warm, and slightly astringent in his mouth. He didn't actually like red wine all that much, but he loved the feeling of sitting here, glass in hand, being part of this. He took another sip, a slightly larger one this time. In the back of his mind, right at the back of his lizard brain, a small red warning light blinked. Fluid. Alcohol. Bedtime. He knew the rules. He knew he should be drinking water, and preferably stop drinking altogether now; it was past eight o'clock. But he couldn't sit here sipping tap water while Sophie teased him and the adults told tall tales. It would be checking out. It would be being a child. "Liam, pass the potatoes, would you?" asked Grace. Liam shook the thoughts away and passed the dish. His mum sat opposite him. She ate calmly, listening to Claire’s story about a colleague who had had a breakdown from stress, nodding sympathetically. She seemed completely normal. Not like a guard, not like an "inspector". Just a mum on holiday. But then he caught her eye as she took the dish. It was fleeting. She looked at his wine glass, then at him, and then back at her plate. She said nothing. She didn't raise an eyebrow. But Liam heard it anyway. Is that wise, Liam? He felt an urge to put the glass down, but defiance flared up in him. He wouldn't be controlled by her gaze. He wouldn't be the patient at this table. He demonstratively took a large bite of the meat and smiled at Sophie. "So, Sophie," said Rob, Sophie’s dad, leaning back. "Have you told Liam about your big plan?" Sophie blushed slightly—a becoming colour on her pale cheeks. "Dad, stop it." "What plan?" asked Liam curiously. "She wants to do a season next year," Rob rumbled proudly. "Austria. The whole winter. She’s been saving up for two years." Liam looked at her with new respect. "Seriously? That’s... actually pretty cool." "It’s just an idea," she said quickly, but he could see the glint in her eyes. "I thought... well, if I don’t know what I want to do after sixth form anyway, I might as well ski and make some money doing it." "Sounds like the dream," said Liam. And he meant it. But at the same time, a cold, heavy realisation hit him right in the solar plexus. A whole season in Austria? Sleeping in dorms, sharing rooms with strangers, drinking beer every night, no privacy? For Sophie, it was a dream. For him, it would be a logistical hell. An impossibility. He suddenly felt like a fraud. He sat here looking like someone who could go with her. Someone who fit into that dream. But beneath the surface, and at the bottom of that Nike bag up in the loft, reality lay waiting. "You could come too," Sophie said suddenly, nudging him under the table with her knee. "You’re good enough on skis. We could be instructor buddies." Liam laughed, but the laughter didn't quite reach his eyes. "Yeah. Yeah, definitely. That would be sick." "It just requires being able to get up early," Grace interjected. Her voice was mild, conversational. "And being able to fend for yourself. It’s hard work, you know. No 'room service' from Mum." It was an innocent comment to everyone else. A joke about teenagers who can't do laundry. But to Liam, it was a precise, surgical reminder. You can't fend for yourself. You need me. The mood shifted as the plates were cleared, and the board game Ludo was brought out. It was a tradition. Liam and Sophie against the dads. The mums preferred to sit on the sofa with a cup of tea (and more wine) and talk. The game was intense. Liam was good at the tactical side. He and Sophie had a natural rhythm; they understood each other without words, trading glances and blocking their fathers with delightful malice. "You’re evil, Liam!" shouted James as Liam knocked his piece home just before the finish line. "It’s called strategy, old man," Liam replied, giving Sophie a high-five. Her hand was warm and soft against his. It was nearing half-past eleven when the game finished (with a crushing victory for the youth). Fatigue began to set in within the chalet. The fire in the stove had burned down to embers. "Right, I give up," said Rob, stretching until his joints cracked. "I need to be fresh for the slopes. Night, kids. Night, darling." "Night," the group mumbled in chorus. There was that break-up atmosphere where people look for their phones and glasses need to go in the dishwasher. Liam stood up. The heat and the wine made him a little dizzy. Reality returned like a cold breath. Up in the loft, the bag still stood unopened. He hadn't set out his "safety net". He hadn't found a place to change. And Sophie was going up there. Right now. "I think I’ll head up too," said Sophie, rubbing her eyes. She looked sleepy and soft. "Are you brushing your teeth first, Liam, or shall I grab the bathroom?" Liam looked at his watch, then at the bathroom door, and then at his mum, who was busy blowing out the candles. If he let Sophie go to the bathroom first, he would be alone in the loft for maybe ten minutes. Ten minutes to open the bag, find the package, and... do what? Hide it under the pillow? Put it on? No, not up there. But if he took the bathroom first, he would have to take his things out there. What if she saw? "You just take it," he said quickly. "I just need to... I just need to find my charger in my bag first." "Cool. See you up there." She smiled, grabbed her washbag, and disappeared into the bathroom, humming. Liam was left standing in the living room. His mum blew out the last candle and turned to him. In the semi-darkness, her face was hard to read. "Liam," she said quietly. The others had gone into their rooms. They were alone. "You drank quite a lot at dinner." "It was two glasses, Mum. Relax." "And Coke," she added. "I’m just saying. You know what that means for the night. Have you got it under control? Do you want me to come up and help you get the 'bed ready' once Sophie is asleep?" The offer hung in the air. It was a lifebuoy, but it was made of lead. If he said yes, he accepted that she would creep around up there in the dark while he lay there like a child. If he said no, he was on his own with a bladder full of liquid and a bag full of secrets. "I’ll do it myself," he replied. "Okay, fair enough," said his mum, stroking his arm. "Sleep tight." Chapter 3: Under the Duvet Liam lay completely still. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness, but it didn't help much. The loft was a black box, broken only by the faint blue glow of the moon filtering through the small round window, tracing a square on the floor between the two mattresses. Three metres away lay Sophie. Her breathing had become heavy and regular. A faint, rhythmic sound that should have been soothing, but to Liam, it sounded like the countdown on a bomb. Every time she inhaled, he froze. Every time she exhaled, he relaxed a millimetre. He took a deep breath through his nose and gently lifted the duvet a fraction with his left hand to create a small tent. The air inside was warm and heavy with his own body heat. He grabbed the DryNites diaper that lay next to his pillow. The material felt foreign against his fingers. It was dry, papery, and thick. A sharp contrast to the soft cotton sheet. He squeezed it. It made a sound. Crr-rritch. The sound wave cut through the silence like a whip crack. Liam stiffened, his heart hammering against his ribs. He stared over at Sophie’s mattress. She stirred. An arm slid out from under her duvet, and she mumbled something unintelligible before turning onto her side. Facing him. Liam held his breath until his lungs burned. She slept on. Okay. Slowly. Ultra-slowly. He pushed the diaper down along his body, under the duvet, until it reached his hips. Now came the hardest part. The logistics. He was wearing jeans. Tight, black jeans. And because the diaper was a pull-up—a pair of "pyjama pants"—he had to have everything off from the waist down to put them on. He couldn't just pull his trousers down to his ankles; he needed his feet free. He bent his legs up under him so his knees pointed towards the ceiling and lifted the duvet. He grabbed the waistband of his jeans. The button was easy enough. The zip was the problem. He gripped the small metal tab of the zip with two fingers and began to pull it down, millimetre by millimetre. Zzz... Pause. Zzz... Pause. It felt like it took an hour. When the zip was finally down, he started wiggling his hips from side to side to shimmy the trousers down over his backside. The friction between the denim and the mattress made a dragging, whispering sound. He got the trousers down to his knees. Then to his ankles. Now he lay tangled in a knot of duvet, jeans, and his own legs. He needed to get his feet out of the trouser legs. He kicked gently with his right foot. His heel caught on the hem. He kicked again, a little harder. His foot broke free and hit the guard rail with a dull thud. "Mmm...?" The sound came from Sophie. Liam froze in an absurd position: One foot in the air, the other still trapped in his trousers, half-naked under the duvet, bathed in sweat. "Liam?" Her voice was thick with sleep, husky. "Yeah?" he whispered back. His voice cracked. "Are you okay? You’re making noise..." "Sorry," he whispered quickly. "I... I just turned over. Hit my foot. Go back to sleep." There was silence for five seconds. Five eternities. "Okay... night..." she mumbled, pulling the duvet up around her ears again. Liam lay completely still for two minutes while sweat beaded on his forehead and ran down into his eyes. He was so close to being exposed. If she turned on the light now... if she sat up to see what he was doing... He waited until her breathing became deep again. Then he finished the manoeuvre. He freed his left foot. He pushed the jeans all the way down to the foot of the bed with his toes. Then he pulled off his boxers. Now he lay naked under the duvet. Vulnerable. The warm air suddenly felt cold. He fumbled in the dark for the diaper. He found it. He opened it up, stuck his feet through the leg holes. And then he pulled up. The sensation was the worst part. The moment the soft, padded material slid up over his thighs and enclosed his groin. It was the feeling of defeat. It was the feeling of stepping out of the role of a 17-year-old guy and into the role of... something else. He pulled it all the way up over his hips. The elastic sides tightened around his waist. It sat high, much higher than his boxers. The thick, absorbent core pressed against his crotch and filled the space between his legs. It felt enormous. As if he had a cushion between his legs. He lay down again and stretched out his legs. Crinkle. Crunch. The sound came from him. From the diaper. Every time he moved his thighs against each other, the plastic outer layer made a faint, rustling sound. He lay stiff as a board. He was wearing the "armour" now. He was safe. If he wet himself in his sleep, the bed would remain dry. But the price was that he now lay next to the girl he was in love with, wearing a diaper. He rummaged around at the foot of the bed with his toes until he got hold of his boxers. He pulled them up over the diaper along with his pyjama bottoms and checked his phone before sliding it back under his pillow. He left the jeans in a pile at the bottom of the bed. He closed his eyes. Exhaustion was threatening to overpower him, but the awareness of the thick padding between his legs kept him awake. He was safe. But he wasn't free. He turned carefully onto his side, facing away from Sophie, and pulled the duvet all the way up over his ears to muffle the sound of crinkling plastic. Outside, the snow was still falling. Inside, Liam fell asleep to the sound of his own breathing and the feeling of being wrapped in secrets.

The Calibeen saga is a series of stories - Audrey & Staycee, Lottie, and Velvet - that follow the events of a correctional reformatory, intent on making the worst people into the best. In as little as a year, patients leave the institution with a 0% reoffender rate. But how do they do it? These stories can be read in any order. Audrey & Staycee Velvet Lottie is a side-story to Audrey & Staycee that has less to do with the Calibeen institution itself and more to do with the people it creates. To follow along from Lottie's perspective, read A&S first. But if you want to enjoy the curious nature of this young girl and take the perspective of Cohen and Emerson, read Lottie before A&S! While A&S is a hardcore diaper story, Lottie is a gentle little story. Though there are ABDL elements, the strength of the story comes from the honest familial love between the characters. I'm going to be posting this one casually over the next few weeks. But the entire story is available on our Patreon in PDF and ePub format. Please consider supporting us! ~Sophie ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Lottie by: Sophie & Pudding 1. Hello. I couldn't run when the sun was out, and it made things so much harder. The dry leaves crackled beneath my bare feet as I darted through the trees only ever visible as one shade darker than the black of the sky. I'd been running for three nights, the moonlight having left me on the first, and by now my knees were well skinned and my feet full of mud. I would've kept running past the clearing if I had shoes on, but the texture of the gravel had me freeze. A road? I backed up into the forest and ducked behind a fallen tree. The sky was starting to take on color, and the stars starting to dim. And then everything changed: two blinding lights broke through the darkness and lit the road up like a river. It was late in the night, almost well into that point of day where you might still call it morning instead; the sort of time where it was unusual to see any other human being at all, let alone a svelte form stumbling out of the tree line and onto the road and interrupting the flow of your embarrassingly loud singing. I slowed down, expecting the girl to dart away like a frightened deer - but she didn't. She just stood there, awash in the flooding illumination of my brights. She was a waif-like young thing, skin soft and slightly translucent beneath a thin layer of smeared dirt, her hair tangled and knotted and a look of weak exhaustion in eyes that sparkled brilliantly blue regardless. I cocked my head and opened my door, stepping out of the green '91 Thunderbird that I'd learned to drive in when I fifteen. "Hey there. Whatcha doing out here on your own? There are bears in the woods, you know. You lost?" I watched her respond to the sound of my voice, taking a minute to click that the brights were probably making it hard for her to see me before I fumbled at the lever and dropped them down to a lower setting. Her eyes focused and I smiled, my pale freckled cheeks raising and my hazel eyes only shining concern back at the girl. I brushed a string of orange curls from my eyes and repeated the question. "Hey, love… are you lost? Do you need a ride?" "Um… yes… please…" My throat was sore, even with the simple, quiet words. I hadn't had any water in nearly two days now, the stream I'd crossed long behind me. I tugged the lavender nightgown down to my knees and slowly approached the green car. The woman seemed nice enough. And with a car like this, she couldn't have an affiliation to… no, definitely not. So I climbed into the passenger seat of the car, my heart pounding. I was safe, so why didn't I feel it? "Where are you headed?" The simplicity in the woman's voice was so jarring. No ulterior motives… "Um… just… south. As far south as you're going…" I'd been traveling that way since the start; I had to keep consistent. No point running if I wound up losing my direction. And so I'd mark in the dirt every day when the sun would set exactly which way I should go. Then I'd pick a star and follow it, eyes on the sky. "Well, I'm headed home right now, gum-drop." I slipped the car into gear and smiled at the girl, watching as her fingers tugged at the hem of her nightgown anxiously. Middle of the night, pajamas, looking like she'd been out in the woods for days? There was a tragedy at play here. "You in trouble?" The girl didn't reply, though, and I figured it was probably a stupid question to ask; if she was, she wouldn't tell a stranger anyway. "I'm Cohen." "Nice to meet you…" The texture of my voice was much more evident in complete sentences; I wished the woman next to me had offered me a glass of water or something. Then again, we were in her car, not her kitchen. "I'm… um… Lottie…" I'd need to go by that name now, wouldn't I? What choice did I have? "Thanks for this…" I picked at the dried dirt on my palms while Cohen drove down the road; it was so much faster than walking, and with the sun coming up, it meant extra ground I could cover. I smiled over at my pseudo-savior with gratitude. She couldn't have been older than thirty. "Nice to meet you, too, Lottie. That's an uncommon name, I think." Then again, so was Cohen. "Seems like an odd time of night to be out for a walk in your pajamas." It wasn't that I was nosy, per se, I just wanted to let the girl know that I was ready to listen if she wanted to talk. She looked weary, worn down and tired, like she'd ran dry a lifetime ago and was now just running on fumes. We pulled off the road onto a side-road, disappearing into the woods for a few minutes before we emerged into a field that sprawled as far as the eye could see in the dim monochrome that the early-morning cast across the entire landscape. Prominent, however, was the large two story house that we approached. It wasn't much, really: a house on a few acres and a dream to one day have an animal or six. But it was mine - well, it was ours. But it was a start in life most people my age hadn't yet managed. The car rolled to a stop and I sat quietly for an extra minute. I wasn't sure when I'd have the luxury of a soft padded seat again, or the mild air conditioning that the car used to counter the summer morning's heat. Cohen was kind, though, and clearly concerned. She clicked the door open on her side of the car and I followed suit, climbing to my unstable bare feet in the lush grass. "Thank you… for the ride, I mean." The sun was just starting to tint the sky - red in the east. I could use that and follow south until I found a place to sleep. I'd probably gotten further in Cohen's car than I had in the three days walking, and for that I was very thankful.

These are the first three chapters of a story I'm writing. I have two more chapters planned, maybe more. I use AI to help with the writing and editing, but even then it is a lot of work to complete a chapter. I'd like to hear what you think of this story so far. Chapter 1: The Wet Roads to Wettle Farm “Are we there yet?” I asked, trying to elicit a reaction from the car’s occupants. Anything to break the monotony of this boring journey. We’d been driving all day, crawling through this dreary, rain-soaked countryside at a snail’s pace. The monotonous sound of the windscreen wipers and the rhythmic patter of raindrops on the windshield only amplified my restlessness. How much longer could this endless drive continue before something, anything, finally changed? I shifted in my seat, desperate for any sign that our arrival was finally near—anything to end this mind-numbing trek through nowhere. As the youngest child in the car, I played an important role in keeping up the traditional complaints. I, the smallest, was stuck in the middle seat, sandwiched between my two older sisters who looked at me with a mix of disbelief and amusement, silently questioning whether my childish remark was genuine or just a silly joke. “Soon, Lucas” my dad replied with a weary chuckle, taking the bait. “And by ‘soon,’ I mean before your next birthday,” Dad teased. He glanced at mom, Laura, who was gripping the steering wheel and squinting through the windshield at the road markings that were barely visible through the heavy rain. “We’re all ready to get out of this rolling torture chamber”, Laura just smiled and shook her head, her eyes never leaving the road. “That’s next year,” I said, indignantly, ignoring his last remark. I wouldn’t be eleven for a while yet. We were heading to my grandparents Betty and Robert’s farmhouse for our annual family reunion—a cherished tradition I looked forward to each year—gathering in October after the harvest, when everyone’s finally free. The Wettle family was a close family, and with my grandparents having four children, all married, with children of their own, there was no shortage of cousins. The reunions had become increasingly crowded, with cousins spilling into every corner, it only made the chaos feel more like a cosy hug—a lively tradition we all loved. As mom finally turned the car onto the stretched-out, muddy driveway that wound its way to the farm, dad leaned forward in his seat, his eyes scanning the fields around us. “Looks like the rain’s let up just in time,” he said, his voice tinged with a mix of relief and anticipation. “Betty and Robert must be excited to have the whole family together again.” The rain had mercifully stopped, leaving behind that fresh, earthy smell. I counted the cars already parked haphazardly near the old farmhouse. Three. We were the last family to arrive at another wonderfully chaotic Wettle reunion. “Last but not least,” dad said with a grin as he unbuckled his seatbelt. “You know what they say, save the best for last. Let’s not keep everyone waiting.” He flashed a wink at Lucas before opening the car door, the cool autumn air rushing in to meet us. I stared at the weathered camper parked beside the barn—that’s where the older boys always bunked together, and I desperately wanted to earn my place in that sacred brotherhood. I imagined them staying up all night telling ghost stories with flashlights under their chins, maybe even sneaking candy bars and trading Pokemon cards by lamplight. The cream-coloured camper with its rust-stained wheel wells and faded racing stripes looked like the coolest fort ever, complete with its own little windows glowing yellow against the gray October evening. As my mother eased our car into the last available spot, Uncle Richard’s familiar laugh boomed from the porch while cousin Alex bounded down the creaky steps, both ready to help us haul our weekend bags into the beautiful, chaotic warmth of another family reunion. Just as Alex reached for a particularly large duffel, Dad quickly intervened. “Whoa there, Alex,” he said with a chuckle, gently steering him away. “That one’s got Lucas’ and Lisa’s old clothes for the swap tomorrow. You know how your mom and Aunt Laura love that hand-me-down tradition. We’ll sort through all of that chaos tomorrow in the light of day.” I carried my own bag inside, surprised by how much heavier it felt than when I’d packed it this morning. Mom must have slipped in some extra things while I wasn’t looking—probably the usual “just in case” items she always packed for family trips, though I tried not to think too hard about what those might be. As I made my way through the bustling hallway, I spotted Grandma Betty wrapping my cousin Mark in one of her signature bear hugs. “Mark! Oh my stars, look how tall you’ve gotten!” Grandma Betty’s voice boomed through the hallway. “I swear you’ve grown a foot,” she continued, holding him at arm’s length to get a better look. “You’re going to be taller than your daddy before you know it. Are you eating your vegetables like I told you?” Mark grinned, still caught in her firm but loving grip. “Yes, Grandma. Mom makes me eat broccoli every night.” “Good boy. That’s what makes you grow big and strong.” She ruffled his hair affectionately. “You are bunking together in the little boys’ room upstairs with Lucas”, she said eyeing me, “go bring you bags up, and claim the beds, before your little Nephews do.” My heart sank at Grandma’s words. The little boys’ room? I’d been dreaming of earning my spot in that weathered camper with the older cousins all year long. Instead, I was being lumped together with Mark and the younger kids upstairs. I grabbed my bag with deflated enthusiasm, trudging toward the creaky wooden staircase. At least claiming the better bed might salvage some dignity from this disappointing room assignment. Maybe next year I’d finally be old enough for the coveted camper brotherhood. I grabbed the handle of my bag and started toward the wooden staircase, but the thing felt like it was stuffed with rocks. Mark was already bounding up the steps two at a time, his own bag swinging on his back, while was using my two hands to lift my bag. “Lucas! Oh my sweet boy!” Grandma Betty’s voice called out as she spotted me, defenceless, luggage in my arms, at the foot of the stairs. She hurried over, her arms already outstretched, and before I knew it she’d wrapped both me and my bag in one of her famous bear hugs, practically lifting me off the ground with bag and all. “Goodness gracious, what did your mother pack in here?” she chuckled, still holding me tight against her flour-dusted apron. “This bag weighs almost as much as you do, honey!” “I don’t know,” I mumbled into her shoulder, feeling both embarrassed about struggling with the bag and grateful for her warm embrace. “It wasn’t this heavy when I packed it.” “Well, mothers always know what their boys might need,” she said with a wink and a chuckle, finally releasing me but keeping one hand on my shoulder. “Your parents are always looking out for you, even when you don’t realize it. Now, better hustle upstairs and claim that bed before your cousin Mark beats you to the best spot, alright?” I dragged my bag upstairs, feeling the weight Throb with each step, the wooden stairs creaking softly beneath my feet. “Need a hand?” Mark yelled from the door of our room, his voice cheerful and eager. I ignored him—he was only seven. I didn’t need his help, not when I could do it all myself. On the door was a note in my grandma’s old-fashioned handwriting, the script slightly shaky but warm—”Lucas, Mark, Nathan, David.” The words made me pause for a moment, a little ache in my chest. I sighed, my gaze flickering to the window just beyond the staircase. Nathan and David, the smallest of the bunch, like little lost kittens, were probably still outside in the yard or in the house somewhere, happy to be out of sight. The house was a classic 1920’s farmhouse—white-painted walls with dark green shutters that looked slightly weathered but sturdy enough to hold in all the memories of generations. The creaking of the old floorboards under my feet echoed softly, whispering stories of long ago. As I entered the room, the smell of aged wood, faintly spiced with a hint of musty linen, filled the air—a comforting, familiar scent that clung to the house like a warm blanket. The walls were panelled with dark, polished pine, giving the room a cosy, slightly nostalgic feel. In the centre, two mattresses sat on the cracked hardwood floor, covered in faded bed linen. Nearby, Nathan and David’s bags—small duffels in bright, cheerful colours—rested on them, waiting for the boys to return. Thankfully, the young boys weren’t in sight, their tiny voices and giggles echoing faintly from somewhere downstairs or the yard, blending with the distant murmur of voices from the porch and the occasional clang from the kitchen. An open package of pull-up diapers was sitting at the head of one of the mattresses, the cartoon characters on the packaging grinning up at me mockingly. I wrinkled my nose and looked away quickly, my jaw tightening. Of course the “little boys’ room” would have baby stuff scattered around. It made the whole situation feel even more insulting—here I was, ten years old, lumped in with kids who still needed diapers. I noticed other telltale signs too: cartoon dinosaur sitting on the windowsill, and what looked like a small stuffed elephant peeking out from under one of the bags. The room suddenly felt more like a nursery than a place where I belonged. Mark, had already claimed the best bed—the snug, secluded spot tucked behind the door on the left. His face was lit up with a grin that stretched widely across his sunny face, eyes sparkling with mischief and excitement. “Hi!”, he said enthusiastically. I carefully placed my feet on the creaky floor, mindful not to step on the freshly made mattresses. I finally dropped my bag on the bed on the right, next to the door. With a soft creak the bed accepted the heavy bag. Mark suddenly bounced up from his bed, clutching something in his hands. As he approached, I could see it was a bright yellow Game Boy, the chunky plastic device looking almost new despite the worn sticker of Sonic the Hedgehog plastered on the back. “Lucas! Look what I got for my birthday!” Mark exclaimed, his eyes practically glowing with excitement. “It’s got Tetris AND Super Mario Land! Wanna play? We can take turns!” I couldn’t help but notice how much taller Mark had gotten since we last saw each other earlier this year. He was practically at eye level with me now, maybe only three or four centimetres shorter. It was weird—and honestly kind of annoying—how fast he was growing. Here I was, ten years old, and my seven-year-old cousin was catching up to me. “That’s... pretty cool,” I said, trying to sound unimpressed even though the bright screen was already drawing my attention. “Come on, you can go first!” Mark thrust the Game Boy toward me, his grin infectious. “I’ve been practising Tetris all week, but I bet you’re still better at it. You always were good at the puzzles.” My shoulders relaxed a little. “Well... I guess I could show you a few tricks,” I said, accepting the device. The familiar weight of it in my hands was satisfying. “Yes!” Mark plopped down on my bed next to me, bouncing slightly. “And then maybe we could see who can get the highest score? I brought extra batteries too, so we don’t have to worry about it dying.” “Alright,” I said, feeling my competitive spirit kick in. “But don’t cry when I beat your high score.” Mark laughed. “We’ll see about that! And hey, maybe later we could explore the attic? I heard Uncle Richard saying something about old board games up there.” My eyes widened and I sat up straighter on the bed. “Really? The attic?” I leaned forward, lowering my voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Do you think Grandma would let us go up there by ourselves?” “Probably better to ask Grandpa,” Mark whispered back, matching my tone. “Uncle Richard said there’s boxes and boxes of old stuff up there. And games from when our parents were kids!” I could feel my heart beating faster. “What kind of games? And what else is up there?” The Game Boy suddenly felt less important in my hands as I imagined dusty treasures hidden in the shadows above us. Mark’s grin grew even wider. “I don’t know. We could be like... like explorers or something. Finding lost treasure!” “Yeah!” I bounced slightly on the bed, then caught myself and glanced toward the door. “We’d have to be really quiet though. And bring a flashlight in case it’s too dark.” “I brought one!” Mark practically vibrated with excitement. “It’s in my bag. We could go after dinner when all the adults are talking downstairs.” Just then, heavy footsteps echoed on the creaky stairs, and Mark’s dad Michael appeared in the doorway with a large, unopened package of diapers tucked under his arm. The moment Mark spotted it, his entire body went rigid. His excited chatter about the attic died instantly, replaced by tense silence as his eyes tracked the package like a hawk watching prey. Huggies Overnites, the same thick nighttime diapers I’d worn when younger, before I’d mostly stopped wetting the bed. So Mark was still in diapers too. Mark’s jaw clenched as his dad walked over and set the package down beside his bed with a soft thud. Mark shot him a look that could have melted steel, his earlier enthusiasm completely evaporated, but he didn’t say a word. His hands fidgeted with the Game Boy, gripping it tighter. “You boys coming down?” Michael asked, glancing between us before his eyes settled on Mark’s tense posture. He stepped closer to his son, placing a gentle hand on Mark’s shoulder and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Hey, champ,” he said softly, “we’ll get you all set for bed later, okay? You’re a Wettle—no need to worry about a little thing like that.” His words carrying a hint of humour. “Now, dinner’s almost ready. You two better hurry before all the good food’s gone!” Chapter 2: The Little Boys’ Room After dinner, the farmhouse living room buzzed with laughter and snippets of half-finished stories. I hovered just behind the arm of the sofa, peering toward Mom, who was sitting nearby and listening to Aunt Karen tell a story about preschool chaos. My shoulder pressed against the sofa’s soft cushion as I leaned more heavily into it, finding the perfect spot where I could rest without actually sitting down. Emily lounged on the rug nearby, her head nestled between two older girls, chattering softly about something I couldn’t hear. Mom caught my eye, then leaned over and gave my arm a gentle squeeze. “Alright, kiddo,” she said, just loud enough for me to hear over the noise, “time for you to head up, okay? I’ve already put your mattress protector on; your pyjamas are folded on your pillow, and your toothbrush is upstairs in the bathroom.” “But Emily gets to stay down here.” I muttered, glancing at her absorbed in girl talk, with no mention of her bedtime. Mom lowered her voice and gave me a gentle smile. “You know Grandma—the little boys go first.” I sighed, casting an envious glance Emily’s way, but Mom just gave my shoulder another quick squeeze. Go on, sweetheart, brush your teeth. I’ll be up in a bit to check on you.” Behind me, Uncle Richard burst into laughter, his voice booming through the hallway, blending into the ambient hum of the family scene. The light dimmed behind me, casting shadows across the hallway, and the muffled voices of the party softened into silence as I climbed the creaky old staircase towards the sounds of chaos that were escaping from my assigned room. I waded into the room, which was stuffed with bags and beds. Nathan and David were already in their nightshirts and pull-ups, bouncing around. I kicked off my shoes and started peeling off my shirt, tossing them onto the floor beside my bed, along with my socks and underwear. The familiar routine felt automatic, providing a sense of normalcy in this cramped space. “Lucas! Lucas! Come play with us!” Nathan called out excitedly, waving some toy car in the air while David giggled and jumped on his mattress. I stood there awkwardly, butt naked, one leg in my pyjama pants like a flamingo, while they harassed me. Nothing says ‘join the fun’ like two toddlers in crinkly pull-ups staring at your bare butt like it’s the main attraction at a zoo. Here I was, ten years old, stuck in a room with kids who still needed diapers. Fortunately Mark appeared in the doorway just as I was pulling my pyjama shirt over my head, distracting them. I left the room to go and brush my teeth. In the bathroom I recognised the red and blue handle of my toothbrush with the web pattern details. It’s white bristles parted slightly. And started brushing my teeth, trying to ignore the ruckus coming from ‘my’ room. When I returned, Nathan and David had managed to involve Mark in their chaotic play. David was sprawled on his stomach, making elaborate crash sounds as he drove his toy car in circles around the room, while Nathan giggled and tried to build some kind of tower with blocks he’d pulled from god knows where. Mark sat cross-legged between them, smiling as David handed him a second car. “Actually, dinosaurs could run faster than some cars,” David declared confidently, making his toy car leap over Nathan’s makeshift tower, showing his vivid imagination. Nathan clapped his hands and immediately knocked the blocks down himself, sending them scattering across the cramped floor. “Why did you do that?” Mark asked, but he was already giggling as Nathan launched into an explanation that made no sense but involved a lot of hand gestures. I sighed heavily, sitting on my bed in my Spider-Man pyjamas, legs crossed, eyes tracing the chaos. They were completely oblivious to how irritating they were being, ransacking the room and making noise just when I wanted to sit quietly and sulk alone about being sent up here like a helpless kid. To add insult to injury, Mark was wearing the same Spiderman as I did. How alike Mark and I looked in our matching pyjamas, yet how worlds apart I felt. My attention snapped to Karen’s voice, cutting through the chaos like a referee’s whistle. “Nathan, David, it’s time to brush your teeth!” Karen announced softly, clapping her hands gently. The ransacking stopped abruptly as Nathan and David groaned in unison, their protests echoing off the walls. Mark shot me a look, as he too shuffled toward the door, following them to do the same. Within seconds, the room had emptied, leaving behind scattered toys, bags, clothes, and above all, a blessed silence. Finally, I could sulk properly without an audience witnessing my humiliation. I flopped back dramatically on my bed, staring up at the ceiling with its little cracks in the paint. This was so unfair. Emily got to stay downstairs with the teenagers, probably talking about makeup or whatever it was that older kids discussed when they thought they were so mature. Meanwhile, here I was, lumped in with a bunch of babies who couldn’t even keep their toys organised for five minutes without turning the place into a disaster zone. I rolled onto my side, glaring at the scattered blocks and toy cars littering the floor. Nathan was four—four!—and David wasn’t much better at five. And Mark, even though he was seven, might as well have been their age with how he’d gotten swept up in their ridiculous games. Ten years old should count for something. I could read chapter books, I knew my multiplication tables and I had been out of diapers for years now. I tried to remember when—I thought I was around Mark’s age when my bed-wetting got better and I stopped wearing them. But none of that mattered to Grandma’s room assignments. “Little boys go first,” Mom had said, like I was no different from my diaper wearing cousins who couldn’t even brush their own teeth. I grabbed my pillow and hugged it against my chest, feeling the sting of being treated like a baby when I was clearly so much more grown up than that. “But why do I have to wear this diaper?” Mark’s voice argued, while his dad gently pushed him into the room. “Lucas isn’t wearing one!” He gestured at me frantically, his eyes wide. “We’re even wearing the same Spiderman pyjamas! It’s not fair!” I pushed myself up, again aware of how similar we looked in our matching outfits. I sighed, I loved these pyjama’s, Spiderman was just the best, and that Mark though so too was just a coincidence. Hearing Mark argue like this, like a little child made my cheeks flush with secondhand embarrassment. “Mark please,” his dad sighed, pulling open the bag of Huggies Overnites diapers with a loud ripping sound that echoed through the room. “We’ve talked about this. Your pull-ups have been leaking a lot lately and we can’t have that happening here.” “But I don’t want Lucas to see them!” Mark’s voice cracked on my name, pleading his dad with his eyes. My stomach clenched with sympathy as I watched Mark struggle, unsure how to help him. Michael gently steered Mark toward the bed, gesturing for him to lie down. “Lucas understands, buddy. Don’t you, Lucas?” I nodded mutely as Mark reluctantly laid back on the mattress. “No! I can do it myself!”, Mark said, trying to grab the diaper, but his dad held it out of reach. “Mark, no, please,” Michael said firmly, the lines around his mouth tightening. “These are a little different than you pull-ups. I’ll show you how to put it on,” and then he added gently. “Otherwise you still wake up in a wet bed, and that’s not a nice feeling, isn’t it?” Mark tried to get up again, his jaw set in stubborn defiance. “Lucas isn’t wearing a diaper, and he’s only a little bigger than me!” I saw Michael’s patience fading, the white diaper clenched tightly in his fist. “That’s because Lucas doesn’t wet the bed anymore, Mark. Now, lift your hips, so I can get this on you.” I kept quiet, recalling my own embarrassing accident just a month ago. I had woken up slowly in the early morning, cocooned in my warm blanket, with the sound of rain pattering against the window. As I lay on my back, feeling like I was almost floating, I’d felt a light tingeing sensation in my groin. It’d felt pleasant, and incredibly relaxing. As a soothing warmth spread through my crotch, realisation crashed over me, the cosy feeling vanishing in an instant. I was peeing. I pulled back the covers, startled, to assess the situation. This was different from my occasional wetting accidents, this time I had been aware as it happened. I sat up. A large, dark, tell-tale wet spot, was starkly visible on the front of my red pyjama pants. I had stopped peeing. My bottom felt wet, but still warm, almost hot. My pyjama top was mostly dry. I got up and inspected the bed, noting the large wet spot where I’d been lying. What should I do? Normally, my parents would find me in the morning, or I would get up by myself and get dressed when I had wet the bed. However, it was still very early in the morning, and everyone else was still asleep. Should I wake them? My wet pyjama pants clung to my bottom as I walked to the bathroom. Looking around, undecided for a moment, I took my towel and still wearing my pyjama pants, started drying myself off, It sort of worked—my pyjama pants were still damp—but not as uncomfortable as before. I took another towel to address the wet spot on my bed. Back in my room, I started rubbing the wet spot in my bed vigorously, yet it persisted. Resigned, I spread the towel over the spot and climbed back into bed. Still bothered by the cold, wet fabric of pyjama pants, I stuffed the other towel into my pants to keep the damp fabric away from my skin. That made a big difference. Proud of myself for my inventiveness and knowing that everything would be dry by morning, I had soon fallen back asleep, snug and dry again. The thick, folded towel feeling strangely familiar against my skin, almost comforting. Mark and his father’s continued back and forth pulled me from my thoughts, back into the moment. “Mark, you can take off your diaper yourself in the morning,” his dad explained, “and if it’s wet, you take it off in the shower, just like at home.” I looked at Mark, who was now lying on his back, staring defiantly at the diaper. “Mark, please”, his father said. “It's the same thing you wear at home each night.” “Not. This one has tapes and is for stupid babies” His father’s patience finally snapped, and in one swift motion, he grabbed Mark by the ankles with one hand, lifting his legs while pulling down his pyjama bottoms with his other hand, still holding the diaper. He shoved the diaper under Mark, who stunned by the sudden action, was already lowered back onto the diaper before he realised what was happening. Mark cried out, his voice a mix of shock and protest. Ignoring Mark’s cry, his father pulled the front of the diaper up over his stomach, positioned it with few tugs and closed the tapes. The entire process took only a few seconds. “There,” his father said, his voice calm but firm. “All done. Now, let’s get your pyjamas back on so you can go to sleep.” Mark just lay there. “Are you going to pull up your pants yourself, or do you want me to do it?” his father asked him. Then as his father started pulling his pants back up, Mark grabbed them and helped the last bit. “I see you’re frustrated and tired, buddy, let’s go to sleep, okay? You’ll feel better in the morning” “I’m taking it off,” Mark said defiantly as his father started to move to the door. His father stopped, turning back to face Mark. “If you take that diaper off, you’re going to be in trouble, young man,” he warned, his voice stern. “I’m certainly not in the mood for dealing with a wet bed in this cramped house tonight.” His father then paused in the door frame, pondering for a bit before walking back into the room and taking a Huggies diaper out of the package. “Goodnight, boys,” he said, his voice sounding tired. “Sleep well.” With his father gone, the room turned silent. Mark rolled himself into his blanket, turning his back to the door. I watched him, feeling a mix of relief that the drama had ended and a twinge of sympathy for my cousin. It couldn’t be easy being the oldest of the little boys and still needing diapers at night. It had been awkward watching Mark have such a tantrum, just because he had to wear a different kind of diaper. I knew how much he looked up to me, wanting to be seen as more grown-up, but I didn’t fully understand why it bothered him so much. After all, he was still one of the little boys, even if he was the oldest among them. Karen slipped back into the room with Nathan and David right behind her, both still buzzing with energy despite the late hour. Nathan clutched his worn blue blanket, his brown hair a wild mess, while David bounced on his toes, ready to share a dinosaur fact. But Karen pressed a finger to her lips and whispered: “Mark’s asleep already, so quiet now.” The boys threw each other dramatic looks, but they didn’t argue for once. Nathan followed his older brother’s lead, trying to imitate the same hunched posture and high-knee steps, but his version looked more like a cat who’d just stepped in a puddle, lifting each foot like it was on fire. Sneaking with the stealth of would-be ninjas—if ninjas were prone to stifled giggles and occasional clumsy stumbles—they made their way to their beds. I couldn’t help rolling my eyes at how easily the boys bought into Karen’s ruse. They silently crawled into their beds straight away. Karen leaned over my little cousins, hugging and kissing their foreheads. “Goodnight, my sweethearts,” she said, her voice soft in the darkness. I yawned deeply, my eyelids feeling heavy as the chaos finally subsided. The day had been long—driving, visiting, dinner, and then all the bedtime drama. My body felt like it was sinking into the mattress, and even the soft crinkle of the mattress protector underneath me as I moved seemed to somehow lull me to relaxation. Mom appeared in the doorway, her silhouette backlit by the hallway light. She stepped carefully around the scattered toys and came to my bed. “Hey there, sleepyhead,” she said softly, sitting on the edge of my bed, the mattress dipping under her weight. “I’m not sleepy,” I mumbled, a yawn escaping before I could stop it. Mom smiled, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from my forehead. “Uh-huh, sure you’re not.” Her hand felt cool and incredibly comforting against my skin. I wanted to argue, to point out Emily was still having fun downstairs, but my eyelids were already growing too heavy to fight. “Let’s get you under the covers, you’ll get cold just lying on top like that.” I shifted sluggishly under the blanket, feeling the familiar weight of it settling over me. She squeezed my shoulder gently, and I suddenly didn’t mind being tucked in at all. “Now, close your eyes and try to get some sleep. Tomorrow’s another big day with everyone,” she added softly. The light from the hallway vanished, and as the door softly clicked shut, all I could hear was the far-off sound of voices and the steady beat of my own heart as the room faded away. Chapter 3: All Quiet on the Wettle Front After a day of wrangling kids in the car and navigating the familiar twists of rural roads to the farm, I’d finally let myself sink into one of Mom’s worn armchairs in the living room, the kind that swallowed you whole with its faded floral cushions. The shift from the kids’ endless energy upstairs to this sanctuary among adults felt like emerging from a storm. The room was chaotic still, but the kind I could handle. Up there, in that cramped little boys’ room, the boys were probably turning bedtime into a battlefield, but thank goodness Michael had volunteered to handle Mark tonight. I wasn’t built for that level of pandemonium; give me spreadsheets and schedules any day over wrestling a stubborn seven-year-old into pyjamas. Down here, the living room buzzed—that warm, overlapping chatter we always slid into at these reunions, everyone talking over someone else and no one minding. Dad nursed his single glass of red wine in his recliner, chuckling at some story Richard was spinning about their latest camping trip. Kevin, ever the quiet mediator, smoothed over some clumsy conversational overlap before reaching for one of the bottles and topping off Dad’s glass with a grin. “Can’t let the old man run dry—keeps the stories flowing,” he said, looping everyone back into an easy laugh. I took in the familiar smell of my parental home—a mix of wood polish, old cushions, and Mom’s lavender hand cream—and glanced at the bottles of wine on the coffee table. Nothing fancy, just the good stuff we’d all brought along with us. “Susan, pass the peanuts, would you?” Karen called from across the room. I smiled and handed her the bowl, catching Mom’s eye over the rim. Funny how quickly ‘Grandma Betty’ becomes just ‘Mom’ again once the kids are out of earshot. She sat on the sofa like always, sharp eyes scanning the room to make sure no one got too carried away. Spotting an open bottle Kevin must have left teetering too close to the table’s edge after topping off Laura’s glass, I reached over casually, corking it with a firm twist before sliding it to a safer spot near the coasters. A few drops had spilled onto the scarred oak surface, so I grabbed a napkin from the stack and dabbed them up, the motion automatic, satisfying. There, better. It was small things like that which kept the evening from tipping into a mess, and honestly, it just felt good to restore a little order. That’s when I glanced up and saw Michael descending the stairs, his face drawn, a fresh diaper clutched in his hand. I knew that look—something was up. “You didn’t diaper Mark?” I asked, leaning forward a little. “Yes, I did”, Michael said with a sigh, a weary look in his eyes as he sank into the armchair across from me, running a hand through his already tousled hair. “Man, that kid’s got a stubborn streak,” he said, “I had to practically wrestle him into that diaper—lifted his legs and everything. He kept arguing about it and finally insisting he could do it himself, refusing to accept my help. And then he threatened to take it off the second I left the room.” I felt my mind flicking through contingencies before the rest of the room caught up. The room fell into a sympathetic hush for a beat, then Richard leaned forward, “Hey, we’ve all been there, Michael. Remember when Todd was that age? He’d hide his pull-ups under the bed like they were contraband. Kids test boundaries—it’s their job.” I nodded, forcing my shoulders to drop, and reached over to squeeze Michael’s knee. “You’re doing great, honey. Mark’s just at that age where everything’s a battle for independence. He’ll come around.” Kevin nodded along, setting his glass down with a soft clink. “Oh, I know that feeling.” Lucas pulled a similar stunt last month—wet the bed and tried to take care of it himself. Found him lying on a stack of towels like ‘The Princess and the Pea’ in the morning. He even had stuffed one in his pyjama pants. That sheepish grin on his face, gold. These kids keep us on our toes, but it’s all part of the fun.” Karen, ever the organised one, chimed in from her spot on the sofa, her voice taking on that warm, teacher-like tone she uses with her own boys. “Absolutely, Michael. And you know, when I tucked Nathan and David in just now, Mark was still looking pretty flustered under his blanket. Poor guy. But hey, at least the little ones crashed out quick after their ninja-sneak to bed. A little structure goes a long way, okay?” Just then, Laura slipped back into the room, her practical ponytail a bit askew from what must’ve been a drawn-out goodnight with Lucas. She grabbed her half-empty wine glass, its amber liquid catching the soft lamplight, and settled beside Dad—completing our intimate family circle. She announced to everyone, and to Kevin in particular, “All boys tucked in and fast asleep.” Richard came over with a clean glass and poured one for Michael, then topped up mine. ”Here you go, buddy,” Richard said, putting a hand on Michael’s shoulder. “Some consolation from your old brother. It gets easier as they get older—Todd can take care of it himself now—soon you’ll forget this ever happened.” “Todd’s... ?” “Thirteen now”, Richard said. “Last one.” “Have you tried pull-ups for Mark?” Karin suggested, looking at the white folded rectangle that was now sitting next to me. “He might take those better, than a tape-on diaper that he needs help with.” “Yes,” I said, “they’ve been leaking a lot for him. That boy’s grown, and so has his bladder apparently.” Grandma Betty, who’d been quietly observing from her sofa throne, let out a chuckle that cut through the air like one of her old farm bells. “Oh, listen to you all fretting like it’s the end of the world. Back when you lot were little, Susan, you’d put up the same fuss—kicking and squirming while we’d put a fresh cloth diaper on you. We didn’t have that pull-up nonsense at the time. Remember that time you snuck out of yours and ended up soaking your bedding? Land’s sake, we had to air it out for days! But look at you now—all grown and handling your own brood. Puts it in perspective, doesn’t it? These phases pass, just like the rain outside.” Her stories sparked a ripple of laughter, and the mood shifted to that easy banter we always fall into at these reunions. As the clock ticked further past nine, we parents started to exchanged those knowing glances—the ones that said it was time to move on. It had been a gruelling day of travel for most of us, hauling kids and luggage across state lines to reach the farm, and the younger kid’s eyes were glazing over. Quietly we started sending them off to bed. The teenage boys got their marching orders to the old camper parked outside, with strict instructions not to make it too late. “Lights out by eleven, boys,” Richard called from his recliner. Brad, at seventeen, was dubbed the responsible ‘adult’ for the camper, which drew a round of chuckles—him puffing out his chest like he’d just been knighted. “Don’t burn the place down, your majesty,” Richard called after him, which earned an exaggerated royal wave in response. Richard turned to Todd, his youngest, with that fatherly mix of pride and prodding. “You can take care of it yourself, right, Todd? It wasn’t really a question, more of a gentle reminder, echoing the fuss we’d all just hashed out over bedtime routines, especially after Mark’s earlier antics. “Yeah,” Todd muttered, packing a whole monologue into that single word. His cheeks flushed just a touch, but he played it cool. With that, the kids scattered. Lisa paused for an extended goodnight hug from Laura and Kevin, who wrapped her up like she was still their little girl, even at fourteen—Laura murmuring something about sweet dreams while Kevin planted a kiss on her forehead. Todd, not to be outdone in the affection department, got pulled into a bear hug from Richard, who ruffled his hair and said, “Come here, big boy,” with a wink that made Todd squirm but smile despite himself. Watching them, my thoughts wandered to Lucas. Earlier in the evening, when Lucas had first learned that he wouldn’t be sleeping with the teenage boys in the old camper this year. He’d clearly been hoping Grandma Betty’s chart might put him there this time—but once she’s decided, there’s no appealing the verdict. No surprise he’d been assigned to the little boys’ room. Compared to Todd, Lucas' still a little boy, and he and Mark get along well. Lucas had tried to hide his disappointment, but his face reads like a book. “How old is Lucas again?” I asked. “Ten”, Laura and Kevin said almost simultaneously, trading an amused glance at their timing. “He’s ten already? He seems so small!” Karen mused, swirling her wine glass. “Yeah,” Laura replied with a laugh, “and the way Mark’s shooting up, soon Lucas will be wearing Mark’s hand-me-downs instead of the other way around.” “Small but mighty,” Kevin added with a grin, swivelling his wine glass idly between his palms. “My son’s got spirit, though—reminds me of myself at that age, always trying to prove something.” He chuckled quietly to himself, knowing Lucas was already out cold upstairs—probably curled up and dreaming big in a bed that still seemed too big for him. “He’ll handle the reunion chaos fine,” Kevin went on, “he just needs the right team in his corner—and he’s got that here.” As the laughter eased, Kevin’s eyes found Laura across the circle. It wasn’t a big gesture—just a shared, knowing look between two parents who understood their boy in ways no one else could. Most of us didn’t push it too late that night, even though the wine was flowing and the stories were getting better with every glass. Mom was the first one to call it a night, letting out a soft chuckle as she pushed up from her spot. “Well, you lot have more spark than this old gal can keep up with anymore. Land’s sake, I need my shut-eye before those grandbabies turn me into a zombie come mornin’. Goodnight, all.” We were all tempted to keep going, but reality lurked in the back of our minds, surfacing in those small, knowing glances passed around the room. It wasn’t just me feeling it—everyone’s eyes carried the same quiet concession, the same mental math about the coming day’s chaos. The little ones would be up early, and we’d need every ounce of energy to keep up with our own brood. So, just before eleven, we finally started calling it, trading half-reluctant “goodnights” that carried the comfort of routine—parents herding themselves off to bed as surely as we’d herded the kids earlier. I glanced at the spare diaper Michael had left earlier, a small memento of the last item on my checklist for tonight. “I’ll check on him,” I said to Michael. I straightened up, adjusted my grip on the crinkly bundle, and took a moment to steady myself, the wine buzzing warmly in my veins after such a long day. But I’m fine, I thought. A mom’s got to do what a mom’s got to do. I made my way upstairs. Michael’s earlier story about Mark’s little rebellion replaying like a loop in my mind: that stubborn threat to yank off his diaper the second the door closed. Kids and their independence phases—adorable in theory, exhausting in practice. As I slowly opened the door to the little boys’ room, the soft glow of the nightlight in the hallway cut through the shadows in the room. It was pitch black outside; the rain pattered steadily against the windows. Walking into the room was like wading though a minefield of bags and scattered toys. There was very little room between the mattresses on the floor where I could see the two small forms of Nathan and David fast asleep. Fortunately, I spotted my boy close by right away. His familiar form under the blanket, arm wrapped around his pillow, lying on his side, back towards me. There he was, fast asleep like nothing had happened. I leaned over carefully, slipping my hand under the blanket for a quick check. My heart skipped as I patted his bottom—no diaper! That little scoundrel had taken it off. I felt around a bit more, my fingers brushing the sheets, and breathed a sigh of relief: Not wet, yet... I really wanted to do this without causing a scene. Gently, I folded his blanket away and started pulling his pants down, trying not to wake him. He stirred, murmuring something sleepy and incoherent, his small body shifting as I worked his pants down further, lifting him at the hips. “Shh, sweetie, it’s okay,” I whispered, my voice soft and soothing, leaning in close. “Mommy’s got you,” my voice soft and soothing as I unfolded the diaper, its crinkle loud in the otherwise quiet room. I positioned it carefully, then rolled him onto his back, towards me, onto the fresh diaper. He stirred some more. “Mommy’s just putting a diaper on you, sweetie, so just lie still for me, okay,” I said, my voice gentle and reassuring. I pulled the front up between his legs, smoothing the soft material flat against his tummy. Then took each side flap, carefully positioning and pulling until each tiny buttock was snugly covered before pressing the adhesive tapes securely in place with a soft, muffled ‘snap’ sound. With the diaper now securely in place, I let out a soft sigh of relief. Now I only had to get his pants back on. “Can you lift your bottom for Mommy, sweetie?” Nothing happened; his body remained limp, still heavy with sleep. I put my hand under his lower back, guiding him to make the desired motion. “Lift your butt, sweetheart,” I asked again. And bless him, in his drowsy haze, he responded with a small, instinctive arch of his hips—just enough for me to work with, like his body remembered the routine even if his mind was still dreaming. I pulled up his pants, smoothed everything into place snugly, and put my hand on his belly, signalling that he could relax again. I let my hand rest there, feeling the sweet, soft curve of his belly as he drifted back into sleep, rising and falling with the gentle, steady rhythm of his breathing. I planted a kiss on his forehead and he settled right back into sleep, barely missing a beat. As I tucked him in, I couldn’t help noticing how the diaper had fit him perfectly, with little room to spare. These new diapers would barely keep up with how quickly he was growing. My boy was growing up too fast. Part of me wanted to freeze time, to keep him small and close just a little longer. I felt my shoulders drop as I tucked him in fully, letting that thought settle. Satisfied and wistful, I slipped out quietly, the door clicking shut behind me, and headed to bed with that warm glow of having mended one more thing in this chaotic world, treasuring the gift of these small, sacred moments.

Chapter 1 Jasper’s WiFi was already working at home. He didn’t need to be at the coffee shop—but the coffee was good, and the atmosphere better. There was real camaraderie here, a quiet buzz of people who showed up for reasons that had nothing to prove. It was a welcome contrast to the university, where the curriculum was solid, but the posturing was hard to ignore. As a growing regional school, it had something to prove—and too many faculty eager to be noticed. After getting his internet sorted in his new house—new to him, at least—Jasper found himself spending more time at the café. He’d discovered the back room by accident. Tucked away behind a bookshelf, it felt like a secret library: quiet, dim, and heavy with the scent of old paperbacks. Not rare tomes—just well-worn thrillers by Tom Clancy and John Grisham, waiting for readers who never came. But the silence? That was the real find. His lecturer position gave him freedom. He wasn’t tenure-track, didn’t have to publish, and didn’t run the classes himself. Instead, he handled the behind-the-scenes load—prepping lectures, writing exams, grading papers—for the business and economics department. It wasn’t a nine-to-five job. More like six-to-six. But he liked it that way. He worked best in the background, out of the spotlight, and kept a solid side hustle running masterclasses and seminars for local entrepreneurs. It had started gradually. Jasper only ever saw her in passing—just a flicker in his peripheral vision as he grabbed his coffee and slipped to the back room, seeking solitude. She was part of the scenery, no more than a presence. After a few mornings of these indirect encounters, the ritual evolved: a nod from him, returned by the curly-haired brunette. Nothing more. Coffee. Nod. Move on. Weekdays only. Jasper didn’t work weekends—unless his professor booked him to help run a private seminar or workshop. Those gigs paid well enough to justify the time, and this Saturday was one of them. He pulled into the café’s dusty parking lot in his old BMW—a reliable hand-me-down with more miles than shine—and headed in for his usual: black coffee, no sugar. The shop was quiet. Too early for the weekend crowd, he figured. Coffee in hand, he crossed the empty lounge and stepped into the back room—and stopped cold. She was there. Same curls. Same calm presence. Sitting in his usual corner. Earbuds in. Typing, focused, unaware. Jasper hesitated, caught mid-step. The curly-haired brunette looked up. She blinked, caught off guard, then slipped out her earbuds with an apologetic smile. “Sorry—I figured you didn’t come in on Saturdays,” she said, pressing her lips together. Jasper paused, surprised she even noticed. “No, you’re right. I usually don’t. And it’s not like my name’s on the chair,” he said, letting out a quiet chuckle. “I’ll find another spot.” “You can stay,” she offered quickly. “The table’s big enough for two. I don’t mind sharing.” Jasper hesitated. He wasn’t used to company, especially not in close quarters. “I’m Melissa,” she said, extending a hand across the table. Her voice was soft, her gaze steady. “I insist. Really. Some company might be nice.” He took her hand. “Jasper,” he said, nodding. “If you insist.” He dropped his backpack beside the chair and sat across from her, suddenly aware of every small movement. He set up his laptop, placed his phone beside it, and waited for it to boot. Melissa was already back to typing, focused but visibly aware of him too. They worked in a quiet, tentative rhythm. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, just careful—both of them avoiding too much eye contact, but glancing now and then, trying to make it seem natural. The hours settled around them like soft dust. Jasper worked quietly, occasionally glancing up from his screen. Melissa typed with focus, occasionally pausing to scroll or tap her chin with the end of her pen. Their rhythms slowly synced: typing, pausing, sipping coffee. Silence wrapped the room, not tense, just unspoken. Mid-morning, Melissa stood and stretched. “Refill?” she asked casually, already heading toward the front. Jasper looked up and shook his head. “I’m good, thanks.” She returned a few minutes later, balancing her cup and a small paper bag. She sat, pulled out a cookie, broke it in half, and slid one half across the table without a word. Jasper blinked at it. Then at her. He gave a quiet smile and took it. They didn’t speak much, but the silence had changed. Easier now. He noticed the small things—how she hummed softly under her breath, how she tilted her head when reading, how she smiled slightly when something on her screen amused her. At one point, Melissa leaned back and sighed, rubbing her eyes. “I work from home full-time,” she said, almost to herself. “Which I love. But… sometimes I miss the background noise. Other humans existing.” Jasper nodded. “Yeah. That makes sense.” That was it. Nothing deep. But it landed. They kept working, the occasional sip or glance the only interruptions. No need to fill the space with chatter. It was enough. By noon, the light had shifted and the coffee shop had begun to fill with Saturday regulars. Melissa started packing up. She offered Jasper a brief, warm smile. “Have a good weekend.” “You too.” He watched through the window as she crossed the lot and got into a sensible burgundy Malibu. The kind of car that told you everything and nothing about a person. She drove off, unhurried. Jasper leaned back in his chair, still tasting the cookie. Then he went back to work, but the room felt different now. Better.

PART ONE: It started, as many of these stories do, with a lifetime of accidents. Every morning, growing up I'd wake up to wet sheets. Well into my teens. There were a few dry nights, every now and again, but I was approaching adulthood by the time I was consistently dry every night. And that was largely at the expense of getting a good night's sleep. The bedwetting was bad enough, and was a reason I rarely got to go to sleepovers or residential school trips, but what was worse was the daytime accidents. Wetting was rare. I didn't have good bladder control, but I didn't wet myself all that often - and I tended to wear dark clothes anyway, so no one would be able to tell. Unfortunately wetting wasn't the main problem. For most people, pooping yourself once or twice growing up is a humiliating experience that sticks with you for the rest of your life. For me it was so regular that I struggle to recall any specific accidents. More or less every day growing up, I would find myself with shit in my underwear. Sometimes it was a complete surprise - I didn’t even realise I’d pooped, sometimes it was because I was unwell, and diarrhoea got the better of me, but most of the time it was because I didn’t realise I needed to go until it was far too late to get to a toilet, and so I’d end up simply pooing in my underwear. Which was excusable for someone who was four, but was far more embarrassing when I was 14. It wasn't always a big accident, sometimes it was just a big skidmark that I could kind of clean up a bit and get on with my day - albeit smelling pretty bad - but usually I wasn't that lucky. More often than not I'd completely lose control and fill my underwear with poo. Then I'd panic, and pretend it hadn’t happened. And then someone would ask me if I’d had an accident, and I’d lie.Because how many teenagers would willingly admit to having pooped themselves? Usually my friends would be polite enough to pretend they believed me, but teachers and my parents would call me out. Then I’d be cleaned up, because I couldn’t be trusted to do it myself, all the while being told I was lazy, and too old to still be having accidents. On rare occasions, I was threatened with ‘incontinence pads’, but because they were presented as a punishment rather than a solution, I always argued against them. Which was utterly, utterly stupid, not only because they would have helped, but because while this was all happening, I would fantasise every night about being back in nappies. Eventually my parents took me to a pediatrician, who spent several years poking and prodding me, and giving me laxatives, until I eventually stopped having accidents. Except I didn’t. They were less frequent, at least for a while, and I did get in the habit of making myself go to the toilet whenever I felt even the slightest inclination that I might need to go, but I still couldn’t hold for very long. I just got better at hiding my accidents. And if I focussed enough, and worked hard enough, I could make it through a day without wetting or messing myself. It was just exhausting to do so. I ended up in a pattern where I would go several weeks without an accident, and with dry sheets, then eventually I would run out of energy and spend the next few days or weeks having uncontrollable accidents again. But by then, I guess, I’d got to the point in life where it was more awkward to make an issue of my accident than just ignore the lingering smell. The bedwetting was still something of an issue, but between setting up an alarm to make sure I woke up at least once a night, and spending the latter part of the evening dehydrated, I managed to get the bedwetting down to once or twice a month, rather than six times a week. You might ask yourself why I didn’t just wear nappies. It’s a fair question, particularly as I genuinely wanted to, and would occasionally buy some to wear for fun. But I think in part because of stigma around disability, and in part because I did have some control, it kind of felt like I didn’t ‘deserve’ them. Stupid, I know, but it made sense to me. For all the issues, I managed to have a fairly normal life. Holding down a job, having friends, and having romantic partners, but those relationships tended to go south relatively quickly. Usually as soon as I wet the bed one time too many, or had an accident that I couldn’t hide. It wasn’t that people were cruel, just that someone suddenly wetting their underwear in the cinema, or messing themselves while in a restaurant was a bit of a mood killer. That was, until I met Jen. We’d been together for nearly three months, and miraculously I’d managed to avoid any accidents - at least any that she had noticed while we were out together. But I’d never spent the night at her’s, and I’d never invited her around mine, because of the inevitability of soggy sheets in the morning. She was surprisingly reasonable about that, she never pushed for me to stay over, and never nagged to come to mine. Until that night. We had spent a really lovely day together. It started with lunch at hers, then movies on the sofa, and a little bit of fooling around, then went on to dinner. I made sure to take myself to the toilet every twenty minutes or so, and try to go, even if I didn’t feel like I needed to, and managed to avoid any accidents. After dinner, we sat down to play some old video games. We got pretty competitive, and I was really getting into them. She beat me more than I beat her, and teased me about that. Which was pretty fun. Then I realised how long I’d been sitting there, and realised what that probably meant. After she kicked my ass at Mario Kart for the tenth or eleventh time, I excused myself and made a bee-line for the bathroom. I knew what to expect as soon as I stood up, there was a warm sensation around my butt, and as I walked out of the room, I felt the sensation of a sticky mass between my cheeks, shifting with every step. The question wasn’t whether I had had an accident, but instead just how much of a disaster it was. I shut myself in the bathroom and locked the door. As soon as I did, I noticed the smell. It wasn’t terrible, and there was a chance that Jen hadn’t noticed, but it didn’t leave me with much hope that this was cleanable. I unbuttoned my jeans, let them fall down around my ankles, and gingerly reached round to the back of my underwear. The smell was far worse now there wasn’t a layer of denim in the way. I lifted the toilet seat, and sat down onto the toilet as I eased my underwear down, so as to not have any loose poop fall on the floor. Then I looked down at the damage. There was a pretty significant mass of mushy mess covering the seat. I sighed, and with the sort of mechanical action that comes from a lifetime of repeating the same task, I yanked a few sheets of toilet paper from the roll, folded it into a wad, and began to try to wipe out the poo. It took me a few minutes to get the majority of the mess out, leaving a thick veneer of crap that would still smell and be uncomfortable, but was at least not as bad as when I started. I then moved on to myself, running each wad of toilet paper under the tap for a moment, to help make the cleanup more manageable. Eventually, after what felt like half an hour of wiping, I decided that I couldn’t hide in the toilet any longer, and gave up my futile effort to clean up all the mess. I could at least get out and go home without it being too obvious I’d pooed myself. As I pulled my underwear back up I felt the residual poop against my skin.. It was definitely a stop gap solution and not enough to be able to keep the evening going. I pulled up my jeans, and steeled myself to make my excuses and head home. “Are you OK? You were ages” Jen asked as I walked back into the living room. “Yeah,” I said, not entirely believing it myself, “I should probably get going. It’s getting late.” She looked a little disappointed, “OK, you know you’re welcome to stay though,” I gave her a half-hearted smile. She wouldn’t be saying that if she knew what had just happened, “I know” I replied, “but I just realised I left a load of laundry in the washing machine, and if I don’t get home to hang it up I’ll have to do it again.” “You and that laundry” she joked. This was not the first time I’d used this as an excuse, “I’m going to have to get you some sort of sign to put up.” “That might help” I agreed, a little less enthusiastically than she probably expected. “I’ll show you out” she said, getting up, “you still want to go see dinosaurs tomorrow?” Dinosaurs? The museum. I’d forgotten about that, “Yeah,” I replied, “that would be lovely.” We walked to the door, and as she opened it for me to leave, she leaned in for a hug and a goodnight kiss. I reciprocated, and enjoyed it, but as I did, I noticed her sniff slightly. I tried to play it cool, hoping that I was just imagining it. “Wow, I think I need to check the drains” she said, non-plussed, “It smells pretty bad out here.” I blushed a little, but hoped she didn’t see it in the dim hallway light, “I’ll see you tomorrow” I said, as I headed out the front door. My car was parked outside. I unlocked it, and got in. As I sat down, I shuddered a little as I felt the poop in my pants press against my skin. Jen stayed at the door, smiling at me as she watched me get ready to go. I turned the key in the ignition. The engine chugged a little, but didn’t start. Damn. I tried again, No luck. I glanced over at Jen, still standing at her front door. She looked concerned. I gave her a stupid grin and tried again. The engine spluttered, but still didn’t start. I glanced back over at Jen, she was coming out of her house. Shit. I wound the window down. “Everything OK?” she asked “Car won’t start” I replied. “Apparently so,” Jen said, “Come back inside, we can either call a recovery service” I froze for a second. I had no way of getting out of this, I was going to have to come back in. “Thanks” I said, trying my best to hide my apprehension, then got out of the car. Back in the house, I pulled out my phone, hoping to avoid Jen getting too close and smelling my accident. I started scrolling though, looking for recovery services. It was no use, everything was closed. “You OK?” Jen asked. I realised I hadn’t said a word since I came back into the house. “Yeah, sorry.” I explained, “Just worrying a little bit about the car.” Jen gave me a reassuring smile, “It’s late, why don’t you stay here and we’ll deal with it in the morning.” “I don’t have anything to wear to bed” I replied, “That’s OK,” she teased, “I don’t mind.” There was no way I was going to get out of this.I tried to find words, to either explain why I shouldn’t stay or to at least warn her about the risk of an accident, but I couldn’t. Instead I gave a slightly terrified nod, and squeaked out an “OK”. Jen gently guided me to sit down on the sofa, clearly trying to distract me from my concerns, placed a controller in my hand, and powered up Mario Kart again.”Time for a few more rounds before bed” she joked, “at least this way you don’t miss out on driving.” My competitive side took over, and I started playing, letting myself get absorbed in the game. I don’t know how long we played for, but it was definitely a while. It really was great fun, and I completely forgot about whatever it was that had been bugging me. Forgot about most things, really, until, after winning yet another race, Jen turned to me, and with a yawn, said, “I think it’s time we turn in for the night, otherwise we’ll be too tired for dinosaurs in the morning.” Suddenly I remembered that I was going to be staying here. In the same bed as Jen. She was going to find out that I was a bedwetter. Worse, as soon as I started to undress, she would also realise that I had pooped myself earlier. I stood up, hoping I could work out how to escape my fate, when I realised that my crotch felt damp. I guess Jen was getting the full trifecta of my accidents tonight. I must have glanced down when I realised I’d wet myself, because I saw Jen’s eyes move down to my crotch. I stood there like an idiot, expecting her to tell me to leave, possibly with a snide comment woven in. What I didn’t expect was for her to immediately give me a hug. I stood there, not entirely sure how to react. “It’s Ok” Jen said, a soothing tone to her voice, “let’s go upstairs, and we’ll get everything sorted out.” I nodded, not entirely sure how to behave, as I’d never really had someone be nice to me when I’d had an accident before, but also painfully aware that the wet accident during the day that Jen was aware of was only the tip of the ice berg she was going to discover. She led me into the bathroom, and turned the shower on to warm up. I didn’t want to take my jeans off and reveal my underwear while Jen was in the room, so I took my t-shirt off and hoped that she would leave the room. She didn’t. Instead she came over and stroked my arm, “I know you didn’t just wet yourself.” she said, “I thought it might be easier if I helped you.” This threw me completely. I simply nodded, then stood still as she unbuttoned my jeans and let them fall to the floor, revealing my soaked and shit filled briefs. Apparently I had also pooped myself again while I was playing the game. “Step out” she said. I did as I was told, slipping my feet out of my jeans. “Why are you being nice to me?” I asked, “aren't you disgusted?” “Because I like you, silly” Jen replied, “And it's not that bad. Besides, you couldn't help it.” It was hard to process this, particularly the idea that the load in my pants that was currently making Jen's bathroom smell like an overflowing sewer on a summer day wasn't disgusting. She gave me a little kiss on the forehead, “stay here for a second for me” she said, before darting out of the room. I heard her run downstairs. On my own, I tried to reconcile what she had said. She already knew that I had pooped myself. Had she noticed my other accidents when I was around her? She came back in, a bin bag in her hand, she opened it out and put it on the floor. “Ok, step into this,” I did as I was told. “Im going to take your underwear off now, if that’s ok?” “I guess.” I said, uncomfortable at the prospect, but aware my options were limited. I should have been humiliated, but having my mess cleaned up was such a familiar experience for me, that I just did what I did growing up - accept it. I felt her grasp at the sides of my briefs and gently ease them down my legs, taking most of the mess that had been clinging to my butt with them. “Sorry,” I said, “I didn't realise it was that big an accident” She giggled a little, “Yep, I’m afraid so. Is your tummy feeling OK?” This was it, an excuse. I could tell her I was feeling unwell, and that’s why I had an accident. And it would be an excuse for why we were going to wake up tomorrow morning in a wet bed, too. The problem was, if she had noticed accidents before, she would know that I was lying now. “I think so” mumbled, the implication being that this wasn’t an out of the blue occurrence. “Good, I’d hate to think something I cooked you for dinner was making you feel bad,” she replied, taking a wad of toilet paper, wetting it, and wiping my shit-covered butt. I stood in silence as Jen cleaned the worst of the mess up, dropping all of the used tissues into the bag. “Let’s get you in the shower” she said, guiding me over, and gently easing me under the water. As I stood there, she stripped off her clothes, then climbed in with me. “I thought this would be the easiest way,” she explained as she lifted the shower head down and directed it at my crotch, causing a spray of brown-tinged water to trickle down my legs. The warm water felt really nice as it cleaned my skin. “I think you’ve got a bit of a rash developing,” Jen said, a very matter of fact tone to her voice, “How do you normally clean up after an accident?” “I don’t normally have accidents” I protested, albeit without much conviction. Jen straightened up, and raised an eyebrow, “I don’t think that’s true,” she said, “I’ve definitely noticed a few when we’ve been together.” I blushed. “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable by pointing it out,” she continued, “but it’s quite obvious from the smell when you’ve pooped.” I was mortified, If she had noticed, how many other people had too? “I’ve got a nose like a bloodhound.” she joked, “so anyway, how do you clean up?” “Just tissue, like you did with me,” “And how long do you normally stay” she paused, trying to find the right word, “dirty, before you clean up?” “It depends,” I explained, “as quickly as I can, but usually that’s just dealing with the main bulk of the mess, then cleaning it properly when I get home.” This confession made me feel like I was a child again, explaining my issues to doctors, and teachers. “OK,” Jen sighed, “Maybe we can work out ways to make things easier for you in future,” That sounded… ominous. Satisfied that I was now clean, Jen got out of the shower, and led me out with her. As she handed me a towel to dry off, she considered something, “Do your accidents just happen during the day?” she asked. I shook my head, a look of shame on my face. “I thought that would probably be the case,” she reassured me, “it’s not a problem at all, I just wanted to check.” She grabbed another clean towel as we walked out of the bathroom and into her bedroom. She pulled the duvet back, and laid the towel out across the bed, at roughly the level my crotch would be at, “It's not an ideal solution, but it'll do for now” she said, “we'll work something more permanent out in the morning.” “You don't mind that I'm going to have an accident in your bed?” I asked, utterly incredulous, She shook her head, “Not tonight, no. I thought it was likely a possibility before I invited you to stay over.” “How?” “Like I said in the shower, I've noticed your accidents quite a few times,” she explained, “but the big indicator for the bedwetting was that you left a wet patch on my car seat when you fell asleep on the way home from the theme park the other week.” “Oh,” I replied. “You really don’t need to worry,” Jen said, climbing into the bed. I got in beside her. I wasn’t used to sleeping naked, and the towel felt a little uncomfortable against my skin, but it didn’t matter. For the first time since I could remember, I had had someone look after me when I'd had an accident, and not make me feel terrible for it. I snuggled up to Jen, closed my eyes, and fell asleep.

Hey. I've been a long-time lurker on this forum but now I guess it's time to write here. I'll try to summarize it but it may be a bit long: I'm a 25 year old man, diagnosed neurodivergent and I have moderate anxiety that I can manage. I've been a life-long diaper lover, for as long as I can remember. I've been battling binges and purges for the last 10 years and I can't take it anymore, this has driven me insane and I'm done repeating the same scenarios of shame over and over again. My brain is very black and white and I like things being settled, I also noticed wearing diapers at night help me tremendously to sleep better, regulate my stress and just live a better life. That's why I decided to start wearing nightly from now on with no exception (as this has created purges in the past). I'm finally living alone (after years of flat-share), my family is far away and I can support myself. I'm sure of my decision, I'm supported by my sister who knows about my wearing and really encourages me to wear consistently because she's seen the toll it's taken on my mental health to deny myself of it (she is truly the best). I'm not sure how committed I'll be to "actively" untrain to bedwet but this is definitely the end goal, I want the need to get as physical as possible so that it doesn't go away. It's something I've considered for a long while and I'm absolutely fine with it. From stents I've done in the past (up to two months), I generally start wetting in my sleep without waking up after a few weeks. It always amazed me how fast I can slip (let's see now), I've never been a bedwetter but it seems that my body adapts quickly. While being absolutely sure this is the best decision, I'm a bit scared of what others may think of me if they discover it (maybe one friend if she comes visit, or my family (my parents are not chill) if I visit them...), if that will prevent me from having a relationship (I'm gay, single and I'd love to meet someone)... but right now I'm single, don't live with family and I don't want to include imaginary scenarios, outside people in a choice that really only is about me and which is not hurting anyone nor breaking any laws. That's why I wanted to have your experience, knowledge, tips on how to accept myself as a bedwetter now that this is my new "identity" / part of myself. I really want to be happy and try being gentle with myself instead of shaming this need, for once. If this interests anyone, I can update how the bedwetting thing is evolving. Let me know!

Hi, this is a one-shot story, (potential to be extended), unrelated to my previous works. If you enjoy, please consider supporting me which will aid in future endeavours. I am a young carer for a family member and am struggling financially. Support at https://buymeacoffee.com/lmlmlm1111 to help me upload more regularly. Any requests for commission (or simply story ideas), shoot me a DM, I'd love to hear from you! ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Sam headed over to Liam's house, excited for his sleepover. His friend had just turned thirteen, the same as him, and it was the first time Sam's mum had allowed him to stay with a friend. His feet trudged over the frosted grass, crunching with every step. Thankfully, the boy was wrapped up warm and snug, as ensured by his mother. Enough so, that the cold did not intrude upon his comfort. Liam had warned him about the fact his Mum could be slightly... overbearing... However, Sam decided to give her the benefit of the doubt. After all, she was a single Mother, so who could blame her for caring so much about her kid? Sam arrived at the white plastic door, and gave a light knock, so as not to disturb the neighbours. He waited, and waited, and waited some more. Standing out there in the cold with his grey camo fleece, and dark waterproof jacket providing ample protection from the downpour. After a while, he heard a creaking, as the door swung open. "SAMMMM!!!!" screeched Liam, standing in the doorway, with a foreboding figure looming above. The little lad's face encapsulated excitement, which vastly juxtaposed the image behind him. Liam appeared ecstatic, whilst the facial features of the giant above told a story of anticipation, slight worry, accompanied by a somewhat (as he perceived it) menacing undertone. "Hello Sammy! It's so great to finally meet Liam's new friend!" said the creature, with what appeared to Sam as feigned excitement. He didn't like the childish tone she spoke in, making him feel patronised, as most adults do to children. Sam did not respond, yet the creature drove onwards. "I'm Liam's Mum... I'm so happy you're staying with us, I'll treat you like my own!" she said, smile adorning her caring face. "Th-thanks." responded Sam, unsure how to expand. He felt a pat on his back as Liam's mother ushered both the boys inside. He noticed the reassuring pat to Liam's backside, but tried to think nothing of it. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- It wasn't yet dinner time, so the two boy's decided to play some fortnite beforehand, in effort to pass the time. It was Sam's first sleepover, therefore he didn't yet know what to expect. His own Mother had forbade him from staying over at friend's houses on multiple occasions before, but figured since both boy's were recently thirteen that an exception could be made. Sam thought she was being harsh and unfair, upon multiple denied requests, however his Mother's stance was made out of care, and care alone. She'd heard stories of sleepovers, and felt a lack of control as to her sons life. A life she had crafted and nurtured, one she wished would not go awry. As the kid's gamed, Sam noticed his friends movements. Increased shifting from side to side, he simply could not sit still. It was as if a wiggle bug had infected his very being (a phrase Sam learnt from his beloved uncle). Liam wiggled and wriggled, as if something was wrong with him. His mate failed to sit still throughout their gaming session, seemingly possessed. That was until he did. Liam suddenly ceased all movement, still as a statue. Sam was sure he heard a whirring noise, however he chose to dismiss it as the old playstation causing a racket. It was a PS4, handed down by Liam's big brother, so almost an ancient relic. Following that moment, Liam stopped his jerky movements, and continued as normal. Sam forgot the incident quicky, more engrossed by the task at hand, winning their first fortnite duos! The boy's played and played for what felt like hours. In reality, it was only about an hour. Before long, Liam's Mum called them down for dinner. Fish fingers and chips, a working class british staple, Accompanying the dinner was a bowl of peas. Yucky! As the kids sprinted towards the dinner table, Liam's mum halted her son in his tracks for some unknown reason. Liam immediately stood frozen in place, like a soldier in formation. Sam noticed a swift hand movement towards Liam's crotch, his mother giving a slight squeeze... Her gaze shot towards Sam, before swiftly returning to her own son. Concern, yet secrecy, shone through those welcoming eyes. Another pat to the bum came, directing Liam towards the bathroom, and leaving Sam confused. Liam's eyes welled up slightly, and he avoided eye contact with Sam, as if he had something to hide. What exactly was Liam's mum up to...? Within a matter of minutes, Liam returned to the dinner table. Closely in trail, his mother lagged behind. Clearly the two had been up to something, however Sam daren't question exactly what the situation was. He considered questioning just what the two had been up to, yet Liam's shameful eyes prevented his lips from uttering the words to inquire. Regardless, due to the secrecy, he figured whatever the situation, it had to be peculiar. As Liam sat, he heard a slight rustling sound, something somewhat familiar. But he chose to overlook it, sensing tension building within the walls. The three of them sat together, enjoying the dinner dutifully prepared by Liam's Mum. It was not extravagant, nor exciting, yet it served to satisfy the hunger of the two growing teens. Liam ate up his portion of peas, seemingly compelled to, whilst Sam left his lingering on the side of his plate. "Are you boy's finished yet?" asked Liam's Mum, whilst washing up her own plate. Liam glanced over at Sam's plate, empty save for the vegetables, then back at his Mother. "We're all done mummy!". Sam's peas had remained untouched throughout the entire meal. Had it been her own son, she would have forced him to eat some, but being someone else's child, she decided to leave the issue alone. Swiftly, Liam grabbed Sam by the hand and dragged him back upstairs, towards his own room. Sam might haves protested at the sudden use of force, however Liam was bigger and stronger than him, so he was left with little choice but to follow. "Perhaps I should have eaten my veggies.", thought Sam, whilst being forcefully directed towards Liam's solemn room. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The two friends sat upon Liam's single bed, eyes glazed, staring at the TV. Each movement, whether due to elation or embitterness (Fortnite is serious business), elicited a sharp crinkle of plastic. Sam questioned his mate as to the cause, but was assured it was just a protective sheet for dust and dirt which lived upon his bed. Sam was slightly bemused, never having experienced the same with his own bed, but put it down to his parents being dozy and careless compared to Liam's single Mother. "Just be ready for my mum sam." said Liam. "She can get a bit weird when guests are over". Sam nodded, paying no real notice and continuing to game. "HELLLL YEAAAAA!!" Sam screamed, unable to contain his sheer glee. "Shhhhh..." chastised Liam in immediate response. "My mum hates swears, don't be so loud Sam.". "hellll yeaaaaa..." Whispered Sam, in sarcastic response. He felt pity for Liam, realising how strict his Mum must be if "hell" was considered a swear. His own parents weren't really bothered by how he spoke, not that they paid all that much attention to him in the first place. Before long, they both heard the foreboding footsteps of Liam's Mum heading up the stairs. It was clear she was coming for them, as she had remained downstairs for most of the night, except for the few occasions she came to check on the boys. Now that it had gotten rather late, it seemed inevitable the call for bed was coming. The door was forced open. "Liam, Sam, it's time for bed!" "Yes Mum." Liam replied, obeying his Mother's orders. Sam however, had qualms. Yes, it was late. But this was a sleepover, his first in fact, surely the entire point was to stay up late! "It's too early to go to bed!" he complained, clearly already comfortable with Liam's Mum, comfortable enough to protest bedtime. Liam's Mum pondered for a moment. "Okay Sam, you don't have to go to bed." she responded with a blank look. Sam fist pumped the air, glad he had won. Audibly came naught, not seeking to disrupt the success. "BUT..." came Liam's Mum. Sam dreaded to think what would come next. "I'd at least like you to get ready for bed, just in case Sam.". Sam nodded. It was a reasonable request, and he began to get his pajamas ready. Due to the wintry weather, he'd brought an old onesie. It still fit, but barely. And it certainly was not something he wanted to pull on in front of Liam's Mum. Adorning the onesie were adorable motifs of Simba's face, along with text stating "I just can't wait to be king". The onesie was adorable. For a seven year old. Yet Sam was about to be thirteen. He was in the same boat as Liam, both yet to have their growth spurt. Sadly, these were the only weather suitable pajamas that still fit him. His Mum insisted he bring them, due to the conditions, but Sam was not expecting to show them off! "Awww, that onesie is so cute Sam!" cawed Liam's Mum, spotting it in his bag. "But can you help me out and wear a little something extra for me... please...". ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Sam sat on the edge of the porcelain bath, an ancient remnant of the Victorian era, cringing at the white, crinkly undergarment which sat before him. It resurfaced feelings of inadequacy, shame, inferiority, and more, which plagued his young childhood. Now, the presentation of this pull-up diaper dredged up those uncomfortable emotions once more. Liam's Mum explained that Liam was still suffering with nocturnal enuresis, coupled with the occasional daytime accident. He supposed he should've realised earlier, there had been moments in school where Liam rapidly shifted from extreme discomfort to normal behaviour. Times when everyone when to the toilet, and Liam seemingly chose to hold it... Heck, take tonight's drama. Liam's Mum must have taken him away to change discreetly after their initial gaming session. "Please wear one, just for tonight!" begged Liam's Mum. "It would make Liam feel so much better if he knew his friend had the same night-time issues as him." she said. "Bu- but I don't!" Sam shouted, frustrated at the suggestion. "I know you don't Sam, I've had a long talk with your mum." She said softly, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. "We both think it would be best if you wore a pull-up to bed whilst here, for Liam's sake.". Sam shook his head, bemused at his situation. He did like Liam, and wanted to help, yet felt somewhat compelled to do so. It was almost as if this choice was illusory, and in fact not a choice at all. The way Liam's Mother had portrayed the situation, was like pulling on the babyish pull-up was mandatory for his stay. A duty, which must be fulfilled. So, with reluctance, Sam pulled the crinkly white garment up his smooth slender legs, cringing at every rustle the disposable underwear made. It felt thick, unnatural, it was a foreign body invading his nervous system. Yet the diaper also felt comfortable around his waist. A soft cushion, which provided the reassurance of protection, just in case he had any accidents. Not that he would... Following that, the Simba onesie was pulled up, rising around his body. It successfully covered any trace of the babyish underwear he now adorned for his friends wellbeing. Sam exited the bathroom, cheeks slightly flushed at the though of what he was wearing. Before him was Liam, sporting a similar onesie, only donning stitch motifs as opposed to his little Simba's. Both boy's looked very cute in their bedtime wear, and both had visible diaper bulges poking through the fabric. Sam did not realise his own, but was immediately aware of Liam's nappy bulge. It was extremely obvious, especially as the topic of diapers was understandably on his mind. He thought that Liam's diaper clad figure looked extremely cute, paired with the precious onesie, although he'd never say that out loud. The thought was somewhat laced with irony, considering his own predicament. Liam glanced over at Sam, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. For once, he knew he was not alone in this. With both boys prepared and ready for bed, Liam's Mum gave them both a slight pat on the bum. Liam was used to it, however Sam blushed a bright shade of crimson red, his new nappy being acknowledged only served to further feelings of embarrassment. At the same time, the bum tap felt almost comforting, he knew he was padded in a soft and secure frame, with nothing to truly worry about. Then came the pride in knowing this was all for Liam's sake, to make him feel better. Although, perhaps that was but a misleading comfort suggested by Liam's Mum... The reality was, she had a career in child care. She simply did not feel like taking the risk of wet sheets as was so common with young boys like Sam, even if he was night time trained, it was not worth the hassle of risking it. After all, new environments can trigger accidents. The boy's sat upon Liam's bed once more, watching YouTube to close out the night. They sat close to one another, offering comfort during the scarier videos. Their eyes grew wearier as minutes passed, as did their sense of shame. Both lads cuddled closer, ready to go to bed, seeking comfort in each others arms. They were both too sleepy and unaware to notice Liam's Mother re-enter the room and turn off the TV. She also switched off the lights, before turning on a subtle night light, so as to not completely drown the diaper-clad thirteen year olds in darkness. Sleep swept over their onesie covered bodies in fierce waves, it was growing more and more difficult to keep their eyes open. Already, their bodies failed to move as they both lay there in Liam's single bed. Liam's Mum tucked them in, and gave each boy a light peck on the forehead, as if both were her babies. Sam didn't mind, his sleepy head already in a state of bliss. He looked over at Liam, his eyes were already shut. His little snores were adorable, every breath emitting a unique sound. Liam's Mum looked down at Sam, in a tranquil yet lucid state. Noticing the kid was still awake, unlike her own son, she pushed something towards his mouth. Sam kept his lips sealed, resisting at first. Wearing a pull-up to help his mate feel better abut himself, to provide a confidence boost, was one thing. However sucking on a paci like a baby was a complete other thing. Not what had been agreed upon. Liam didn't even have one for Christ's sake! But, after time, he gladly accepted. In this state of calm, resistance was no use. Drowsiness numbed his body so much so, that logical decision was almost absent. Sam was susceptible to most any suggestion, and sucking on a pacifier was included in that. Sam drifted off, alongside his best friend. Pull-up around his waist, onesie covering his body, and pacifier in his mouth... This was all for Liam. To make him feel better about his problem, right? It felt like extreme overkill, but at least his friend would be satisfied. Two boys in bed by 8pm? It was a successful night by all accounts.

Four-year-old Macy is a big girl who just about mastered the potty. The only thing standing in her way are the diapers that she still needs to wear every night. But when she has a huge accident during New Year’s Eve, this got her thinking about wearing diapers more often. Macy’s potty training begins to get flushed down the toilet as she begins to have accident after accident. With the return to diapers eminent for Macy, how does she handle the adjustment in going back to diapers? Will she try to get her big girl underwear back or give up potty training forever? Chapter 1: Use the Potty Hi! I don’t think that I have seen you before, but my name is Macy Robbins. I would like to share with you how I spent my childhood wearing diapers, and all of the things that I experienced when I was growing up. Now I know that when I was growing up, most kids my age did not wear diapers. They wore big boy underwear if they were a boy and big girl underwear if they were a girl. So, how did I end up wearing diapers? It’s a very crazy story, and a rather long one, but I promise you that it’s good. Pinky promise. I will start my story where it all started when I was two years old. Back then, I lived with my family. I lived with two older brothers. An eight-year-old brother named Jake and a four-year-old brother named Randy. I liked Jake better since he was always nice to me, and he played with me sometimes. Randy on the other hand was a meanie. He always took my toys when I wasn’t looking and blamed me whenever he got in trouble. Jake always stood up for me whenever Randy was in the room, but Randy always tried to argue with Jake. I didn’t like the arguments, so I usually tried to stay away from them when they argued. I lived in a nice house with my mommy and daddy in Cincinnati that was right next to a golf course. I never understood golf growing up as it was just a game that grown-ups play by hitting little white balls with metal sticks. We also lived near a nice park that mommy and daddy took us to all the time. Mommy used to sell houses to people before my older brother Jake was born. My daddy makes a lot of money as a brain doctor. Another word for it is surgeon. He basically helps a lot of people with owwies in their head get better. I like how daddy is able to help so many people and it makes me happy. So how did I start wearing diapers? Well at this point, I have been wearing them since I was born. But this whole thing called potty training changed everything. And just two days after my second birthday, my mommy got me a little chair called the potty. I was supposed to pee in that, instead of my diaper. Now why did she want me to do that? She told me that it was all part of me becoming a “big girl”. I can vividly remember my first day of potty training, thanks to a journal that I kept when I was nine years old. “Macy dear,” my mommy told me. “Now that you are two years old, you are going to be potty trained. Be a good girl and use the potty.” I can remember just sitting on the seat while I still had my diaper on and looking back at my mommy with a pouty face. “No!” I told her defiantly. But my mommy knew the best way to motivate me. She gave me a smile. “Macy, for every time that you use the potty, I will give you one M&M…But you have to use the potty and not your diaper, okay?” That did it. M&M’s were the best thing in the world for me, so I wasted no time in using the potty whenever I could. Now I didn’t successfully use the potty right away. It took almost a week before I successfully used the potty. Mommy then gave me my first M&M. It was a red one and it was good. The other motivator for me using the potty was that my mommy took away my diapers and had me wear pull ups instead. This made me feel uncomfortable if I peed in my pull up, so I wanted to use the potty more and more. After six months of using the potty, I finally had no accidents in the daytime. So, about a couple of weeks after New Year’s Day, my mommy gave me my very first big girl underwear. They came in two colors: Bubblegum pink and blackberry purple. I was so proud of being able to wear my big girl underwear. I definitely felt like a big girl. Plus, my mommy kept giving me an M&M every time that I used the potty. However, I still needed to wear diapers every night. Even though I could hold it during the day, I always peed my diaper in my sleep. While I remained accident free during the day, a year later, I was still regularly having nighttime accidents in my diaper. It was mostly pee but was occasionally poop on occasion. When I got frustrated, my mommy told me not to worry about it and that I would grow out of it when I got older. At around this time, my mommy’s belly was huge. A few days later, we were in the hospital. My mommy gave birth to a new baby. It was a girl, and she named her Phoebe. I was so excited. I was going to be a big sister! But all of that excitement wore off two weeks later, when I discovered that my mommy was paying less attention to me. My little sister cried all the time and my mommy always had to feed her, change her diaper, or put her down for a nap. I was beginning to miss the attention that my mommy was giving me, so I began to pee my underwear on purpose. This happened for a couple of weeks before my mommy decided to put me back in diapers again. But this was only for a month. One month later, my mommy had an appointment with my pediatrician. She recommended that I get potty trained again and to pay more attention to me as my regression was caused due to the jealousy that I had towards the attention that my baby sister was now getting. About two months later, I was potty trained again, as my mommy doubled the M&M’s every time that I went both pee and poop in the potty. The reward for just going pee was still one M&M. I enjoyed my M&M’s as I successfully began to use the potty again. But I still kept peeing my diapers every night. That was something that hasn’t gone away. Even after my fourth birthday, I still needed to wear diapers at night. And as I began preschool, I began to make a lot of friends. When I had my first sleepover in the fall, I discovered that most of my friends were fully potty trained. I only knew about two or three that still needed to wear diapers at night. But by Christmas time, two of those three friends were fully potty trained. Christie and Susie both got to wear underwear at night while Cassie still needed to wear diapers at night like me. Christmas was a fun time that I spent at my grandma’s in Indiana. I had a lot of cousins, including two of them that were twin girls that were way older than me. After Christmas, it was now New Year’s Eve. My mommy cleaned the area between my legs and picked out my outfit for me to dress myself. At this age, I could finally wear all of the fun underwear that most kids get to wear when they are at the potty-training age. But since I was so small at two, I had to wear tiny underwear that fit my petite size. I put on my Anna and Elsa Frozen underwear and my pink dress. This day was going to be great, but I don’t think that I can stay up until midnight. My older brother Jake was playing a video game while Randy just watched. My little sister Phoebe was in her bedroom, taking a nap in her crib. I was about to go to my room and play with my dollhouse that I got for Christmas. What could possibly go wrong?

So you are an adult bedwetter. How often do you wet the bed? Nightly Weekly Monthly Occasionally. As for me it is every night now without fail. I honestly can't remember last time I woke up dry.

Let me tell you an almost true story! Me and my wife had been married for years. Our kids were all grown. We still loved each other but sex had gone out the window when the kids were growing up. Life happened you know busy, busy, busy! Oh I still worked out went to the gym even in my 50's, people thought I looked late 30's early 40's. My wife has always looked youthful she was only 2 years younger but I often got accused of robbing the cradle more than a hundred times it seemed like. Well getting older and trying to lift weights with the young ones doesn't mix! I developed a hernia. I thought I had appendicitis. Same spot as my appendix. I got the surgery got the mesh implanted. About a year or so later I would get pain where the surgery was. That is sometimes normal, but when I felt the pain I would sometimes wet my bed! That was embassing, to say the least I'm 50 something years old bedwetting is for kids and teens not a grown ass man like me! My wife was wonderful, I expected her to berate me, yell at me, whatever. I don't know if I would of been as kind if the tables had been turned. Fast forward a couple of years. It was getting so that if I had a major pain I was wet, even just a minor twinge where I had the surgery I would wake up wet. I started buying Abriform L4 they are pretty expensive I was diapering myself every night just in case. There were nights that I hadn't wet and basically wasted a diaper. As there were nights I slept dry and pulling the white tabs off the blue ones still tore the diaper a bit. The biggest nag I got from my wife was the nights I was dry and basically wasted a very expensive diaper from not using it. On days I would wake up dry I wet it on purpose just to justify the use. I guess I'm old school as that still felt like a waste to me. Along the way I found out I liked being a bedwetter, it was kind of a turn on for me. I thought I was nuts, what grown man likes to wet his bed. I started researching adult bedwetting and holy crap, I found out I'm not the only weird one! I'm not nuts after all. I wanted to be wet every night but it wasn't happening. I had another surgery on my shoulder torn rotator cuff. They catheterized me I was watching the bag fill and I wasn't even realizing I was loosing urine. Light Bulb! As Gru says. Why don't I just get a catheter and wet inside my diapers I mean I don't have to use the collection bag. Easier said than done I ran into you got a prescription for that? No. I was looking on Wish.com low and behold catheters. I started waiting for the little window to pop up asking for a perscription. There wasn't any and they arrived. Unfortunately, they didn't come with a syringe to pump the bladder ball. Tryed using them without and they kept sliding out. Disapointment! I ordered a syringe. 6 weeks later it arrived. I had my catheter in me and it was staying. I diapered myself and went to bed. I awoke in a puddle my diapers couldn't handle everything my bladder sent their way that and my junk had moved and was in the wrong direction. I started thinking. You know but it's weird woman's panties would keep my pee pee down. I bought my first nylon woman's panties. It kept it pointed in the right direction all right but I still was soaking my bed as I was totally wet! I started buying diaper doublers, plastic pants anything I could think of to contain my urine. My diapers made me waddle I was so thickly diapered. I was happy I was waking up soaked every day without having to worry about wasting diapers. My wife usually watched our neighbors kids at night at their house. My neighbors work overnights. I could indulge and not have to worry about my wife thinking I'm weird. My neighbor got sick and we were together as my neighbor was home with the kids and my wife was home with me. I was usually cathed and diapered before her coming to bed. My wife was still supportive she knew that I had a bedwetting problem and as long as I cared for it. She never said a negative word to me. One night in in the process of cateterizing myself. She walks in with my catheter half in and half out. "Whoops!" "What are you doing she asked?" "Uhmmmm, I came clean told her about the past few months how I had been cathetered and I have been wetting my bed without any type of recollection." She asked me "Why?" "I told her it makes me feel naughty." She thought about it for a moment. "Could you make me feel naughty?" I think the smile on my face said it all. I let her start the catheter as I didn't know what hole it went into. The next thing is she is spraying urine. I got a diaper and contained most of her urine. I said "You haven't gone potty have you?" "No she said I was going to go pee in a few moments that's why I came in was to go. She said it felt weird but I loved it it was like no control at all like when I was little." She had the catheter in her. I diapered her thickly like I was! We cuddled in bed for the first time in months. I felt her move and she was feeling the inside of her diaper. "I'm soaked she said with a smile I feel naughty! Just like I used to feel when I was a little girl of 5 and wet my bed still." "You never told me you used to wet your bed?" I said! "I didn't, I thought I did, why do you think I never threw a fit about your bedwetting? I did until 7 years old. I missed it sometimes I like feeling babyish, not having control like this. Do you understand?" "Perfectly!" l said! We went into the bathroom and started. Getting out of our wet diapers and when I got to my panties. "Wow she said I love you! Can we get me some whitie tighties! I've always wanted some." She blushed. "Of course we can get you anything you want!" After we were scrubbed, all disposables disposed of, washables washing, she led me to our bed naked we spent the morning making love to each other. If I had to admit it, I believe it was one of our best sessions in all our years of marriage. It Was great. That day we got her whitie tighties she got me some cotton panties. She told me "They turn a golden yellow from your pee especially the crotches! At least they did when I was a kid!" I was not surprised that night when she came and wanted a catheter, she said "I already went pee! This time I got her ready and she got me ready. While she was doing me she said "I can already feel my pads inside my boys undies getting wet!" I knew what she meant! The next morning she was all smiles! "Daddy I'm wet she said!" I felt my manhood come to life. "I said me to mommy!" I saw her shiver she was turned on. She got on line most of the day, I didn't know what she was doing she spent over $300 dollars on things, was all she would say. About 3 weeks later all kinds of packages arrived. It was mostly onesies. Pacifiers, baby bottles with nipples the size I've never seen before. Other things she didn't want me to see. That night she got me naked after I went pee. Now I'm not the biggest guy down there. Porn stars will never have to worry about me putting them out of a job. After my catheters was in I felt a cold band around my testicles, then something went over my penis she had to smash it to get it to fit, I looked and I had a metal contraption over my penis. "What's this?" I asked as I saw the tip of my catheter poking out around hole in the end. "It's called a chastity cage!" She said! "What for I asked, I've been faithful to you." "I know, I know but I want to have you wear it!" "That's fine, I said but.." "But what?" "It's made of metal and I have to pass through a metal detector every morning to get to my office!" I work in the courts system I'm a keeper. "Oh Pooh!" She said I seen it was important to her. "How about nights and weekends, vacations." The smile returned to her face! "Just not daytimes at work." "Deal!" I said! She said "I got something for you, for me. She brought out an egg looking thing she put some lubricant on it and stuck it in her kitty. She handed me a little thing that looked like a car alarm but had a display. She turned it on and said move that side up! I did as I was told and she looked like she wanted to collapse! "You okay?" I asked! I hadn't made the connection that the higher I moved the dial up the more distressed she looked. I saw her leaking fluids they were running down her legs and dripping on the floor. That's when I realized the egg was a vibrator! I quickly turned down the volume, intensity and she began to breath again. "Sorry! I said I didn't realize what it was at first. "Quite alright she said I kind of enjoyed it! Again?" She asked? I was more than happy to oblige I didn't go as high as last time I saw her shudder and knew she was having an orgasm! I turned the tone down she looked more comfortable. She said "You're no fun!" This time I moved the dial up quickly she leapt 6 inches in the air! A moan escaped her mouth. Slowly I moved the dial down as she came off her tippy toes. I turned it off and she pulled the string out which brought the egg out as well. She smiled "I love it!" She said! "Me too!" I said! I was ready for sex but with the cage on me that was out of the question. She put my panties on and gave my cage a little pat. Now you got a clit like me and your wearing panties woman's panties! She got me dressed in my diapers and pads. She put new pink plastic panties on with pink ruffles and I heard a click they locked. I was locked inside my plastic panties. I dressed her and she had dark blue plastic panties that had light blue ruffles. Hers locked as well. Then the Onesies came out the pink one that I thought was hers was mine and the blue one was hers. I was given a pink baby bottle with milk. It had been a while but soon I was suckling like an old pro. After that she stuck a pink pacifier in my mouth and clipped the pink to strap you my pink onesie. Hers was blue. Next day when I awoke I said "Morning!" "Morning who?" She asked? I was confused. "Morning Mommy!" She said! "Okay Morning Mommy!" "How is my little sissy this morning?" Sissy? I thought then yep I'm pretty in pink. I thought "I'm good Mommy!" I said in one of my best little girl voices. She gave me a smile. "Is my little girl as wet as her mommy?" "Yes mommy I am!" Another smile. She led me to our bathtub in the outer hall she removed everything. She undid my cage and slowly pulled out my catheter. Then relocked it. She ran some bathwater and but some bubble bath in the tub it was very effeminate smelling. She got me in and began scrubbing me like she would a child. She said "I got to clean your clitty." She washed around my cage cleaning my testicles. She said your clitty is all clean she got me out and dried me off after rinsing the excess suds of. She had me undress her and called me daddy to let me know I was in that role now I cleaned up my little girl. I was dressed in pink womans undies again these were the softest I had felt. She used garters and slipped up pink nylons then a pink dress and a blonde wig with pigtails. She put her boys undies they were green and had the incredible hulk on them then a blue shirt that said play ball and had a baseball on it. Then Levis and a Indians baseball cap. Other than her hair she looked like a teen boy! "Today I'm the man. And your the girl got it?" "Yeah I got it!" We spent all day just playing different roles it was an eye opener just to see how the other half lived. That night my princess dress was removed as well as my cage and I got to be the man again. She became my wife again we made love well into the night.

The one thing Madelyn desires most in the world is to wear diapers again, and she is prepared to do anything to make that wish come true. As inexplicable as that desire is for a twelve-year-old girl, it is one she has obsessed over for the past three years. Ever since Madelyn tried on a pull-up that a distant cousin had used for bedwetting, the thought of what it would be like to forego her underwear for that padded, crinkling sensation between her legs has been a desire she has been unable to shake. Every other plan to get her hands on diapers or pull-ups has failed up to now. But this time it is going to be different. This time it is going to work. This time she isn’t going to back out at the last minute. The plan is simple. All Madelyn has to do is intentionally begin to wet the bed at night. Then, her parents will have no choice but to get her the diapers she so badly desires. What could possibly go wrong? Chapter 1: Daydreams in Class I will not chicken out this time. That was what I had told myself two days ago. That was also what I had told myself yesterday. Third time was the charm, right? It was easy to put a bold face to my latest harebrained scheme to acquire diapers from the safety of my daydreams. It was much harder when the time came to actually carry out the plan that had been brewing in the back of my mind for the past year – one I had finally decided to put into motion this week. Why would a 12-year-old girl want to wear diapers in the first place? I don’t know. All I know is that for the past three years, nothing I have done has been successful at getting this obsession out of my head. I certainly didn’t have any interest in being a baby. My younger brother, Jackson, is only six years old. I discovered where Mom kept all his old baby stuff long ago. I’ve tried his old pacifiers, bottles, and sippy cups. None of those items held any appeal for me. I can’t stand kids’ TV shows. I can’t color to save my life. And don’t get me started on dollhouses, barbies, and whatever other toys babies like to play with. In every aspect of my life other than this strange desire for diapers, I wanted to act my age. My latest plan all started a year ago with a magazine and a desire to procrastinate on my homework. There had to be some level of irony to the fact that this latest idea came about when I was seated on the porcelain throne. Mom had almost a dozen different magazines she subscribed to. Most of them found their way to the bathroom, which was also probably the only circumstance where I would have even considered reading them in the first place. I was already finished doing my business, but leaving the bathroom meant needing to continue a homework assignment I’d been slowly picking away at for the past hour. The only reason I even bothered to pick up a copy of the Reader’s Digest on that day about a year ago was for the few sections where it had funny jokes and stories. That, and I had left my smartphone in the bedroom. I really didn’t know how my parents managed when they were my age. I skimmed through the first section of jokes. Whoever had put together this edition of the magazine had totally mailed it in. There was a completely unoriginal one about redheads and souls that had me tempted to toss the magazine in the garbage. I mean, with how many magazines Mom had, would she even miss it? Redhead jokes get old really quick when you’ve had people telling you them your whole life. It has been forever since I’d been told one I hadn’t heard before. And even longer since I’ve been told one that was actually funny. Maybe I would have better luck with the second humor section toward the back of the magazine. I flipped through the pages casually when one of the advertisements caught my eye. I could scarcely believe what I was seeing. There it was. Right on the page. An exact replicate of the pull-up I had briefly stolen from a cousin two years ago. But there was more. That pull-up from two years ago had been the boys’ designs. This ad showed that there were ones for girls as well. And even though I’d had a pretty good growth spurt in the past two years, the product info indicated that I wasn’t even close to being too big to wear them. I didn’t tuck the magazine in the trash, but I did take it with me from the bathroom, burying it deep inside my box of miscellaneous things in my bedroom. I’ve looked at that page at least once a day for the past year. “Earth to Maddy. Earth to Maddy. We’re calling in.” My head jerked upright from the hard wooden desk in my math classroom to the sound of laughter. “Here!” I called back to our math teacher. “Well, thank you for joining us again, Maddy. Now,” he said, pointing to a cluster of numbers, letters, and symbols on the whiteboard, “that we’ve isolated ‘x’ on this side of the equation. Can you tell us what it is?” I had enough trouble paying attention in classes that I liked. For ones I hated? The temptation to daydream was hard to resist. And I hated math class. It was hard enough when we were dealing with regular numbers. I would be lucky to scrape by with a “B-” on my report card. But now, with the end of the school year in sight, my math teacher had ever-so-helpfully decided to give us a sneak peek of some of the things we got to look forward to learning next year in eighth grade. I sucked at long division. But it at least made sense conceptually. The numbers were real, even if doing the work to get the answer was tedious. But now there was this thing the teacher called Algebra, where we were supposed to be adding up letters as well as numbers, which was beyond my ability to comprehend. Every “x” and “y” on the whiteboard seemed designed to taunt me. May as well put a “D” or a “C” on the board, as that was about what I could expect on my report card next year if this was what was in store for me. I stared blankly at the whiteboard with the sinking feeling that even if I had been paying attention for the past five minutes, I wouldn’t be any closer to understanding what was going on. “Um,” I said, picking at my nails while I continued to stare ahead. I had to at least give some kind of guess. But my brain and my mouth sometimes aren’t exactly in sync with one another. “The spot.” “I’m sorry. What was that?” Mr. Thompson asked. “You know, the spot. Like, ‘x’ marks the spot.” The classroom was full of laughter again. This time with me rather than at me. I made eye contact with one of my friends, Angie, who turned to look back at me from the front row. We shared a smirk at the joke. Mr. Thompson sighed. “Everyone settled down, please.” He gave me a look that suggested he might be once again telling my parents about how I had apparently been disruptive in class. “Now, Maddy, if you had been paying attention as we worked through this problem, you would know that the answer was actually…” I didn’t even manage to pay attention long enough to get to the answer to what ‘x’ happened to be or what sorcery had been used to arrive at that conclusion. I fixed my eyes on a spot on the whiteboard, a method I had mastered to trick teachers into thinking I was actually paying attention to their nonsense when I’d rather be daydreaming. My thoughts slipped back toward my plans for this evening. The third time had to be the charm, right? It wasn’t really my fault the first two attempts at wetting the bed had failed. The first night, I had simply been too tired. We’d had an exhausting soccer game that evening that had gone on to overtime, and we’d been shorthanded, so I hadn’t spent almost any time on the bench. I had fully intended to stay up past midnight but had used the excuse of being tired to back out of it. Instead, I let myself drift off to sleep without wetting the bed. During the second night, I’d managed to stay up until 1 a.m., but I had found it impossible to make myself pee. I simply hadn’t had enough to drink. I had considered simply pouring water on my bed, but I was worried that might not be convincing enough should my parents make a closer examination of my bedding. I could have snuck off for a glass of water in the kitchen and stayed up another hour, but again, I chickened out and pushed the plan off to another night. But tonight was going to be different. I was going to be drinking as much water as I could tonight, and I would skip going to the toilet before going to bed. Plus, tonight was Friday, which meant it was pizza night, so as long as I picked out a caffeinated soda, I should be able to keep myself up late enough for this plan to work. I realized that I was likely going to have to keep this up for multiple nights. One random night of bedwetting — after having never wet the bed since I had been potty trained at the age of two — wouldn’t be enough to convince my parents to take action. But if I could have the courage to keep it up long enough, they would have no choice but to purchase the pull-ups shown on the magazine page for me. I would make sure to leave that old magazine out in a way that would get Mom to see the advertisement. It was a desperate move, but I couldn’t wait any longer for the pull-ups. I knew from other advertisements I’d seen that these pull-ups were sold in stores. Had there been a store close by that I could bike to, I might have considered going out and purchasing some for myself on a day when I had been left at home on my own. But that wasn’t an option for me. I still had over three years to go before I would be old enough to get my own driver’s license. I had already waited three years for this. I couldn’t possibly wait three more. “Maddy. Earth to Maddy. Hey!” There was the sound of hands clapping together a single time. More laughter. I blinked rapidly, adjusting my gaze over to Mr. Thompson, where he was standing at the front of the classroom with his palms still pressed together from making the noise he had used to so rudely interrupt my daydreams. “Maddy, please just take one of the homework sheets and pass the rest behind you.” I looked straight ahead, where Chloe was holding a stack of papers with her arm stretched out toward me. She rolled her eyes at me as I grabbed them from her. In a rare moment of self-control, I did not stick my tongue out at her. I took one of the homework sheets and passed the remaining one behind me to where one of my two best friends was sitting. The three of us had initially been seated next to each other. But Mr. Thompson decided a few weeks into the school year that doing so was too much of a distraction. Emma, who had been seated to my right, was switched to the seat behind me. Angie, who had been on my left, had worse luck. Not only was she moved to the front of the class, but she had to sit next to Ryan, who had the disgusting habit of picking his nose in public. But that was OK. We’d have the whole weekend together. Tonight was the beginning of the playoffs for our U13 soccer team. We’d had a moderately successful season, meaning we’d managed to somehow win more games than we lost over the past several months. It was disappointing that the spring soccer season was so close to coming to an end, but we had the opportunity to keep it going this weekend if we could manage to string a few victories together. The bell rang as the final class of the week came to an end. Mr. Thompson belted out more instructions about the homework as I slid the piece of paper, with all its archaic symbols and equations, into my backpack. I’d just ask Angie and Emma later to see if there was something I’d missed in his instructions. I joined my two friends in the hallway. We all lived in the same neighborhood, so we rushed off to catch the bus together. They chatted excitedly about the game tonight, but I walked alongside them in silence. My thoughts were somewhere entirely else. My mind settled on the image of the pull-up I had held in my hand three years ago. The few minutes where I had examined it thoroughly, my fingers tracing over its whole surface. How it had felt to wear it for a couple of minutes before I was forced to set it aside, not knowing the opportunity was one I wouldn’t get again for years. Should everything go as planned, I would be wearing a pull-up again in less than a week. But to accomplish that, I needed to wet the bed tonight – on purpose. <><><> Three years ago If there was a single moment that perhaps best defined the last three years of my life, it was that day three years ago when it all began. The day I first laid eyes on a simple object that would become an obsession I would never be able to shake off. I didn’t cry at the funeral. I knew, intellectually, that this was what people were supposed to do. But even the sight of my aged great-grandfather lying in the open casket hadn’t moved me to tears. It wasn’t as though I wasn’t sad, but it was a more abstract kind of sadness. That kind that has someone thinking heavy thoughts about what happens after death, not that kind that leaves someone bawling on their knees. I had no memories of the man lying in the casket. My parents said I had met my great-grandfather three times. But I had been too young to have any memories of those visits. My older sister, Grace, on the other hand, was devastated. It was her first funeral as well. She had memories of her great-grandfather. The man in the casket was not an abstract concept to her, but the ghost of someone who had played with her and held her in his arms. Jackson cried as well, but that was just because he was a baby. You could never exactly tell what it was that they were upset about most of the time. The three-year-old boy likely just needed a nap. But the funeral home wasn’t where that pivotal event in my life transpired; it was merely marked the event that gave cause for all my distant relations – grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins – to join together from where they were all scattered across the country. The reception after the funeral was where the fateful moment occurred. The adults ate, drank, and smoked while kids split into playing games with others of their age. There was a cohort of preschoolers huddled around a TV, watching stupid kids’ shows. On the other end of the spectrum was a collection of angsty teenagers Grace had abandoned me to hang out with. They weren’t particularly welcoming of youngsters, and my normally friendly sister had shooed me off after I attempted to tag along with her. Not that I cared that much. Other than my sister, teenagers made me a bit apprehensive. Besides, there were a half-dozen other kids my age to hang out with. My mom introduced me to two boys shortly after we arrived at the house for the reception. One of them, Alex, was eight. Though he made clear he would be nine in a few weeks, which would make him as old as me. His younger brother, Timothy, was seven. The boys were distant cousins from half-way across the country. There was some technical term Mom used for exactly what type of cousin they were to me — second cousins, twice removed. That didn’t mean anything to me. All that mattered was that they were my age and more than open to finding some way to play in order to pass the time while the adults did whatever adults did. We hit it off immediately. We did what kids that age normally do. We fell into the habit of playing simple games with each other as if we had been friends all of our lives. The two brothers were staying at the house where the reception was being hosted, so it was only fair that they gave me a tour of the massive building. We explored the expansive backyard, winding our way through the adults in the garden until we were shooed away. We played in the basement for a while, which had foosball and ping-pong tables before the teens decided that was where they wanted to be hanging out instead. But there was still plenty of house to explore. Alex and Timothy led me up a winding staircase to some rooms upstairs, where they had been sleeping while their family stayed with the relatives who were hosting the reception. That’s when I stumbled across a stunning revelation. One that would shape my life for the next three years. Haunt my dreams. Hound my thoughts. Practically drive me crazy as I was often left incapable of thinking of anything else. There was something out-of-place sitting in the corner of the room on top of a pile of discarded laundry. I tended to usually say the first thing that came to mind without regard to whether it was socially appropriate to do so. I wasn’t any better at that at the age of nine. I pointed at a blue undergarment in the corner that didn’t exactly look like a normal piece of underwear. It was not as though I didn’t have a good suspicion of what it was. But I wanted confirmation. “What is that?” Timothy walked casually over to the corner and picked it up. “Oh, that’s my pull-up.” I looked at the item in his hand. He was seven. That couldn’t possibly be his. I felt sure I was the subject of some kind of joke. “Don’t be silly,” I said. “You’re too old to wear pull-ups.” “Older kids sometimes need to wear pull-ups,” he said, still holding the item in his hand. His defiance left me no less confused. I rolled my eyes. “I doubt that even fits you.” I hadn’t intended in any way to dare them to put the pull-up on. But that must be how that statement had come across. Alex snatched the pull-up out of his brother’s hand and tugged it on over his dress pants. “See,” he said. “It fits. We wear them ’cause we still wet the bed.” They were bedwetters. And they weren’t the least bit ashamed of it. That was at least a topic that I understood. I had no intention of teasing or bullying them. While neither my brother nor I were bedwetters, my older sister had wet the bed up until a year or so ago. Why hadn’t I put together a connection between pull-ups and bedwetting? Come to think of it. I wasn’t even sure if Grace had worn pull-ups during her bedwetting phase. She had her own room, which I was very much forbidden from going into, so if she had, there wasn’t any way I would have known about it. When I had first learned of my older sister’s predicament, my parents had sat down with me and calmly explained what bedwetting was and how I was to never shame or tease her about it. And given how privately they had handled her condition, and the fact that it hadn’t ever impacted my life at all, I truthfully hadn’t ever given her bedwetting much of a thought. Alex mistook my pensiveness while considering my sister’s bedwetting to mean that I was still confused about the topic. He launched into a long explanation with words like enuresis, explaining how bedwetting was just a medical condition that he and his brother would grow out of. “Do you wet the bed?” Timothy asked me. “No,” I replied. I came close to continuing my reply and accidentally outing my sister, but I would never do something that mean to her. Alex still had the pull-up around his waist, completely unconcerned with how silly it looked. The pull-up had a picture of Spiderman, my favorite superhero, on the front. I pointed that out, which led to another conversation about which Marvel superheroes we liked best. Timothy was big on Iron Man. But Alex insisted that Batman was better than any of them. My eyes kept glancing down at Alex’s waist. I found myself unable to look away from the pull-up for long. The sight of the pull-up around Alex’s waist raised another thought. That pull-up would fit me just as well. My distant cousin and I were both about the same size, after all. I didn’t question the desire to wear the pull-up. Once the impulse had taken hold of me, there was little else I could think of as I distractedly continued the conversation with my cousins. Our parents called us down for dinner. Alex ripped the pull-up off and tossed it back in the corner of the room before we retreated down the stairs. I was unable to concentrate during dinner. Alex and Timothy were across the table from me, and it was all I could do to keep my mouth shut about what I had just witnessed. I was filled to the brim with questions, most of which I would have to keep inside unless I were presented with another chance to have a private discussion with those two bedwetting cousins. But there was one question more important than any of them. One perhaps best answered on my own rather than by asking them. What did it feel like to wear a pull-up? While the adults were content to sit and chat around at the table long after their plates were clean, that wasn’t the case for us kids, and soon we were back to running around; Timothy, Alex, and I were joined by another four cousins. Big houses and hide and seek go hand in hand together. We agreed that hiding upstairs in the house was against the rules for the game of hide and seek. That meant that the upstairs room where the pull-ups were waiting for me was technically off-limits. But I didn’t care one bit about the game. Anyway, making the upstairs rooms off-limits had been my idea. An absolutely brilliant stroke of genius for a then nine-year-old girl. In one move, I’d ensured that no one would be up there when I went looking for the pull-up and that I would be safe from anyone following after me. I took quick glances in both directions as I stood at the base of the stairway. Perfect. There were no other kids in sight. I leaped up the stairs, skipping two steps at a time with each upward lunge until I was safely around the corner and out of sight. I encountered my first problem when I made it to the bedroom where Timothy and Alex had been sleeping. I had somehow assumed that the pull-up Alex had ripped off could be fixed. I seemed to recall that the pull-ups my brother had worn a year ago had Velcro sides. But that wasn’t the case with these bedwetting pull-ups for some reason. But there had to be additional pull-ups elsewhere. There couldn’t be any way that the boy’s parents would risk them peeing all over the bed while they were spending the night as guests. I didn’t have any luck in the first suitcase that I looked through, nor the second, but the third one was where I struck gold. There were more than a dozen pull-ups tucked into the side of the suitcase. Surely, they wouldn’t notice if one of them happened to go missing. I grabbed a pull-up and bundled the pull-up into a ball, tucking it into the waistband of my skirt. I was sure that was not nearly as discreet as I thought it was at the time. But, to my good fortune, I was able to make it to a nearby bathroom without being caught. The adults were busy downstairs, and my cousins, who were playing hide and seek, were doing a better job than I was at abiding by the rules. I locked the bathroom door behind me. I double and triple-checked to make sure the door was actually locked. I removed the pull-up from under my skirt and held it in my hands. I didn’t stop then to think through how bizarre the whole situation was at the time. I think I must have stood there looking at it for several minutes. Feeling how it crinkled beneath my touch, testing out the sides to see how far they could stretch, rubbing my fingers down the padded interior. I was completely and utterly fascinated by it. The desire was no more explainable than a moth being drawn to a flame, a kitten to catnip, or a raven to a shiny object. I cautiously slid my arms through the leg holes, stretching the pull-up out in front of me. Not only was it more than stretchy enough for me, but it could probably fit a kid twice as wide as I was. Now came the moment of truth. I removed my skirt and underwear. The pull-up had a side that was helpfully labeled as the back, so I knew which way to put it on. As I brought the pull-up into place around my waist, it was like sliding the final piece of a puzzle into place. I turned around so that I could look at my reflection in the mirror. I lifted up the front of my skirt so that the whole pull-up was in view. It practically came up all the way to my belly button. There was something about the way it hugged my sides, the way the soft padding pressed against my skin as I sat down on the toilet lid and the way it crinkled quietly as I paced across the bathroom that left me completely enamored. There was just one thing left to do. And I didn’t have much time before everyone noticed that I was missing. I lifted up the lid of the toilet seat and sat down while still wearing the pull-up. One of my deepest regrets was that I had went to go potty right before the game of hide and seek began, meaning there wasn’t anything waiting to come out of my bladder at the moment. I tried. I really did. I wanted to know. I had to know. What would it feel like to pee into a pull-up? It couldn’t be bad. Alex and Timothy hadn’t seemed to be put off at all by waking up in a wet pull-up every morning. But nothing happened. The timing was off. My bladder wouldn’t cooperate. And time was up. I needed to be out of the bathroom in a couple of minutes. I considered it a radical idea. What if I put my underwear and skirt over the top of the pull-up? I could continue to wear it until I actually needed to pee. I nearly did it. I really, truly, honestly nearly did it. But then I chickened out. The same way I would, time and time again for years afterward. It was too risky. A small trickle of shame was diluting my euphoria. I knew that despite how ecstatic I was at my discovery, the reality of anyone else discovering this secret — and the relentless shame and teasing that would follow — would be devastating. I wasn’t like Alex or Timothy. I didn’t have the veneer of bedwetting to hide behind as an excuse for wearing a pull-up. I slid the pull-up off of my legs. I intended to put it back in the suitcase. Then it would be like nothing had ever happened. That’s when I encountered a second problem. Apparently, I had gone potty in the pull-up after all. Not a lot, just the teensiest of tinkles. But it was enough to leave a tiny yellow patch the size of a quarter smack dab in the middle of the pull-up. I breathed a sigh of relief that I had even noticed it in the first place. That would have made for an awkward situation for Alex and Timothy had I put the pull-up back in the suitcase. I peered into the trash can. I was in luck. I could make out two pull-ups at the bottom of the small trash can. One had been turned inside out, the color of its interior leaving no doubt as to the truthfulness of Alex’s description of his and his brother’s bedwetting. I bunched up the pull-up and tossed it in the trash can. I didn’t think it was likely that anyone would be paying too much attention to notice the addition of one more pull-up in it. My curiosity sated, I returned to the game of hide and seek, pretending that I had been expertly moving in between hiding places to avoid being spotted. I didn’t think anymore about the pull-up until later that evening when we were lying in bed at the hotel. Jackson was little enough that he could sleep on a padded mat and sleeping bag on the floor while Grace and I shared a bed – an experience that hadn’t gone well the past couple of nights, as it had been interrupted by midnight accusation of blanket theft. If it had just been Grace and me in the room, if Mom, Dad, and Jackson hadn’t been around to overhear it, I might have worked up the courage to ask my older sister about her bedwetting. I wasn’t even sure if she knew that I knew about it. But I had to know. Had she worn the same pull-ups as Alex and Timothy? Was there perhaps a style that came in colors and designs for girls? But we weren’t alone, and those questions went unasked. The drive home wasn’t any easier. I didn’t touch my tablet, which had been my constant companion on the trip here. Instead, I stared out the window. But I wasn’t paying any attention to the passing cities and landscapes. Instead, my mind was replaying the events of the previous day, in particular, the few precious minutes when I had my hands on the pull-up. I was filled with a deep sense of longing and regret. Why had I thrown the pull-up in the trash? Why hadn’t I put it back on beneath my skirt? I would have had it with me now. I could have been wearing it now. Of course, I did know better. I would have had no issue wearing the pull-up out of the house, but once we had gotten to the hotel, there wouldn’t have been any realistic way for me to have kept it concealed. But the acknowledgment of that reality did nothing to lessen my longing for the pull-up. I had nothing but time as I began to scheme up all the different ways I could get my hands on another one, or better yet, an actual diaper. What would I have done if I had known the wait was to be measured in years rather than days, weeks, or months? --- Links to all my stories can be found at https://abdlwriter.wordpress.com/

CHAPTER 1 The morning air was warm and a bit humid. I glanced down at my watch—7:45. We were definitely going to be late. I leaned against the fence that bordered her front yard, shifting my weight as I waited. A second later, Ashley came rushing out of her front door. I could hear her mom yelling something from inside, but I couldn’t quite make it out. “I will, Mom! Now I’m going to be late!” she shouted back before the door slammed behind her. “Hey, Alex,” she said, jogging up to me. At only 5'6", she barely reached my chin. She wrapped me in a quick hug before falling into step beside me like nothing was wrong. “What was all that about?” I asked. She stopped walking. For a second, she didn’t say anything—just looked down at the sidewalk. “My parents are getting a divorce,” she said finally. “My dad’s moving across the country… and they’re putting me in a position where I have to choose who to live with.” I felt my stomach drop a little. “That’s… really rough.” I hesitated, then added, “If it counts for anything… I’d really hate to see you leave. Have you made a decision?” “Not yet,” she said quietly. “But I have to soon.” I nodded. “Well… I’ve got your back either way. Always.” She gave a small smile. “Thanks.” “Now come on,” I added, glancing at the school in the distance. “Let’s go be late together.” As usual, once we arrived at the front office, we were sent straight to detention until first period ended. The teacher had us write an essay about the importance of being on time—which I thought was ironic and kind of stupid—but it killed the time. Eventually, the bell rang, signaling the 10-minute passing period. “See you after lunch,” I said to Ashley as we split off. The halls were packed—typical high school chaos. Jocks, preps, band kids… everyone in their little groups. I never really fit into any of them. I had my small circle—five close friends—and that was enough. I slipped into English and took my seat. I hated this class. The teacher’s voice droned on and on, and before I even realized it, my eyes started getting heavy. Just for a second… I put my head down. The next thing I knew— The bell rang. I jolted awake, disoriented. Chairs scraped, students stood, conversations picked up. I blinked a few times, trying to catch up with reality. Then I moved. And froze. Something felt… wrong. Slowly, I looked down. A dark patch spread across my jeans. My heart dropped into my stomach. No… no, no, no… I had wet myself. Not completely, but enough that it was obvious. Panic set in immediately. I grabbed my backpack and held it in front of me, trying to cover it as I moved toward the door. “Alex, hun… come here.” I stopped. My teacher. Of course. I walked over slowly, trying to keep my bag positioned just right. She didn’t say anything at first—just gave me a look that told me she already knew. “Move the backpack,” she said gently. I hesitated… then did. There it was. Fully exposed. “What happened?” she asked, her tone more concerned than anything. “I… I fell asleep,” I muttered. “And… this happened.” She nodded. No judgment. Just understanding. “Well, you can’t walk around like that all day,” she said. “I’ll write you a pass—go see the nurse. She’ll get you something to change into.” I nodded quickly, took the pass, and left. Getting to the nurse felt like running a gauntlet. Every step, I was convinced someone would notice. Every glance felt like it lingered too long. But somehow… I made it. I slipped inside. “Oh, hello dear,” the nurse said warmly. “What can I help you with?” “I… I had an accident,” I said quietly, lowering my backpack. Her expression softened instantly. “Oh, honey… that’s okay. It happens.” She disappeared into a closet and came back with a pair of jeans… and something folded beneath them. She paused before handing them over. “Now,” she said, “there’s a school policy. If a student has an accident, they need to wear protection for the rest of the day.” “Protection?” I asked. She gently placed the bundle in my hands. I unfolded it. My face went hot. A diaper. A big one. “I—I don’t wear diapers,” I said quickly. She gave me a small, knowing look. “And yet… here we are.” I didn’t have a response to that. “This is just for today,” she added. “A precaution. And we’ll need to inform your parent.” I swallowed and nodded. “Do you need help putting it on?” she asked. “…yeah,” I admitted quietly. The process was… quick. Too quick. Before I could really process what was happening, I was standing there in clean jeans—with a diaper on underneath. She walked around me, checking. “You’re fine,” she said. “No one will notice.” I’ll notice, I thought. Lunch came next. Hamburger day. Normally, I’d be excited. I grabbed two burgers and a Dr Pepper and sat down—but I couldn’t focus on eating. I was hyper-aware of it. Every step. Every shift in my seat. The soft padding around my waist. And… weirdly… It wasn’t uncomfortable. That thought hit me out of nowhere, and I immediately felt my face heat up. Why does it feel… okay? I shoved the thought away and focused on my food. By history class, I found Ashley in the back. “Are you wearing different pants?” she asked immediately. “Yeah… uh… can we talk about it later?” I said quickly. She raised an eyebrow but didn’t push it. “Alright…” A few minutes in, I felt it. I had to pee. Bad. I shifted in my seat, bouncing my leg slightly, trying to ignore it—but the soda was hitting hard. Ashley leaned over. “You okay?” “Yeah… just really need to go. This sub won’t let anyone leave.” “Well, you’ve got like three minutes,” she whispered. “You’ll survive.” I’m not so sure about that… The bell rang. I shot out of my seat and rushed to the nearest bathroom— Out of order. My stomach dropped instantly. I bent down, pretending to tie my shoe while I fought to hold it in. Somehow… I managed to regain control. Barely. Math class. Fifteen minutes. That’s all I had to make it. I could do fifteen minutes. But my bladder had other plans. The pressure built again—fast this time. Stronger. Urgent. I clenched, shifted, tried everything— And then— I lost it. Warmth spread instantly. I tensed, bracing for my jeans to darken— But they didn’t. I froze. Then slowly exhaled. The diaper. It was… actually working. I could feel it absorbing everything, holding it all in. No leaks. No mess. Just… contained. Relief washed over me—but it was mixed with something else. Something I didn’t want to think about. After school, I met Ashley outside. “Well?” she teased. “Did you make it?” I shrugged. “My pants are dry, aren’t they?” She smirked. “Fair enough… but seriously, what happened earlier?” “Someone spilled a drink on me,” I said casually. She studied me for a second… then nodded. “Makes sense.” When I got home, my mom was already waiting. “School called,” she said from the living room. “Do you want to explain what happened?” I hesitated. “I… fell asleep in English, and I sort of wet my pants.” “Did anyone see?” “No. Just my English teacher and the nurse.” She nodded. “That’s good, because that would have been embarrassing. She mentioned they put you in a diaper. Do you still have it on?” “Uh… yeah.” Her eyes narrowed slightly as she looked at me. Then she walked up before I could react and gave the back of my pants a quick pat. The soft pressure—and the faint sound that followed—said everything. She stepped back. “Is that diaper wet?” I didn’t respond. I just looked away. Instead, she reached down and unbuttoned my pants, letting them fall. There I was, 15 years old, standing in my living room in an obviously soaked diaper. “Well, I certainly didn’t expect this. Were you asleep for this too?” she asked. “The bathroom was out of order, and I didn’t have time to go across the school,” I said quietly. “I couldn’t hold it.” “Alex…” she said, shaking her head slightly. “Go upstairs, get cleaned up, and take a shower. I’m going to the store. We’ll talk about this during dinner.” She didn’t seem mad—just disappointed. That somehow felt worse. After my shower, I sat on the edge of my bed, elbows on my knees, staring down at the carpet like it might give me answers. The house felt different. Quieter. Or maybe it was just me. I dragged a hand through my hair and let out a slow breath, replaying the day whether I wanted to or not. It came back in pieces at first—the classroom, the bell, people getting up around me. Then it hit all at once. That moment. The realization. The panic. “Great,” I muttered. I leaned back, staring at the ceiling, trying to focus on anything else—but my thoughts kept circling back. Not just to what happened… …but how it felt. That was the part I didn’t like thinking about. Because yeah, it had been embarrassing. Completely. But at the same time… “It could’ve been worse,” I admitted quietly. If anyone had noticed… if I’d had to walk around like that all day… if Ashley had seen— “Yeah,” I muttered. “Way worse.” I shifted on the bed, restless. Because as bad as today had been, something had stopped it from becoming a complete disaster. And that bothered me. Because it meant part of me felt… relieved. “I shouldn’t feel that way.” But the thought wouldn’t go away. Dinner wasn’t normal. It couldn’t be. “We’re going to talk about what happened today,” my mom said. I nodded. “Yeah.” “For the next week, we’re going to put some structure in place.” I frowned. “What does that mean?” “It means you’re going to be proactive,” she said. “And… you’ll be wearing a diaper.” I didn’t argue. Not really. I just said, “Fine.” That night, everything felt heavier. As I got into bed, I stared at the ceiling. Tomorrow will be better. It had to be. There was a knock. “Alex, it’s time to put on a diaper,” she said, stepping in. I didn’t argue. I just laid back and let it happen. “Alright,” she said after. “Let’s hope you can keep that dry. Good night. I love you.” “Night.” Morning came quietly. For a second, everything felt normal. Then I shifted. And froze. “…no way.” I sat up, heart sinking. “Seriously…?” After everything. After telling myself it wouldn’t happen again. I let out a long breath. “Great start.” I swung my legs over the bed, the diaper sagging under my pajamas. No point sitting there. The day wasn’t going to wait for me.

Well, here goes nothing. I have posted on ABDL sites before but I don't think my heart was really in those stories. That has changed now, this story is one that I have put plenty of work into and I am finally ready to test it out on a real audience. I have a few chapters ready in the coming weeks but, based on how things go I hope to move to a regular schedule as I have lots of plans! Note regarding grammar, well I am terrible at it. I don't have an editor and rely mainly on re-reads and free web grammar checks so, don't judge me too bad, ha! Hope you Enjoy! ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ The sound of a flip-flop smacking the bottom of a foot and the ground in an annoying, repetitive beat filled the car as they approached their destination. “Tara, stop that!” her mother spoke sharply. Tara leaned up from the clenched position she was in at the back of the van and pressed her foot down hard to stop the tapping. She had been holding back her bladder for the better part of the trip. The freeway separating Tara’s house from her mother’s best friend was legendary. She had been holding back the two colas she had pounded at lunch and was thankful the end was nearly in sight. “I keep telling you it's not healthy for you to keep doing this to yourself; I thought we were past this.” Diane continued. In her current condition, Tara couldn’t help but agree with her. Ever since she was little, she had issues with bathroom breaks. As a small child, she was potty trained early, but that did not stop her from constantly having accidents. Her mom always said she had her ‘head in the clouds’; she would be so focused on something that nothing else would matter… nothing. As she grew older, Tara continued to have accidents that would go up and down in frequency. When she started school, she earned the unpleasant nickname ‘Tinkle Tara’. Between accidents and a bout with bedwetting when she was 7 and 9 years old, it looked like she was doomed to it. However, for whatever reason, a switch had flipped, and it had been nearly 8 years since ‘Tinkle Tara’ was uttered. On the other hand, in the last few months, Tara has been putting her bathroom training through the ringer. Time after time, she found herself holding her bladder and aching from the effort. Whether it was at the mall, watching a movie, or sitting through classes, the urge to go was becoming more frequent and urgent each time. She had not told her mother that she almost always felt the need to go ‘right now’ whenever she had to pee. It never helped matters that her mother was a health nut and had drilled into her to keep hydrated, so she always was drinking water. It was a habit, but then again, it was only in the last few months that things started to go sideways. Now Tara was also going to be playing ‘big sister/babysitter’ to a 10 year old. Her mother and Brittany’s, had been friends since High School and now work for the same company. Both had been married and are now divorced. With lucrative jobs and a daughter, they were about as close as any family member. So when they both were chosen to go overseas to be in charge of operations in a new business move for the company, they quickly decided the plan. As Tara was 18, she would watch and take care of Britteny until the two mothers got back, which would be around the beginning of the summer. “Now remember, you have to be in charge of Brittany and keep up with your school work. Those are the two most important things,” her mother said, for about the hundredth time. “Mom, I know. I have hung out with Brittany plenty of times before,” Tara countered. “Not for this long and with this many responsibilities. Plus, Cathrine has… Well something else that you are going to have to keep track of,” her mom finished. “Oh?” the girl raised her eyebrow. “She will tell you,” her mother said giving her a look that said, this is serious. As the van pulled into the garage of Cathrine and Brittany’s home, Tara shot like a bullet out the door into the house. Catherine was blurred as she shot for the bathroom in the room she usually stayed in on the second floor. Scrambling through the door, the sight of the bathroom made Tara relax. “No!” she gasped, hurriedly tired to get the button on her shorts undone. She had relaxed too early, and now things were out of control. Finally sitting on the seat, a sharp but blissful relief crept over her. She had not realized how much and how painful this time had been. Tara knew that she should stop doing this but, for now, inspected the damage to her shorts. The whole crotch of the garment was a darker shade of blue and was a lost cause. Luckily, she had one other pair close to these that she could grab from her bag and slip into. This was only the third time this had happened, but it certainly was not something she enjoyed. Slipping into fresh clothes, she made her way back down to the living room to ‘officially’ greet Cathrine and Brittany. “Whew, sorry about that,” she greeted Catherine. “It’s alright, pretty on par for you, ha!” Cathrine jested, then her voice went low,“Follow me to the kitchen.” Her mother was talking with Brittany, and the girl was looking like she did not have much to say, so she followed Catherine. “So there is something that I have been keeping from you; I just told her mother last night,” she let out with a long breath. “Oh no, is something wrong?” Tara blurted out. “No, no, nothing serious, but… Brittany has been having some troubles. Bathroom troubles,” she responded flatly. A heat rose in Tara’s cheeks, and she simply said, “Oh…” “Now I know that you had your own issues, but I recently saw a book about accidents among older children and teenagers. I have Brittany following some rules that are designed to help her get through this phase.” Cathrine explained as she put a hardcover book on the counter. “The front of the book explains how the rules work - the ins and outs as they were. And in the back there is the list of rules and a little chart if you need it,” she went on. Tara picked up the book, and before she could utter a word, Cathrine continued, “You obviously don’t have to read it, and Brittany knows the first two rules by heart now, but you should read them and she has to follow them. Supplies are in the upstairs hall closet.” “Supplies?” the girl questioned. “Well, in a nutshell, Brittany has to use protection whenever she has accidents. The more accidents, the more protection, and the more…eh… privileges she loses.” the older woman explained. “Ah, well, I guess that makes sense.” Tara concluded. She couldn’t believe it, Brittany was in diapers! It was a shock only because there had never been a hint to her that her little friend may have had such troubles. Well, Tara herself was smaller, but not terribly so, but she was still taller by a couple of inches. Brittany had a heart shaped face, round blue eyes, and shorter brunette hair, while Tara had sandy blonde hair past her shoulders, brown eyes, and a longer face. Both had followed their mother’s genes, like matched sets. “Cathrine, we need to get to the airport,” her own mother called out. “Oh yes, coming!” she replied, and then to Tara, “Just read the rules and make sure Brittany follows them, simple as it gets!” With that, she hugged Tara and made her way to the living room, where her daughter and Tara’s mother were. There were the usual tearful goodbyes, as the realization of how long it would be before they were all together again sunk in. All too soon, it was just Tara and Brittany watching TV in silence as the girls both recovered from the painful departure. Tara ordered pizza as a way of cheering them both up, and by the time the large pizza and sodas had been consumed, it was close to bedtime. She, Tara, knew it was time to broach the subject. She decided to do so in a manner that showed she trusted Brittany to know what she had to do. “Well, I guess it is time for bed, Brit,” she stated. Brittany yawned. “Yeah, I guess so.” The girl got up from the couch and made her way to the stairs. “Wait, Brittany!” she called to stop the girl. “Is there something we need to talk about? Some rules?” The younger girl froze, and she stiffened as she turned to face Tara, so she went on the offensive. “Before you say anything, it's alright. I had problems when I was around your age,” she tried to soothe Brittany. “I don’t want to follow the rules without mom,” she almost spat back at Tara. “Look, this will go smoothly if we just follow what your mom wants you to do.” Tara countered. “But… it's just… It's so embarrassing, and I want to just be normal.” Brittany pleaded, “Please don't make me do them.” It nearly broke Tara’s heart to see Brittany clinging onto a small hope that she would be out of whatever she had been enduring. “What exactly are the rules you are supposed to follow, i haven't read them yet because I want you to tell me,” Tara said. “Well, umm… you… There are five rules, and if you have any, you know. Then you start at 1 and go from there.” Brittany mumbled. “I see, and what rule are you on now?” She questioned further. “1B,” Brittany said out of the side of her mouth. “1B?” “Yeah, the first rule has three parts… some kind of like grace period before the rest of the rules, I guess.” Brittany had crossed her arms and had not looked at Tara since she started talking about the rules. “How far have you gone down the list?” Tara asked with complete curiosity. “Just two, but it was awful.” Brittany huffed. Tara was in a bind; she didn’t want to fight Brittany for weeks on end. And she didn’t want to have to deal with Brittany having accidents she could prevent. But most of all, she did want to have fun with Brittany; she really was like a little sister. The girl shouldn’t have to feel alone in this… then it hit her. It was drastic, but it just might work. “Alright, let's look at 1B,” Tara announced. Going into the kitchen, she opened the back of the book and found the page with 1A at the top. She read out, “1A - a single day-time accident will result in a pull-up for 1 day and night.” Turning the page, she also read, “1B - a single night-time accident will result in regular pull-ups for 2 days & night-time pull-ups for 2 nights.” Brittany was bright red but Tara talked fast to ease the embarrassment. “So you…” “The night before last, this is my second night. Mom let me go without during the day today because she was leaving,” the girl clarified. “Good, then we will both follow the rules going forward.” Tara stated. “Both?” Brittany asked. “Both,” she replied. “What good is that? It's still just me that will have to do any of it!” Brittany screeched. “Hold on. Did you see me dash upstairs when I got here?” Tara asked, and the girl nodded. “Well, I didn't quite make it, and my shorts got a bit wet. So I guess that puts me on 1A, right?” she said, matter of fact. “You're lying,” Brittany huffed, but Tara was prepared for this. A quick trip to her room and her shorts from earlier presented to Brittany were all the evidence she needed. “Whoa!” Brittany exclaimed. “Told you, so we will both be in pull-ups tonight. Your mom gave you a break, so we will just go with the pull-ups tonight. And if we are both dry in the morning, this all resets, right?” She asked cheerily. “Yeah, but… but… “ Brittany couldn’t come up with an argument. “Now come on, we are still about the same size; let's see if they fit and we can get off to bed.” Tara led the dumbstruck girl up the stairs and to the closet. It was packed with white boxes, each labeled in the upper corner. The shelf at chest height had two opened boxes, one of the left read ‘Slims’. Thinking these must be the pull-ups she grabbed two, and handed one to Brittany. “Let’s both get pjs on, i will come to your room in about 10 minutes.” Tara said as she closed her door behind her. Throwing the pull-up on the bed, it suddenly hit Tara what she was about to do. It had been so long since she had worn something like that she almost felt as if it stared back at her. As if this meant more than just a means to an end. Shaking her head, she inspected the pull-up; it wasn’t any of the major brands she knew. In fact, it only had an “R” in the center of the waistband to indicate a brand. The sides were just a bit longer than the width of her hand and the padding looked fairly thin, but then it was just a pull-up. Changing into a tank top with thin shoulder straps, she placed her usual PJ pants next to the pull up on the bed. Stepping into the pull-up she began to doubt that she would fit, yet as she dragged it up to her waist, it never seemed to tighten. Standing there, 18 years old, and in a pull-up, it may as well have been fitted for her. It clung to her a bit but didn’t feel tight, and she felt the leg holes conform around her leg just below her butt, a perfect fit. She walked around and noted the extra padding and the overall ‘bulk’ she was not accustomed to as she moved. Satisfied, she pulled her PJs over the pull-up and went to see Brittany. Knocking on the door, the girl called out that she was ready. Tara was momentarily taken aback as Brittany had some small shorts and the diaper spilled out of the top and the sides. “All set?” she asked. “Yeah… I guess,” but Brittany kept glancing at Tara's PJs. Pulling the band of her pants down a bit, Tara showed the top of the pull and said, “Fitted just fine.” Tara began to giggle, and a smile reached Brittany's face as well. Soon they were laughing hard at the situation, and the tension was broken between them. “Night, Brit, see in the morning.” Tara chuckled out. “Night, Tara” was the reply as the younger girl got into bed. Back in her own room, Tara turned off the lights and got under the streets, exhausted. However, she almost immediately realized why Brittany’s shorts were so small. Being under covers, in pants, and in a pull-up was not the most comfortable thing. But tiredness eventually overtook Tara, and she drifted off.

Hey everyone - I wrote this randomly in 4 hours today. Posting it for fun. I usually write stories for my own enjoyment but decided I'd share this one. I know there are a lot of fundamental mistakes, grammatical errors etc and I'm naturally bad at writing pros. I did not really proof read this. I know the content is a bit unrealistic and what not - but it the kind of story I like so I decided I'd take shot at it. Anyway - if people like the general theme or where it is going, I'll clean it up - format it and continue it in parts to share... Kyle's Summer Vacation: INTRODUCTION: It has been one week since summer began, and Kyle Connors was anxious with how quickly the last year had gone by. The 20-year-old boy lived with his parents in upstate New York, they were both professors at a local university and had high expectations for their children. His mother was a neuroscience researcher currently on sabbatical to write her book and his father was an archeologist who had just left for a dig in South America which would last most of the summer. Kyle’s older sister Kayla had been the golden child, she was a math/science prodigy and enrolled in Dartmouth two year’s prior. Kyle unfortunately was not as scholastically gifted as his sister, but he did okay was a B student and had been a competitive track athlete until a nasty fall ended his career during the final meet of the season. This led him to take a gap year instead of enrolling in college, he just wanted time to reevaluate his situation. So, over the past 6 months he’d been taking a few classes at a community college and working part-time at a local supermarket. To his parents’ disappointment – his progress at community college was well below their expectations, with him barely getting a C average his first year. More than anything they were concerned with his lack of attention and complacency, he seemed unmotivated. If anything, this gap year had caused him to go backwards – he was still relying on his parents for so much and didn’t seem to want to grow up. In fact – Kyle seemed to be settling into a normal routine as the child in the household. He would wait until the final moment to do his laundry, usually his mother would just end up doing it for him. He was resigned to playing video games and watching cartoons more often than his parents would have liked. He was naturally a clumsy person, so being around the house more often – he seemed to always be spilling on the furniture and tracking dirt through the house. Things like dishes, yardwork and general adult responsibilities were simply difficult for him to handle, so his parents were resigned to do it all themselves. Not surprisingly – Kyle’s parents had put numerous restrictions around his life. He had an early curfew, still had a bedtime and they even had parentals controls for him when he was watching TV or using the internet. To reduce distractions they’d throttled his phone, so the only apps he could engage with were learning based or educational. Beyond this – they had just taken to treating Kyle a bit younger than his actual age, basically wanting to know where he was at any given moment, what he was doing and wanting to make sure he was safe. In their eyes he simply was a kid, not an adult. Kayla had just arrived home two days ago, she was on her summer break and was ready to enjoy a relaxing summer.. Kyle was extremely jealous of his older sister, and it was really dawning on him how much better she had it. At this moment summer vacation was a thing of the past for him, he had to work at his boring job and was in online classes to make up for the failed classes from the prior year. His parents were elated with all her progress, and she was not under the same rules or super vision Kyle was. She had complete freedom as an adult should. This was not helping his stress and anxiety – the peer-pressure was a lot for him to deal with and he was having trouble sleeping, with dreadful anxious thoughts of failure keeping him up at night. Even though Kyle had been injured the prior year, he was still able to run long distance, and this was his main outlet for relieving himself of anxiety or stress. At 5’3 and 135 pounds – he had the perfect body for long distance and was pushing himself to get ready for marathon coming up in the fall. Even with all the strenuous exercise – he still was having trouble getting enough sleep and this was starting to complicate his life even further. About a week ago, the reality of his sisters return and his depressing circumstances set in on him. His mental health was waning and it was all starting to affect him physically. It seemed to all come crumbling down when he woke up a 4:30 AM to discover he’d done something that hadn’t done since the 8th grade – Kyle had wet the bed. This was not exactly foreign to Kyle – he had issues with intermittent bedwetting all the way up to middle school and had worn Goodnites for his predicament until he was 11. In fact, Kyle had struggled with potty training in his early years and because this he’d started kindergarten a year late, since at age 5 he was still in and out of diapers. His doctor had told his parents he had a small bladder and this was something that he’d likely have to deal with for the rest of his life. Kyle was good about limiting liquids but still usually went to use the restrooms 2 or 3 times more frequently than his peers. This is something he just had learned to deal with. That early morning Kyle was so disappointed in himself, he couldn’t believe what had happened and was not looking forward to his parents finding out. He luckily had a change of sheets in the closet. So quickly – he removed his soil linens and stuffed them in shopping bag and was able to fall back asleep. The next morning, he slept in and his mother was gone when he woke up, likely on her morning walk. He quickly went downstairs to do the laundry and cover up his shameful wetting incident. When his Mom arrived home later that day – things began to get complicated… Kyle was sitting in the kitchen watching Hilda when his mother called out from the den -“Hey honey – did you put some laundry down?” his mother asked in a surprising tone. “Yes, Mom I put it down an hour or so ago, just my sheets – I think it should be done soon” Kyle answered in a nervous studder. “Why did you do your sheets? I just washed them yesterday” his mother inquired shouting from the other room. “Sorry mom, I had night sweats last night and they just were gross – I’ll put them in the dryer shortly” he was really hoping his mother would drop this and move on. “Okay well I appreciate you helping, looks like they just finished so I will put them in the dryer – I need to get the rest of our laundry done” she thought to herself that this was a good sign, Kyle almost never did chores like this, maybe this summer he’ll start to grow up. As she opened the washer she was met with a pungent smell – it was unmistakably urine. As a mother of two children, she knew exactly what had happened. “Hey Kyle” his mother shouted presumptuously “did you forget to put detergent in the washer?” Kyle’s face went pale, and he sat in silence hoping the inevitable would not happen – how could he forget such a simple thing. As he turned to go try to mitigate the incident his mother came around the corner with his sheets in her arms. “Kyle Anders Connors – do you have something to tell me!” she was looking at him with a stern expression. Kyle couldn’t bring himself to admit the truth, so he stared at his bowl of cheerios sheepishly. “Kyle these sheets smell like pee, did you wet the bed last night?” his mother asked concernedly. “I, I, I’m not sure what happened mom – I’ve been really tired and I did 8 miles yesterday I must have drank too much water, I’m sorry” his face was beet red with shame and he wanted to run as fast as he could out the front door. His mother responded calmly but in a serious manner “Young man, accidents happen but I will not have you lying about it. I need you to be honest with me and your father all the time. It’s obvious that you can’t handle this like an adult. Let’s hope this is a one-time thing, if it happens again – you need to tell me right away and I will take care of cleaning it up since you seemingly can’t do it properly. If I’m not here, you need to call or text me to tell me what happened and I’ll give you instructions, am I clear?” “Yes mom” he responded with a very embarrassed look on his face. This was not exactly how he wanted this summer to start. He wanted to come up with some sort of excuse, but he couldn’t think of anything worth saying. His mother left the room quickly and put the sheets in the washer to run them again with soap. As she returned to the kitchen she sat down at the table across from Kyle… she sniffed the air inquisitively, there was a musty smell and she realized where it was coming from. “Kyle! Have you showered since this happened? You smell like pee!” she stated bluntly. “Sorry mom, I was hungry and had come downstairs to eat – I just forgot!” He responded with a terribly embarrassed look on his face. He was almost at tears. “That is ridiculous and gross! You must be more responsible than this. What next, am I going to have to bathe you as well! Go up and take a shower this instant!” Kyle immediately got up from the table and ran upstairs – so relieved to get away from possibly his most embarrassing moment in recent memory. After the awful morning and a long shower Kyle was determined to have a better afternoon. He went for a run on his favorite trail and was going to push to do 14 miles today. During the run he thought about what had happened and how much he must have disappointed his mother. Hopefully the next few days would improve, and this would be forgotten about. Unfortunately – the next few days and week did not improve at all. His bedwetting became persistent, and he only managed to have two dry nights over a 7-day period. There was even a day on his way back from a run when he had an urgent need to pee and ended up soaking hit pants just minutes before arriving home, fortunately he was able to scramble up to his room and throw his jogging shorts along with his socks in plastic bag which he hid under his bed. Each wet morning he would strip his soiled pajamas off, take a shameful shower and after which he would head down would go to his mother to tell her what had happened. This routine was becoming painful for Kyle and for his mother. Both of them just hoped things would work themselves out, but it was becoming obvious something would have to be done to help Kyle with his issues. CHAPTER 1: PLANNING FOR BLACK BEAR It was Sunday afternoon and Kyle’s mother Karen was preparing for lunch thinking about the next few weeks. The next day Kyle, his sister and Mother would be driving 6 hours north to Maine for a 3-week trip at Black Bear Resort and Lodge just outside Acadia National Park. This was an annual tradition for the family and something Kyle always looked forward to. This year, since Kyle’s father wasn’t joining them – his mother had arranged for her research assistant Candice to come along. She was a single mother of a three-year-old girl named Karly. Candice has been having a tough year, with a recent divorce and grueling new project she had undertaken that was putting undue stress on her. Her specialty was in childhood/pre-adolescent psychology, and she had recently been working on a new study to identify issue in children suffering from avoidance and regressive behavior. Kyle’s mother always enjoyed Candice’s company and was excited to have an adult friend to spend time with on her annual vacation. The kids always went off to do the various activities during their trips to Black Bear and it would have been a rather lonely experience to be with the older crowd at the pool and bar by herself. In fact, when the kids were younger, they’d typically be in the kids camps and she would spend most of her time at the adult pool with her husband relaxing during the trip. Candice had been somewhat concerned about having her little girl along with her, especially since she explained that she was struggling with potty training. Candice had decided to take a break on training for the first month of summer to relieve pressure on both of them and planned to ramp it up again as they started to get closer to the school year. Kyle’s mother assured Candice that the Little Cubs activity program and daycare would be awesome for Karly. Also, there was a cabin designed for families with little ones or kids with special needs – stocked with a changing table, large tub and Montessori bed for children. She remembered how helpful the resort amenities have been with Kyle since he was also a late bloomer with the potty. Candice was relieved at this and was excited to get a few weeks to really relax. As this conversation was happening – Kyle’s mother was reminded of the current bedwetting issue her son had been having… she decided to bring the topic up to Candice. “Hey Candice… this is a bit embarrassing for me to admit – but can I ask you for some advice in confidence?” she asked sincerely. Candice realized that something was concerning her friend… “absolutely you know you can tell me anything, what is up?!” Kyle’s mother began with a slow sense of apprehension “Well this a bit embarrassing, the past few weeks Kyle has been having an issue… he’s been wetting his bed almost every night and actually I even found wet shorts and socks in a plastic bag under his bed the other day when cleaning – which I think was from a daytime accident ” Candice eyes grew softer and she spoke with empathetically “Oh I see – well that is a bit concerning for a boy his age. I know you’ve voice concerns about him before – have you managed to take him to the doctor yet?” she asked with concern. “Well yes, actually I got the call yesterday and all the tests came back. Medically he is in incredibly good shape. Years ago he was diagnosed with a small bladder and he’d struggled with this until he started middle school but we’ve had no problems until just recently…” She paused nervously getting ready to pose the next question. “You see I’ve been thinking about the trip and what to do – obviously I can’t have my son wetting his bed in the cabin every night. The laundry situation alone would be a nightmare, not to mention the potential damage to the mattress… so I’ve thought about getting him some… well protection for his nighttime accidents. I know this seems extreme putting a 20-year old in diapers but I don’t know what else to do. I wanted to ask – as my friend and a professional in the field – do you think it would be damaging to him, from a mental and emotional standpoint?” her face was glowing red at this point and was filled with dread at how her friend might respond. Candice looked on with a calm and determined expression “Karen – I actually think you’re going in the absolute right direction here. In fact I believe it would have a positive impact on him – both mentally and emotionally. I’d even encourage you to take it… well maybe a step further, let me explain. Look you’ve been talking to me about Kyle for years and I’ve gotten to know him ever since we started working together. It has never been my place to say this, but I think Kyle struggles from avoidant personality disorder. In my recent research – we’ve found that adolescents with high achieving parents and even more so those with high achieving older siblings – can suffer from a fear of failure that pacifies them from taking on challenges since they’d rather not try than fail at something.” Candice pauses for a moment to gauge Karen’s emotion, although concerned, she seemed engaged and willing to hear more. She continued “in my recent studies – we’ve found that lowering the bar – if you will - can have incredibly positive outcomes for children suffering from this condition. In fact we’ve found recently that letting a child take a few steps back, can help them really explore themselves, release anxiety and gain new perspectives on life. This leads to more confidence, a willingness to take chances, helps them understand that failure is natural and is a natural part of life. This is part of the reason I’m having Karly go back to diapers for summer and am encouraging her to be little for a bit longer, not making it a punishment but an opportunity for he to be my lovely baby for just a little while more. This way she can come to terms with her outcome and be ready to try again with renewed confidence.” Karen looked at Candice with a somewhat concerned but very understanding look, “so you’re saying I should encourage Kyle to… umm act like a little kid? How would I even begin to do that?” Karen asked. Candice thought for a moment then said “well I think you just approach the whole situation with as much concern and empathy as possible. I’d suggest you bring up the diapers to him and make rules around the situation. For one, I think you take control over the whole bedtime & diapering process and further put him on a potty training regiment. That means, you’re the one who puts him in them and takes him out of them and you're the one supervising his use of the bathroom. Although he may be resistant in the beginning, it will take pressure off of him – I think it will be key to do this in the most loving and encouraging way possible. I’d also explain that since he is not completely potty trained – that there will be rules – just like I had with Karly. For instance – if he has any daytime accidents - that would mean he is in diapers for the rest of the day. From there – I bet there are little things we can work on together during our trip to help naturally regress him. Also - this is up to your discretion but I think you may need to explain to him the situation and give him options. He would either comply with our program or enroll him in a different type of correctional program... I'll let you decide what that would be. I mean he isn’t that big to begin with and if my evaluation is correct on him – the regression process will be a somewhat natural process for him. One thing I think we do right now, is call the Resort and see if they have any additional family rooms available. I bet Kyle would be just the right fit for the Montessori bed I the room they got for me and it would help with the whole process.” Karen nodded her head apprehensively “Okay I think this is worth giving a try, thank you for the advise Candice and the help in executing this. Hopefully we get great results for Kyle”. Although she was concerned over this, she felt what Candice was saying was right and this might be the perfect opportunity to give Kyle some time to be a kid again… well actually little kid and get him over the fear of failure. So that afternoon – they made all the arrangements and came up with a plan. Candice went shopping for a few things to help and was going to pack basically double for Karly to prepare for how far down the rabbit whole Kyle ended up going. Karen called the resort to make some changes to their reservation and ask some questions on camp policy. She was greeted by the nicest lady to which she explained her situation. She told her that one of her teenagers (she fibbed a bit here) had been having some issues with incontinence and would need extra help during the trip to attend to his “special needs”. The resort admin was extremely grateful for Karen’s information and honesty – since the camp has strict access policies for children who aren’t potty trained. The office woman expanded that she was in luck since a three-bed family cabin had just been canceled on and had 4 weeks of availability. She further explained that it was two rooms with queen beds and a third room that was designed as nursery/special needs room. She wanted to make sure this one was okay with her, since it was equipped with a large built in changing table, twin sized toddler daybed with a detachable front gate and a rocking chair. Also, she added that the room’s additional fee included complimentary access to ALL kids camp programs, which were accessible to children under the age of 17. Karen realized that she was being a bit dishonest here but knew that Kyle could easily pass for a teenager with his small size and baby face. “We’ll take it Miss, thank you for all your help we really look forward to checking in and enjoying our stay.” She got off the phone and went up to Kayla’s room where she was reading – she needed to fill her in on what was happening and how she’d be needed to support this. “Hey honey we need to talk” Karen said to her daughter. “Sure mom whats up?” Kayle responded. Karen explained the situation to her - Kayla although somewhat confused and frankly a bit amused seemed to grasp the plan and agreed to be supportive of everything her mother and Candice wanted to do. With that Karen grabbed her keys and with Kayla were off to the store to get supplies for the 3 week vacation that they were sure to never forget. CHAPTER 2: WAKING UP TO NEW RULES It was Monday morning at 8 AM – the day of the long journey to Maine. Karen walked into Kyle’s room to start the day and get things moving, She had planned this out in her head a thousand times the night before. He was still sound asleep and she was not surprised to smell the extremely strong smell of urine in the air – Kyle had wet himself in his sleep once again. Karen gently shook him awake, as Kyle stirred and slowly opened his eyes his mother in the most sweet tone she could muster said, “Sweety – it’s time to get up we have a very big day ahead of us. You had a big accident last night honey, you go shower to go get cleaned up and come back in here so we can get everything ready” Kyle was dazed and confused, his mother never came in his room like this but he figured it was a big day ahead so she was just trying to move things along. With less shame than usual as this had become more routine, Kyle said “I’m sorry mom, I didn’t mean to have another accident – yah okay I’ll go jump in the shower right now” she gave him a sympathetic stare and said “aww its okay my sweet boy, you couldn’t help it – just go get all clean and come back in here for a little chat when you’re finished. We just need to talk a little, don’t worry we’ll get everything sorted out” He nodded cautiously, a bit embarrassed by his mother’s tone and somewhat concerned by what she wanted to talk about. He jumped out of bed quickly to escape the situation and headed as quickly as possible to the bathroom across the hall. While in the shower – Karen got his bed stripped, put on the new plastic sheet she’d purchased the night before and brought in the new bag she had packed for Kyle which she would be showing him as they discussed the new rules he was going to have for summer. After a nice hot shower, Kyle came back in his room wrapped in a towel, his small frame was totally exposed and he was a bit timid to be so bare in front of his mother. His mother had pulled up a chair next to his bed and patted the soft plastic sheet saying “Okay Kyle come sit down, we need to have a talk” Kyle nodded his head and although he wanted to protest, he knew better with his mother and didn’t want to risk having a fight right before they went on vacation. He was somewhat upset by the new plastic sheet on his bed but was not surprised and thought it was rational in a lot of ways. He nodded his head and went and took a seat on the side of his bed. His mother spoke sternly but calmly “Kyle you’re just going to listen to what I have to say and not interrupt me – do you understand – I will tell you when I’m finished, if you interrupt me you will be punished and will not like it” Kyle nodded his head and began to realize this was going to be more than he had expected. “That’s a good boy – so as you know we’re going on our little trip today. The past few weeks you’ve been having a lot of trouble with the potty and it is time we address this issue” Kyle winced at his mother using the word potty, is seemed so childish and demeaning but he continued to listen to his mother “We are in a tough situation here, I simply can’t have you wetting the bed or your pants while we are on vacation. Especially since there is no way for me to do laundry, you could damage the bed in our cabin and plus it is just too much work for me to deal with while I’m trying to relax on vacation. As you know Candice and Karly will be joining us on our trip to Black Bear and will be riding up with us in the car today. I’ve spoken with Candice about your “situation” and we determined that the next few weeks is the perfect opportunity to deal with your problems and help you along. I know you’ve been under a lot of stress and we want to help you release that stress and get over your fear of failure.” Kyle as this point was terrified, what could his mother be talking about and why did she tell Candice about his bedwetting! Still Kyle remained silent and let his mother finish, she continued “I’ve decided that from a practical standpoint, you’ll need to be wearing protection during this trip. That means at night you’ll be wearing a diaper and during the day you’ll be wearing goodnite pull ups. Do not protest, I know you wet your pants the other day and hid it from me.” Kyle was dumbstruck but stayed silent, he new better than to interrupt his mother in these moments. “Further I’ve decided with Candice’s guidance that we should let you have some time to be free of responsibility and give you extra attention during this time. I promise this is going to be good for you and you’ll really enjoy it once you get past some of the natural embarrassment. You do not need to worry about being teased or anything, Kayla, myself and Candice are all on board here. So during the next three weeks, you’re going to be treated a bit like Karly, instead of a 20 years old – we’re going to give you the attention and supervision that a 3 year old would need. Not on everything but on little things. That means there are new rules you need to be aware of: We need to keep track of your potty time and give attention to your bedwetting. As I said you’ll be wearing protection at all times. Diapers will be required at night. You’re not allowed to remove your diapers on your own, an adult will be putting them on you and changing you out of them. During the day, unless deemed otherwise, you’ll be in pull ups. When you need to use the potty, you will come get an adult who will take you to use to bathroom, this will encourage you to be more attentive and will make sure you have no embarrassing accidents. Secondly – if you have an accident in your pull up, you’ll be put in diapers for the rest of the day and the bathroom will be off limits until the following day. We can’t be having accidents all the time. During our stay – we’ve arranged a family cabin. You’ll be staying in your own special room which is setup to accommodate your needs. The first week, your bedtime is going to be 8 PM. I will get you ready for bed an hour early, make sure you’re fed and bathed before bedtime. If you’re good and behave, we can talk about later bedtimes the 2nd and 3rd week. If you misbehave you’ll be subject time outs and if it gets to it, I will spank you if you disobey me, Kayla or Candice. You're required to be under adult supervision at all times. No going anywhere with out me, Kayla or Candice. When we are doing adult activities during our stay, you’ll be going with Karly to Kid's camp. We’ve arranged it all and you’ll be in good hands there. Staff are aware of you potty issues and they have specific rules/policies that you’ll need to follow. I will be picking out your outfits, bathing you and taking care of most things for you so you can focus just on having fun and relaxing during this trip. “Keep in mind, this is not just to address your potty problems but also something we’ve determined will be a therapy to help you overcome your crippling anxiety. I know you want that for yourself, so I hope you can be mature about this and let yourself enjoy this treatment for what it is. If you refuse, then I’ve made arrangements for you to stay at the University Hospital over the next three weeks in the Psychiatric ward – for an experimental drug therapy which I think you’d find to be… well not very fun. Okay so with that, I’ve said what I need to say and you’re free to respond.” Kyle looked down at the floor with and clenched his hands in fist. How on earth could his mother be doing this to him. This was so incredibly bizarre. How could he – a 20 year old man be reduced to wearing diapers and being treated like a child. Beyond the legality of it – he figured it was just crazy, however he knew he was in a pickle. His mother has a lot of power and knew the law incredibly well – he was not about to go to the Psychiatric ward – he’d been there before a few years ago when he took a bunch of pills and did not want to go back. He gathered the courage to respond and held back as much malice in his voice as he could, “I, I can’t believe you’re doing this to me! I do not deserve this… I mean I’ll wear diapers at night, that I can at least understand but why do I have to be treated like a toddler! That is simply ridiculous. Can I just wear the diapers, I’ll even let you change me if that makes things easier… I just can’t imagine going through all this.” Kyle pleaded aggressively. His mother stood up and sternly said “Kyle this situation has been evaluated and the plan is in place, either you accept this or we make the call right now and have you in the hospital this afternoon. This choice is up to you” Kyle looked was furious but he was deflated and staired at the floor. Karen calmy took her seat and put her hand on his knee “Honey I promise you’re going to have a lot of fun these next three weeks and it’s going to be good for all of us.” She gently tilted up his head and looked in his eyes “So baby, can you be brave boy for me and go along with what we have planned – we know what is best for you and this is going to help so much.” Kyle was tearing up and although he was upset at the whole situation – he knew his trade off and he had little choice but to comply. Kyle nodded his head begrudgingly and his mother smiled. “Awww that is my good boy, well we’re going to make this a trip to remember. So I have some things to show you and we need to get you ready for the big road trip”. With that his mother reached under his bed and pulled out an extra-large light blue suit case with Mickey mouse cartoon characters running all over it. This made Kyle blush in embarrassment. “So this has everything we need for your trip but I went ahead and got some of your swimsuits and regular clothes in there too for the last few weeks. Let’s get you all ready for the big car ride little guy” Karen walked over to the closet and came back with some clothes in her hand and to his surprise she was holding a big white diaper, with powder and lotion. “Mom – I thought you said I was going to be in pull-ups during the day?” Kyle asked – he was so embarrassed that he was actually begging to be able to wear a pull up, this was insane. His mother replied “Look we have a 6 hour car ride and we can’t be stopping every few minutes for you baby. Plus you always nod off in the car and your pull ups just wouldn’t hold a big wetting like that. This is for the best and plus – I said you’d be in diaper as “deemed” necessary so lay down on your bed and we’ll get you all ready” Kyle was flabbergasted, this was happening so quickly. In that moment he was paralyzed and just did what his mother asked. He laid down and closed his eyes so incredibly embarrassed on what was about to happen. His mother peeled away the front of the towel and exposed her naked little boy. She was surprised to see Kyle had no pubic hair, but she remembered that she had always bought him extra razors for him to shave his legs, he just preferred it as a runner – I guess he did it all the way up. With her little boy exposed she proceeded to lifting up his legs and having him hold them in position. She fluffed out the thick disposable and tucked it neatly underneath his bottom. She then proceeded to rub lotion on him and dust him with baby powder. She had him lower his legs, so she could do the front and then fit the diaper snugly over him. Taping each side securely in place. She knew in a few days this would become very routine and was actually surprised by how much fulfillment she was getting out of caring for her little boy. “Okay sweety that wasn’t so bad, you can open your eyes now you’re all done” She said softly to him hoping this wasn’t too much for her son. Kyle leaned upward feeling the new padding between his legs. It was humiliating but he was surprised with how comfortable it was, the fresh powder and lotion giving him an odd sensation. The brief moment of calm was disrupted by his mother saying “Okay arms up for me” He complied and his mother put a light blue smoky the bear T-shirt on him, he was about to protest but she was too quick. He was simply mortified by what she had for him next... “Alright little one let’s get you to step in your cute little outfit I picked out special for today” What she held out for him what was unmistakably a dark blue denim short-alls, he wouldn’t have been surprised if they were girls as they were uncommon for men but no doubt they were his size and would fit him. Again, he didn’t see any other thing to do but to listen to his mother. So with one foot and then the other he stepped into his new childish garment. His mother asked him to stand up as she pulled the shorts over his diaper hand secured the buckles of each strap over his shoulder. He could feel his diaper underneath pushing up between his legs and he was blushing red at the babyish feeling he was getting from being dressed like this by his mother. He simply couldn’t believe this was happening to him and stared in defeat at the floor, afraid to even glance at himself in the mirror. His mother gushed “Oh my you just look so adorable, already for our big adventure!" To be continued...

When I was a kid it was pretty commonplace to spank for bedwetting and particularly for chronic bedwetting because back then it was viewed as a discipline rather than medical issue. I was a regular bedwetter until well into puberty. I was often although not severely spanked, usually with 5 or six moderate swats that were more embarassing than painful. When I was younger I got it by hand and later when I was older with a hairbrush. Now I have a fetish that associates wetting and spanking and I wonder if its caused by that experience and if others had similar experiences?

1 Max awoke with a start. For a moment—like anyone just waking—she didn’t know why. Then the familiar pressure settled in, gentle but unmistakable. It wasn’t as bad as it could have been, which sparked a small, hopeful feeling. She could make it this time.She pushed herself upright and reached for her glasses, patting the nightstand until her fingers closed around the frames. Once they were perched on her nose, she felt steadier. Finding the light switch took longer. It was farther from the door than she ever remembered, and by the time the room finally brightened, the urgency had sharpened.Still, she was up. That counted for something.Max cracked her bedroom door—and froze. The hallway light was off. It wasn’t supposed to be. It was always left on, just in case. Her heart sank, but she didn’t turn back. Turning back would only make everything worse, and she knew it. Drawing a slow breath, she eased into the hallway, letting the weak glow from her room guide her. She held the door open as long as she could, memorizing where she thought the switch would be.Then she let go. Darkness swallowed the hall. The door clicked shut behind her, and for a heartbeat she felt completely lost, as if the house had rearranged itself while she slept. She shuffled forward with her arms out, moving faster than she meant to—part nerves, part necessity. Her hand struck the wall. Relief surged. She fumbled along it, panic creeping higher, until—there. The switch. Light flooded the hallway. Max ran. Each step brought her closer and made things harder at the same time. She didn’t slow until she nearly collided with the bathroom door, gasping as she caught herself. One last burst of determination carried her inside. She had made it. Just a few more seconds. She moved on instinct—lid up, pajamas down—and then realized her mistake. “No—” The sound barely escaped her. She had forgotten the last step. Hands shaking, she tried to fix it, but there wasn’t time. Frustration tipped into tears as she lost the struggle she’d been fighting all night. Max woke again just before her alarm, as she sometimes did. She lay still, staring at the ceiling, already knowing. The memory of the night made her stomach twist. “Stupid diapers,” she muttered. Being wet always put her in a bad mood, though it never lasted long. By the time the alarm finally sounded, irritation had replaced embarrassment, and she silenced it with a practiced tap. A few minutes later, there was a knock. “Rise and shine, Max. Time to get up.” Her mom didn’t wait for an answer before opening the door. “Oh—you’re already awake. Did you sleep okay?” Max rolled onto her side, avoiding eye contact. “I guess.” Without needing to be told, she pushed the covers back. Her mom checked quickly, gently, and sighed. “Aww, honey. Another accident?” “I was really close,” Max said, the words tumbling out. “I got to the bathroom, but the light was off, and I couldn’t—” “I know,” her mom said, not quite listening. “You’ll get there eventually.” “If you just didn’t make me wear these—” “Max.” Her mom’s tone was calm but firm. “We’ve talked about this.” “Why can’t I at least wear pull-ups at night?” Her mom shook her head. “Pull-ups won’t hold, you know that.” Max clenched her jaw. It had been months since the last time she’d had a messy accident, yet her mom still brought it up. It never seemed to matter how long it had been. “Let’s not start the day with a fight,” her mom said gently. “Once the accidents stop, we’ll talk about changes, okay?” Max knew better than to argue. She pouted instead, which earned her a kiss on the forehead. “Come on. Breakfast is ready.” Her pajamas were pulled back into place, and her mom took her hand, leading her down the hall. In the morning light, it looked much shorter than it had during the night. Max glanced at the bathroom door as they passed it, hopeful for just a second. They kept walking. She sighed. Being wet meant no chances were taken—and no change until after breakfast. 2 As soon as she had finished her breakfast, Max couldn’t excuse herself quickly enough. She waddled into the kitchen away from her sister, and was once again taken by the hand, despite objection, and led away up the stairs. Ally, meanwhile, made her own way upstairs to get ready in her own time. Max didn’t like being led around; it was as though her mom didn’t trust her to go where she was told, and she certainly didn’t like having her diaper changed. It wasn’t even as if she had anything hard to do; on a morning she only needed to change out of her diaper, but she knew that her mom wouldn’t trust her to do it. At least Ally hadn’t been around to see her objecting; protesting that you shouldn’t have to wear diapers to bed made for a pretty embarrassing display while you were still wearing a wet one… Her protests went unheard though, just as they always did, and Max was already halfway through being changed before she got tired and gave up. She had been sitting on her bed while her mom had been cleaning her up, but now that she was through being awkward she decided to lie down to make things easier. It didn’t take very long, and upon completion her mom left Max to get ready for school on her own, taking the wet diaper to the trash with her (nothing to do with Max’s diapers was kept in her room). Max was glad for the brief moment alone, and even after she was finished getting ready for school she made sure to wait as long as possible before going back downstairs. In the end it wasn’t too long, because there was no sense in making herself late, which would only get her into trouble at school. Nevertheless, when she re-entered the kitchen both her mother and her sister were already waiting to go. “It’s about time, Max, you’re gonna make us late!” chimed Ally. “Sorry, I was just getting ready. But we can go now.” “One second, dear, you can’t go anywhere just yet,” her mother said, reaching into a bag on the side of the kitchen table. “But Mom, I don’t want us to be late!” “Nonsense. It’ll only take a minute, and you know you can’t go without it.” Max sighed. She knew what was coming, and she knew it was pointless to try talking her mother out of it. She just wished Ally wasn’t there. “Come on, hop on over,” she called, holding open a disposable pull-up. Reluctantly, Max walked towards the table and lowered her panties, which earned a definite frown and a grumble from her mother. Max knew she wasn’t supposed to put panties on before school; she needed her pull-ups. Rather ashamedly, she kicked away the underwear and stepped into the pull-up, holding her skirt so that her mother could pull the garment up to her daughter’s waist, making it snug. “There you go, Max. Now turn around and I’ll put two spares into your bag just in case.” Max complied and turned around, releasing her skirt so that it fell into place, covering her secret. Unfortunately, she was now facing Ally, who in turn was staring right at her. Beet red, Max lowered her head in an attempt to escape her sister’s attention, but it was no good; she could feel Ally’s gaze burning right into her, while her mother seemed to take forever fiddling around with the bag on her shoulders. At last, she heard the sound of a zipper closing and felt a gentle pat on her head. “All done. Now run along, girls, or you’re going to be late for school!” 3 Neither Max nor Ally said a word to each other on the way to school. This suited Max just fine, as it meant she could power-walk with her head down and blame it on the fact that they were running late. As always, she tried not to think about her embarrassing situation, but as always it forced its way to the forefront of her mind. After all this time it still wasn’t a routine for her; she just couldn’t accept it as normal. Every day felt like the first time for Max, which only served to frustrate both herself and her mother. At least I don’t have to wear those stupid baby diapers anymore, she mused; now that was embarrassing. Those silly little pictures where the tapes went… and the pull-ups were even worse, because the pictures would fade whenever she had an accident, like she wouldn’t be able to tell herself. Yes, Max was definitely glad to be out of those, even if her new “grown-up” underwear was a little bulkier. At the time she had complained about it, of course—just like she always did—saying for a good while afterward that she didn’t like the new diapers, if only to prove to her mother that she didn’t like things her way all the time. Still, she liked to think that her mom was simply being reasonable when she finally switched Max out of baby diapers, and not for the more rational reason that her daughter was just getting bigger and wetting too much…As it turned out, they weren’t late for school at all, probably due to the brisk pace at which the girls had travelled. They even had a few minutes to wind down before class, which Ally spent chatting with her friends and Max spent going to the bathroom. This was absolute routine for Max; not that her chances of having an accident were ever above zero, but going at regular intervals was a fail-safe way of ensuring her mom was never proved right. Oh, how she loved going home accident-free—it gave her something to look forward to all day. Of course, the trade-off was that if she ever did have an accident—hypothetically, of course—then going home became something to dread. Today, however, went pretty much as usual: a few close calls but no accidents. Once again, Max expected to return home to her just rewards. Arriving home also went pretty much as usual, which sadly for Max meant she didn’t get her just rewards. No matter how many times she protested that she hadn’t had an accident, her mother still subjected her to a routine diaper check every time she walked through the door. At least she didn’t have to walk home with Ally, which gave Max a chance to rush back first and avoid the embarrassment of onlookers. However, her sister had an uncanny knack for making it home before Max and was often sitting in the kitchen at the exact moment of entry. Worse still, she would sometimes wait outside so they had to enter together. Of course, their mother thought it sweet that Ally waited for her sister—a good example of sisterly love, she called it. Today was one such occasion, and as usual Ally let Max enter the house first so she wouldn’t block the line of sight between their mother and her supposedly older daughter. “Well now, how was school for my two favourite girls?” she asked almost instantly. “It was o.k.,” Max answered. Ally, meanwhile, was happy to stay silent. “And how is your—” their mother began. “I’m fine, really,” Max interjected, knowing full well what the question was going to be. “Uh-huh…” came the rather disbelieving reply. “I mean it. No problems, like always.” Max put particular emphasis on the last word, just in case her mother might finally get the point. “Well, if you did have an accident, I hope you remembered to throw away your dirty pull-up,” she said, completely ignoring everything Max had just told her. Once again, this comment stemmed from a long-past incident in which Max, on one of those rare “occasions,” had been too embarrassed to leave the school bathroom cubicle with a pull-up in her hand and had instead stashed it in her bag. She’d intended to dispose of it later, but it slipped her mind—much to the detriment of her anti-diaper efforts. By now the check was underway, with each girl sporting a very different expression. Max was understandably uncomfortable and bright red, while Ally stood transfixed for the entire procedure, her nonchalant yet sympathetic expression firmly in place. She had mastered that look well. After the pull-up check came the bag check—a very simple yet utterly degrading process of counting the pull-ups in Max’s school bag. It would have been easy for Max to use one during the day and change into a dry one before coming home. This was exactly her mother’s thinking; she didn’t doubt for a second that Max would do it if she could, hence the reason she always removed the spare pull-ups as soon as Max got home. The injustice, at least in Max’s eyes, was that it was always promptly investigated if a pull-up was missing, yet every time they were all present and correct her mother said not a word of encouragement. Max often made a point of reminding everyone that no pull-ups were missing—like always—but her mother brushed it aside as though she still didn’t believe her, or considered the dry spell a complete fluke. Another check endured. Another check passed, Max thought with fading hope. Surely this was helping her case, no matter how much her mother dismissed it. She didn’t hold her breath for any reprieve from the next step, however, as once again she was taken by the hand and led upstairs. Just once I’d like her to ask me first, Max thought as she was pulled along. Once they were out of sight, Ally allowed herself a smirk. She stood in the kitchen in the exact spot Max had occupied moments earlier and imagined their mother checking her while Max watched. “Oops! I forgot you wear panties!” she would say, feeling foolish for checking. “It’s o.k.,” Ally would reply, obediently holding her skirt high and not making a fuss like Max would. “I can see why you might forget.” Then she would deliberately turn to face her sister, directing their mother’s gaze. Max would try not to look embarrassed—but fail—feeling the combined attention of Ally and their mom while clearly seeing that Ally was wearing panties. Ally wouldn’t need to say anything more; the look would be enough. It was a good fantasy. One of several she returned to often. She knew most kids imagined embarrassing things happening to their siblings, but few ever got a taste of the real thing. Ally had more than enough. The real situations weren’t always as imaginative, but they were almost as good—sometimes better—especially when Max made things worse for herself or when Ally was surprised by scenarios she’d never even considered. Those moments, however, were the ones that brought out the real caring sister in her. She didn’t want Max to actually suffer. She had ways of balancing her guilt, not least the belief that Max partly deserved their mother’s treatment, and that their mom was simply doing what she thought was best. Ally realised she had been thinking too long and was still standing in the kitchen holding her skirt up. Anyone could have walked in. A sharp pang of guilt grounded her, and with her smirk gone she left the kitchen to do whatever she pleased. “I can do it myself, Mom…” Max argued, rather half-heartedly. “Why are you making such a fuss about it, Max? You never used to,” her mother replied, unaware that Max saw no truth in that statement. As far as Max was concerned, she had always complained—especially when expected to put up with something as menial as this. How hard was it to take off a pull-up? She knew deep down it was because her mom didn’t trust her not to keep the dry pull-up and stash it away as a spare. Max also knew, equally deep down, that she would do exactly that if she could get away with it, which only made her more annoyed. She hated it when her mom was right.At least the pull-up was dry this time, though that was hardly consolation when her mother still tugged it out from under her. Being dry meant the ritual ended there—no cleaning necessary. Her mother promptly left the room with the pull-up in hand, destined for the trash. Max hoped it would end up in the “special” bin, the separate one with the one-way lid used solely for her diapers. This was one point where Max and Ally agreed: diapers in the normal trash risked exposure. For Max, that would be mortifying. For Ally, people would assume they were hers. Neither outcome was appealing. Slipping on her panties, Max decided now was a good time to use the bathroom. She’d been holding it a little on the way home—not enough to cause trouble, but why risk it? She loved using the bathroom while wearing panties; it felt like a small affront to her mother. Using it at night or at school wasn’t the same—you only felt good for a moment before being reminded of your “protection.” When she finished, Max deliberately pulled her panties up and down several times, a luxury not permitted in diapers. Part defiance, part ritual—she needed to remind herself she could still wear them. By the time Max returned to her room, her mother was waiting, just as she’d expected. With a sigh, Max sat beside her. If her mom wanted something, resistance was usually pointless. So she waited. Her mother stood and began rummaging for something. Max knew what was coming and didn’t resist when she was laid back onto the bed. Her mother removed the panties Max had put on not ten minutes earlier and tossed them into the laundry. She wasn’t angry—if anything, she indulged Max from time to time, futile though it was. Max considered making a fuss. Normally she would have, but last night’s minor indiscretion had left her with little leverage. Still, she tried. “Mom…” she began. “We’ll see, dear,” her mother replied automatically, taping the diaper into place. Max hated wearing diapers around the house more than anywhere else. The bathroom was never more than ten seconds away—why couldn’t she wear pull-ups like at school? It didn’t matter if she came home dry; she was always changed straight into a diaper with no chance given. She’d had this argument a thousand times. The answers were always the same: pull-ups cost more, diapers held bigger accidents, and she was at home so no one would see. Blah, blah, blah. The last part was the worst—Ally could always tell. Of course, her mother still held the ultimate ace card: that Max simply had accidents and needed protection, even at home. Max blamed this entirely on being forced into diapers in the first place—a perfect catch-22. She only had accidents because her mother expected them. At least things were better than before. For a long time Max hadn’t been allowed to remove her diaper herself. Having to ask just to use the bathroom felt absurd. Sometimes she felt practically forced to use them—those tapes could be tricky. And don’t get me started on not being allowed to change myself… she thought, before pushing the thought away. Max often considered voicing these thoughts. She had, many times, without success. Right now she didn’t bother. Her resolve was wearing thin. Once, she’d protested every forced diapering. Later, she learned tantrums worked better when saved for special occasions. That didn’t work either. Over time, her arguments became habit rather than conviction. The futility was sinking in. The tragic truth—one Max would never admit to herself, let alone her mother or Ally—was that she was getting used to it. 4 Max sat in her room for a while, enjoying the moment of isolation. Her mom didn’t typically like Max to wear anything over her diaper when it was just family at home—it made checks easier—so she sat at her computer desk as she was, idly playing a game and trying to relax. After a little while, she noticed a familiar feeling in her stomach. A slow, heavy pressure. She needed to poop. Max sighed softly and pushed her chair back. Not wanting to give her mother any more problems—and wanting to prove, even just once, that she could use the bathroom properly—she stood up and made her way toward the door. As she approached the bathroom, hand already reaching for the handle— Ally appeared out of nowhere. In a blur, she darted past Max, slipped inside, and slammed the door shut, the lock clicking almost instantly. “Ally! I was just about to use the bathroom—please let me in!” “Sorry, Max, but I really need to go. You’re just going to have to hold it,” Ally replied casually from the other side. Max stood there for a moment, stunned. Then the pressure in her stomach shifted, reminding her this wasn’t something she could ignore. Frustrated, and now feeling a bit desperate, she turned and slowly made her way back to her room. When she got inside, she shut the door behind her and started toward her desk—but suddenly a sharp cramp hit her stomach, hard enough to make her stop and squat down where she stood. “No, no, no… I can’t have an accident right now. I can hold it,” she whispered to herself. She had to. She needed to. She wanted to prove she could be better—that she didn’t need these stupid diapers. She focused on clenching, on holding everything in— So much so that she didn’t notice the warmth spreading at the front of her diaper. It took her a second. Then her eyes widened. Realizing what was happening, she quickly reached down, pressing against the front of her diaper in a desperate attempt to stop it—but the sudden movement broke her concentration. Her body betrayed her in an instant. With a forceful push, she felt the unmistakable pressure shift. “No—!” It was too late. She could feel it starting, the heavy, inevitable movement pushing into the back of her diaper. The padding gave way, swelling outward as it filled, pressing against her as the accident she’d been fighting all day finally took over. Her resistance broke. Max froze, breath hitching, as her body finished what it had started. When it was over, she stayed there for a moment, unmoving. Then slowly, reluctantly, she stood up. She turned toward her mirror. The front of her diaper was stained a dull yellow, no longer the clean white it had been before. The back was swollen, bulging out noticeably beneath her, the shape impossible to ignore. Max reached around and pressed her hand against it, feeling the fullness. She cringed. A mix of frustration, embarrassment, and something else she didn’t want to think about twisted in her chest. She didn’t want to leave her room. Not yet. Not to face her mom. Not to explain. So instead, she went back to her desk and sat down. As she settled into her chair, she shifted slightly, feeling the uncomfortable weight and softness of her diaper. It annoyed her at first—the way it pressed and moved—but after a few minutes, her body adjusted, and the feeling dulled into something more bearable. The smell slowly began to fill the room. Max wrinkled her nose faintly, but didn’t move. Strangely, despite everything, she wasn’t entirely displeased with how it felt. The thought caught her off guard. Confused, she shook her head and forced her attention back to the game in front of her. About thirty minutes later, there was a knock at her door. Before she could respond, it opened, and her mother stepped inside. Max glanced up. Her mom paused almost immediately, her nose scrunching slightly as the smell reached her. Without saying anything at first, she walked over behind Max’s chair and gently pulled the back of the diaper away, looking inside. Max’s face burned. “Mom, I swear—I was headed to the bathroom, but Ally—” “Max, don’t blame your sister for your accident. You could have held it.” Max’s face turned a deeper shade of red, embarrassment mixing with frustration. She had tried. She was trying. But her mom wasn’t listening. She never was. Without another word, her mom guided her to the bed and had her lie down, beginning the familiar process of cleaning her up. “Max,” she said after a moment, her tone calm but firm, “I’m a bit disappointed. You haven’t had a messy accident like this in a while. I think it’s best if you wear diapers for a while, and if you can stay clean, we can try pull-ups again later.” “Mom, that’s not fair!” Max protested, her voice rising slightly. “Max, that’s enough. You didn’t even come ask for a change, so this decision is final.” Max opened her mouth to argue, but nothing came out. She didn’t have anything left to defend herself with. So she stayed quiet. Her mom finished taping on a fresh diaper and stood up. “Dinner’s ready.” Max sat up slowly, still flushed, still annoyed, and followed her out of the room. With each step, her diaper crinkled loudly, the sound making her feel smaller and smaller. Maybe she’s right… Max thought reluctantly. Maybe diapers are for the best… When they entered the kitchen, Ally was already sitting at the table. Her eyes immediately went to Max. She watched as Max walked in, her fresh diaper clearly visible, and then glanced toward their mom as she dropped the used one into the trash. “You couldn’t hold it for ten more minutes, huh?” Ally teased, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. “Ally, be nice, or I’ll put you in a diaper too,” their mother said firmly. Max didn’t look up. She kept her head down as she sat and began eating, avoiding both of them. 5 After Max had finished dinner, she decided to retreat to her room for the night. Being a Friday meant everyone would be up late doing their own thing, so she had time to relax alone without interruption from her mom or sister. Now alone, she lay back on her bed, staring up at the ceiling, replaying the day in her head. How could I have been so careless? she thought. It’s not my fault, though. Ally shouldn’t have done that. She wrestled with the thoughts for a while, but deep down, the question lingered. Why couldn’t she hold it? Maybe she really did need the diapers. Max groaned softly and rolled onto her side. Enough of that. She didn’t want to spend her whole night feeling sorry for herself. Sitting up, she thought about what to do next. As she did, she felt the familiar need to pee again—but she ignored it. Instead, she got up and headed down the hall to the game room. When she walked in, she saw Ally sitting on the floor, playing Mario Kart. “Can I join?” Max asked. “Sure,” Ally replied with a smirk. “If you want to lose.” “You’re on,” Max shot back, walking over and sitting down beside her. They started racing. As the maps went by, the pressure in Max’s bladder steadily grew stronger. She shifted slightly, trying to ignore it. She didn’t want to stop—not when she was doing well. Across from her, Ally noticed. Max was fidgeting. Ally tilted her head slightly, watching. She didn’t understand why her sister didn’t just… go. It wasn’t like Max had to worry about stopping. For some reason, that thought made Ally feel a little jealous. A moment later, she realized she needed to pee too. She shifted where she sat, trying to ignore it. Just a few moments later, Ally managed to pass Max and take the lead, with only one lap left. “Yes!” Ally squealed, clenching slightly in excitement— And accidentally let out a small leak. Her eyes widened. She froze for a second, then subtly checked beneath her. A small damp spot had formed on the floor. Panic flickered in her chest. She still really needed to go—but the final lap had already started. As they raced, Ally glanced over again. Max had stopped fidgeting. A faint, unmistakable sound reached her ears. Ally blinked. Max was peeing in her diaper. Just… letting it happen while she focused on the race. For a moment, Ally just stared, surprised. Then she snapped her attention back to the screen. No way was she losing now. They neared the finish. Ally leaned forward, completely focused, forgetting entirely about her own bladder— And just barely passed Max at the last second. “I win! Take that, Max!” she shouted, throwing her arms up in victory. And then— It happened. Her body gave in. Warmth spread instantly as she began to wet her pajamas, the small leak turning into something much bigger. She froze as it pooled beneath her, the damp spot growing into a full puddle on the floor. Max didn’t seem to notice. “Let’s go again,” Max said quickly, clearly not taking the loss well. Ally hesitated for a split second, terrified to move—but then nodded. “O-okay.” She stayed exactly where she was. As the next race started, Max shifted slightly. Now it wasn’t her bladder. Dinner was catching up to her. Her stomach tightened. She frowned, trying to ignore it. There was no way she could have another accident. Not today. Not after everything. But she also wasn’t about to lose again. Max tried to relieve some pressure, hoping it would pass. Big mistake. Her eyes widened. She felt it immediately—the unmistakable weight pressing into the back of her diaper. “No…” Too late. Ally noticed the smell first. Her nose wrinkled as she slowly turned her head. Her eyes dropped. Max’s diaper was pushing out and bulging in the back. Ally blinked, watching as it expanded. “Oh…” Moments later, their mother walked into the room. “Girls, it’s time fo—” She stopped mid-sentence, sniffing the air. Her gaze shifted. Then locked onto Max. Max froze, her face instantly turning red as she looked away. Without a word, her mom walked over and pulled at the back of Max’s diaper, checking. “Max… this is the second time today.” Her tone was calm, but firm. “If you’re not going to even try to use the bathroom, then you can’t be trusted out of diapers. That means no pull-ups—even outside the house.” “That’s not fair—” Max started. Her mom gave her a look. Silence. Max’s shoulders slumped. “Ally, sweetie, go grab Max’s changing supplies and a diaper.” Ally’s stomach dropped. She slowly began to stand— And immediately, it was obvious. The wetness. The puddle. The soaked pajamas. Her mom sighed. “Oh, Ally… not you too. You wet your pants?” Ally froze. “You know what? Go grab a diaper. You’re getting one too.” “Mom, that’s not fair! Max is the only one who—” “I said I’m not in the mood for back talk.” Ally shut up immediately. A few minutes later, she returned with the supplies. Their mom changed Max first, quickly and efficiently, before turning to Ally and putting a diaper on her as well. “Both of you—bedtime.” Once their mom left, Max looked over at her sister. A small, bitter smirk crossed her face. “Ha. You wet your pants.” Ally shot her a look. “At least I didn’t poop mine.” Max’s smirk vanished. Ally turned and walked off toward her room. Max sat there for a moment, annoyed, knowing her sister was technically right. Then she got up and headed back to her own room. She climbed into bed without another word, pulling the covers over herself. It didn’t take long before she drifted off to sleep. 6 Max woke up early that morning. As she fumbled for her glasses and put them on, she glanced at the clock. 6:07 a.m. Knowing everyone else would still be asleep for at least another hour or two, she decided to go downstairs and watch some TV. As she slid out of bed, she could feel her diaper sag heavily between her legs. Wet. As usual, she thought, trying not to dwell on it. She made her way downstairs and settled onto the couch, flipping on the TV and letting cartoons fill the quiet house. For a little while, it was peaceful. Normal, almost. About an hour later, she heard footsteps. Ally walked into the room. Max glanced over—and paused. Her sister’s pajamas were bulging slightly. Max blinked. That was… new. She couldn’t remember a single time Ally had ever wet the bed. “Uh, Ally… did you—” "Yes,” Ally cut her off quickly. “And I don’t want to talk about it.” Max raised her eyebrows slightly but didn’t push it. She turned back to the TV. Huh… A small, strange feeling crept into her chest. Not quite satisfaction. Not quite relief. But something close. Ally sat on the opposite end of the couch, pulling a blanket over herself. Beneath it, she hesitantly reached down, feeling the bulk of her diaper. It was different. She shifted slightly, testing it. It wasn’t… awful. That thought stuck with her. Their mom walked in not long after. Her eyes went straight to Max. Without hesitation, she stepped over and checked her diaper, pressing lightly against the front. “Yep… soaked,” she said matter-of-factly. “Come on, hun, let’s get that changed.” Max sighed quietly but stood up. As she followed her mom out of the room, she hesitated for just a second—then glanced back. “…Ally’s still wearing one,” she said. Her mom paused. “Oh—right. Thank you.” Max didn’t say anything else, but as she turned away, she couldn’t help the small flicker of something in her chest again. Now it’s not just me… In the bathroom, Max climbed up onto the counter without being asked, lying back as her mom got to work. She stared up at the ceiling while the familiar routine began. Cold wipes. Careful movements. The crinkle of plastic. Usually, she hated this part more than anything. But today… Her thoughts kept drifting. Ally wet the bed… She’s wearing one too… Max shifted slightly as her mom worked, her cheeks faintly pink—not from embarrassment this time, but something else she didn’t want to name. “Hold still,” her mom said gently, adjusting her. Max obeyed. “Mom…” she started, a little more confidently than usual. “Mm?” “…Are you gonna make Ally wear one all day too?” Her mom paused for just a second. “We’ll see,” she replied simply, finishing up and taping the fresh diaper snugly into place. Max frowned slightly, not entirely satisfied with the answer—but she didn’t push. A moment later, she was helped down. “All done. Go on.” Max nodded and headed back toward the living room, her diaper crinkling softly with each step. Back in the living room, Ally sat stiffly under her blanket. Now alone, her thoughts were racing. Maybe Mom forgot… Maybe she won’t notice… She shifted slightly. Her bladder still felt full. She hadn’t gone since waking up. And… she was already wearing a diaper. Ally hesitated. Then bit her lip. What’s the harm…? Slowly, cautiously, she relaxed. Warmth spread through the already damp padding, soaking deeper this time. She exhaled softly, her shoulders relaxing. A moment later, their mom walked back in. “Ally, Max just reminded me—” She stopped mid-sentence. Her eyes dropped. Then narrowed slightly. “Oh… I see.” Ally froze. Her mom walked over and pulled the blanket back, then gently tugged her pajama bottoms down just enough to see. She reached down and pressed against the diaper. Warm. Very warm. Her expression shifted. “Ally… did you wet the bed, or did this happen just now?” Ally’s face turned bright red. "Mommy, I’m sorry… I—I wet the bed… and I just had an accident now too. I didn’t mean to…” Her mom’s expression softened. “Sweetie, it’s okay. Accidents do happen.” Ally looked up, hopeful. “But there are still consequences,” her mom added calmly. “Come on.” She took Ally by the hand and led her to the bathroom. Max was just stepping out as they entered, now in a fresh diaper. Their eyes met for a brief moment. Max tried not to stare. But she noticed. Ally saw her notice. Neither said anything. Inside, her mom untaped Ally’s diaper. It dropped into the trash with a soft, heavy plop. Ally looked away, cheeks burning. After cleaning her up, she stood there, expecting— Panties. Instead, her mom held out one of Max’s pull-ups. “I want you to wear this for a while,” she said. “Just in case. If you can stay dry for the rest of the weekend, you can go back to panties.” Ally hesitated. “…Okay, Mom.” Her voice was quiet. Defeated. As she pulled the pull-up on, she felt something shift inside her. She had always been the one who didn’t need this. The one who was above it. And now… She stepped out of the bathroom. Max was still nearby. In a diaper. Ally glanced at her—really looked this time. At least I’m not in one of those… The thought came quickly. Automatically. But it didn’t feel quite as strong as it used to. She frowned slightly. …But would it really be that bad? Their mom had already moved on, heading back into the house. Ally followed slowly, unsure what to do next. The day suddenly felt very different.

The Lullaby Effect A brilliant girl builds a time machine to give her mother a hypnosis CD meant to humble her annoying brother—only to discover that the peace it brings was meant for her all along. Chapter 1: The Genius and the CD The first time Maya built a time machine, it was for revenge. Not the grand, world-altering kind. Just the petty, vicious, sibling kind—the kind that had been simmering inside her for as long as she could remember. It started the day Sam discovered that hiding her favorite stuffed rabbit was the fastest way to make her scream. From there it only grew. Wet towels left on the bathroom floor for her to step on. The empty cereal box returned to the cupboard. The channel changed right at the climax of her favorite show. Those were just warm-ups. The real cruelty was quieter, sharper. “Maya the Baby,” he’d whisper at the dinner table, loud enough for their parents to chuckle but soft enough that only she felt the sting. He said it at family gatherings. Once, he said it in front of her entire class. Her parents called it teasing. Maya burned with humiliated rage. By the time Sam turned seventeen, he had perfected the art: a perfectly timed smirk, a whispered jab as she passed in the hallway, a casual remark that lodged in her brain and spun for hours. He knew exactly where her weaknesses lived—inside the endless loops of her own mind. Because Maya was a genius. While Sam coasted on charm and easy smiles, she built functioning robots from scrap parts and taught herself calculus at twelve. At fifteen, she had finished calibrating a temporal displacement array assembled from a salvaged microwave, stolen physics textbooks, and sheer, sleepless determination. Her bedroom had long since become a laboratory with a bed shoved into one corner. Equations covered the walls. The air smelled permanently of solder and burnt ambition. The real work happened in the garage, where larger components waited like sleeping giants. Her mother had stopped asking questions years ago. Being a genius was exhausting. Her mind never powered down. It raced through every conversation, every social cue, every possible consequence. Did I say the wrong thing? What did that look mean? What if he’s planning something worse? The questions multiplied in the dark while Sam snored peacefully down the hall. The loops tightened until she couldn’t breathe. Some nights, lying rigid in bed, she wished she could simply turn her brain off. Let someone else carry the worry. Let someone else decide. Just for one night. If Sam wanted to treat her like a baby, she would give him a reason to become one himself. She spent weeks perfecting the CD, working deep into the silent hours after the house went to sleep. She researched hypnotic suggestions, studied sleep patterns, and calculated the exact frequencies needed to bypass conscious resistance. The result was no ordinary lullaby. It was a shimmering, ethereal composition layered with carefully engineered subliminals. Crucially, she encoded the suggestions on a frequency above 19,000 hertz—a pitch adults over twenty could no longer hear, but young children perceived with crystalline clarity. Her mother would never notice. But two-year-old Sam? His developing brain would drink in every word. The first embedded message ensured the disc would never be forgotten and its melody would feel irresistible: You love to listen to this music. You want to hear it every night. It makes you happy. Then came the others, layered with surgical precision: Big kid underwear feels uncomfortable. You feel safe in diapers at night. You need diapers for sleeping. Nighttime wetting feels natural. Diapers are comfortable for bed. You belong in diapers when you sleep. Almost as an afterthought, she added one more: Your mother knows what’s best for you. Always trust your mother. What your mother says is true. You don’t need to worry—Mommy will handle everything. She tested the disc on herself first, headphones pressed tight against her ears. The music washed over her—soft, insidious, strangely soothing. For a few brief minutes her racing thoughts slowed and the tension in her shoulders eased. The static in her head went quiet. But that was all. The suggestions slid off her like water on glass. Her analytical mind remained a fortress—too rigid, too fortified by years of logic to be rewritten by a simple audio track. She removed the headphones and whispered to the empty room, “It’s because I’m fifteen.” Her neural pathways were already hardened. Resistant. But for a toddler? For a two-year-old whose brain was still soft clay and whose pristine ears could absorb the signal at full strength? The rewrite would be absolute. She smiled, a cold, satisfied curve of her lips, and tucked the single silver disc into her backpack. Then she stepped toward the displacement array. Chapter 2: The Babysitter from the Future The transition was less like a leap and more like a sickening lurch. One moment Maya stood in her darkened bedroom, the air thick with the scent of solder and ozone. The next, reality tore open with a nauseating twist, spitting her out onto sun-warmed concrete. Humidity wrapped around her like a damp blanket, and she staggered, catching herself against a familiar mailbox. She smoothed down her thrift-store clothes—low-rise jeans, a simple baby-tee, her hair loose and unremarkable. She was “Ellie” now, just another helpful teenager from a few blocks over. Invisible. Forgettable. In her backpack, the silver disc rested in its jewel case, heavier than it had any right to be. The neighborhood looked softer, younger. Trees stood smaller, their leaves brighter. The house she approached was painted a cheerful cream instead of the weathered gray she remembered, and the flower beds her mother would later tend with her were still bare soil. From the open living room window came the unmistakable sound of a toddler’s high-pitched, rhythmic screaming. Sam. At nearly two years old, he was already ruling the household with tiny fists and lungs of steel. Maya’s stomach tightened as she stepped onto the porch and knocked. A moment later, the door swung open to reveal her mother—Sarah—younger than Maya had ever known her. Barely into her thirties, with fewer worry lines and eyes still bright despite the exhaustion etched across her face. Her hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, and dark circles shadowed her eyes. One hand rested protectively over the slight curve of her belly. That’s me, Maya thought, a wave of vertigo slamming into her. I’m inside there right now. Growing. “Yes?” Sarah’s voice hovered on the edge of tears. Behind her, baby Sam sat purple-faced in his high chair, hurling handfuls of mushy peas at the wall. The kitchen looked like a war zone—splattered food, overturned cups, and the sharp smell of frustration hanging in the air. “Hi! I’m Ellie. I just moved in a few streets over and heard you might need a hand?” Maya forced brightness into her voice, masking the cold purpose beneath it. Sarah sagged with visible relief. “I… I wasn’t expecting anyone, but maybe I should have been.” She gestured weakly at the chaos. “This one hasn’t napped properly in weeks. And with the new baby coming…” Her hand drifted unconsciously over her stomach. “I’m just at my wit’s end.” Maya couldn’t stop staring at the gentle swell beneath her mother’s shirt. Somewhere in there, cells were dividing, a tiny heart forming—the beginning of the girl who would one day build a time machine and return to this exact moment. The irony tasted metallic on her tongue. “Actually, I have something that might help,” Maya said, reaching into her bag. She pulled out the silver disc. “It’s a neuro-acoustic track. My uncle works in developmental therapy. It’s more than just a lullaby—it calms tantrums, improves sleep, and creates real peace. Long-term.” Sarah’s eyes widened with desperate hope. “Does it really work?” “Watch.” Maya crossed to the bulky silver CD player on the entertainment center. She slid the disc into the tray, pressed play, and stepped back. The music that filled the room was soft and shimmering—an ethereal melody that seemed to vibrate just beneath conscious thought. It wrapped around the chaos like silk. Within seconds, Sam’s screaming cut off mid-wail. He froze, pea still clutched in his chubby fist, his face draining from purple to pink to serene. His eyes glazed over, his little chest rising and falling in time with the tempo. The tension melted from his body. The pea dropped forgotten to the floor. Sarah gasped, one hand flying to her mouth. “How… what is that?” “Just science,” Maya said quietly. She watched her brother’s slack, peaceful expression and felt a flicker—not triumph, but something colder. A shadow of doubt she hadn’t anticipated. She turned to her mother. “You can keep it. This is the only copy of this specific mix. Play it every night for the best results. It helps with sleep, behavior… with everything.” Sarah took the jewel case with trembling fingers, gazing at the disc like a lifeline. “I can’t thank you enough, Ellie. Truly. If this can give us even one peaceful night before the baby comes, I don’t know what I’d do without it.” Maya glanced once more at her mother’s pregnant belly. The girl growing inside would one day weaponize that same music against her brother. Or so she had planned. “You won’t have to worry at all,” Maya said, her voice thickening unexpectedly. “The CD will take care of everything. It’ll make him very… manageable.” Sarah reached out and squeezed her hand gratefully. “Thank you. Really. I don’t know what I would have done.” Maya pulled away gently, backing toward the door. “It’s nothing. Just… play it every night. Consistency matters.” “Every night,” Sarah repeated, nodding firmly. “I promise.” Maya stepped off the porch into the heavy summer heat. Behind her, the music continued—soft, insidious, already weaving itself into the walls of the house. She could hear Sam’s breathing, slow and even for the first time in weeks. As she walked down the sidewalk, past the bare flower beds and smaller trees, the timeline seemed to ripple faintly around her. The jewel case in her backpack was empty now. The disc was already spinning, already working its magic. I won, she told herself. Sam will wake up in diapers. He’ll finally understand what it feels like. But the words felt hollow. She kept seeing her mother’s exhausted, hopeful face and the protective hand on her belly. She kept hearing the subliminal she had added almost as an afterthought: You don’t need to worry—Mommy will handle everything. A cold tendril of unease curled in her chest. She pushed it down. Everything was fine. Everything would be perfect. The world blurred at the edges. The summer heat dissolved into a cold, static-filled void that swallowed her whole.

This story started on adisc.org, but I am moving it here after it was announced that the site will soon be closing. I have taken the opportunity to rewrite parts of the text. Criticism—both positive and negative—and comments are welcome. The New Family Chapter 1: The Ad Lucas stood in the kindergarten playground, pushing Peter, Mette, and Katrine on the swings. It had been a year since he started working as an assistant at the kindergarten after finishing high school. He liked the job. The children were sweet, and the trained teachers and other assistants were nice enough. However, it wasn't what he was passionate about. He had been fascinated by rocks and minerals since a fifth-grade field trip where they visited a cliff with visible geological layers. Now, the time had come for him to fulfill his dream. In just two weeks, he would begin studying geology at a university two hours away from his hometown. He had saved up over the past year to have money for his studies. However, there was still a problem. He didn't know where he was going to live. Living in the university dormitory was an option, but the other students would almost certainly discover his secret there. Lucas was a bedwetter and had worn diapers at night his whole life. His family was open about it, and his little sister still wore diapers at night too. However, none of his friends or classmates knew, and he wanted to keep it that way. He feared being ostracized and teased if anyone found out about his diapers. Therefore, he had been looking for a private room near the university for a long time. However, they were either too expensive or already rented out to others when he inquired. And now time was running out. Soon, it was be time for the last children to be picked up. After tidying up—putting toys away and wiping down tables and chairs—Lucas was ready to go home. After dinner, which consisted of chicken curry with rice and green beans, Lucas sat at the kitchen table as usual and looked through the housing ads in the newspaper. His parents drank coffee and his sister Emma did her homework in her room. At first, there didn't seem to be anything suitable. He had plowed through several columns of ads with prices far beyond his budget, and he hadn’t found anything useful. His parents didn't have high-paying jobs, so they couldn't help much. But then he saw a different ad. Lucas could hardly believe his eyes. He blinked and read it again. And again. It said the same thing every time: Room for rent for serious student. You will become part of the family, but we have demands that may seem unreasonable and violate your privacy. Rent: 1 euro per month. Was it a joke or a scam? Probably. But he couldn't forget the words “1 euro per month.” His finger traced the words, and he felt his pulse quicken. Could this be the miracle he had been hoping for? He imagined paying with a one-euro coin and walking into his own cozy room, complete with a desk covered in papers and a potted plant on the windowsill. There would be no strangers seeing his diapers in the closet or him taking off his wet diaper in the morning. It felt too good to be true, and the problem was that maybe that was exactly what it was. But the ad was under “Rooms” and not “Jokes.” He returned to the words “unreasonable” and “violate your privacy.” What could it be? Surveillance cameras? Mandatory early bedtimes? Or strict house rules that would make him feel like a prisoner? He had no idea. There was no harm in asking, and the price was tempting. Lucas wrote down the phone number and went into his room to call. He dialed the number before he could change his mind. The call was answered quickly. “Daniel Meyer,” said a firm, calm male voice. “Uh, hello,” Lucas said nervously. “My name is Lucas Andersen. I'm calling about the ad. The room for rent.” There was a short pause that made Lucas wonder if he had made a mistake. Then the man said, “Ah, yes. Are you a student?” “Yes, soon. I'm starting a geology program at the university in two weeks.” “Good. It's only for serious students.” Lucas hesitated. “About the rent? Is it really only one euro?” “That's correct.” He tightened his grip on the phone. “And the demands? What are they?” Another pause. “We can talk about that if you come and see the room. Can you come tomorrow?” Lucas's mouth was dry. “Yes, after work. Where is it?” “Six o'clock would be fine.” The man gave Lucas an address in the city not far from the university district, which Lucas wrote down. Lucas agreed to the time. The man asked him not to be late, then ended the call. After hanging up, Lucas sat on his bed staring at the address he had written down. His heart was pounding in his chest. Maybe it was a terrible idea. Maybe he would immediately regret it. But the same part of him that had hoped for the past year that he could soon move out of his parents' house and start a new life told him he had to take the chance. The next day, at six o'clock, he would find out what a one-euro rent really cost.

This is my first story, ABDL or otherwise- please be gentle with me 😉 I apologise in advance for grammatical, spelling or formatting errors- I tend to make these when I write while drunk, and I only write while drunk... This one is a slow-burner, but you can expect elements such as breastfeeding, regression and potentially MDLB in chapters to come. I welcome all constructive criticism/suggestions 😀 Jackson exhaled as his watch ticked over to 5 p.m. Friday afternoon. Freedom. It had been a long week—longer than most. To an outsider, being a work-from-home data analyst might not seem particularly stressful. But between managing an ever-growing workload and navigating the personalities—or lack thereof—on his team, the days took their toll. As the workweek wound down, Jackson caught himself counting the minutes until he could finally—finally—switch off from that side of his life and flake out for the weekend. He reached slowly for the power button on his PC, switching it off in a small private ceremony that brought him more joy than most things in his life. Most. He’d be the first to admit his personal life was only marginally more exciting than his work life—as if that was hard to beat—but at least he wouldn’t be staring into the void of his screen as endless data spilled through his site. He blinked—long, slow—and let the numbers and letters scatter from his mind as he stepped into the hall, walking slowly down the carpet to his bedroom. Shedding his button-up shirt and slacks—worn more out of habit than necessity for the occasional video call—he yanked his robe from the hook on the back of the door and slipped it on, savoring its softness against his skin. His eyes swept the spartan room—painfully aware that interior decor was not his strong suit—as he half-heartedly contemplated what the weekend might hold. His social calendar was as blank as his unadorned walls. He’d moved to the city six months earlier, chasing job opportunities after months of fruitless searching back in his quiet hometown. Ironically, he’d landed his remote position just days after settling into a small apartment on the fourth floor of an utterly nondescript block of flats. The building, mostly populated by quiet single professionals working in the bustling CBD, was perfect for an introvert like Jackson. The only recent break in the monotony had been a flurry of activity the previous weekend when a new tenant moved in down the hall. Boxes, a change table, and a few oversized stuffed animals had briefly clogged the corridor as removalists hauled load after load from the elevator, leaving clutter in their wake. Jackson had skirted the mess on his way back from the corner store, arms full of the meagre groceries he planned to subsist on through the weekend. Now, standing in his bedroom that Friday afternoon, he reached into the bottom of his cupboard for one of those provisions—a particular box he had both anticipation and a certain level of shame about. Digging around his shoes at the base of the shelves, Jackson felt a flicker of excitement as he pulled the cardboard free and carried it into the open-plan kitchen. He dropped it onto the bench with a satisfying thud, retrieved a butter knife from the drawer, and ran it down the taped seam until the top popped open. Inside: beer. He plucked a couple of bottles from the box and transferred them swiftly to the fridge, repeating the process until it was stocked. Then he paused, staring at the neat rows of shiny bottles glinting under the fridge light. He already felt a pang of guilt. He knew he’d try to pace himself—and he knew he’d fail. Sophie let out a breath of relief as she dragged the final box inside from the hallway. Moving sucked. No question about it. And this was the third time in just over a year. With a persistently controlling ex still lingering on the edges of her life, she’d been forced to uproot her small family again and again, each time hoping it would be the last. She turned to survey the stark interior of her new apartment—gray walls glowering back at her, tugging at the edges of her seemingly boundless optimism. She put her hands on her hips and bit her lower lip. No—this wouldn’t do. Within hours, the walls were under attack. A flurry of colourful, if not exactly coordinated, finger paintings, abstract portraits, and wobbly collages soon covered the once-blank surfaces. The artist? Her equally hopeful two-year-old son, Max, who bounced around the space, dodging—and occasionally tripping over—his mother’s busy feet. By evening, the apartment had been transformed into a swirling patchwork of colour, bursting with decorative joy. It didn’t always reflect how Sophie felt inside, but she knew she owed it to Max to surround him with beauty—even while their lives were being shadowed by an ugliness she refused to let him see. It dawned on her that hours had passed since the impromptu interior decorating had begun, and she scooped Max up to check his diaper, which as suspected was soaked within an inch of its life. Plonking Max onto the recently installed change table in his small room, she deftly stripped it from his wiggling form and dumped it into the pail, before taping him into a fresh one while simultaneously working to stop him running nude from the room. She smiled to herself throughout the process, this little chore strangely bringing her more joy than most other aspects of her life. Sophie loved being a mother, and all the little moments it brought with it. She hummed to herself happily as she fell back into her nursing chair, her incessantly moving son in arms, unpopping the buttons on her cardigan and unclasping the top of her nursing bra in comfortingly familiar series of motions. Max's wiggling subsided as he recognised the signals, and he homed in on her waiting breast instinctively. The two of them relaxed into the comfortable chair, finally relaxing, as if for the first time in days. Jackson awoke with a start. He immediately knew something was wrong, a deeply unsettling feeling that beat inside his chest with his heartbeat as he sat up in bed and frantically looked about the dark room. He was completely dazed, unsure where he was or how he got to be there, as his sleeping mind rebooted into normality- slowly. Thinking back to his last conscious memories he saw himself at his desktop, playing an RPG increasingly ineffectually as he cracked beers open one after the other until he could barely grip his mouse. Snapping back to the present he was assaulted by a wave of stimuli- a pounding headache at the forefront, followed shortly by overwhelming tiredness and... damp. He was laying in what could only be described as a swamp of sheets, wet about his legs and all the way up to his waist. No. This could not be happening. Not now, not to him- surely? Somewhere in the back of his memories tugged a familiarity, somewhere way off in his distant past. He brushed it off as he sat up in bed, incredulously dealing with the present. He'd pissed himself. Jesus. Fucking. Christ. Jackson. You worthless idiot- imagine drinking so many beers you piss yourself like a toddler. How stupid could you be? Burning with shame Jackson arose and slowly gathered his bedding, casting aside a doona that seemed to have escaped the worst of the damage. He bundled it all into his laundry basket and sat at the end of his bed contemplating his dilemma. A more put together person would have a fresh set of sheets waiting to go in a cupboard or some such, but unfortunately that person was not him. He cast an eye to his dirty laundry 'floordrobe' as he slipped into some moderately clean basketball shorts and last remaining clean tee as he stood on unsteady feet and prepared to make his way 6 flights down to the buildings communal laundry room. The green glow of his bedside alarm clock read '04:21' and he felt a pang of relief that there was a virtually zero chance of running into anyone down there at this time of morning. 04:21 A sharp, almost piercing, wail brought Sophie out of her unconsciousness and she instinctively rolled to look at the time. Experience told her that the combination of hour and noise meant one thing- accident. She steeled herself as she rolled herself out of bed and stumbled toward her door and out into the hall towards Max's room, praying silently that it was the lesser of evils- "please not poop or puke, please...". She was more than equipped to deal with any bodily fluid as a mother of several years, but still... "Max honey, are you ok?" "Mummy... I wet" She almost let out a sigh of relief. Wet means a 5 minute turnaround to back in bed, maximum. "Its alright baby, hop up and I'll fix your bed". As she turned on the light in Max's room she was hit with the sudden realisation that his clean sheets and pillow cases were still packed away in a box in storage for her planned final run tomorrow. Sophie, you absolute clown, she chastised herself. How can you be so idiotic, don't you ever just stop and think ahead? What kind of mother are you? Sophie stopped in her tracks, sidelined by the sudden onslaught of shame and self-doubt that washed over her, until "Mummy?" She snapped out of her stupor immediately and rushed to her son. "Its alright baby- hop up and we'll go sleep in mummy's bed'. Minutes later Max was back in the land of nod, fresh pullup and pajamas adorning him. She wished she was so lucky, as she pushed his bedsheets into the wicker basket she thankfully had the foresight to bring to the apartment that day. She knew that somewhere in the basement was laundry room, and she was reasonably sure she would have it to herself so if all went to plan, a 20 minute wash and 30 minute dry would see her back in bed cuddling Max within the hour. Jackson stood at the ancient washing machine in his apartment building's basement, assessing the controls through bleary, half-drunk eyes. Intense wash. Gentle cycle. Woolens. Quick wash. Ah yes, that sounds perfect. Its pee right? Basically water, mostly. That should do it. Just then he realised that in his haste to come down here he'd not even grabbed his bottle of cheap laundry liquid to add to the machine. 'Ah well' he thought, 'its only been a few minutes since the... deed- it probably won't matter'. He slammed the door shut and watched his shameful articles begin to swirl around in the warm water, his mortification dissipating as the evidence of his weakness began to disappear into the ether. He stepped back and leaned against the wooden bench, heartbeat returning to normal and weariness beginning to overtake the adrenaline that had overcome him since his abrupt wake up. He slowly sank to the ground with his back against the wooden leg of the bench, letting himself drift- he knew from experience the piercing beep of the finishing cycle would bring him back around soon enough. Sophie stepped out of the spartan elevator into the basement hall, turning left and right in search of some sign to show her the way to the buildings laundry. It was dark down there, and she felt a slight chill that was not just the unheated level she was on. Seeing a glow at one end she made her way down with a small amount of trepidation tempered with a knowledge that she was more than capable of looking after herself. Nonetheless she felt quite relieved when she reached the light she had seen and found herself in a dingey laundry room, bordered by a line of aged washing machines on one side, and their drying counterparts on the other, separated by a giant wooden sorting bench in the middle. She plonked her wicker basked down on the benchtop and cast her eyes for the nearest washing machine, immediately noticing one running in the center- with a small start she recognised that she must have a fellow night launderer- but where were they? Catching her breath, Sophie guessed that they must have returned to their apartment, planning to collect their laundry at a more reasonable hour, and she relaxed. She was keen to meet her new neighbours, but she just didn't have it in her to chat it up at this late - or early- hour. She poured the contents of her basket into a vacant machine, and fumbled a few quarters into the slots to get it going, selecting a quick cycle in the interest of getting back to her warm bed as soon as possible. She leant back against the wooden bench in the center of the room, and slowly sank down to the ground in order to make herself as comfortable as possible for the... 28 minute... wait. As she closed her eyes and slowly sank into a lesser consciousness, she was brought suddenly back to the real world by a loud snort, or snore, immediately behind her. Jackson dreamt of home. Not Home- the home. Long passages. Rooms full of bunks. Loud angry voices, fighting words. Slamming doors. Broken sleep. Strange- to dream deeply of not sleeping deeply. Were he conscious, Jackson would have loved the irony. But he slept, deeply but not soundly. This was his usual retinue of dreams, shades of his past that haunted him when he was at his most vulnerable. He murmured, occasionally speaking single words of distress quietly, eyes flickering. His usual booze facilitated nothingness had been taken from him by his unfortunate earlier awakening, so he was left with what he avoided. Sophie stood up, trembling as she turned, expecting to find Him there, owner of the derisive snort she swore she had heard moments ago. But she found nothing behind her, just a bench and a line of driers, as before. She chastised herself for her moment of weakness, just a little girl scared of the dark- pathetic. But as she slowly went to return to her previous position, she heard it again- not quite the same, not a snort this time but some murmuring, mumbling- clearly human. She shot up again and backed up to her washer, dashing her eyes back and forth, seeking an explanation in the banality of this room. The noise continued- she wasn't imagining anything. But where the hell was it? She mustered every ounce of her courage and began to side step towards the hallway door, planning an escape if needed. As she rounded the edge of the bench she caught a glimpse of something distinctly human- a foot, splayed out on the opposite side of the bench from where she had been sitting. A cold grasp took her and she froze in her spot, willing herself to run, but as the moments past and the disembodied foot stayed motionless she mustered enough courage to crane her neck further around the bench to gather more evidence to guide her fight or flight instinct. From the orphaned foot, more body emerged into her field of vision. Skinny legs, pale. Blue mesh shorts, sports shorts. Then, a body- slim, not big or scary in the least. Courage building, Sophie stepped quietly around the bench to see a boy- no, a man, but barely- laying on the floor propped against the bench. Jackson dreamt of his mum, gazing down at him as he lay. Sandy hair, down to her shoulders, completely straight. He remembered playing with it as a small child, pulling it gently through his fingers like sand trickling through them on a beach. He fought to see her face, but it flickered and shadowed in his vision, never letting him glimpse a single feature. He felt like screaming, let me see her, but he couldn't get it out of his throat. He lay and groaned through his teeth at the injustice. Where are you? Why won't you let me see you? Sophie stared at the young man, clearly completely unaware of her presence and clearly dreaming- and not good dreams. She felt a pang of sympathy for him, recollecting many occasions watching Max in a similar state, wanting to help but knowing it was not her place to interfere with the natural process of dreaming. She also felt a touch of guilt, to hold this privilege of wakened vigil over someone powerless to choose their audience. She had the sudden urge to reach out and gently wake him, fix his immediate dilemma, and made her way a few steps closer in order to gently touch his arm, bring him to. As she got closer Sophie's nose caught a glimmer of a familiar scent- pee. She was immediately sure of her instinct- after all she had a very recent sample to go off. She froze and stepped back, sniffing herself and her pajamas to see if she had caught the remnants of Max's night clothes and bedding that she had held in her arms moments earlier, but found nothing of it about herself. Drawing nearer to the strange young man again the scent grew stronger, backing her earlier conclusion. She cast the eyes of a practised toddlers mum to the man's groin, but saw nothing that would explain the smell of urine- no telltale dark patch or dampness. She shook her head- clearly she was sleep deprived. Drawing back, Sophie resolved to do the smart thing and wake the young man by other means, and walking back over to the bank of washing machines she swiftly tapped the open door of a vacant one closed, the clack of the latch and beep of the display turning on causing a relative uproar in the quiet room. Jackson dreamt of him. The man who held all the power, over him, over everyone else stuck in that place with him. At first a shadow, towering over him, a small boy. The man grew taller as he, stuck in his past form of a small boy, cowered and froze. As the figure approached his features came into focus. Unfortunately for Jackson, he could see every part of the man's hateful face, from the pale skin, to the crooked nose and sunken grey eyes. He willed himself to run, fight, do anything- to no avail, as the horrid man loomed, pulling a long, dark strip of leather from his side and slowly raised it up to block out the sun, block out anything Jackson could see or hope to see. It fell towards him in slow motion, cascading down toward him, to its terminus until- CLACK! Jackson awoke with a start, fear gripping him and scream in his mouth. He jumped forward, tumbling into the driers in front of him and spinning to the noise. In front of him, on the other side of the laundry bench he saw a lady looking at him with shock in her eyes, leaning back to her bank of washing machines as if to put as much distance between them as possible. He slowly stood up, back against the cold metal of the machine, trying to make himself as small as possible, simultaneously out of the latent fear of his dreams, shock at the sudden confusing situation, and to not scare the shit out of the poor woman. "Sorry!" Sophie blurted, "I didn't mean to wake you up", she lied. "I'm sorry!" Jackson mumbled, although he wasn't sure what for, or what was going on for that matter, "I didn't mean to fall asleep". Sophie felt a pang of sympathy for the poor boy, who was clearly bewildered about what was going on around him. "I'm Sophie" she offered, not knowing what else she could possibly say in the situation. "Jackson" Jackson replied, wondering if he knew how to say anything else at this point. Silence surrounded them for a short while, before Sophie continued "Doing some laundry?" Jackson laughed, and then Sophie laughed as well. The absurdity of it. "Yep. Strange time to do laundry I guess..." he trailed off. "My son had an accident, and I didn't have any other sheets. I just moved here today. Yesterday I mean, I guess..." Sophie fumbled. Jackson almost had a stroke trying to come up with something adjacent to a reason why he would be here, at this time, doing laundry. "I... work from home" he started, then stopped. "Oh... that's nice" Sophie continued for him, unsure why he had offered that non sequitur. "I mean, I work odd hours, so this is my laundry time..." Jackson finished. Fuck. Would he have to do laundry at 4 in the morning forever to furnish that lie? "Oh, right" Sophie said, fake-knowingly, not knowing how else to respond. The silence hung heavy in the room for a while, until Jackson gathered his wits enough to further "So you're new to the building?" "Yes!" Sophie latched on, enthusiastically, gathering herself a bit, "Just today. How do you like it here?" "Its fine, I guess" responded Jackson, who had never really given it much thought, "Everyone's nice. Well, I mean, they keep to themselves. But there's never any problems". He didn't know what else to say about it. "Well, that's perfect". Sophie actually meant it- it was literally all she wanted in the world right now. All of a sudden their conversation was interrupted by a sharp beeping noise- Jackson's washing machine had finished its chore. He awkwardly made a show of slowly and unthreateningly making his way around the bench to collect his items. Watching him intently while putting on a facade of not doing so, Sophie suddenly felt silly for previously seeing this awkward, unassuming and ultimately, slightly cute, boy as a potential threat. He moved as if he was afraid an anvil might suddenly drop on him in the style of a looney tunes cartoon. Her acute empathetic senses caught something as he shuffled past her, a fragility she hadn't sensed in the men she had encountered before, although perhaps she was overcompensating after the initial shock of finding him and worrying he might harm her. "Well, nice to meet you" Jackson blurted out as he pulled his last item from the machine into his plastic basket, turning to make for the door. "Aren't you going to dry them?" Sophie queried, emboldened now. "Ah yes, of course..." Jackson murmured, "Woops". His face reddened. Sophie felt bad for calling him out, "I can just throw them in with mine if you like, I've got a few minutes left on the wash. I can drop them at your door on the way back up". Jackson didn't know what to say. He wanted to say no, I can do my own laundry thank you very much, but the words wouldn't come to him. He couldn't think of a good reason not to accept. "You don't have to do that, I'm sure you've got a lot of..." he trailed off. "It's fine" Sophie quickly replied. Not just because she wanted the room back to herself, without awkward conversation, but also because she was struck with a strange, almost maternal, urge to help this young man. "What's your apartment number" she continued before he could argue further. "603" Jackson replied, not knowing what else he could do or say in this situation. "Oh that's great!" Sophie smiled, "We're in 608, just down the hall I think" "That's great" Jackson forced, feeling unable to do or say anything else. He stood there for a minute, trying to recall what a normal person might do now. "Well... have a good sleep" Sophie gave him a nice smile, "I'm sure your basket will be fine out in the hall until you wake up" As Jackson rode the elevator back to his floor he thought about Sophie, of her pajamas with daisies, her beautiful smile that lit that dark laundry room up, her straight strawberry blonde hair. He kept thinking of her until he dropped into his unsheeted bed and his head hit the pillow, dropping him into a dreamless sleep. Sophie stood in the laundry room after Jackson left, wide awake now. Well, she thought, I guess the coffee machine will be working overtime today. At least Max had daycare today, so there would be a chance at a nap before the afternoon festivities. As she waited for her own washing to finish, she dragged Jackson's basket over to the front of a dryer to load up. As she pulled his faded navy blue sheets (may as well be grey now, by her reckoning) from the basket, she noted the multitude of holes throughout them, clearly well worn and well used- boys. She almost tutted out loud, and caught herself- don't become that kind of old maid, she chastised herself. As she leant to push his sheets into the machine, her nostrils caught that scent again, this time unmistakable.

I had just turned 18 years old. I was getting ready for my Freshman year of college. I was accepted at State University in Greenmore. It was a 3 1/2 drive there and back. I wasn't looking foreward to driving 7 hours a day, just to go to school. Mom's best friend Aunt Kathy, and Uncle John lived in Greenmore. They were not really my Aunt and Uncle. Mom and Kathy were best friends from Grade School through mom's Sophomore year at State. She met dad and the rest is history as the say, mom married dad the end of their Junior year. Aunt Kathy married Uncle John what would of been my mom's and her Senior year. Mom moved here and Aunt Kathy got a Masters Degree in Education. Mom had me, then about a year later, Aunt Kathy had Evelyn. Aunt Kathy about 9 months later had John Jr. John Jr. was a preemie, he had always been a sickly kid, his lungs never developed enough. As a kid he had the little oxygen maker that he wore over his shoulder, with a nasal cannula up his nose. Looked like one of those old guys with Emphysema. John Jr. never got to be a real kid. He never got to play football, play tag, do anything a real kid got to do. When we went there or they came here for a visit, I saw Evelyn, and John Jr. get diapers at night. I guess they both wet their beds, it was okay though, I had a huge crush on Evelyn! She had to be the most beautiful girl I knew. I was about 13 or 14 years old last we seen of each other. Aunt Kathy used to diaper them together, in the livingroom. Evelyn was my dream girl when I discovered masturbation she was the one that I imagined. I was going to move in with Aunt Kathy, Uncle John, and Evelyn. John Jr. had died about a year and a half ago. He got the Covid and as sickly as he was lasted about 3 days before it killed him. He was diagnosed on Friday afternoon and died early Monday morning. It was more than his poor little body could endure. I was offered his room to live in while I was going to school in Greenmore. Mom and dad were not rich, so living with Aunt Kathy, Uncle John and Evelyn was a God send! There was no way we could afford for me to stay at the dorms!