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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 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/

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…

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....

My background: I’m sporty and athletic in real life. One secret I have that nobody knows about is I’m a lifelong diaper lover. I remember when I was younger making lots of makeshift nappies (I’m from England so its nappies over Diapers) and my younger cousin who used to come over used to wear pull ups, I used to be really jealous of her and steal her mini mouse pull ups 😅 Story Background: This is 100% a true story which happened to me a few years ago when I was 23 in the hospital. I was going in for routine Hernia surgery, it was supposed to be a day procedure or 1 night stay depending on how I felt after the surgery but due to a few minor complications and events I ended up in the hospital for 4 nights. I hope you enjoy how this story unfolds it was a dream come true for me but also fulfilled with embrassment. FYI I’m not a great writer and not great with words so I do apologise if my storys bad to follow. Chapter 1: Arriving at hospital day of the surgrey After being on NHS waiting list for 2 years it was finally time to get my hernia surgery. I was excited to finally get my hernia repaired as it has held me back with a lot of my sporting activities this past few years. I arrived at the hospital and I brought my overnight bag. On the pre op assessment they told me that if I get my surgrey early that morning I should be eligble for day release which I definitely preferred but they said be prepared to have to stay one night so I brought my overnight bag. I arrived at the hospital and the letter said to go straight up to the ward, it was the surgical ward. I was waiting outside the door for quite a while at surgical ward before nurse spotted me and buzzed the door to let me into the ward. I showed her my referral letter and she was very nice and she pointed me up to the desk. Once I arrived at the ward desk there was 6 nurses behind the desk and the receptionist. I thought it was unusual for all the nurses to be sitting behind desk but it was first thing in the morning so their shifts had likely just started they where all either chatting or writing notes into a clipboard. All of the nurses was very attractive two looked older than me I would say one was mid 30s and other early 40s. The other nurses looked similar age to me around 25 and I seen one was a student nurse she looked younger. One of the girls was blonde and she was beautiful I saw her name was Shannon. She gave me a smile and said can I take a look at your letter and then she goes ahh Jack your rooms just down here let me show you and she led me down to which was believe it or not room 1 on a 30 room ward. Once I arrived she said she had to do a covid test first before they proceeded on. (This was 2023 year of my surgrey so covid tests where still relevant especially in hospital settings). She came back shortly with the test and put the swab up my nose and swirled it around. I always hated getting tests in my nose and it made my eyes water. After the covid test was taken she said she’ll be back in half an hour once the test was finished and to make myself comfortable and unpack. As I was unpacking Shannon came back 30 minutes later and said everything was fine with my COVID test. She then handed me a questionnaire to fill out in meantime and said she would be back shortly to explain details about my surgrey. I was filling out the questionnaire and it was general questions like medical history, any allergies, high blood pressure etc general standard questions except when I came to a tick box, day time incontinence, night time incontinence or both. Being a life long diaper lover this question sparked my interest. I mulled over what to do and I finished the rest of the questionnaire before coming back to incontinence question, I gave it some thought as I didn’t know what to do as my parents would be collecting me from the surgrey and if it was the next morning I don’t want them finding anything out. A rush of blood went to my head and I said “Fuck it” and ticked “Night Time Incontinence” and I set the clipboard down before I tried to change anything. It was only a few moments after I set the clipboard down Shannon came into my room again and asked me how I was getting on with the questionnaire. I told her I was all done. She passed me my surgical gown and said to me that I would need to put this on before surgrey, and due to where surgrey was she said you’ll have to remove your underwear, she said we do have these disposable underwear but you don’t have to wear them most male patients choose not to, and i held up the disposable underwear and they looked like skimpy womens panties and we both looked at each other and laughed and I said I don’t think I will be wearing these and we both laughed. She said she will give me a 30 minute heads up to get changed before surgrey into my surgrey clothes and not to worry. I said thats great and as she was leaving she picked up the clipboard and said she will give this to the surgeon have I everything filled out and I replied that I think so. Giving my response she started scanning through the questionnaire, I could see her pupils dialate as she was reading down you could see it in her face but she was really professional and passed no remarks. I knew it was at nightime incontinence one, and I could feel my cheeks burning red with embrassment. But she never said a thing she just replied everything looks great Jack I will give this to the surgeon, just sit tight and I’ll give you a heads up when your surgrey is near. I tried to keep myself busy in between times scrolling on tiktok, Netflix looking at diaper girl stories on tumblr etc anything to try keep me busy. It had passed and it was now 4pm. I was thinking am I ever going to get this surgrey. I was a bit nervous regarding the surgrey so I was keen to get it out of the way. Shortly after 4pm one of the nurses called Laura came into help. She was around 35 and she was on of the Nursing Auxiliarys on. She had been in a couple of times to chat during the day and we had gotten along really well. She came in and said I have bad and good news for you. I looked at her and said well then start with the bad. She said okay your surgreys not happening until the tomorrow morning, there was a couple of emergency surgeries had to be performed today unfortunately but the surgeons taking you first thing at 9am tomorrow morning, I looked at her and said okay and now for the good news. She smiled trying to cheer me up and goes the good news is I get to take your order for your free dinner and bed and breakfast. I looked at her and smiled to as I knew she was just trying to cheer me up. I looked at the sheet and I ordered shepards pie and porridge for breakfast. She told me dinners around 6pm. I used this as a good time to text my mum and dad and to tell them what happened, they where asking did I want them to come for evening visiting time and I told them not to worry its just one night I’ll get caught up on some netflix series on my iPad. This seemed to put them at ease. Shortly after dinner (which wasn’t the best) I got a bit bored. Having not had my surgrey yet I was obviously as mobile and quite capable. Shannon came in I hadn’t seen her in quite a while. I asked her if I could go stretch my legs outside the hospital and go to the hospital shop. She said normally patients aren’t allowed to without supervision but in these circumstances she said she doesn’t think it will matter. She told me when I come back to buzz the door and someone will open it. I left the ward and was delighted to be out walking about 12 hours in one room was enough. I walked around the outside of the hospital for around an hour I covered a right few steps. On my way back in front entrance the hospital shop was there. I decided to go get something in the shop as I was hungry for I didnt eat a lot of the shepards pie for dinner. I purchased a bottle of BPM, Haribo Starmix and a packet of Quavers Cheese. As I was making my way up to the ward I wondered was I going to be allowed to bring in what I had purchased in shop. I’m sure I was but I didn’t want to take risk either so I quickly took my hoodie off and I hit the crisps sweets and drink in my hoodie and put it under my arm. As i approached the ward I buzzed to get in. Same as this morning was no answer. After what felt like an age standing there a nurse I hadn’t seen before today spotted me outside and she came to the door. She asked me who I was and after briefly explaining who I was she said Shannon had told me when she was changing shifts come on ahead you haven’t missed tea and toast yet. I was delighted at the thought of getting tea and toast. As I was walking back to the room I noticed the Tea cart. Just futher on down was another cart, I gulped as I seen what was on top it was Abenda M4 Nappies(being a diaper lover I immediately recognised the brand when I seen them), i couldn’t believe it and the cart wasn’t very far from my room. As i reached my room memories started flooding back from this morning of me ticking night time incontinence. I was filled with so many emotions, excitment, butterflies, nerves, embrassment but a million thoughts raised through my mind. I’m not actually about to get put in a Nappy for bed am I? This would be to good to be true. To be continued… (this is only my first night of what ended up a four night stay in hospital. Its a true story let me know if use are interested in hearing rest and I will post next chapter)

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.

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.

Hi, Have been lurking some time but here's a first try (and first chapter) of a story. I plan it to be a long one. English is not my native language, so there might be some quirks in grammar. I hope it's not to inconvenient. Though this is about an underage young boy, and there will be scenes of diapering and spanking included, nothing is erotic. Basically it will turn into a feel-good romantic and-they-lived-happily-ever-after. Cliche, i know, but i'll try to make the cliche proud. Feedback is welcome, let me know if this is any good. And if site admin's feels the story is inappropriate, let me know and remove it. --------------- The broken teapot 1 Jenny Miller rode her old Toyota up the short driveway to the closed fence where the security officer checked all in and out going traffic, lowered the window at the driver side and showed her id. "Good morning Mrs Miller, how are you today? " said the good humored officer to her. "Hi Nathan, good morning to you to. It's back-to-work-day, looking forward to the weekend-day already" He chuckled at the bad habitual joke they made everyday since she started working at the State Special Correctional Centre for Young Offenders, pushed the button on his desk to open the fence and waved her through. Slowly Jenny let the car roll forward to the massive looking building up the end of the pebbled path. It was old, just begging for a good paint-job. Some old buildings have a certain charm about them. But not this one, seeming to shout "Go away" to everyone who dared to approach it. After 4 years of working as a counselor she'd gotten used to it but in her mind she could very well picture the impression it made upon anyone who's was first brought here for "correction". It looked like a prison, as it was. She parked her car at the spaces for staff just left from the big central stairway that led to the entrance, got her bag from the passenger seat and walked up the stairs, pressed the buzzer on the left side of the big heavy double doors and looked strait up at the camera also on the left. With a small sound and harsh click the door sprung slightly open. She pushed it further and walked in on an impressive hallway where the marble floor and high ceiling augmented every sound that was made. "Hi Jenn", the secretary down the hall greeted her from the stall were every person that came through the door was supposed to check in. Jenny noted her name and entrance time in the log and was about to move on to her office in the building when the secretary informed her that Mr. Halloway would like to see her as soon as she was available. "Oh, of course" she answered and instead of turning left she walked right up the corridor where the Director's office was situated. It wasn't and odd request. Henry often called her in when he needed some advice on one of the pupils they used to call them here. That was her job after all. All correctional institutes were required to have a counselor on staff to have someone on the payroll outside the chain of command with the authority to go over the warden's head if necessary. Given the sensitive nature of the correction's at this specific institute it was a no brainer. It prevented tunnel vision's and helped to keep the entire group of guardians and officers responsible for the daily handling of their pupils on the right side of the thin line between "correctional" and "abusive" behavior. "Good morning, Jenny!" The big athletic build man on the other side of an impressively big, but equal impressive messed up desk, veered up from his chair and waved her in when she had opened the door and peeked in to see if he was busy. Henry Halloway was everything you wouldn't expect a warden of an state correctional institute to be. He wore a loose leather jacket over a heavy metal printed shirt. Long black hair was bound with a leather thong at the back. As counterweight to this, slightly menacing first appearance, was a comical small set of reading glasses that never seemed able to stay at place on his hawkish nose where he pushed it regularly, every minute or so. "Have a seat. Had a good weekend? Had some coffee yet?" He rapidly fired these question's without waiting for an answer and walked strait to the side of the room, poured two steaming mugs of pitch black coffee and offered one to the slim medium height women that had made herself comfortable in one of the chairs across the desk.. At her mid thirties, Jenny looked every inch the friendly professional she was. Anyone who saw her the first time got the same message from her appearance, clothing and manners: "Hey, I like to keep things neat, orderly and organized. But also simple and practical. No fuss. I am here for you, but don't expect me to save you if you don't want to help yourself" It helped to reach some of the more challenging pupils they housed at this institute while keeping the professional distance between them at the same time. Only the ones who had known her longer could recognize the faint aura of sadness that surrounded her the last couple of years. They chatted a couple of minutes about their weekend. As usual Henry's had been far more eventful than Jenny's. She laughed at his retelling of the heavy metal concert he had visited on his motorcycle, a foul stench emanating, god forsaken roaring Harvey with which he always arrived at this institute. "OK, what have you got for me this time" Jenny turned Henry's attention to working matters. "We got a new group yesterday." Henry moved to his own chair and picked up a dossier from the pile on his left. "There is an interesting new pupil i would have you to take a look at" Jenny took the file, flicked the cover open to the first page and started to scan the information on the pages. As usual it didn't take her long to digest the most important fact's from the file. "Wow, 10 years old, isn't that a tad on the young side for this place?", was her first comment. "Yes, just turned ten, was surprised myself. You know the most of 'm are between 14 and 16/17. We have had younger ones from time to time but always at least thirteen. Not one from elementary" "So?, how come?" "Well, as you can see in the file, his record is quite impressive. Theft's and even burglary's. And no simple stuff. I mean, he wasn't stealing apples here. An old necklace worth several thousands was his last price" "Most judges would take his age in account" . "True, but he got old Farlington this time..And it was his third strike. With the stricter policies our government agreed on last September he saw no way out this time. It would have to be some jail time. So he put him up for two weeks here, judging that our special approach would benefit this fellow. Guess he was just fed up with this youngster, wanted to teach him a heavy lesson and never see him again" "But you're having doubt's" "Yeah......" Henry fell silent and fidgeted with one of the pencil's on his desk. Collecting his thought's. Jenny was a good listener. Leaving silences or a few words were often enough to get people to tell the story they wanted to tell. She waited patiently for Henry to resume his account but inward a tingle of not being right was manifesting itself already. Considering herself old fashioned when coming to the subject of raising children, she had absolutely no qualms of using spankings as a form of discipline. In fact, she had had to use this method a couple of times in the past. Otherwise it would have been impossible for her to work at this place of course. Jail time, as in most juvenile institutes, had proven almost non-effective in correcting boys send there. Therefore a couple of years ago this institute was founded. The thought was that confinement, combined with daily spankings would yield more results. These were the midwest, after all, and still the nineties. But ..... Ten...., just, and now being confronted with the realities of this institute, God!. she thought "He was brought in yesterday afternoon" Henry resumed. "A small group this time, four. Three guys 16/17 and he. As usual we got them booked and let them change in our sweat's and t-shirts. We gave him the smallest we have of course but he still drowned in them. You know they all come with a court directive about how long their daily mandatory spanking must take and which implements may be used. " Jenny nodded. "So Gary, the correctional officer on duty, explained that to them and started right away with the first session. And let me say right up front, Gary is a good man, he did nothing wrong. We can argue that he is a bit inflexible but followed all the rules. He bent the first over his desk, trousers dropped and started. He had to use the long ruler for this one and a strap. I must say this guy was a though one. He sweared the whole procedure but eventually showed some tears. That youngster was next, scared to death. A colleague had to held him bent over the desk. I saw on camera that Gary was a bit put off by his age and small demeanor but he abided by the court order this young man was given. That was 30 and two by the way." Jenny gulped. 30 meant that the correctional officer was ordered to give no less than 30 spanks with a bare hand, as kind of warming up, and 30 for every implement that was ordered. As usual, on arrival the bare hand spankings were omitted if an implement had been ordered. And one always was. That meant that this 10 year old had been sentenced to at least 90, with 60 from ruler, spoon, strap or even whip if needed, every evening of his two weeks stay at this institute! Henry nodded, acknowledging her surprise. "He used the short ruler and spoon on him, the mildest choice's if you ask my opinion. Now what surprised me. this younster didn't offer a sound. Though we could see how much it hurt. He stayed silent the whole time" Jenny lifted her eyebrow, also showing some surprise. "And after?" "We let them stand with their noses to the wall, as you know. Till we are finished with 'm all. He could hardly stay standing, knees almost giving out under him, his face red from silent tears. When we brought them to their "rooms" to wait for dinner he fell face forward on his bed. We tried waking him up for dinner but he fell asleep so the officer in charge let him sleep it out." "Good call i think" Jenny interrupted. "You could expect something like that, so this isn't why you asked for my opinion, Am I right?" "No." Henry resumed. "We checked upon him the whole evening of course, covered him with a blanket, he didn't move a muscle. But this morning, when we woke him up, he crawled to the corner of his bed. Held his blanket up on him. The officer who woke him said he saw some sort of primal fear in his eyes. Whatever that means. It took some struggle to get it off him. He, his bed, the blankets were soaking wet. The officer in charge let him take all to the laundry, let him take a shower and gave him a new set of clothes. He was shivering with fright at first, that left somewhat when the officers stayed neutral. Of course, it was quickly known with all the boy's that our newest "guest" had wet his bed. Now as staff, we'll manage with this of course. What worries me most was the group's reaction." Jenny again lifted an inquiring eyebrow. "You see, one could hope for an understanding reaction from the other boy's, like big brother's who instinctively take to caring for the littlest of them all. Helping him through. He's clearly no thread for any of 'm. But I'm afraid it's turning the other way. At breakfast he was bullied, made fun off and his plate was thrown on the ground. We know, not uncommon but this time they took it to the merciless extremes. Giving him no rest...... he took it quietly sitting at the table's. When the group moved to class, a group of the oldest cornered him, tripped him, pulled his pants down and threatened to make him their "baby-bitch", excuse me for the choice of words. When we got to the situation he fled to his cell and sat in the corner again, his blanket pulled around him. We tried talking to him, but we can't connect it seems. He hasn't moved an inch since" Henry fell silent. Jenny let the story sink in. Of course, all maternal instincts in her flared up, and she recognized her feelings. But this was still a three times convicted thief, they were talking about. She had to keep her professional insights on the fore. Henry was the first to break the silence. Looking past Jenny into thin air. "They'll have him for breakfast, lunch and dinner, Jen." he said softly. "The spanking directives, I think they are harsh for a boy his age, but he can survive them. It's the atmosphere around the group we have in currently. We'll do our utmost but can't protect him everywhere. He'll find no support. Somehow, they will find a way to pass him off to each other, feeding of his fear. They'll eat him alive. After two weeks, what scraps will be left of him?" Jenny thought about this, already inclined to agree, but again........ "We have been fooled by young angelic convicts turning demon before, Henry" Holding up her hand as Henry was about to interfere. "But I tend to agree with you that this one doesn't seem to be made of the same stuff as the older one's. In the file is no mention of motive, am i correct?" "Correct, he never said why, never mentioned a name. The group home that was responsible for him and his school were played, somehow. Stupid staff there, if you ask me. They both had no idea of his activities, but it's hard to imagine that he did all this alone. Lots of blanks in his life's story. An' he offered nothing in his questioning. But again, he was busted trying to pawn that necklace I mentioned, on his own! The fingerprints at the house he last broke into to get it were circumstantial evidence enough." "Interesting. Any fights, violence?" "No. And maybe that's why he slipped trough the mazes for so long. He didn't draw enough attention." "Where is he now?" "In his cell, the corner." "Well, let's have a look. You have a camera on him?." Henry nodded and Jenny moved to stand beside him at his computer screen. He hesitated. Jenny looked at him, asking silent for the problem. "I eh, need to warn you Jen, We have known each other a good couple of years now and God, how I know what you have been dealing with, but......I cannot soften this" He flicked the screen on. At first Jenny, puzzled by the warden's last remarks, couldn't see much more than a mountain of blanket, huddled in the corner of the cell. Then, Henry closed in on the face and Jenny gasped, turning white as chalk. A normal young, tear stricken face was looking past the camera. Slightly red curling hair dancing in all directions. A small nose that seemed to tip upward at the end and freckled apple cheeks that made him look adorable. His eyes were light brownish looking nowhere and Jenny understood what the guard had meant by 'primal fear'. But that was not what shook her to the core of her being. She knew that face! Her stomach turned with remembrance and all the pain that flooded back in with it. "I'm sorry Jen" Henry whispered while he vacated his chair and let Jenny sink in it., staring incredulously at the screen before her. He tapped a glass of water and handed it over. Shaken she brought it to her lips. "What's his name again?" She could hardly voice the question.. "Jake, Jake Hanson" Silence. After a long time Jenny sighed.. "Let me think about it for a while and I'll make some calls" "You can use my office, take as long as you need..... or want." Henry patted her shoulder lightly in sympathy and left his office.

This is a long story that develops the characters over time. I will post the first chapter now, and add to it as time passes. Comments and feedback are welcome and appreciated. Chapter 1: The Beginning or the End Carolyn was forty-one, tall, auburn-haired, and still turning heads at the country club. Ten years of marriage to David had not dulled her beauty, but it had dulled everything else. David—forty-four, senior partner at a downtown law firm, broad-shouldered once upon a time—had let the courtroom stress and the after-work bourbon settle around his middle. His once-confident baritone now carried a slight wheeze after two drinks, and in bed he lasted less than two minutes on a good night. Carolyn had stopped counting the nights she lay awake beside him, thighs clenched in frustration, pretending to sleep so he wouldn’t paw at her again. She loved the house, the cars, the vacations, the platinum card with no limit. Divorce would mean losing all of it, and worse—gossip, loneliness, starting over. Affairs were out of the question; David still had friends in every judge’s chamber in the county. She needed a solution that kept the money and destroyed the problem at the same time. That solution arrived in the shape of her oldest friend, Linda. Linda was a clinical hypnotherapist with a discreet practice on the north side of the city. She was petite, dark-haired, always dressed in flowing black, and possessed a calm, almost amused authority that made people obey before they realized they had decided to. On Saturday they sat on Carolyn’s sun-drenched patio Linda with nice glass of wine and Carolyn with tall glasses of peach iced tea—Carolyn never touched alcohol—Carolyn poured out her misery. “I’m dying inside, Linda. I need real sex, and I need to not feel guilty about it. But I can’t leave him and I can’t cheat without destroying everything.” Linda listened, swirling her glass, then smiled like someone unveiling a gift. “There’s another way,” she said. “I’ve seen it work. We take away the man he thinks he is. We make him small. Dependent. Grateful. We put him back in diapers, turn his tiny premature ejaculations into something he can only feel when he’s padded and helpless. And once he’s hooked on that helplessness, he will give you permission—out loud—to take a real man. He’ll beg for it eventually. I’ve read the case studies. Carolyn’s pulse hammered. “You’re serious.” “Completely. I’ll handle the hypnosis. You just play the loving, heartbroken wife who’s trying to help with his ‘little problem.’ He’ll never suspect.” They shook hands like business partners. Three nights later Linda arrived for what David thought was a casual dinner. He liked Linda—she flattered him, kept his bourbon coming, and laughed at his war stories. By ten he was loose, laughing a bit too loud, and bragging about a case he’d just won. Carolyn watched Linda’s fingers move—a subtle circle on the stem of her glass, a soft hum under the music. David’s eyelids sagged. His head nodded. “David,” Linda said gently, “look at my pendant.” The silver chain appeared between her fingers as if by magic. David’s gaze locked on it. Thirty seconds later his chin rested on his chest, breathing slow and deep. Carolyn’s heart hammered as Linda leaned close to her husband’s ear. “David, every night when you’re asleep and you feel the need to urinate, you will simply relax and let it flow. You will not wake up. You will not remember this instruction. You will feel safe and warm as you wet the bed. And whenever you hear me say the words ‘lawyer’s rest,’ you will return to this deep, obedient state instantly. Do you understand?” A low “Yes” rumbled from David’s throat. “Good boy.” Linda snapped her fingers. David blinked, straightened, and reached for his bourbon as if nothing had happened. That night, at 3:17 a.m., David stirred. His bladder pressed full and heavy. Normally he would swing his legs over the side of the bed, pad to the bathroom, stand tall, aim. Instead, still half-dreaming, he relaxed. A hot flood spread beneath him, soaking his cotton pajama bottoms, pooling under his hips. He sighed, rolled over into the wetness, and slept again. At six-thirty the alarm buzzed. David woke to the clammy reek of urine. He sat bolt upright, heart racing. “No. No, no, no—” He ripped the sheets off, balled them in a panic, and stuffed them into the washing machine on hot before Carolyn stirred. He showered twice, scrubbing himself raw, and swore it was a one-time fluke—too much bourbon, stress, anything. The next night it happened again. Same warm surrender, same shameful dawn discovery. He was shaking when he hid the second set of sheets. On the morning of the third day Carolyn “discovered” the wet sheets. She touched his arm with theatrical tenderness. “Honey… the bed was wet again. It’s okay. It happens. We’ll figure it out together.” David’s face burned crimson. “It’s not—I don’t know what’s—” “Shh. I love you. We’ll get through it.” That evening Linda returned. Dessert had barely been served when she leaned across the table and murmured, “Lawyer’s rest.” David’s eyes glazed. Fork frozen halfway to his mouth. Linda’s voice was velvet. “Tomorrow morning, when you wake up wet again, you will feel overwhelming relief at the thought of wearing diapers. You will tell Carolyn—your own idea—that the adult thing to do, the responsible thing, is to wear protection until this passes. You will feel proud for suggesting it. You will not remember I told you this.” Snap. David finished his cheesecake, oblivious. The next morning, voice trembling, David said exactly what he’d been told to say. Carolyn let tears well—perfect, sympathetic tears. “Oh, sweetheart, that’s so mature of you. Of course we’ll get what you need.” By noon they were in a bland medical supply store that smelled of plastic and antiseptic. David’s ears flamed as the clerk—heavy-set, bored—rang up a case of thick, white adult diapers with blue leak guards and tiny teddy-bear prints along the landing zone. “Overnight maximum absorbency,” the clerk said cheerfully. “These’ll hold anything.” Back home, Carolyn unwrapped the first diaper with ceremonial care. David stood in their bedroom in just his socks, hands awkwardly covering his groin. “Lie back, sweetheart,” she cooed. “Let me take care of you.” The diaper crinkled obscenely as she slid it under him, dusted him with powder that smelled like babyhood and surrender, and taped it snug. His tiny penis twitched against the padding, already half-hard from pure humiliation. “There,” she whispered, patting the front. “My big strong lawyer, safe and dry.” That night they went to bed. David lay rigid, listening to the loud rustle every time he moved. At some point he drifted off. When he woke at dawn, the sheets were pristine. The diaper was not. Heavy, sagging, warm, it clung to him like a second skin. He reached down with a trembling hand and felt the sodden weight. A strange, liquid shame coursed through him—followed by a pulse of something darker, something almost like relief. In the bathroom mirror he caught a glimpse of himself: forty-four years old, successful, rich, powerful—and standing soaked in a teddy-bear diaper. Behind him, Carolyn leaned in the doorway, smiling softly. “Good morning, baby,” she said. “See? Problem solved.” And somewhere deep in David’s mind, a tiny voice whispered that this was only the beginning.

This story has been published elsewhere, but I thought it was time I should publish it here as well. You know, being Christmas and all... It Takes a Village (1) With the hand of a god, Robert lifted Brian Sandberg off of the track just before the train would have run him down. He knew that Brian and his friends Pete and Hassan were playing near the embankment, but Robert had no idea how one of them had gotten onto the tracks themselves. Perhaps he slipped in the snow. But if Robert hadn’t noticed… The town wasn’t even equipped for funerals, he thought. He hadn’t foreseen a need. There shouldn’t be a need. In fact, the whole town should exist on a plane about as far from any thoughts of death and funerals as it is possible for it to be. That was his intention when he had designed it: to create a slice of self-contained paradise where the darkness of the universe simply didn’t exist. And Brian might have ruined that. He decided that the boys needed to go home to their families, which was a good thing especially for Hassan, who might otherwise have been late for afternoon prayers. The train, having not killed a boy, continued on its pre-ordained mission of circumnavigating the small county, heading at this point for the station at the energy plant, the largest active station outside of town. It would pick up the workers at the end of their shift and take them home: just another normal day. Some people actually still had normal days. Robert could hardly remember them, though it had been less than a year. Less than six months, in fact, but the universe doesn’t need more than a moment to change completely, as Brian, his friends and family, and for that matter Gene, the train conductor, might have discovered a few minutes ago. As so many discover every day. As Robert himself had discovered last June. Since then, days had been anything but normal. At first he tried to keep working, keep designing the shopping centers and refurbished town squares that had made him a known commodity in the world he’d dedicated his life to, but he couldn’t focus on any of it. Abandoning all of his other projects, he began dedicating his creative efforts to this one alone, and he had seen it continue to grow and grow. It began, as most projects did, with a vision: create a permanent Christmas village. Of course it had evolved from there, especially once he determined, first of all, that his initial idea had already been done, and second, that the concept was far too confining for what he needed this to become. But there were trains in the Christmas village in his mind, so there were trains here as well: two trains, running on separate tracks with separate schedules, running simultaneously around and through a wintry landscape that he had meticulously created after working as much as eighteen hours a day to make his vision come alive. Of course, he was not the only one who had suffered a loss, and he knew that. It was in fact one of the reasons he felt such an urgent need to complete his project: something in his mind told him it might help Charlotte. If Robert missed Emily and felt devastated by her death, he knew that his emotions were only a fraction of what his 12-year-old daughter was feeling. He simply could not imagine being so young, so completely attached to your mother, and losing her in that stupid, incomprehensible way. As if any way would have been better. She was so lonely these days. And it seemed that she could never find anything to do that interested her anymore. At first, he’d tried to enlist her help with the Village, but she simply wasn’t interested at all, though he caught her paying attention on the periphery at times when she thought he wasn’t looking, so he knew she was at least aware of what was happening. After he had the basic environment of the county and the trains, which had grown to take up a huge chunk of one half of their oversized living room, buildings sprang up along the tracks. At first the buildings related to the train: stations of one sort or another. But it didn’t take long until a small town blossomed near the largest station, complete with commerce and people to create that commerce. He’d decided from the beginning that the town would be modern, its style matching the trains he’d started with. Still, theme village or not, it was going to be Christmastime there, so a bit of retro flair—horse-drawn carriages and the like—wouldn’t be out of place. Homes sprang up in the outcroppings of his little universe, as did small businesses like gas stations, restaurants, and the like, and a few other little enclaves in random corners of the huge and ever-expanding complex. People build where they build; he wasn’t going to stop them. And by December his universe was humming along, full of people and life and whatever comes with it. Like his own life, though, that of his universe was of the still variety. He did what he needed to take care of his daughter. Or anyway he tried. When she began wetting the bed, that had surprised him; she’d never done that before. But the child psychologist he’d taken her to (after being assured by her doctors that nothing was physically wrong) told him that it wasn’t uncommon for children to react in many different ways to such traumatic losses. The shrink had suggested using protection to limit the mess. Robert really thought Charlotte would fight him on that, but she’d agreed without even a word. She saw the shrink every two weeks alone, and every week with him. He wasn’t really sure if the therapy helped either one of them, but he knew he would try anything. It was so hard to help her when his own world was so shattered. Emily had been that world since the day he’d met her. She’d been standing outside of Second City, this beautiful redhead desperately trying to get rid of two tickets for that night’s show. So he went up to her. “How much?” he asked. “Oh God,” she laughed. “At this point, I don’t even care!” He joined her laughter. “Well,” he said, “you really are not a very good negotiator. Tell me, why are you giving them up?” She shrugged. “My boyfriend turned out to be a dipshit, so I got stuck with these.” He thought for a moment, and then said, “Tell you what. I’ll buy both of them at face value if you’ll use the second one and see the show with me.” She shrugged again. “Well, you can’t be any more of a dipshit than he turned out to be, and at least I get sixty bucks and a show in the bargain.” They’d both gotten much more than that. Until last summer, when… Robert looked across the living room at his daughter, glumly seated on the couch with a book perched in her lap, a nearby lamp illuminating her, pretending to read. “Charlotte?” he said. She looked up. “I was thinking: want to put up Christmas decorations? In truth he really didn’t want to; it was something that reminded him too much of Emily. But he thought Charlotte should have something normal. She shook her head. “Not really,” she said. He looked down at his universe. There was a large parcel in the east side he could do something with. The O’Deans might want to move out of the apartment they were sharing with her mother, with the baby on the way. Maybe they should build a house just out of town, and if he put up a new subdivision? He shook off the thought. Focus on Charlotte. “Why not, Honey? You usually like putting up decorations. It would be fun.” She didn’t even hesitate. “It won’t.” “Come on, Char. We can light some candles to get that nice Christmasy smell we like, and I can drag up all of the decorations to put up, and—” “NO!” she practically screamed, cutting him off in mid-thought. For a beat, there was silence. He looked at his daughter and saw, in the lamplight, that her eyes were damp. “No,” he repeated. And then, though he already knew the answer: “May I ask why not?” Her small voice filtered across the room. “Because it was Mommy’s thing.” With that, she got up and quietly walked down the hallway to her bedroom, closing her door behind her.

Leap through time to a better self Chapter 1 The shimmering subsided, leaving Dr. Alistair Finch, a pioneer of temporal displacement, blinking in the dim light. Except… the light seemed awfully low. And the air smelled faintly of lavender and… baby powder? He tried to stand, but his limbs felt… stubby. He looked down. Dimpled hands, pudgy legs encased in dinosaur-print overalls, and a distinct lack of the tweed jacket he’d been wearing moments before. Panic clawed at his throat. This wasn’t the Cretaceous period. This wasn't even the Victorian era he’d cautiously targeted for his first full immersion. He was small. Terribly, unbelievably small. A high-pitched, singsong voice chirped from somewhere above. "Are we all done, sweetie?" Alistair craned his neck, his adult mind struggling to process the giant looming over him. A woman with kind eyes and a gentle smile. His… mother? He tried to speak, to explain the paradox, the accidental recalibration of the temporal drive, the sheer impossibility of his current predicament. But all that came out was a wet, gurgling sound. His mother chuckled. "Almost! Just a little push." Push? Push what? Then he remembered. The faint scent of disinfectant. The miniature porcelain throne. The brightly colored picture book of a smiling sun. Potty training. A wave of mortification, so intense it felt physical, washed over his three-year-old self. Dr. Alistair Finch, who had bent the very fabric of spacetime to his will, was now facing the insurmountable challenge of… peeing in a tiny bowl. His bladder, however, had no respect for scientific achievement. A familiar pressure built, and despite his frantic mental commands – contract the sphincter, initiate voluntary urination, for God's sake, I’ve solved quantum entanglement! – nothing happened. His mother sighed gently. "It's okay, love. Sometimes it takes a while." She offered him the picture book. Alistair stared at the grinning sun, his adult brain screaming in silent frustration. He knew the principles of fluid dynamics, the neurological pathways involved in bladder control, the entire evolutionary history of waste elimination in vertebrates. Yet, his current corporeal form seemed to have missed the memo. Minutes stretched into an eternity of awkward silence and mounting pressure. He tried everything he could remember observing other toddlers doing – straining, grunting, even a little wiggle. Nothing. Finally, his mother, her patience unwavering, said, "Let's try again later, shall we?" She lifted him, and the sudden movement triggered a small, pathetic trickle. It barely made a splash. His mother smiled encouragingly. "That's okay! Every little bit counts." Alistair, the man who had debated theoretical physics with the brightest minds on the planet, felt a tear well up in his eye. Not from the physical discomfort, but from the sheer, unadulterated humiliation. He, Alistair Finch, was failing at the most basic of human functions. As his mother cleaned him up, humming a gentle lullaby, Alistair stared at his tiny, clumsy hands. He had conquered time, but he was utterly defeated by a potty. This, he realized with a profound sense of irony, was a paradox he hadn't anticipated in his grand theories. And somehow, amidst the shame and the bewilderment, a tiny, reluctant giggle escaped his three-year-old lips. Perhaps, just perhaps, this unexpected detour through his past held a lesson even temporal mechanics couldn't teach. Chapter 2 The soft padding of the diaper was a final, humiliating confirmation of his utter failure. His mother’s gentle pat on his bottom as she fastened the tabs felt like a brand of shame. Dr. Alistair Finch, reduced to this. Then, the familiar shimmering began again, a subtle vibration that tickled his ridiculously small toes. One moment he was enveloped in the comforting scent of baby powder, the next he was standing in his lab, the temporal displacement unit humming quietly around him. He blinked, disoriented. The metallic tang of ozone filled the air. His lab coat felt strangely loose. He glanced down. His heart plummeted. Beneath the oversized lab coat, clinging uncomfortably to his adult frame, were the dinosaur-print overalls. And beneath those… the unmistakable bulk and crinkle of a freshly applied diaper. A strangled gasp escaped his lips. He fumbled at the front of his trousers, his adult fingers clumsy with the unfamiliar fastenings. Yes. Undeniably. He was wearing a diaper. The temporal field, in its infinite and infuriating wisdom, had not only sent his consciousness back but had somehow… imprinted the consequences of that regression onto his present physical form. A wave of nausea washed over him. He, a man who had lectured at CERN, who had dined with royalty, was now standing in his state-of-the-art laboratory wearing a soiled nappy. The irony was so thick it felt like a physical weight in his gut. He ripped off the lab coat, staring at the offending garment with a mixture of horror and disbelief. The dinosaur print seemed to mock him. He tugged at the diaper tabs, the sticky fastenings protesting with a soft rip. As he finally managed to peel the damp, slightly warm diaper away, a faint, lingering scent of lavender wafted up. He shuddered. The experience, however brief, had left a tangible, and deeply embarrassing, mark. He frantically searched for spare clothes, his mind racing. What if someone came in? Dr. Albright from astrophysics? Or his research assistant, Max, with her perpetually raised eyebrow? The thought sent a fresh wave of mortification through him. He found a pair of emergency trousers in his locker, hastily pulling them on, the lingering sensation of the diaper a phantom weight against his skin. He stuffed the offending garment into the deepest, most secure biohazard bin he could find, as if trying to erase the last few surreal minutes from existence. He sank into his chair, his breathing ragged. The implications of this bizarre temporal feedback loop were staggering. Had his consciousness somehow become entangled with his past self in a more profound way than he’d ever imagined? Could the past truly leave such a literal mark on the present? He looked at the complex equations scrawled across his whiteboard, the elegant theories that had earned him international acclaim. They suddenly seemed fragile, almost comical, in the face of his current predicament. He had unlocked the secrets of time, but he couldn't even manage basic bodily functions as a toddler, and now, the evidence was right there – or rather, had been right there – clinging to his adult form. A humorless chuckle escaped him. Perhaps his next research paper wouldn't be on the intricacies of spacetime, but on the unexpected and deeply humiliating consequences of temporal regression on one's personal hygiene. He just hoped, for the sake of his reputation, that this particular experiment would remain strictly confidential. The Nobel committee might have questions about the dinosaur-print undergarments. Chapter 3 The evening had brought a semblance of normalcy, or as normal as it could be for a time-traveling scientist who had recently soiled himself in a past life. Alistair had meticulously cleaned his lab, double-checked the temporal displacement unit, and even managed to eat a rather bland microwave dinner, his appetite still slightly suppressed by the day’s bizarre events. He was reviewing his calculations, trying to pinpoint the anomaly that had caused the unexpected feedback loop, when the familiar dizzying sensation returned. This time, it wasn't a shimmer, but more of a gentle tug, like an invisible current pulling him away. He braced himself, expecting another undignified return to toddlerhood. But when the sensation subsided, the world around him was different. The scale was still smaller than his adult perspective, but not as drastically as before. He was standing in a dimly lit bedroom, the air thick with the comforting, slightly dusty smell of old books and well-loved toys. He looked down at himself. He was wearing Thomas the Tank Engine pajamas. He felt… older. More coordinated. He tentatively wiggled his fingers, the movements more precise than the stubby digits of his three-year-old self. A soft glow emanated from the hallway, and he heard the muffled sound of adult voices. He recognized the cadence, the gentle lilt. His parents. He padded silently to the bedroom door, his bare feet making no sound on the worn wooden floor. Peeking out, he saw his mother and father in the living room, their faces illuminated by the warm light of a table lamp. They looked younger, a few less lines around their eyes, a touch more vibrancy in their hair. He was four. He knew this instinctively. He remembered this room, the Thomas pajamas, the way the floorboards creaked outside his door. He even remembered the faint anxiety that always bubbled in his chest at this time of night. He was potty-trained. He could recall the triumphant day his mother had declared him “big boy” and the subsequent discarding of diapers during the day. But… a familiar, unwelcome feeling stirred within him. A dampness against his skin. He reached down tentatively. The front of his pajamas felt… wet. A small, warm patch had spread across the fabric. A wave of weary resignation washed over him. Of course. Just when he thought he had escaped the indignities of early childhood, a new, equally embarrassing challenge presented itself. Bedwetting. A secret shame he had carried until he’d finally outgrown it sometime around the age of six. He remembered the hushed whispers between his parents, the extra sheets discreetly placed at the foot of his bed, the gentle reassurances that it was “perfectly normal.” He had hated the feeling, the cold dampness against his skin, the fear of being discovered, of being different. Now, he was reliving it. As a grown man trapped in his four-year-old body. The irony was almost comical, if it wasn't so utterly mortifying. He had faced down temporal paradoxes, wrestled with the fundamental laws of the universe, and yet, here he was, defeated by his own bladder during the night. He shuffled back into the bedroom, the dampness feeling cold against his skin. He knew the drill. He had lived through this. He would have to change his pajamas, try to clean the sheets as best he could, and pray that his parents wouldn't notice until morning. As he fumbled with the buttons of his wet pajamas, a small, unexpected thought flickered through his adult mind. This wasn't just about embarrassment. This was a chance. A chance to experience his past, not as a detached observer, but as his younger self. To perhaps understand the anxieties and insecurities he had long forgotten. He pulled on a fresh pair of pajamas, the soft cotton a small comfort against the lingering dampness of the sheets. He wouldn't be able to fully clean them, not without raising suspicion. He would just have to hope for the best. Climbing back into the small bed, the familiar scent of his childhood filling his nostrils, Alistair felt a strange mix of frustration and a dawning sense of something else. Empathy. He remembered the shame he had felt as a child, the feeling of being out of control. Now, experiencing it again, even with the full weight of his adult intellect, gave him a new perspective. Perhaps, he mused, his journey through time wasn't just about scientific discovery. Maybe it was also about rediscovering himself, flaws and all, from the very beginning. Even if that beginning involved a distinct lack of bladder control. As he drifted off to sleep, the faint dampness a persistent reminder of his current predicament, Alistair couldn't help but wonder what other forgotten indignities his younger selves had in store for him. Chapter 4 The return to his own time was less jarring this time, a smoother transition from the soft, Thomas-themed sheets to the crisp, high-thread-count cotton of his own bed. He blinked, the familiar contours of his modern bedroom coming into focus. The digital clock on his nightstand glowed with the time: 7:12 AM. Saturday. He stretched, a lingering stiffness in his limbs that felt vaguely… childish. Then, a cold, unwelcome sensation seeped through the fabric of his pajamas. His eyes snapped open. He sat bolt upright, a knot of dread tightening in his stomach. He reached down, his adult fingers tracing the unmistakable damp patch spreading across his pajama bottoms and the fitted sheet beneath him. A groan escaped his lips, a sound of utter defeat. Not again. He threw back the covers, the cool morning air doing little to dispel the clammy feeling. There it was, undeniable evidence of his four-year-old bladder’s nocturnal rebellion, transferred somehow, impossibly, to his adult body in his own time. He stared at the wet patch, a mixture of disbelief and profound embarrassment washing over him. This was beyond ridiculous. This was bordering on some kind of cosmic joke at his expense. He, Dr. Alistair Finch, the man who had manipulated the very flow of time, was apparently incapable of maintaining bladder control after a brief sojourn into his past. He scrambled out of bed, stripping off the damp pajamas as if they were contaminated. He held them at arm’s length, the faint, lingering scent of… well, nothing distinctly childish this time, just the unmistakable odor of urine, assaulting his nostrils. He looked at his bed, the circular wet stain a stark reminder of his temporal misadventure. He had successfully navigated the complexities of spacetime, but he couldn't even make it through the night dry after reliving a childhood phase he thought he had long outgrown. The implications were staggering, and frankly, deeply unsettling. Was his consciousness somehow more tethered to his past selves than he had ever imagined? Were these regressions leaving some kind of physiological imprint on his present? He marched into the bathroom, tossing the offending pajamas into the laundry hamper with a frustrated sigh. He caught his reflection in the mirror. He looked the same – the slightly rumpled hair, the tired lines around his eyes from a late night of theoretical physics, the faint shadow of his beard. But he knew. He knew he had woken up in his own bed, in his own time, having wet it like a child. He turned on the shower, the hot water a welcome distraction from the bizarre reality of his situation. As he stood under the steaming spray, he couldn't help but run through the events of the past few temporal jumps. The abject failure of potty training at three, the lingering shame of bedwetting at four… what fresh indignity awaited him if he dared to jump back further? Teething? The sheer terror of being left alone in his crib? He scrubbed himself vigorously, as if trying to wash away the lingering effects of his journey. But he knew it wasn't just about physical cleanliness. This was about something deeper, something he didn't understand. His past wasn't just a series of memories; it seemed to have a tangible, albeit deeply embarrassing, connection to his present. Stepping out of the shower, he wrapped a towel around his waist and stared at his reflection again. The pioneer of temporal displacement. And apparently, a bedwetter. The irony was still sharp, but now, tinged with a growing sense of unease. He needed to understand what was happening, before his forays into the past turned him into a permanent, time-displaced toddler in an adult’s body. And he definitely needed to invest in some waterproof mattress protectors. Just in case. Chapter 5 The middle of the day dissolved into a familiar, disorienting swirl of colors and sensations. One moment, Alistair was meticulously reviewing the data logs from his latest (and increasingly alarming) temporal excursions, the next, the air around him smelled of department store perfume and the faint, underlying scent of… new fabric? He blinked, his adult eyes struggling to adjust to the brightly lit environment. He was smaller again, though not as drastically as before. His clothes felt loose, and he could see the tops of clothing racks towering above him. He looked down. He was wearing a bright blue t-shirt with a cartoon dog on it and slightly too-big sneakers. He recognized the scene instantly. The bustling aisles, the soft music playing overhead, the towering displays of household goods. He was in the department store his mother used to frequent. And the way she was standing beside him, examining a display of colorful children's clothing, confirmed his age. He was five. "Look at this one, sweetie," his mother said, holding up a small, patterned shirt. Her voice was younger, lighter than he remembered. He nodded, a strange sense of déjà vu washing over him. He remembered this shopping trip, the boredom of trailing after his mother as she browsed. But something felt… different. A subtle shift in the air, a path diverging from his established memories. His mother moved on, her attention caught by a new display near the back of the aisle. He followed, his smaller legs struggling to keep pace. She stopped in front of a section he didn't immediately recognize. It was filled with packages of what looked like… diapers. But the packaging was different, brighter, with cartoon characters he didn't recall. "Oh, look at these!" his mother exclaimed, picking up a package. "A new company. They're specifically for bedwetting kids. They say they're extra absorbent and more comfortable." She turned to him, holding up the colorful pack. "You know, honey, your bed has been a little wet lately. Do you think we should try these? Maybe they'll help you stay dry at night." Alistair froze. This was it. He remembered this conversation. Vividly. In his original timeline, he had been mortified. The idea of still needing diapers at five, even just for nighttime, had felt like a personal failure. He had stubbornly refused, insisting he would "try harder" to stay dry. A promise he hadn't always kept. He looked at the package his mother was holding. Cartoon astronauts floated across a starry blue background. Extra absorbent. More comfortable. A wave of conflicting emotions washed over his adult mind. The ingrained childhood shame was still there, a faint echo. But now, overlaid on it, was the knowledge of what was to come – more wet sheets, more hushed apologies, more secret embarrassment. He thought of the lingering dampness in his own bed just this morning. The undeniable link between his past and present. A strange impulse, a desire to alter the chain of events, took hold. He looked up at his mother, her kind eyes filled with concern. He thought of the small, vulnerable boy he had been, struggling with something he couldn't fully control. Taking a deep breath, a decision formed in his adult mind, filtered through the innocent voice of his five-year-old self. "Yes, Mommy," he said, his voice surprisingly steady. "Let's try them." His mother's face lit up with a relieved smile. "Oh, good, sweetie! I thought they looked like they might be better." She placed the package in their shopping cart. As they continued their shopping, Alistair felt a subtle shift within him. It was a small thing, a seemingly insignificant decision made by a five-year-old. But he knew, with a certainty that transcended his current age, that he had just altered his own history. What the long-term consequences would be, he couldn't say. But in this moment, standing in the brightly lit aisle of a department store, he felt a flicker of something akin to… hope. Maybe, just maybe, navigating his past wouldn't just be a series of embarrassing mishaps. Perhaps it could also be a chance to heal old wounds, one small, diaper-related decision at a time. Chapter 6 The rest of the shopping trip felt different. A lightness had settled over his mother, a subtle easing of the worry lines around her eyes. She chatted more, her hand resting occasionally on his shoulder as they moved through the aisles. Alistair, in his five-year-old guise, found himself strangely content. The anxieties of his adult life were momentarily suspended, replaced by the simple pleasure of his mother's attention. As they walked to the car, his mother squeezed his hand. "You were such a good helper today, sweetie," she said, her voice warm. "And I'm so glad you're willing to try those new nighttime pants. I really think they'll make things better." Then, to his surprise, she steered him towards a small toy store nestled beside the supermarket. "And because you were so brave about the nighttime pants," she added with a wink, "you can pick out one small toy." His five-year-old self would have been ecstatic. His adult mind felt a pang of bittersweet nostalgia. He scanned the shelves, the brightly colored plastic and plush figures a stark contrast to the complex machinery in his lab. He settled on a small, diecast airplane, a replica of a Concorde. Even then, it seemed, his fascination with engineering and pushing boundaries had been present. The drive home was filled with his excited chatter about the airplane and his mother's gentle reassurances about the new nighttime diapers. He even felt a flicker of genuine hope, a childish belief that these magical new undergarments would indeed solve his nighttime woes. Later that evening, after a bath and a story, his mother retrieved the package of astronaut-themed diapers. This was the moment he had both anticipated and slightly dreaded. In his original timeline, this ritual of nighttime preparation had been a source of quiet anxiety, a constant reminder of his perceived inadequacy. His mother laid out one of the diapers on the bed. It looked… substantial. Far bulkier and larger than the daytime training pants he occasionally still wore. The padding was thick, and the plastic outer layer crinkled loudly as she unfolded it. Alistair, despite his adult intellect, felt a surge of childish self-consciousness. This wasn't the thin, almost discreet nighttime pull-ups he vaguely remembered from later years. This was a proper diaper, albeit one with cheerful astronauts on it. His mother smiled reassuringly. "Okay, let's lie down, sweetie. It'll be easier this way." She gently guided him onto his back, the soft mattress yielding beneath his small frame. The diaper, fully unfolded, was laid beneath him, the back reaching almost to his shoulder blades. The front panel was then pulled up between his legs. Alistair felt a strange sense of vulnerability lying there, his small limbs exposed. This was how his mother had diapered him as a baby, a memory he had long since forgotten. Now, as a grown man trapped in a five-year-old’s body, he was reliving the experience. His mother worked efficiently, pulling the front panel of the diaper up and securing the wide, sturdy tapes on either side. The bulk of the diaper felt strangely constricting, but also oddly secure. As his mother fastened the tapes, pulling them snug but not too tight, Alistair couldn't help but notice the sheer volume of the diaper. It felt… restrictive. He wiggled slightly, the thick padding shifting beneath him. "There we go!" his mother said, patting his diapered tummy gently. "Nice and dry for the whole night." She pulled his pajamas up, the fabric bunching slightly around the substantial diaper. She tucked him into bed, the bulk of the diaper making him feel strangely cocooned. Lying in the dim light of his nightlight, Alistair couldn't shake the feeling of the bulky diaper beneath his pajamas. It was a tangible reminder of his regression, a physical manifestation of a childhood challenge he thought he had left behind. The feeling of being laid down to be diapered, like an infant, added a layer of vulnerability he hadn't anticipated. His adult mind, however, couldn't help but analyze the design. The absorbent core did feel thick, and the leg gathers seemed secure. Perhaps these newfangled diapers were indeed more effective than the ones from his original childhood. As sleep began to tug at his consciousness, a strange sense of peace settled over him. He had made a different choice this time. He had accepted the help his younger self had stubbornly refused. And even though the bulky diaper felt a little odd, and the act of being laid down to be diapered felt even more so, there was a certain comfort in knowing that, for tonight at least, the worry of a wet bed was lessened. He drifted off to sleep, the image of smiling astronaut diapers a surreal counterpoint to the complex equations that usually filled his dreams. Chapter 7 Alistair’s eyes fluttered open, the soft morning light filtering through his bedroom window. He stretched, a deep, satisfying extension of his adult limbs. The fragmented memories of the past few days – the tiny potty, the dinosaur overalls, the bulky astronaut diapers – felt hazy, almost dreamlike. He lay there for a moment longer, a sense of profound relief washing over him. It had all been a vivid, bizarre dream. A manifestation of the stress of his temporal experiments, perhaps. He chuckled softly to himself. Imagining himself, struggling with potty training. The absurdity of it was almost funny now that he was awake and back to normal. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, the familiar weight of his pajama bottoms settling around his ankles. He stood up, a sense of lightness in his step. The bed was dry. Thank heavens. The thought of actually wetting his adult bed, even in a dream-induced state, had been vaguely unsettling. But then, a strange, uncomfortable sensation registered. A bulky, slightly damp feeling between his legs. He frowned, reaching down beneath his pajamas. His fingers encountered a thick, padded material. Not the soft cotton of his usual sleepwear. Panic flared in his chest. He pulled down his pajama bottoms, his breath catching in his throat at the sight that greeted him. He was wearing a diaper. A real, honest-to-goodness adult diaper. Stark white, thick with absorbent padding, and undeniably wet. A heavy, sodden weight clung to him. His gaze darted around the room, a desperate search for an explanation. And then he saw it. Leaning against his nightstand, a full, unopened pack of white adult diapers. The brand name was unfamiliar. A wave of nausea and disbelief crashed over him. This wasn't a dream. The humiliation, the bizarre regressions, the altered timeline – it had all been real. And somehow, the consequences had followed him back to his own time, amplified and twisted in a way he couldn't have possibly predicted. He stared at the wet diaper clinging to him, the stark white a glaring testament to his utterly compromised state. The relief he had felt moments ago evaporated, replaced by a crushing wave of mortification. He, Dr. Alistair Finch, was standing in his own bedroom, in his own time, wearing a soaked adult diaper. The altered decision at the department store, the acceptance of the nighttime diapers at five – it had created a ripple effect, a bizarre temporal echo that had manifested in this utterly humiliating way. Had his subconscious, influenced by that altered past, somehow… prepared for a return to a state of incontinence? Had his body, remembering the bulky comfort of the astronaut diapers, somehow… regressed? He didn't know. All he knew was the cold, damp feeling against his skin and the undeniable reality of the adult diaper he was wearing. He looked at the unopened pack, a fresh wave of despair washing over him. This wasn't just a one-time thing. This was a full supply. He sank back onto the edge of his dry bed, the absurdity of the situation threatening to overwhelm him. He had bent the laws of physics, but he was utterly defeated by his own bladder and the unpredictable nature of time. What in God's name was he going to do now? Explain to his colleagues that his groundbreaking temporal research had somehow resulted in adult-onset incontinence? The weight of the wet diaper felt heavier than any paradox he had ever contemplated. He was a scientist who had peered into the very fabric of time, and yet, he was utterly unprepared for the soggy, white reality clinging to his backside. The Nobel Prize suddenly felt very, very far away. Chapter 8 The sight of the diaper pail in his bathroom was the final, damning piece of evidence. A pristine white plastic bin, incongruously placed next to his modern, minimalist toilet, and emitting a faint, telltale odor. He cautiously lifted the lid. Inside, nestled amongst a few crumpled tissues, were several more wet adult diapers, identical to the one he was currently wearing. Alistair stared into the pail, his mind reeling. This wasn't a one-off. This was… a pattern. A new, deeply unwelcome reality. With a sigh of utter resignation, he peeled off the sodden diaper, the cool air a stark contrast to the damp warmth it had provided. His movements were automatic, efficient. He reached for a fresh wipe, his hand knowing exactly where to find it in the drawer without conscious thought. The cleaning process was swift, practiced. Muscle memory. And that’s when it hit him. The cold, hard realization slammed into his consciousness with the force of a physical blow. The diapers. The comfortable, absorbent diapers his five-year-old self had readily agreed to. They hadn’t just been a temporary measure in his past. They had fundamentally altered his developmental trajectory. In his original timeline, he remembered the slow, gradual process of overcoming bedwetting. The nights he’d woken up feeling the uncomfortable dampness, the groggy trips to the bathroom, the quiet shame that had motivated him to try harder to stay dry. He had learned to recognize the signals his body was sending, to wake up before it was too late. It had been a process driven by discomfort and a growing desire for independence. But now… with the introduction of those super-absorbent, comfortable astronaut diapers at age five, that natural learning process had been interrupted. His body had never needed to wake up. The diaper had taken care of everything, efficiently and without discomfort. There had been no negative reinforcement, no physical cue to trigger a change in his sleep patterns. He had essentially short-circuited his own development. By agreeing to the diapers in his altered past, he had inadvertently created a future where his body never learned to regulate itself at night. The comfort and convenience he had unknowingly chosen as a child had led to this embarrassing and inconvenient reality as an adult. He looked at the fresh diaper in his hand, the stark white a symbol of his unintended self-sabotage. The irony was gut-wrenching. He had manipulated time to understand the universe better, and in doing so, had managed to regress his own bodily functions. He fastened the clean diaper with a heavy heart, the soft padding now feeling more like a symbol of his failure than a source of comfort. He was a time traveler, a brilliant scientist, and he was wearing an adult diaper because his five-year-old self had opted for a more comfortable night's sleep. The implications were staggering. How could he possibly reverse this? Could he risk another jump back, potentially creating even more unforeseen consequences? He looked at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, the image of a bewildered, diapered scientist staring back. He had solved complex equations that spanned galaxies, but he was utterly stumped by the simple, yet profoundly personal, problem of his own bedwetting. The comfortable, absorbent diapers had inadvertently rewritten his own biological programming. And now, he was living with the soggy, white consequences. Chapter 9 Alistair paused, his trousers halfway up his legs, the fabric snagging slightly on the bulk of the fresh diaper. He stared down at the pristine white padding, a flicker of confusion cutting through the fog of his self-deprecating thoughts. "Wait a minute," he muttered to himself. "Why did I just… change into another diaper?" His mind, still reeling from the revelation about his altered childhood bedwetting, hadn't fully processed the implications of this new reality. He had simply reacted, his muscle memory guiding him through the familiar, albeit unwelcome, routine. But now, the question hung in the air, stark and demanding an answer. The astronaut diapers his five-year-old self had agreed to were specifically marketed for bedwetting. They were nighttime protection. Why, then, was his adult body seemingly defaulting to wearing them during the day? He thought back to his brief moments of consciousness between the temporal jumps. Had he felt the need for a diaper then? He couldn't recall any specific urges, just the general disorientation of returning to his own time. He considered the full pack leaning against his nightstand, the multiple wet diapers in the pail. This wasn't just a single incident. This suggested a consistent pattern. A chilling thought snaked its way into his mind. Had the altered timeline not only prevented him from outgrowing bedwetting but somehow… expanded the issue? Had his body, accustomed to the constant presence of absorbent protection at night from age five onwards, now subconsciously come to rely on it during the day as well? The comfort he had briefly acknowledged in the bulky nighttime diapers now seemed sinister, a Trojan horse that had lulled his body into a state of dependence. Had his bladder control, not just at night, but perhaps even during the day, been subtly undermined by years of relying on absorbent protection? He tentatively flexed his pelvic floor muscles, a familiar exercise he occasionally did as a general health practice. They felt… normal. Responsive. He didn't feel an immediate urge to urinate. Yet, his actions had been automatic. The sight of the wet diaper had triggered an immediate need to replace it, without him even consciously considering the time of day or his current state. He lowered his trousers, his gaze fixed on the white diaper. Was this a purely psychological dependence? Had his brain, now accustomed to the idea of wearing a diaper, simply taken over? Or was there a physiological component he wasn't understanding? Had the prolonged use of nighttime diapers somehow weakened his daytime bladder control as well? The implications were terrifying. He wasn't just dealing with bedwetting; he might be facing a more pervasive issue with his bladder function. He ran a hand through his hair, his mind racing. This was a far more complex and embarrassing consequence than he had ever imagined. He had gone back in time to alter a minor childhood inconvenience and had inadvertently created a potentially lifelong, and deeply humiliating, condition. He needed to think clearly. He needed data. He needed to observe his body's reactions without the automatic assumption of needing a diaper. He needed to understand if this was a genuine loss of bladder control during the day, or a learned behavior stemming from his altered past. But the fear, the gnawing anxiety that he might need it, held him captive. He thought of the wet diapers in the pail, the automatic, almost instinctive way he had changed himself. The muscle memory, the ingrained habit, was strong. He couldn't risk it. Not yet. Not when the possibility of an accident loomed so large in his mind. The humiliation of wetting himself in his own lab, in front of Max, was too much to bear. He pulled up his trousers, the fabric bunching slightly around the bulk of the diaper. He felt a strange sense of unease, a feeling of being trapped in a cycle he couldn't control. He walked out of the bathroom, his movements stiff and self-conscious. He felt the weight of the diaper, the subtle pressure against his skin, a constant reminder of his predicament. This was no longer just about a wet bed. This was about understanding the full, unforeseen consequences of his temporal meddling. Chapter 10 He walked towards his lab, trying to project an air of normalcy that felt utterly fraudulent. The crisp morning air did little to clear the fog of Alistair’s bewildered thoughts as he walked towards his institute. The familiar cobblestone streets and the charming baroque facades seemed to mock his inner turmoil. Here he was, a respected scientist in a renowned research facility, grappling with the deeply personal and utterly undignified fallout of his own time travel. He sat at his desk, the complex equations on his whiteboard blurring before his eyes. He couldn't concentrate. Every few minutes, he found himself unconsciously shifting in his seat, checking for any signs of dampness. He felt like a prisoner in his own body, trapped by the fear of his own bladder. He was a scientist, a man of logic and reason, and yet, he was being controlled by a primal fear, a fear that he might lose control. He spent the rest of the morning in a state of heightened anxiety, his mind a constant battleground between reason and fear. Then a memory surfaced unbidden, sharp and clear as a newly developed photograph. He was eight years old, squirming uncomfortably in the back seat of his parents’ car during a long family road trip. He remembered the distinct feeling of dampness spreading through his jeans, the panicked realization that he hadn't made it to a rest stop in time. The hushed, slightly exasperated tones of his parents. And then, the distinct, crinkly feel of a pull-up being discreetly slipped on him in the cramped confines of the car. The pull-ups had become a more frequent occurrence after he started wearing the nighttime diapers at five. He recalled the subtle shift in his daytime bladder control. The occasional “oopsies” that had been rare before became more common. His mother, initially attributing it to the excitement and activity of childhood, had eventually resorted to packing extra clothes and, for longer journeys, those embarrassing pull-ups. He even had a vague, mortifying memory of one particularly long car ride, perhaps when they were visiting distant relatives, where even the pull-up hadn't been enough. He remembered the thicker, more substantial feel of a diaper being fastened around him, the shame burning in his cheeks as his parents exchanged worried glances in the rearview mirror. He had been eight years old, for God’s sake, and wearing a diaper on a car ride. The realization hit him with brutal clarity. The nighttime diapers hadn't just prevented him from outgrowing bedwetting. They had, as he suspected, impacted his daytime bladder control as well. His body, consistently relying on external protection at night, had likely become less efficient at regulating itself during the day. The occasional accidents had become more frequent, leading to the need for pull-ups, and in extreme cases, even diapers, well beyond the age when most children were reliably dry. He had created a cascade of consequences, a ripple effect through his own childhood that had now manifested in this humiliating present. The comfortable astronaut diapers, meant to ease a childhood anxiety, had inadvertently weakened his bladder control for years, culminating in his current predicament. He sighed, the weight of his altered past – and the dampness he was desperately trying to ignore – pressing down on him. He had unlocked the secrets of time, but he was now facing a far more personal and profoundly embarrassing puzzle: how to regain control of his own body. And he had a sinking feeling that this was one experiment he couldn't simply reverse with the flick of a switch. Chapter 11 Alistair managed a strained smile as he entered his lab, the familiar hum of his equipment a small comfort amidst his internal chaos. "Good morning, Max," he said, trying to project an air of normalcy that felt utterly fraudulent given his current undergarment situation. Maxine Schmidt, his sharp-witted and highly efficient assistant, looked up from her workstation, her brow furrowing slightly. "Dr. Finch, you seem… preoccupied. Everything alright?" Alistair waved a dismissive hand, hoping his slight flush wasn't too noticeable. "Just a… late night of theoretical noodling, Max. You know how it is." Max, thankfully, didn't press the issue. She launched into a summary of the overnight data analysis, her usual crisp and concise delivery a welcome distraction. As she spoke, however, Alistair's mind drifted, snagged by the simple mention of her name. Max. Maxine. He knew Max well. Years of working side-by-side had forged a strong professional bond, bordering on friendship. He knew about her passion for astrophysics, her slightly unhealthy obsession with black coffee, and her dry, sardonic sense of humor. But suddenly, a different set of memories, hazy and yet undeniably present, began to overlay his established history with her. It wasn't the Max he knew from their university days, the brilliant physics student who had aced every exam. This Max was younger, around twelve years old, with a tangle of unruly brown hair and a pair of oversized glasses that kept slipping down her nose. He saw himself, also twelve, feeling a familiar pang of self-consciousness, not about theoretical physics, but about the bulky pull-up he was wearing beneath his ill-fitting camp shorts. He was at a summer science camp, something his parents had encouraged him to attend to foster his obvious scientific inclinations. But this wasn't the advanced astrophysics seminar he clearly remembered from his original timeline. This was… different. He recalled the slightly damp, slightly musty smell of the shared cabin, the hushed whispers after lights out, the shared understanding and unspoken empathy among the occupants. The "Bedwetters Cabin." The memory hit him with another wave of realization. In his altered timeline, his persistent bedwetting, exacerbated by the early adoption of nighttime diapers, had led his parents to seek specialized help, or at least, a supportive environment. Hence, the bedwetters cabin at science camp. And that's where he had met Max. He remembered her struggling with a leaky pull-up during an outdoor stargazing session, her face flushed with embarrassment. He, feeling a similar discomfort, had offered her a spare he had (always) been forced to pack. They had bonded over their shared secret, a quiet understanding blooming amidst the other, more scientifically advanced, activities of the camp. This Max, the twelve-year-old girl in the bedwetters cabin, had been just as bright, just as curious about the universe. He remembered their hushed conversations about constellations, whispered under the covers after the counselors had made their rounds. Their shared vulnerability had forged an immediate connection, a different kind of intimacy than the one he shared with his current assistant. He saw flashes of other moments: Max helping him discreetly carry extra changes of clothes, their shared eye-rolls at the well-meaning but sometimes clumsy attempts of the camp counselors to address their nighttime issues, the quiet camaraderie of knowing they weren't alone. The Max standing before him, explaining the intricacies of quantum entanglement, was the same sharp, intelligent individual he had first encountered in a cabin filled with the shared secret of nighttime accidents. Their history wasn't just one of academic collaboration; it was rooted in a shared childhood experience, a bond forged in the quiet embarrassment and mutual support of the bedwetters cabin. A strange warmth spread through Alistair, a softening of the anxiety that had been gripping him. He wasn't alone in carrying the echoes of his altered past. Max, in her own way, was a product of that same shift. Their connection ran deeper than he had ever realized, intertwined with a shared vulnerability he had long forgotten. He listened more intently to Max's report, a new layer of understanding coloring his perception of her. He saw not just his brilliant assistant, but the resilient young girl from the bedwetters cabin, the one who had shared his secret shame and his early fascination with the stars. Perhaps, in this bizarre new reality, he wasn't quite as isolated in his embarrassing predicament as he had thought. Chapter 12 As Max concluded her report, Alistair found himself looking at her with a newfound perspective. The shared memory of the science camp, the unexpected intimacy of the bedwetters cabin, had subtly shifted their dynamic in his mind. He saw not just a colleague, but someone with whom he shared a deeply personal, albeit long-dormant, connection. "Thank you, Max," he said, his tone a little softer than usual. "That's… insightful." He spent the rest of the morning trying to focus on his work, but his thoughts kept returning to that summer camp. He remembered the awkwardness, the initial embarrassment, but also the unexpected comfort of being among others who understood. He and Max had gravitated towards each other, their shared predicament forging a silent understanding. Then, as Max was packing up for lunch, a memory surfaced, clearer and more significant than the others. It was during their university years, years after the science camp. In his original timeline, their meeting had been a chance encounter in a physics lecture hall, a shared interest sparking their initial conversations. But now, the memory played out differently. He saw himself, a slightly anxious undergraduate, attending a support group meeting on campus. It was discreet, held in a small, unassuming room. He had finally sought help for his persistent bedwetting, a problem that hadn't magically disappeared as he’d hoped. And there she was. Max. Sitting a few chairs away, her expression was a mixture of relief and quiet resignation. He remembered the surprised recognition in her eyes, mirroring his own. They hadn't seen each other since that summer camp so many years ago. The initial awkwardness quickly dissolved into a shared understanding. They were both still dealing with the same childhood issue, a secret they had unknowingly carried into adulthood. The support group became a place where they could confide in each other without the fear of judgment, their shared history from the bedwetters cabin providing an immediate foundation of trust. Their bond during university had been deeper, more immediate, than he remembered from his original timeline. They had studied together, yes, their shared passion for physics still a strong connection. But their conversations had also delved into more personal territory, the frustrations and anxieties of managing their persistent bedwetting in the demanding environment of university life. They had shared tips, offered support during difficult times, and found solace in knowing they weren't alone in this often-stigmatized condition. He remembered late-night study sessions punctuated by hushed discussions about discreet ways to handle laundry, the best absorbent products, and the constant fear of discovery. Their friendship had been built not just on intellectual curiosity, but on a shared vulnerability, a secret that had unexpectedly reconnected them years after that formative summer camp. Looking at Max now, bustling around the lab, Alistair felt a profound sense of gratitude for this altered history. While his current predicament was undeniably embarrassing, the fact that he wasn't facing it entirely alone, that he had a deeper, more understanding connection with his trusted assistant, offered a small glimmer of hope. Their shared history wasn't just a quirky side effect of his temporal meddling; it was a source of unexpected strength. They had navigated the challenges of persistent bedwetting once before, albeit as children and young adults. Perhaps, together, they could navigate this new, even more bizarre chapter of his life as well. The thought, surprisingly, brought a small, genuine smile to his face. Chapter 13 The lab shimmered once more, the familiar tug pulling Alistair away from the present. This time, the transition felt less jarring, more like stepping through a slightly out-of-sync doorway. He was instantly aware of the shift in his surroundings, the subtle changes in the air, the familiar yet slightly younger feel of his own body. He was in his old university apartment, the posters of physics luminaries slightly askew on the wall, the worn armchair in the corner looking particularly inviting. He glanced at the calendar hanging precariously by a single tack. He was 22. And then the memory hit him, sharp and poignant. This was the time. The breakup. Max had been devastated. Her boyfriend, someone Alistair had always found rather boorish, had ended their relationship, cruelly citing her "childishness" and "inability to handle basic adult functions." The underlying reason, the one Max had confided in him with tear-filled eyes, was her bedwetting. In his original timeline, Alistair winced at the recollection, he had been… awkward. Distant. He had offered generic platitudes about finding someone who truly appreciated her, but he hadn't truly understood the depth of her pain, the vulnerability she had exposed. He had been focused on his studies, on his own burgeoning career, and hadn't offered the specific, empathetic support she had clearly needed. But now, everything was different. He carried the shared history of the bedwetters cabin, the quiet understanding forged in childhood, the unspoken bond that had re-emerged during their university years. He knew firsthand the shame and anxiety that came with persistent bedwetting. He understood the courage it took for Max to open herself up to someone, only to be met with such callous rejection. A wave of protectiveness washed over him, a fierce desire to comfort the younger Max he knew was hurting right now. He grabbed his phone, scrolling through his contacts until he found her number. His fingers hovered over the call button. He needed to be careful. He couldn't reveal his knowledge of the future, or the bizarre circumstances of his current understanding. He just needed to be there for her, as a friend, as someone who truly understood. He took a deep breath and pressed call. Max's voice, when she answered, was thick with unshed tears. "Hello?" "Max? It's Alistair." There was a slight pause, a hint of surprise in her tone. "Alistair? Hi." "I… I heard," he said gently, choosing his words carefully. "About Ben. I'm so sorry, Max." A choked sob escaped her. "It's… it's awful, Alistair. He… he was so cruel." "He doesn't know what he's lost, Max," Alistair said, his voice firm. "You are brilliant, kind, and stronger than you know. His inability to see that is his failing, not yours." He listened patiently as she poured out her hurt and anger, offering words of encouragement and validation. He spoke not with the detached sympathy of his younger self, but with the genuine empathy of someone who shared a similar struggle, someone who knew the sting of that particular vulnerability. As the conversation continued, something shifted within Alistair. He saw Max not just as a friend with a shared history, but as a remarkable woman who had faced adversity with strength and resilience. Her intelligence, her vulnerability, her unwavering spirit – all the qualities he admired in the present-day Max – were already present in this heartbroken 22-year-old. A warmth spread through him, a feeling that went beyond platonic concern. He found himself wanting to offer her more than just words, wanting to hold her, to reassure her that she was worthy of love and respect, exactly as she was. A romantic feeling, unexpected yet undeniably present, began to bloom in his chest. It wasn't just the shared history of the bedwetters cabin, or the camaraderie of their university years. It was the admiration for her strength in the face of heartbreak, the deep understanding of her struggles, and the undeniable connection that had been subtly growing between them for years, across different timelines and different ages. He ended the call with a promise to see her soon, a genuine desire to offer her tangible support. As he hung up, Alistair looked around his younger self's messy apartment, a new sense of purpose settling within him. He was here for Max. And perhaps, in supporting her through this difficult time, he might also find something he hadn't realized he was looking for. The timeline had shifted again, and this time, the changes felt deeply personal, filled with the unexpected possibility of something more. Chapter 14 The familiar lurch in his stomach, the subtle distortion of the brightly lit department store, caught Alistair completely off guard. One moment he was standing in his 22-year-old self's cluttered university apartment, the lingering echo of Max's tearful voice still in his ears, the burgeoning warmth of a new feeling stirring within him. The next, the world around him had shrunk, the scent of new fabric and department store perfume filling his nostrils once more. He blinked, his adult eyes struggling to refocus on the towering racks of children's clothing. He looked down at his small hands, his bright blue cartoon dog t-shirt. He was five again. Back in the department store. His mother's voice, younger and more melodic than he had heard in years, broke through his confusion. "You know, honey, your bed has been a little wet lately. Do you think we should try these? Maybe they'll help you stay dry at night." There she was, holding up the package of astronaut-themed diapers, the same question hanging in the air, the same pivotal moment he had already experienced – twice. Alistair stared at the package, a wave of disorientation washing over him. This shouldn't be happening. His temporal jumps had always been deliberate, controlled (or at least, he thought they were). This sudden, involuntary leap back was unprecedented. It felt like the timeline itself was stuttering, skipping, replaying key moments. He thought of Max. He loved her. The realization had solidified in his 22-year-old self, a warmth that went beyond friendship and shared history. He cherished their connection, the unique bond forged in childhood vulnerability and strengthened by years of shared experiences, both academic and deeply personal. He knew the consequences of agreeing to these diapers. He knew it would likely lead to years of bedwetting, the need for pull-ups on long trips, and ultimately, his current embarrassing predicament. He knew it had also shaped Max's childhood, leading them to that fateful science camp and their enduring, understanding connection. The thought of a timeline where he and Max might not have shared those early, formative experiences, where their bond might be different or even non-existent, sent a pang of genuine fear through his five-year-old heart. He couldn't risk losing that connection, the foundation of what he now realized was a profound and growing love. He looked up at his mother, her kind eyes filled with concern. He looked at the astronaut diapers, no longer seeing them as a symbol of potential future embarrassment, but as a thread in the tapestry of his shared history with Max. Taking a deep breath, a small smile playing on his lips, Alistair reached out and touched the package. "Yes, Mommy," he said, his voice clear and surprisingly resolute for a five-year-old. "Let's try them. They look really cool!" He pointed at the smiling astronaut on the packaging. "Maybe they'll help me dream about space!" His mother beamed, clearly pleased by his sudden enthusiasm. "Oh, good, sweetie! I thought you'd like the astronauts." She placed the package in the shopping cart, oblivious to the complex web of temporal consequences her little boy had just embraced. As they continued their shopping, Alistair felt a strange sense of acceptance. He was consciously choosing this path, fully aware of the potential pitfalls and the future filled with absorbent undergarments. But he was also choosing a path that had led him to Max, to their unique and cherished connection. And for that, he wouldn't change a thing. The possibility of a future with Max, built on the foundation of their shared history, was worth every potentially embarrassing moment. The timeline might be unpredictable, but his feelings for Max were not. Chapter 15 Alistair’s eyes fluttered open, the soft, diffused light of the morning filtering through the bedroom curtains. He stretched, a familiar contentment settling over him. Next to him, nestled amongst the rumpled sheets, lay Max, her dark hair tousled against the pillow, a peaceful smile gracing her lips. Then, the familiar, slightly damp sensation registered. A warmth against his skin, the unmistakable bulk beneath his pajamas. He glanced down, a small, wry smile touching his own lips. Yes. Still. He shifted slightly, and Max stirred, her eyes fluttering open. A sleepy smile widened on her face as she met his gaze. Then, her own eyes flickered downwards, a knowing chuckle escaping her. “Morning, sleepyhead,” she murmured, her voice still thick with sleep. “Looks like we had a little… accident.” Alistair reached over and gently brushed a stray strand of hair from her forehead. “Seems so,” he replied, his tone light. “Some things, it seems, never truly change.” A sudden, insistent wail pierced the peaceful morning quiet. It was a small, high-pitched cry, full of urgent need. Max’s eyes widened, and she immediately sat up, a surge of maternal energy replacing her sleepy demeanor. “There’s our little alarm clock,” she said, a fond smile returning to her face. Alistair followed her gaze towards the baby monitor on the nightstand, the soft glow illuminating the tiny form of their firstborn child. A son. Born just a few weeks ago. As they both moved to get out of bed, the familiar crinkle of absorbent material accompanied their movements. They exchanged a knowing glance, a silent acknowledgment of their shared reality. They had built a life together, a life deeply intertwined from that unexpected encounter in the bedwetters cabin so many years ago. Their shared history, their mutual understanding, had formed the bedrock of their relationship, weathering the occasional embarrassing moments with humor and unwavering support. The decision he had made as a five-year-old, the conscious choice to embrace the astronaut diapers, had indeed shaped their lives in profound ways. They had navigated adolescence and adulthood, their persistent bedwetting a shared secret, a unique thread in the tapestry of their bond. They had found comfort and acceptance in each other, a love that transcended the occasional damp sheets and the need for discreet laundry. Now, here they were, thirty years old, parents to a newborn son, still occasionally waking up to wet diapers. And somehow, it didn't feel like a source of shame. It was just… a part of their story. As Max hurried towards the nursery, Alistair carefully removed his own wet diaper, a familiar routine by now. He glanced at the baby monitor, watching Max gently lift their crying son from the crib. A feeling of overwhelming love and contentment washed over him. He wouldn't trade this life, this family, this unique and sometimes soggy journey with Max, for anything. The unpredictable nature of time had thrown him a curveball, but it had also led him to her. And as he followed Max into the nursery, ready to face the joys and challenges of parenthood – likely with a pack of diapers close at hand – he knew that their story, with all its unexpected twists and wet mornings, was just beginning. The End

Chapter 1: “Abby, is this really necessary?” A whine sounded from her throat. Dani crossed her arms over her chest, pouting at the ceiling as her legs were held up by the ankles. A warm wipe made its way over her nether regions, cleansing every inch of her dirty bottom and between her legs. “Yes, Dani, this is necessary. It’s necessary when you willfully disregard all instructions not to eat gluten. Really, Dani, what were you thinking?” her voice was firm, not angry, but the disappointment was clear. She’d only had a tiny bite of cake left on the counter and it was only too tempting dipping her finger into the frosting and biting into the yummy sweetness. The doctor said she had Celiac disease but Dani hadn’t believed a word they said. These Amazon’s were on a power trip and the only thing the doctor believed she should be having was milk straight from an Amazon’s tit. But now her tummy ached and the messy explosion down below was the result. Abby stared down at her with the same condescending look given to all Littles trying to prove they were bigger than they actually were. “Just because you are a Little does not mean we are all out to get you. Believe it or not, Doctor Heany actually wanted to help you. This is all your own fault, Daniella. You have no reason to be upset.” Okay, she did have a point, the Little reluctantly agreed. But, that didn’t mean she had to diaper her! Dani squirmed, wiggling around on the table as the Amazon woman reached down below, pulling out the thick padding. “NO!” She cried out, anxious to get away from the monstrous article of clothing, if it could even be called that. Dani knew she had been extremely lucky the past several years. The apartment building she used to live in decided they’d no longer accommodate unadopted Little’s after her neighbor had left the sink faucet running and fell asleep which resulted in the flooding of the entire apartment. The damage wasn’t extreme but the Landlord was not pleased. The Little was adopted not even a day later and the Landlord refused to rent to Little’s any longer. It wasn’t that Dani didn’t understand the Landlord’s frustrations but everything in this world was Amazon size, meant for those eight feet and taller. They had step stools and ladders and accommodations were made for the regressed but the average unadopted Little hardly stood a chance, especially when they couldn’t even reach a sink faucet - a task that would be simple if she wasn’t so short. And she’d gotten lucky, finding an Amazon that would even rent to her in the first place because most places wouldn’t even entertain the thought. A Little pretending to be an adult, no more mature than a toddler, yeah that’ll go well… Knowing she was about to be booted out on the street, tears welled up in her eyes. She was the prime candidate for any Amazon. They just couldn’t ignore their parental instincts, seeing a Little in distress (or any Little in general). The urge to smother them with “love” back into diapers and turn their brains to mush was too strong. But Abby wasn’t like the other Amazon’s - not really, well, kind of - she was different. Abby had saved her. But it’s not how she saw it at the time. Dani had been arguing with the Landlord, a grumpy ten foot tall man who never had time for Little’s and their whims (as he liked to put it) about just needing another day or two to move out her stuff. Her best friend said she could stay with her for a while until she was sorted. But she had too much stuff to move in twenty-four hours coupled with the fact there were about fifty other Little’s moving out the same day, it was an impossible task they were meant to fail at. Look at all the Littles, too immature to follow directions correctly. Too tiny to even lift and carry out all their items. That is why instead of them doing the carrying, they need to be carried by a big and strong Amazon. He’d all but laughed in her face as she continued to argue her case, not only for herself but other fellow Littles. However, it wasn’t until after, she’d realized she’d gone a bit too far. “I’m half tempted to call the adoption center!” The man exclaimed. “Not even able to follow proper instructions, disrespectful and talking back? This is a serious case of Maturosis.” Oh god. Her heart had dropped to the bottom of her stomach, unable to do anything as she watched him pull out her phone. “Please!” She pleaded. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry-” “What’s going on here?” They’d both turned around at the sound of the voice. An Amazon, one of the tallest she’d ever seen, came strutting over across the lobby. The woman must have been about thirteen feet and that was tall for Amazon standards. Unconsciously, she backed up, eager to be rid of both Giants because while one was worrisome, two was a nightmare. “Miss Brady!” The man’s voice turned jovial at the site of his fellow Amazon. “Nothing to worry about here. Just the standard case of Maturosis, I’m dialing the adoption center as we speak.” Tears poured down her cheeks and the Amazon stared down at her, blue eyes shining with an expression she couldn’t make out. The Amazon was beautiful and blonde with curves she could only dream of having. “Oh don’t do that,” the woman smiled, waving her hand. “I’ve been searching for a Little for myself actually! I think Little Miss -“ “Daniella Avery.” Said the man with a Cheshire cat grin as he hung up his phone. “Miss Avery would be absolutely perfect! You don’t have to worry about her apartment. I’ll take it over as well.” The Little didn’t have time to run as she was quickly scooped up and swung over her shoulder. The girl let out what could only be described as a tantrum. Kicking and screaming and pounding on the Amazon’s back, that should have been the end. At twenty-one years old, this should have been the point where her life drastically changed forever and any happiness she contained disappeared. But it wasn’t. Instead, it was quite the opposite. OoOoo Abby won in the end, like always, and could only smile at the pouting Little who couldn’t have been any more adorable in her puffy pink diaper secured tightly around her waist. Honestly, she’d be content making her go out dressed in only that but Abby really didn’t have the energy to deal with the tantrum that would surely ensue. “Why can’t I at least wear a pull-up?” “Do I really need to explain this Dani?” She did not. The Little stayed silent. “You know what we agreed on. Say it.” Her hand landed down on her pale thigh tainted pink, having been slapped one to many times in response to her poor behavior. Dani frowned, rubbing at her wet eyes. “Mommy knows best and Little girls need to learn that their naughty behavior has consequences,” diapers being it. All Abby really required was obedience and a companion to watch over but not regress. The Amazon, unlike most others, did not desire a baby to look after or to be called Mommy or diaper full-time. She wanted a Little she could snuggle up with at the end of the night, a Little that would still maintain their adult mind and could have normal conversations yet acknowledge their place in an Amazon's world. Dani could handle that because her Mommy, for all-intents and purposes, always said, it could be a lot worse. She had freedoms, too many to count and it just came over the small price of being fussed over and treated at the most like a five to six year old. However, the times she was diapered, dressed up in humiliating garb and made to nurse were her own fault. It was her own stupid actions having landed her in this position. Like now. But Dani knew, if she even voiced a desire to be regressed, Abby wouldn’t hesitate. Instincts always won over in the end. “Very good,” Abby smiled, patting her head. “Arms up.” The Little complied, allowing the sparkly blue dress to be slipped over her head ending just past her knees. Abby would’ve had her permanently dressed in pink just like her nursery and about every babyish outfit she owned but seeing a diapered Little in pink and alone in public was a recipe for disaster. Hands under her armpits, she was lifted to the ground. Her legs wobbled attempting to catch her balance having been on her backside for way too long. Her head didn’t even reach halfway up to the changing table just like every other item in Amazonia and while Dani was proud to be Little, she wished she were just a few feet taller. Only at 4’8, she was short even for Little standards which made her even more delectable to the Amazons and absolutely impossible to be taken seriously, more so than her fellow Littles. Now, Abby hummed a tune, something familiar from her childhood as they stood at the mirror, brushing her red curls back into a low ponytail. “All my friends are going to see that I’m wearing a diaper,” Dani sulked looking down at the ground because she couldn’t bear to stare at her own reflection. “You don’t have to play with your friends. We can always stay here and have a Baby day. We can watch your favorite movie and cuddle and have bathtime. I know how much you love bubbles.” Her cheeks turn pink at every word, worse than the last. Dani was mortified to admit how much she actually enjoyed herself during those times. It was maybe only a year after she’d been adopted that she truly let herself relax and indulge in the lack of responsibilities, realizing she wouldn’t be taken advantage of. Being taken care of for once instead of having to worry about her every little move, was a nice change. Still, Dani couldn’t help but feel guilty, knowing this was exactly what so many Little’s were fighting against, what she had fought against, and here she was enjoying it. Even now, Dani wouldn’t mind a cozy day in her favorite fuzzy pajamas. But the Little knew it was more of a punishment and there was no fun in being reminded of how stupid she’d been. “What if they say something? What if they laugh at me?” “Then they are not your friends.” Finished tying the black ribbon at the top of her hair, she was lifted into her arms. “My tummy doesn’t hurt anymore though. I don’t need a diaper, really. I’ll be fine.” “But we can’t be sure, can we?” The woman gave her a look. “Besides, you don’t have to go to your friend's house at all but I know how much you were looking forward to the, what was it… bachelorette party?” No! She couldn’t miss it! Her bottom lip slipped between her teeth as she carefully considered her next words. Abby would keep her home if she really wanted too. She didn’t even have to let her keep seeing her friends and that’s what Dani appreciated the most. But like everyone, the Amazon had her limits and Dani was inching dangerously close to crossing the line. “You’re right.” The Little finally muttered in defeat. There was no arguing her way out of this one. “Of course I am!” She bounced her in her arms. “Mommy is always right!” OoOoo It was a sunny August day as they made their way outside from the third floor and out onto the busy street. Surprisingly, Dani had no fight as she was strapped into the pink stroller (which was always a problem). Abby watched as she laid her head back, soaking up the sun and her eyes closed. A hint of a smile appeared on her lips at the very visible sight of the puffiness beneath her dress, pulled up by the strap between her thighs. She’d fussed at the frilly white socks and Mary Jane’s but really, it was the least of her concerns. Even just the tiniest argument allowed her to maintain her sanity, showing that she still had a voice to fight back against her imprisonment. She closed her eyes as to not see all the cooing Amazon’s, pretending she was somewhere on a warm island sipping a Mimosa and not stuck in this horrible contraption they called a stroller. It was a quick walk, about twenty minutes away yet it couldn’t have felt shorter as they came to a stop in front of the five story building. Tucked away in a quiet neighborhood, the area was predominantly occupied by Littles and Inbetweeners, not quite as big as Amazons but still tall enough that they were ignored by the Amazons. “Here we are!” Abby chirped. Leaning down to undo all the belts, Dani didn’t hesitate to hop out, seeing that they were alone on the street. “Here is your phone and gift for your friend,” she reached down into the bottom pocket of the stroller. “Are you fine to go in on your own?” “Yes!” Dani said eagerly, grabbing the wrapped present and tiny flip phone. The last thing she needed was her friends seeing her Mommy walking her inside like a baby. “Very well. Do you remember our rules?” Abby bent down, taking her chin in her hand so she couldn’t look away. “Yes,” she sighed. “No drinking, no dirty behavior and no boys.” Dani struggled not to roll her eyes. It was the tiny restrictions like this that got her the most fed up. She was twenty-one years old for crying out loud and the girl had needs! “I will be back at six pm but text me if you need me beforehand or want to come home early. I will be here in a jiffy.” “Six?” Dani sputtered, doing her best not to stomp her foot. “That’s only five hours! The party is going on all night -!” “Daniella!” She said sharply. “I’ve been very patient all morning with your little fits. Do you want me to make it shorter? Do you want to go at all? We can turn around right now and go back home. We could also go upstairs and spank your little bottom in front of all of your friends.” A dark look had settled over her eyes, warning she was on her last straw. “B-but,” tears just about welled up in her eyes. “I hardly see Carly and it’s her most special day! Can I stay until ten at least? Pleaseeee?” “Absolutely not. Six o’clock.” “What about nine?” Abby paused, seemingly considering her words. After a pregnant pause she said, “eight o’clock.” “Eight-forty five-“ “Daniella…” her hand warningly grasped her bottom. “Fine.” She relented. “Eight o’clock.” The Amazon sighed. “That’s your bedtime so I don't want any whiny girl later on and don’t even try to argue for overnight since there is no adult present.” “Thankyouthankyouthankyou! I’ll be good!” Dani couldn’t help but squeal, knowing this was the best she was gonna get. Attacking Abby with a hug to the neck and a thousand kisses to the cheek, really she was grateful. How sad was that… happy for just another two hours… oh how much she’d fallen. Her reaction was adorable, melting the Amazon’s heart because all she wanted was for her Little girl to be happy. She didn’t want to leave her alone with a bunch of other Little’s, especially with the very grown up behaviors they still presented, but it was a necessary sacrifice if she didn’t want Dani to despise her forever. Unlike other Amazon’s, she actually cared how her Little felt which was not a popular sentiment. “Now run along,” she sighed, disentangling her arms and patting her bottom. “You don’t want to be late.” OoOoo The receptionist knew her by now, a kind Inbetweener who really didn’t care if she was Little or not just as long as no trouble was caused. She said hello, practically skipping towards the elevator that for once was placed at the right height so she could press the button. The only reason Dani hadn’t moved in here was because the complex had reached their quota for Little’s allowed. Only thirty-five percent could be occupied by Little’s in order to accommodate the Inbetweeners so they wouldn’t feel upstaged. Not that it really mattered in the end, but still, it made her pissy just thinking about the stupid rule. It was a quick ride up to the fourth floor and the party was already in full swing. “Dani!” Squeals broke out throughout the room as she walked through the unlocked door. She was embraced with hugs from her already tipsy friends, not only drunk on happiness. “Congratulations!” She exclaimed finally seeing the blonde bombshell of her best friend. She embraced the bride to be in a short white dress meant to show off her boobs and ass in the best way possible. Abby would have a stroke if she saw what she was wearing right now. Dani couldn’t help but think. “Wha-what are you wearing?” Carly stepped back, finally taking in her appearance. Her face heated up, realizing all eyes were on her and the room had gone quiet. It wasn’t a secret that she was adopted but it was embarrassing knowing she was different from everyone else. Sometimes, the energy was just off. There was them and then there was her. It was almost as if they were weary of her, as if her Littleness would rub off on them somehow. They were still her friends, nothing would change that, but these days she felt even more insecure. “Abby.” Is all she said. Hums of realization went around the living room. “I’ve got clothes and makeup in my room,” said Carly. “Go change and for fucks sake, take off the diaper. No Amazon is ruining our night.” Oh, she didn’t have to say that twice! A smile lit up her face as the energy resumed and she rushed off. A few minutes later, there are large exaggerated bangs on the bedroom door. “Knock knock knock! Open up bitch!” Olivia. She smirked. “I’m naked!” “Even better!” The door opened to reveal the girl who had been with her through thick and thin. The girl who’d contemplated begging Abby to adopt her just so they could remain together before Dani had told her what a stupid ridiculous idea that was. But that’s who Olivia was. Crass, confident and unequivocally lovable. Her caramel skin positively glowed, hair pulled up in a crown of long braids in a short midnight black dress and don’t even get her started on her long tanned legs. She’d always been the hot girl in college. The one all the boys chased after and every other girl wanted to be. “You look hot. Is that a new brand of diapers? Gucci? I heard they’re making them extra absorbent nowadays.” “Oh shut up!” They collapse into a fit of laughter, jumping on their friend’s queen size bed. Olivia was the one person she didn’t need to hide around, the one person who could turn any awkward situation into a joke and who didn’t really seem to care about her new status in life. “Help me choose an outfit before they start wondering where we are. Jesus, she’s got so many clothes.” She walks to the closet, pulling out a blood red corset dress with a dangerous slit up the side. “Too slutty?” Oliva’s brows wiggled in a suggestive manner. “Not enough!” “Perhaps, we should consult with Mommy dearest. I wonder, does she have any matching red diapers?” “Don’t give her ideas,” Dani shuttered at the thought. “Now help me into that thing and do my makeup. I want to look our age for once.” OoOoo Bachelorette parties were supposed to be sweet and wholesome, celebrating the start of a new chapter in the woman’s life. For Carly, there would be none of that cutesy crap. As Littles they already dealt with it enough. Early marriage wasn’t uncommon for Littles in Amazonia because one day you could be free and the next day stuck in a crib. You never knew how much time you had. Dani hadn’t even gotten to the point of finding a boyfriend before being adopted and the thought of marriage was a faraway dream. That’s why she couldn’t have been any more happy for her friend, getting to live out all of her fantasies. “Are you staying the night?” Olivia asked as she carefully applied her eyeliner. “Until eight.” Dani sighed. “Let me guess, Abby?” “You bet.” She muttered. ”Good thing you’ll be here for the stripper then.” “Stripper!” Dani gasped, eyes flying wide-open. “Shhh!” Olivia put her fingers to her lips. “It’s a surprise. We planned it for Carly. Don’t say anything to her!” “H-how’d you even find one?” “The Underground, duh. How else would we?” It was no surprise that any raunchy, sexual activity including drinking were off limits to Little’s. Anything that threatened the innocence of a Little was outlawed. That’s why there was the Underground. Anything a Little needed could be found there. Alcohol, Lingerie, certain activities… you just needed to know where to look. “We figured you couldn’t stay the night so they’re coming at half six.” Dani was grateful for the thought, yet her face still turned as red as her hair. They shouldn’t have to make decisions like this in the first place or change the plans just to accommodate her. Often she wondered if her presence was more of a hindrance. “Don’t be like that,” Olivia nudged her playfully. “I love you. Carly loves you. We all love you. Let loose, have some fun before you go back to baby jail. Perhaps you’ll just meet the love of your life.” Dani barked a laugh. Imagine. A stripper and a diapered Little. That would make one hell of a story. OoOoo A/N: Hey all! I know it’s been such a long time since I’ve posted but I’ve been so busy with school. I’m coming up on my last year of college, I’m in the middle of an internship and getting ready for Masters programs so literally I’ve had no time for anything else! I just wanted to post a little something because I need a break from everything. I know that I have so many stories going on but when something pops in my head, I’ve got write it down! I’ve got about one hundred drafts of different stories written but I’m still working on Baby Dolls and whatever else is posted right now. I’m not really sure how long this story will be but please stick with me! This is my first time writing a diaper dimension story so please share your thoughts and as always, I love reviews! Also, I had no clue what to title this so any better suggestions are welcome!!!

“Dylan James Marshall, get down here now, we need to leave before the store closes!” This time, I couldn’t even try to ignore my mom’s yelling, my high quality headphones did nothing to drown her out when she got to full volume. I quickly stopped and saved my game before shutting down my PC , where I had been holed up in front of for the last several hours, before exiting my bedroom. “Coming Mom, I just need to stop and” “You need to stop and nothing! I told you 20 minutes that we needed to leave, whatever you need to do you could have done then! I can’t help that you choose to hole yourself up in your room in front of that computer for hours on end drinking soda and eating junk food. Your family comes first and right now your family needs you to help with the shopping.” Begrudgingly, I plodded my way down the stairs and out to the driveway, resigning myself to the backseat of our SUV, having no desire to hear my mother preach to me “I don’t care if you are nearly 16, the safest place for children is still the backseat” for the thousandth time. I buckled in and lost myself in my phone for what would be a minimum 20m minute drive over ill repaired country roads to the local Co-Op mega complex of interconnected grocery store, lumber mart, pharmacy and general department store where you could wander between the various “departments” with the same cart and check out at any till you wanted. While I could admit that there was a certain genius to this set up, almost a Walmart on steroids, it created a building with what felt like a bajillion square feet where we could often spend hours wandering until we had everything we needed for our bi-monthly resupply trips. The trip felt like an eternity, jostling my bladder, the reason for my intended stop before leaving the house, with every bump leaving me absolutely antsy as we pulled into the parking lot. As we entered the store, I started to make a beeline to the washrooms, only to be grabbed by the collar by my mom. “Mom, I just need to go pee!” “Dylan, you are nearly 16 years old, you can hold it until we are done shopping, we have way to much to buy today and not enough time to do it all.” Now the thing you need to understand with mom is that the only time there is an argument is when she starts arguing with herself. I was well aware that at this point anything short of a disabling injury was going to change her mind, so I allowed myself to be led to the cart rack to grab one of the two oversized carts that would be needed to complete our trip. What ensued was well over an hour, probably two if I had really had the chance to check my phone for the time, of plodding down the aisles and between the departments with Mom stopping to peruse items with seemingly no agenda. Mom never seemed to need a list, but this also seemed to lead to her stopping and thinking a lot, despite the urgent timeline of our trip. We had just made our way back over to the grocery department and were approaching the end of an aisle as I turned back, distracted by what Mom was trying to say to me while still walking forward. My progress was disrupted by a sudden jolt and the handlebar of the cart jabbing into my midsection with extreme force as I unknowingly crashed into another patron crossing the end of the aisle. I started to stammer out an apology, only to freeze mid-sentence as I became aware of a very warm and wet feeling, rapidly expanding from my crotch and down the inseams of my jeans. It was all that I could do to look down and stare as my crotch and legs progressively darkened, quickly followed by a puddle of liquid forming on the floor. “Dylan, are you ok?” My trance was interrupted by Mom running up behind me. “Did you break something, I don’t want to have to pay for wasted merchanidse, wait a second...” In that moment, Mom’s hand grabbed me by the shoulder and spun me around full circle, leaving my obviously wet crotch and legs fully exposed for her to see. “Dylan James! I can’t believe this, did you seriously just piss your pants in the grocery store? I mean, a night time accident, that wouldn’t surprise me, there is a reason we still have a fully waterproof cover on your mattress after all.” Ok, so quick rewind, backstory time here, ummm yeah, bed wetting, that was a thing until just after I turned 14. Pull Ups, or Goodnites or whatever you want to call those glorified versions of diapers were a part of my nightly routine. it took 3 months of being dry every single night before I was allowed out of them, but still over 1.5 years later and the mattress is still protected just in case. But a daytime wetting? I mean, that hadn’t happened since I was maybe 5 or 6, unless you counted the times that I was forced to wear a pull up on a long drive in case I fell asleep, and even then the last time I had wet was on a 4 hour drive to Grandma and Grandpa's the Christmas before I turned 14 and it had legitimately happened in my sleep. Now snap back to the present, here I was, standing in front of my Mom in the middle of a grocery store in clearly soaked jeans, a puddle of urine at my feet while she made no attempts to conceal her analysis of the events to anyone within a three aisle radius. “I, I just can’t believe this, of all the things to deal with today, i wouldn’t think that a pair of pissy pants would be on the list. Your brother is 8 and even if he was with us I would be astounded if I had to deal with this. Well come on now, we cant just stay here in the middle of the store now can we?” Now perhaps at this point you would think that we would just abandon our carts, head to the car and head for home, but no, that’s not how Mom rolls. I was marched (can you even say that while pushing a heaping grocery cart?) over to the clothing department, soaking jeans chafing all the way, and forced to stand there, doing my best to look invisible while mom sorted through the bargain shelves to find the cheapest pair of sweat pants that she could. Just as swiftly as we had entered clothing, we left with a new pair of sweats and socks piled on the cart. Once again we were headed back to the grocery side, presumably to use the tills there as they were closest to our car, only for Mom to make a sharp turn into an aisle. Now for those of you familiar, this aisle has a very distinctive scent, lightly floral and fragrant scents that are impregnated into it s products. One could be blind and still know that they are in the baby aisle. For those not blessed (as I perhaps wished in the moment) with blindness, you are greeted with one side of the aisle full of jars of various types of mush that is deemed nutritionally sufficient for infants, pacifiers, bibs, bottles and all of the accessories needed for infant care. The other, of course, is lined with diapers, bags and bags of diapers. No less than 5 brands of diapers, Huggies, Pampers, Luvs, store brand and eco friendly. A short distance down the aisle you will find the Pull Ups, or the “training underwear” for big kids if you will. And at the end of the aisle, you find the bed wetting pants, the nighttime underwear, whatever words you want to convince a kid over the age of 6 that they are not wearing a diaper. Goodnites and Ninjamas (terrible product for the record, first and only bag got tossed) and department store rip off brands. Needless to say, this was an aisle I had been down many times in my adolescence and one that I had no desire to ever re-enter. If you haven't ever had the displeasure of the experience, let me tell you that there is nothing quite like being the adolescent pushing the cart with the box with a smiling young adult on one side and the picture of the diaper on the other side sitting glaringly on top of your cart. The adults all smile, eyes perhaps glancing to the size indicated on the box, but they already know that they are for you. Needless to say, my protests were vociferous and immediate as we turned into the ailse. “Mom! Please! I don’t need Pull Ups anymore! It was just an accident, I already had to go and then the cart hit me hard. It won’t happen again, I swear!” “Relax honey, I know it was an accident and I promise it won’t happen again. And I know you don’t need Pull Ups any more, we are just here to get you some supplies to help me clean you up. I know you are upset, just take some deep breaths and we be done here, only one more stop and we can get you out of those icky jeans.” Looking back, I have to reflect and realize that my emotional distress in the moment most likely made me mentally numb or else I might have noticed that in addition to a mega sized pack of wipes that Mom had also grabbed a bottle of baby powder and a tub of diaper rash cream, but I think that in the moment, I was likely trying to keep my mental blinders on as we made out way down the aisle. I was so happy to be leaving the diaper aisle that I quite blindly followed Mom as we left the grocery department and wandered into the pharmacy. It took me a few seconds before I looked up and saw the sign labelled Incontinence above the aisle we were entering. Now maybe, perhaps the word wasn’t one in my vocabulary, but a glance at the shelves left nothing to the imagination. Now let me tell you, packages of baby diapers are meant to be cute, the Pull Ups have a 3 or 4 year old proudly displaying their “underwear”, and even the bed wetting products have a smiling pre-teen on the front, albeit no distinguishable bulge under their pyjamas or elasticized waistband peeking out over the top, much unlike real life. Now adult diapers, that is a different story, every package has a bold picture of whatever product it contains, right on the front. The colours are designed to appease the eye while flaunting the product. They have all sorts of fancy words to describe them, briefs, fitted protection, absorbent underwear, the list goes on, and not a one of which does a thing tom hide the fact that they are a diaper. The packages are large, bulky and indiscreet to say the least. “But Mom, you said that we weren’t getting Pull Ups and i didn’t need them.” “That’s right honey, i did say we didn’t need your bed wetting Pull Ups. Clearly those would never have held an accident like this.” “But it was just an accident, you said it yourself, it was one time, I don’t need Pull Ups.” “You are right, accident, and if it was just one it won’t happen again. But until we know that, we need to be safe, and you are right, you don’t need Pull Ups. Based on how big of a puddle you left on the floor we are going to need to switch you to some proper diapers until we know for sure. Do you know how embarrassing it was for me to have to ask the staff to go and clean up the accident that my nearly 16 year old son had on the floor?” “But mom, I don’t..” “Excuse me” I was cut short by a woman’s voice cutting into our conversation. “Do you two need some help?” I turned to see an extremely pretty woman, perhaps in her early twenties, standing just beyond Mom. “Well yes, i think we might, you see my son, well he seems to have had a bit of a relapse.” Her sideways glance down towards my crotch made the issue blatantly clear. “I think we need to look at putting him back into diapers until we can be sure this issue has cleared up.” “I see ma'am, clearly you don’t want any relapses or to have him running through stores in wet pants again. Now we have plenty of options that are just like underwear, he will be able to pull them on and off by himself, you won’t need to help him.” “No, I’m sorry, his Goodnites were barely keeping up with his bed wetting when he stopped last year, we had a few side leaks, i think for now I would prefer to have him in proper diapers, preferably plastic backed. If you had seen the size of the puddle that accompanied this pair of pants I am sure that you would understand.” “Absolutely ma’am, that isn’t a problem at all. With that being said, our diaper style products tend to have more selective sizing in comparison to the pull up products and i would highly recommend that we get some measurements to get the best fit, we wouldn’t ant any leaks after all.” “Oh absolutely, do you have a cloth tape to measure.” “Yes, indeed, but I’m afraid we need measurements without his jeans to be accurate, and I would assume his undergarments are equally as soaked as his pants. Would it be alright if we had him change into something dry before we take measurements?” “Oh absolutely, do you have a space we can use?” “Yes indeed, please follow me to the back.” With that, we were ushered through a door and into a side room for consultations that was set up similar to a doctor’s office including an examination table. Shelly, the pharmacy employee handed something to Mom and told her to just stick her head out the door when we were ready. I immediately started to stammer out some words but Mom cut me off before I could even start a true sentence. “Dylan, I don’t want to hear it. You have embarrassed me beyond belief today. No mother should have to stand in a phramacy with her nearly 16 year old son and ask for help picking out diapers for him. I know this is not what you want, but I am not the one who wet their pants in the middle of the store. We will be leaving here today with diapers for you, and if you can prove that you do not need them then we can discuss what your return to regular underwear will eventually look like, now strip! I wasn’t left with much choice, or any option for privacy for that matter so i quickly removed my sodden jeans and underwear before Mom could choose to take on the task for herself. That of course did not stop her from grabbing wipes from the pack she had somehow brought into the room with her, and vigorously wiping my thighs and crotch. She then grabbed a handful of paper towels from the dispenser on the wall before grabbing my sodden clothes and dumping them into the garbage. “Mom, those were my good jeans!” “Were, until you pissed them, i am not washing that filth!” What came next was perhaps the biggest surprise, Mom turned around and grabbed something off of the counter and when she turned back she had a Pull Up stretched out in her hands, ready for me to step into. Except it was nothing like the Goodnites I had worn in somewhat recent history. Instead of a mundane pattern with a print designed to look like the seam on a pair of underwear, this had stars and race cars emblazoned across a white background. The shock of not being offered boxers or briefs aside, the garish design of the Pull Up was just too much. “Mom, there is no way, that looks like it is for a baby!” “Dylan, I don’t want to hear it, Sherry was nice enough to give this to us, I don’t think you suppose that they just keep spare underwear around for 15 year olds who have accidents now do you? I know your bed wetter diapers looked different, but this will have to do for now. Once Sherry helps get you measured for your diapers you can get dressed with the new sweats that I bought you.” Leaving no further room for discussion, Mom once again held out the Pull Up as i was forced to step into it and allow her to pull it up my legs, followed by a quick finger around the seams to make sure everything was seated right. She then called Sherry back in, who proceeded to take measurements of my waist, hips, and even around my legs, all the while making notes as i stood there clad in nothing but a childish Pull Up and tee shirt. After a few minutes she sat down at a computer and began entering information and reviewing what came up before she spoke. “Well ma’am, I can tell you that I am certainly glad we took the time to get measurements from your son today. Now unfortunately, Based in his measurements, the only products he would fit are the specialty youth sized versions from a couple of our brands of adult diapers, but we d not stock them, and the lead time on orders can be up to 6 weeks and availability of supply can be intermittent. With that being said, i never like to bring a problem without having a solution to offer as well. We do have an adolescent brand of products that is geared towards the special needs market. The sizing would fit your son exceptionally well, imagine if you will if the traditional brands of diapers went up to a size 10 or 11, in this case what you would consider the youth size 16 clothing. Now the only caveat here, is that with their design being towards the special needs market, these diapers do come with designs on the shells as opposed to the traditional white diaper with a wetness indicator strip that you would find on the adult market.” “That won’t be a problem at all, I don’t imagine that Dylan is going to be running around showing off his diapers to his friends any time soon, although I suppose if we can’t get past this issue that he might normalize them and try to flaunt like a pair of boxers, but I truly do hope that we son’t get to that point and this blows by in a month or two.” “Alright then, well if you can give me a minute or two, I will run to the back and grab you a bag and then you can feel free to give them a try on our champ here.” What ensued was 2 or maybe 5 minutes of me glaring at mom, sitting on a chair in my Pull Up clad bottom with my arms folded in rage. She chose not to engage me with any words, leaving me to stew in my own misery. The silence was broken by a quick knock and Sherry making her way back into the room with a large bag in her hands. Now remember how i said that baby diaper packages were cute and adult diapers were garish? Well let me tell you, they sure split the field right down the middle on this one. The bag had bright colours an a picture of a child clearly into their early teens smiling and sporting one of the diapers on the front. There was no mistaking what they were wearing, definitely not a pull up, a glistening plastic zone for the four tapes to land and cartoonish zoo animals all over the shell of the diaper. The back of the package was a giant image of one of the diapers with blobs of text with attached lines pointing out the various benefits of the diaper to the caregiver. I couldn’t believe what I was staring at, clearly I had died and gone to some version of hell. Now Sherry, she was as upbeat as could be and could barely contain herself as she opened the package and pulled out one of the diapers to give us the full product demonstration. “So as you can see, this diaper has a full plastic shell to prevent any leaks, it is a little noisier than cloth backed options, but this is top of the line. The front panel has an extra reinforced plastic landing zone for the tapes which helps to ensure that they stick extra good and wont rip with movement.” She then flipped the now unfolded diaper, which now seemed absolutely massive, around. “As you can see, we have the blue core zone here which is designed with ultra absorbency for where leaks happen the most and we have extra tall leak guards on the sides to make sure nothing escapes. Now I’m sure it will not be needed, but these also have an extra blow out guard along the top at the back here in case the unthinkable ever happens.” Flipping the diaper back around she continued on. “Now back to our tape landing zone here, you can see how there is a pattern with the monkey arms, that is so that you know where to stick the tapes every time. Maybe after enough practice our little star here will be able to learn how to change his own diapers and save mom some work.” Change my own diapers? Seriously, how deluded was this lady, i was sure Mom would make me wear them for a day, prove her “lesson” and i would be back to my regular life after keeping my pants (diaper) dry. “Now one more benefit of these diapers, is that similar tom our adult products, they do feature a wetness indicator so that you can tell when they need changed, but instead of a boring stripe, they have these absolutely cute little paw prints running down the middle. They are very similar to the stars on the pull up I gave you for the fitting they will fade away if Dylan here is wet and tell you how used his diaper really is making sure he is comfortable without you needing to waste diapers.” It was at that point that three sets of eyes, mine included, drifted down to the pull up i was currently wearing to look at the star wetness indicators, something I had not realized were present and that no other product i had worn before had featured. Except there was something wrong, there were two stars below the waistband, then what looked like a blurred half of a star and then a very distinct gap. I practically had to crane my neck to see where the next faded star started. I hadn’t felt anything, i mean sure I was zoning out at times and it had been well over an hour since my accident, but there was no way that I had wet myself without knowing was there? “So as you can see by the missing stars, when they fade away, the diaper has been used, just like the paw prints here. Now I was going to recommend that you try a diaper on Dylan to make sure it fit before you left anyways and now it seems obvious that a change is in order, so why don’t I step out and let you get him sorted. Just give me a holler when he is changed and I will come back and help you check the fit. If you could please toss his used diaper in this bin here it will help keep the smell down.” With that, she exited the room, leaving Mom with a huge diaper in her hand and me standing in an obviously used Pull Up. “Well, up onto the table with you, you can’t sit around in that wet thing all day. Clearly we need to make sure your new diapers will fit you.” “Ok Mom, I’m sorry, you win. I’ve learned my lesson, the joke is over, can I please have my boxers and pants now?” “Boxers, i didn’t buy any boxers, i didn’t see a point in buying anything to put over your diaper. Based on the fact that you couldn’t even keep that Pull Up dry for an hour or even be bothered to let me know that you needed the bathroom, my judgment was clearly not in error. Now get up on that table now before i make your butt so sore that you will be begging me for a diaper to sit on. Clearly I was out of choices, fearing any further repercussions, I scurried my scantily clad but up onto the table and laid back tom face the inevitable. Without missing a beat, Mom’s hand swiftly and effortlessly ripped the sides of the pull up apart, before pulling the front down leaving me exposed. Wwipes were quickly produced and used to wipe me clean before a sharp slap to my butt cheek indicated the need to raise my legs from the table. The massive, crinkling diaper was placed underneath of me before i lowered myself down and was swiftly followed by a cloud of baby powder, mom having somehow procured a bottle. She then pulled the front of the diaper up and in short order there was the scritching sound as the four diaper tapes were opened one by one and sealed down onto the landing zone. Satisfied with her work, Mom called for Sherry to return to the room while I was still laying on the table. Well ma’am, this looks to be an excellent job of diapering.” Without pausing, Sherry’s fingers found their way to the leg bands of my diaper and began to check for snugness. With a quick tap to the side of my leg she declared “allright slugger, just stand up for me and we will check the fit and you and your mom can be on your way.” I sat up slowly, and stood, amidst a cacophony of crinkling, forced to stare at myself in the mirror on the wall as I stood somewhat bowlegged from the bulk of the diaper. “Now this won’t do, do you see how much gap there is here at the waist? When he wets at night this will leak for sure, let me show you how to fix this.” Sherry the proceeded to undo the upper tapes on my diaper one at a time showing Mom how to angle them downwards and pull them tighter. When she was done she put her fingers inside the waistband and I could definitely tell that it was significantly tighter. “Allright now, if you two want to gather up your things, i can meet you out front and you can be on with your day.” With that she left the room, leaving us to ourselves. Mom handed the pair of sweatpants to me, which I pulled up only to realize that they stood no chance of coming up over the waist of my diaper and that my shirt barely reached down to their waistband while standing still. “Mom, I can’t leave like this!” “Well you can’t stay in here for ever, and you certainly can’t un-wet your pants, or the pull up you soaked for that matter, and we definitely need to leave today, so I suggest you get moving. You can take your bag of diapers with you too.” With no choice left, i walked out of the door, back into the main part of the pharmacy, carrying the massive bag and it’s 29 remaining diapers at my side, trying to hide it to no avail. Sherry, ever smiling was at the counter. “I can ring those up for you here if you would like.” “No thank you, we have two carts full to purchase, i am sure they can sell us Dylan’s diapers at the front till just as well as you can here. If you could though, would you grab me one more bag? I am not sure how many he might need in a day or how long this will last but I want to be sure before we try pull ups again. I think if he can make it through a whole bag staying dry, then he will be ready again.” “Surely, no problem, as good as these diapers are, i think you will find that he will use 4 or 5 per day if he is actively wetting. We can always sell by the case or arrange delivery if needed as well. We also have a night time absorbency if needed, they are significantly thicker though” “No, i think by the bag will suffice for now, maybe going up to the till with his diapers will help discourage this behaviour. I will keep the night time absorbency in mind though, he always was a heavy wetter.” With that Shelly disappeared into the back, leaving me anxiously holding the bag of diapers. It was all I could do but to stew in my own head while Mom occupied herself on her phone as customers walked by, giving me seemingly knowing sideways glances. Two bags of 30 diapers, well one with 29 given the one that I was wearing, how long did Mom intend to make me wear these? Clearly this was more than just an attempt at intimidation if she was spending that much, she was never one to waste money like that. Shelly had said 5 per day, I mean clearly I had no intent to use even one per day, but if Mom was going to force me then I would need to use them at some point. So if I were to get by with two per day that would mean I would be spending a whole month in diapers! Clearly this wasn't going to be ok, i needed to figure out a plan, one that would make Mom not want to keep me in diapers, but what? After an eternity, Shelly returned, another giant bag of diapers in hand as well two loose diapers which she promised Mom were free samples of the night time version just in case and we went on our way. With that the second bag was placed on top of my cart, with no room left, I was forced to carry the open bag of diapers in my hand while pushing the cart. The lineup took an eternity and the last items to go through were my diapers, the opened bag being quite obvious along with the wipes, powder and tag for my sweatpants. Mom simply looked from the cashier to me and declared that “we needed to deal with an accident”. I flushed beet red with embarrassment and did my best to hide my face in my shirt in shame. We made the trek out to the car, where I was forced to help load the groceries, knowing for certain that with every bend and movement that I was undoubtedly exposing my diaper to the world. It was somewhere during this last indignity that my lizard brain decided on how I could make Mom not want to keep me in diapers, the answer was quite beautifully simple. All I had to do was make her sick of me being in diapers, to not want to have to touch a diaper of mine again. So what did I do? As soon as she turned her back I dropped into a squat, squeezed with all of my might, and with all of the determination of a stubborn teen intent on winning a fight with a parent, i pushed all that was inside of me out into the seat of my diaper.

Growing up in a family of seven

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.

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?

Chapter One George woke up and groaned. His bed was soaking wet. He thought was done with this. In May, he was dry the whole month. The alarm seemed to have cured him. He opened his door and marked on the calendar, Wet. It was sixth time this month and the third time to week. He knew what this meant. It was the worst time for this to happen. He felt a hand on his shoulder and was turned around. He was now facing his older sister. Since he slept on his stomach his front was wet. "Mom, Georgie wet the bed again." Their mom called out. "You know what to do." She smiled. "Go shower. I'll take care of your bed and put out your clothes." He got his robe on and went to take a shower. He cleaned himself well. He didn't want to smell on the train. His parents had to go overseas and they were sending him to his aunt and uncle. His sister was in college. When he got back to his room, his bed was made and his clothes was laid on the bed. The Pull-Ups was on top. It was pink with cup cakes. He put that on. Next was a white shirt with a butterfly. He put that on. Finally was shortalls. It had snaps at the crouch. He slipped it on and did the snaps. The last was socks and shoes. He went to have breakfast. Before he could sit down, his mother stopped him. She pulled the back of his pants back. "Making sure you have the protection on." "Mom, please. I'm twelve years old." My sister was at the table. "You don't act like." To their mom she said, "You can tell by the bulge that he's not wearing underwear." To George she said, "Now do you regret talking mom into keeping your cousins bedwetting supply here. I packed a good supply for your two day train trip." When his cousins visited, she still had to follow the rules that his aunt and uncle had set up for bedwetting. George was glad he didn't have to follow those rules even if he wet as much as his cousin. This changed after the alarm which was meant to stop this habit. His mother changed his father's mind. His mother severed him breakfast. "You better stay dry. You know the rules. This time you will have to follow them." After breakfast, they drove to the train station. He had to ride in a booster seat because he was four foot five. He would be traveling alone but he was twelve so he could handle it. After he was checked in, he was handed off to a handler. He was still too young to be totally on his own. He was shocked when the lady held out her hand. He hesitated before taking a hold with his own hand. This is not what he expected. "Don't worry," the lady said. "I know how to handle children with his problem." She padded his bottoms. "Does he have enough in his suitcase changing?" My sister said, "Yes, he has ten pair." "That should be enough for two days." The clerk handed the lady a button. The lady bent down and pinned it on his shirt. George looked it over. It was pink with a B10 on it. "What's this for?" "It's a code for children we have to take care of." Again she took him by the hand and lead him to the train. "You will be sharing a compartment with another child, a girl." The girl was already there. The lady put his suitcase under seat. "Georgie, this is Betsy. Betsy, this is Georgie." Betsy also had a button on. This was pink with just a ten on it. George assumed B must stand for boy. He wasn't sure what ten meant. Just a code number. "I am going to be living with my aunt and uncle. I will be in the sixth grade," George said. She said, "Same, except I will in the fifth grade." "Still in elementary school and playing with dollies." She didn't like that comment but George didn't care. She took out a book and started to read it. He noticed that a dress short enough that it didn't even reach her knees. She had her knees to together. He put his foot between hers and gradually moved them apart just enough so her dress came up to expose some of her panties. Then he noticed it was't panties she was wearing it the same thing he was wearing. He smiled. He would do to her what he had done to his cousin. Good thing she was wearing Pull-Ups. She would need them. George's sister. She found him at the door. She looked at the calendar. He was marking it Wet. She turned him around to view the damages. Yes, he was soaked. Her plan was working. She had read the alarm instructions including the warnings. There was one warning no one else noticed but she would use it revert him back to bedwetting. She hoped it would even be a worse problem then before. They will think he's just lazy because he had stopped before. He hasn't wet enough but that may change. It was enough that he has started to wet again. "Mom, Georgie wet the bed again," she said. "You know what to do." She told him to shower. He did so. She stripped his bed and remade it. She got out the clothes that was meant for his cousin but now he would be wearing it. Cute girl's clothes for a boy. Shirt and shortalls. On top she placed the thick Pull-Ups. She put in more in his suitcase. When he came to breakfast, his puffy bottom told her that he was wearing it. She even told his mom that. At the train station, she saw the button. B stood for bedwetter and 10 was his age. He should be twelve but there was a mistake on his birth certificate. It was two years off. The error only occured last year. That's the problem with computers. So easy to change. Only their parents and her knew his true age. Even their aunt and uncle didn't know. She smiled as the lady lead him away. George though he was going to be starting the sixth grade. She had talked with his teacher. They agreed that he should repeat the fifth grade. He would still be in elementary school and in short pants as well. What would be underneath his pants was still in question. Betsy She smiled when the boy came in. He had a puffy bottom and the snaps told her that he was wearing Pull-Ups just like her. Unlike her, they knew about his problem. The B on his button meant bedwetter and that he was ten years old. No one knew that she wore Pull-Ups. He said that he will start the sixth grade. She doubted it. He's only ten. He would be in fifth grade like me. "I'm ten years old and will start the fifth grade." He laughed. "Still in elementary school and play with dollies." She didn't like that comment even if it was true. She took out a book and started reading it. Just ignoring him. She found her legs apart. She quickly put legs together and pulled her dress down. He wasn't looking. She hoped he didn't see anything. He didn't act like it.

Hello folks, I have long wanted to start this path of untraining myself at night, and I now have the money needed for it. I just started three days ago my goal is to keep going for as long as possible. I'll be posting my progress here. I'm facing an issue that you might be able to help with: I get hard very easily when I sleep with a diaper, and it's impossible to pee right away when I wake up. I have to wait at least 5-10 minutes before I can pee. Does this tend to disappear after some time? It's my main obstacle right now.

My Story. "How do I put this? I think I'm the most miserable man alive. I'm 60 years old, growing up I was a hard worker. I grew up in farming country. I hauled enough alfalfa bales, branded and castrated calves. Picked potatoes. Milked cows. Fixed miles of fencing, If it was farm-related I have done it. I was a garbage man, not one of those guys that drive up with a truck that automatically picks up the can and dumps it, oh no I rode on the back and another guy and I dumped your cans. I also did construction, building your houses. We were putting a wall up and it fell hitting me in the lower back. I also volunteered at my local fire department. I also rode rodeo in my younger days, I liked the saddle broncos. I stayed away from the bull riding. In my opinion, you have to have a few screws loose to ride a bull, that or a death wish! Anybody that will willingly get on a ton of animal with the intent of killing you isn't right in the head. The reason I tell you these things is that now that I'm 60, I've had surgeries to fix several things. I hurt from head to toe the doctors say its arthritis from all the crap I did when I was younger. It's in my ankles, knees my left knee is about twice the size of my right knee. Lower back combination of jumping off the garbage truck before it stopped, and I had a wall that fell on me. Shoulders injured the right when it came out of socket had it fixed once surgically only to have it tear again. Nothing left to work with to repair it again. The left one hurts now because of a ruptured rotator cuff tear. I've had 3 bones removed from it in a procedure called a Radical Row Carpectomy. They took out the carpal bones. That I'm sure is from my rodeo days. I also have had a hernia operation. This caused me to start to wet my bed when I sleep. This has baffled my doctors usually this doesn't cause Enuresis but it did on me. I wasn't a bedwetter growing up. Until I hit 56 years old and had the surgery to repair a hernia. I've been married 3 times the first wife, she divorced me saying I was too damn ornery to live with. We had a daughter togeter. #2 was on her way back from work one night and some asshole that had been drinking at the local bar all day thought he was in good enough condition to drive, he wasn't he hit Beth running her into the river. She died of not the accident but of hypothermia, it was December right before Christmas. Wife #3 died about 18 months ago she got Ovarian Cancer she was pretty much gone before it was diagnosed. Number 1 had taken my only daughter and left me divorcing me several years before she died!" This is where my life changed. After her death, her brother Rusty ( not Russell but Rusty), his wife had left him. Out of the blue, he called me and asked if he and his daughter Yvette could move in with me. Rusty had one of those jobs where he was gone a lot, oil rigs he was gone like two months at a time then home for 3 weeks. He needed a babysitter for Yvette. He was family and I was always taught you helped out family. They arrived I had forgotten Yvette was almost 18 years old. She looked like her mom. Blond, green-eyed and compact she was only 5 foot 1 or 2 but at 17 she had a rack. The last time I had seen her she was 9 or 10 years old. She had grown and filled out. You might be thinking what a pervert! It's just the radical change she had gone through I was 43 years older than her. Old enough to do anything about it and way too old to know better to try! Like I said after one of my surgeries, for my hernia. I started wetting my bed. It wasn't every night maybe once-twice a week sometimes three or four never more than six. I bought good diapers. I usually didn't have leaks maybe once a month. Tonight was that night. After waking at 0400 hours and finding myself and my sheets soaked, I let a few cuss words fly I got in and took a shower. Lets put it this way I was awake now. I then had to take my sodden linen to the basement where the washing machine was. I was trying to be very quiet as this was where Yvette's bedroom was, I didn't want her catching me washing my wet sheets and pj's. I had just gotten my sheets and things into the washer. I heard Yvette stirring and crying, she was letting loose similar language to what I had used. I heard her coming from her room still cussing about something. She had her sheets and from the looks of things they were in a similar state as the ones I had placed in the washer myself. She had wet her bed as well. Except when she shoved the pile into the washer she saw me and I saw the soaked goodnight she had on. Uhm she said when she saw me. Her shirt was wet as well that she still had on. I saw the trembling of her lower lip, I knew she was going to cry! I hate it when I'm right. "Hey, hey whats the matter?" I asked? "Now you know why my mom didn't want me I'm a bedwetter." 'So what I said I know lots of bedwetters!" "Who?" She asked through the tears? "You know that girl on the next block, Cathy or Cassie? The name escaped me at the moment." "Cassidy?" She offered? "Yeah, she used to run around every day with her shorts wet. In the crotch area. Her mom is a real witch about it I asked her one time about why she wet herself every day? She told me why not she still pisses her bed every night." The crying was growing fainter "Who, Who else she asked?" Did I dare tell her me? "How about me?" I asked? "You?" She said, all tears were stopped. "Look in the washer those sheets didn't wet themselves!" She looked in and for one of the first times saw my load and put hers in with mine then she did something that shocked the hell out of me, she took her wet tee shirt off and threw it in with my clothes and sheets. This girl was naked all except her wet goodnight. I looked her straight in the eyes that way I wouldn't stare at her bare chest. "Why don't you go get cleaned up?" I asked? "Okay, Uncle Eddy!" With that, she was off. I heard her turn the shower on in the bathroom in the basement. I put her wet sheets and clothing in with mine. When I heard her turn the shower off I started the washer. I went and started fixing breakfast. She came to the kitchen. She would look at me and when I would look at her she would look away. "Is there something wrong I asked her?" "Uhm, can I ask you a question?" I" think you just did!" I joked. "No, that's not it, she smiled. Uhm your bedwetting have you always...?" That's what her question was. "Wet my bed?" I finished? "Yeah!" She said relieved. "No, I had some surgery that caused it, I've only been wetting my bed about 4 years now, why?" "I never stopped she said. It used to piss my mom off something terrible, she yelled, spanked, restricted my fluids at night. But I still woke up wet the next morning. Even my dad doesn't like the fact that I'm old enough to drive, but I still can't sleep dry. You're the only adult that didn't have a cow when you found out I still wet my bed." "Probably because I understand what you go through every morning I said. By the way, we need to get you better protection at night, those goodnights are made cheap but expensive, per Cassidy 's mother. You feel like skipping school to go do some shopping?" I asked? "Is the Pope Catholic?" She responded? We visited the hospital supply store where I get my diapers from. I found they have the best choice of incontinent supplies in the city. She found some purple things she liked called Molicare. We were getting ready to leave when we heard a commotion. It was Cassidy and her mom. They were there to get diapers for Cassidy, Cassidy was fighting her mom at every step. Yvette and I were seen by Cassidy, she turned about seven shades of red at seeing us. She was embarrassed! Yvette went up and I saw her talk to Cassidy for a few seconds. I saw Cassidy calm down. I know Yvette had just admitted to Cassidy that she wet her bed as well. I saw Cassidy pick out the same purple diapers that Yvette had. Cassidy's mother was flabbergasted that it had been that easy. I knew Yvette had made a good friend in Cassidy. I still remember when she ran around with a wet crotch all the time. Yvette came and asked "Can Cassidy come home with her, her mom said it was okay!" Now I had two girls playing hooky from school!

May 22, 2016 Hi, I’m Eddie. This isn’t a diary; it’s a journal. I like to write, and I want to become a better writer, so I decided to start a journal. My teacher said writing in a journal is a good way to become a better writer. I wasn’t sure what to write about, so I asked my teacher. She said, “Write about yourself, it’s what you know best.” Well, what can I say about myself? Let’s start with the biggest thing. I’m fifteen years old, and I still wet my bed. It’s not even just sometimes. It happens almost every night. I haven’t been dry since January. That’s right! I’m in high school and I’ve peed my pants 134 nights in a row. My mom used to keep track of stuff like that, but she stopped a few years ago. I still keep track, but I don’t know why. It makes me feel like a baby. Some kids stop wetting the bed when they are two years old, and most stop when they are three. I’m fifteen, and I still pee in the bed like a little baby. I guess there are some other teenagers who wet the bed, but for most of them, it’s because something happened that they can’t control. It’s not like they aren’t fully potty-trained. I’ve done this all of my life. I’ve never stopped. The longest streak I’ve ever had is three nights in a row, and that only happened once. A few years ago, I thought it was getting better. When I was twelve years old, I didn’t wet the bed every single night. It still happened, and it happened a lot. It happened more often than not, but I stayed dry at least once a week; that’s when I had my three-night streak. I certainly didn’t wet my bed 134 nights in a row! That’s for sure. Unfortunately, it stopped. I began to wet the bed more often than before, and not less. My doctor thinks I’m sleeping sounder because I’m growing. Trust me, it feels like we’ve tried everything. We tried the medicine, but that just made me feel sick and I still wet the bed. We tried an alarm, but that just woke everybody else up. I slept through it and still wet the bed. My mom used to wake me up in the middle of the night to take me to the bathroom, but I hated it. Who wants to be an eleven-year-old kid who needs his mommy to take him to the potty? Most of the time, I didn’t even remember using the bathroom. Sometimes I was already wet. My mom would change my sheets, and I would wet the bed again. I’m not allowed to drink anything after six o’clock and I can only drink one glass of juice after school. I’m always thirsty and it’s not even helping. My mom made us wear diapers when I was younger, but she stopped when my little sister didn’t need them anymore. Emily was only four years old and could stay dry all night. She didn’t need diapers anymore, but her big brother and big sister still did. Sara was twelve years old and had to wear a diaper every night! I can’t imagine being that old and having to wear a diaper. Mom didn’t even use Pull-ups; she used Pampers! We wore the largest size she could find. I was nine and Sara was twelve, and my mom treated us like we were babies. After that, Sara didn’t want to wear diapers anymore. She threw a couple of tantrums, which only got her in trouble. It never changed Mom’s mind. One night she begged. She promised to do the laundry if she wet the bed. Amazingly my mom agreed. She said, “You two aren’t babies anymore. No more diapers, but you have to take care of your bed.” I think it worked for Sara, but it never worked for me. I thought maybe I would stop when I turned thirteen, just like it did with Sara, but it didn’t. Now, I use Goodnites, which are kind of like diapers. They are padded like diapers, but my mom doesn’t have to put them on me. They are meant for older kids, and don’t have little kid designs. Mom says that nobody can tell when I’m wearing one, but I think it’s pretty obvious. Unfortunately, they leak! They don’t leak all the time, but it happens a lot. I think I just pee too much. Sometimes, I forget to put my sheets in the washing machine. When that happens, my mom gets mad. Yesterday she yelled at me, “For God sakes Eddie! You’re fifteen years old. You shouldn’t wet the bed and you’re old enough to take care of it when you do. The least you can do is put the sheets in the washing machine.” I think my mom is frustrated and I understand why. Who wants to have a teenager who isn’t fully potty-trained? My mom is normally supportive and tries to help. Yesterday, after yelling at me about the sheets, she told me about a doctor who can help older kids who wet the bed. His name is Dr. Albert Bennet. Apparently, his program takes about six months. He said that 80 percent of his patients stopped within a year, and those who didn’t, learned how to manage their bedwetting. They recondition your brain, and you learn not to wet the bed anymore. Mom asked, “What do you think?” “I think it looks good.” “If we do this, will you follow the rules? I don’t want to do this if you won’t cooperate.” “I guess so. What do I have to do?” “I’m not sure, but conditioning means that you’ll have to do something. Do you want to try it?” I told her, “Yeah, I guess so. Yes, I’ll try anything. I don’t want to wet my bed anymore, and if this helps, I’ll try it.” Mom replied, “Okay, we’ll set up an appointment with Dr. Bennet.” I don’t know what they mean by conditioning my brain, nor what it looks like to manage my bedwetting. I don’t care, I just want to stop wetting my bed. I want to be potty-trained before I go to college.

Preface: writing my first coming of age story loosely based on my real experiences growing up as a bedwetter. Names and timeline are fictional or moved around for narrative purposes, but most of the story detail has some basis in my childhood. Chapter 1: Just in Case July, 2020 “Ryan, let’s go we’re going to be late!” yelled his father from the first floor of their suburban Chicagoland home. Recently -turned-9 year old Ryan Santos mentally prepared to groggily pull himself out of bed. It was 5am, and he and his family were slated to leave in an hour for his first major family vacation in over a year: a 6 hour drive to spend the weekend in St. Louis, Missouri. Originally, to celebrate his birthday, the family trip was to fly to the Philippines and reunite with extended family that Ryan’s parents had left almost a decade and a half prior. Due to the pandemic and subsequent travel restrictions, those plans were scrapped, but his mother Linda saw this as a perfect opportunity to visit the city of St. Louis, a place she had been enamored with since childhood during a trip to the states back in the 90s. The interstate travel restrictions were also easing up as lockdowns became less strict and social distancing became the norm. While not rich, Ryan was fairly well off as an only child in an upper middle class neighborhood. Both of parents worked in the medical field: his father, Jerry, worked in hospital administration and Linda worked as a nurse. With the pandemic, their workload went into overdrive, but they managed to carve out some free time over the weekend to go on this vacation and blow off some steam. Nonetheless, Jerry was often strict and regimented when it came to schedules, even on a vacation, sometimes adding tension to family outings in the past. Linda entered the bedroom and saw Ryan still in his red pajamas in bed, the covers halfway down to his legs. He shifted around in his sleep frequently, causing his shirt to roll up a few inches above his belly to reveal the blue waistband of his Goodnites, and he noticed his favorite Tigger stuffed animal was knocked on the ground and somehow made it into the crevice between his bed and nightstand. “Anak, you know how your father is, don’t make him ask twice please,” she said tactfully. “Okay, I’m getting up already,” Ryan replied as he got out of bed. He had been awake for about 25 minutes already, but had been dreading leaving the comfort of his bed. As he sat up, he noted the tension in his lower abdomen but thought nothing of it as he got to his knees on the floor and bent over to reach for his stuffed animal. His slender frame made it easy to get between his bed and the nightstand. Mid reach, he released his bladder and felt his already swollen Goodnites become warm again. His stream concluded as he stood up and faced his mother. Ryan had wet the bed every night his entire life, and despite recently turning 9, it showed no signs of stopping, despite his mother and doctor saying it would stop itself eventually. While he wouldn’t prefer to have this problem, it wasn’t a big deal to him or his immediate family; his nightly donning of protective undergarments was simply a normal part of life. None of his friends knew, and he preferred to keep it that way, often bowing out of invitations to sleepovers and overnight extracurriculars, though he would like to experience those one day. While he didn’t necessarily potty train late, he did achieve it with literal days prior to starting preschool, and even then he still had frequent accidents up through kindergarten. His frustrated father threatened to send him to school in diapers on multiple occasions but never followed through with it. By age 6, Ryan was in control of his body, save for the nightly accidents that were remedied by his mother’s weekly grocery run for Goodnites. Ever since he was little, he had made a habit of using his Goodnites while still awake, both before and after bedtime, something that his mom called him out on occasionally, but usually wouldn’t notice. While embarrassed, Ryan would internally justify it as they would be wet either way, might as well use them for the intended purpose. “Get ready soon! We’re trying to leave in the next 30 minutes, we’re putting the maleta in the van soon,” Linda said with her usual hint of Filipino accent mixed with Taglish. He obeyed by making his way to the bathroom down the hall to brush his teeth and prepare for the day. He pulled down his pants and pulled down his heavy, soggy Goodnite and placed it in the trash bin with a thud. He got dressed with a souvenir shirt with the Canadian maple leaf logo and put on some normal underwear and sweat pants before meeting his mom at the foyer of his house, Tigger in hand. His mother had packed most of the family’s clothes and belongings into one massive leather suitcase that she had brought when they first immigrated to America. She prided herself in fitting a family vacation’s worth of clothes into one bag, even if it was only for a weekend. She asked her son a question as he placed his stuffed animal in the suitcase, taking inventory of toiletries before zipping it up. “How many pull ups do you have left in the bathroom?” “I dunno, like 3 left I think? They’re already in the bag,” he answered as he noted 3 Goodnites already zipped up in a mesh compartment. “Go get them,” she ordered. “What? Why? Isn’t this enough for the weekend trip?” “Just bring them,” she said bluntly. “Just in case.” “Okay,” Ryan said with a shrug as he ran up to the bathroom upstairs. Not sure what that’s supposed to mean, he thought as he got the got the last 3 from the pack and threw the plastic package wrap in the trash. He walked down the stairs and handed the Goodnites to his mother, who zipped them up in the mesh pocket with the other toiletries. After doing a final check, she zipped up the suitcase and had Ryan load it into the back of their silver Honda Odyssey. “Make sure the top is easy to access,” she specified as he loaded it into the trunk. Ryan proceeded to hop in the back seat with the snack bag, and enjoyed the Nesquik chocolate milk he traditionally had in a travel mug. His father started the van and typed in the address of the fancy hotel on the Illinois side of the Mississippi River that they would be staying at. His mom entered the car, checking the glove compartment to make sure their emergency supply of medical masks was still there after they became mandatory in most public establishments. Jerry looked back at his son as he backed out of the driveway and turned to Linda. “Is he wearing his nappies?” He asked her not so subtly. Ryan cringed internally; he hated when his dad called them that, not that the term “diapers” was much better. He considered the term infantilizing, even if the term reflected how his parents grew up overseas using different lingo. He appreciated that his mom simply called them pull ups, but the mere mention of them in general outside the house always made him a little self conscious. He knew why his dad was asking: while he never had to wear them on car trips before, the idea was always floated after multiple close calls in past road trips that resulted in emergency bathroom runs to gas stations, restaurants, and rest stops for Ryan to relieve himself, further delaying their trip. Deep down, Ryan almost wanted to wear them for that specific reason, but quickly pushed the idea out of his head as the embarrassment was too much. He had always been insecure about his weak bladder, but he hated it most when his parents brought it up in casual conversations. “No, he’s not,” Linda answered with a hint of annoyance. “Not yet.” Yet? Ryan thought as he downed the last of his chocolate milk. He didn’t think much of it as he looked out the window and saw his suburb turn into countryside as his family began their drive south. Within about 30 minutes, the familiar tension in his lower torso appeared, causing Ryan to dread that he still had over 5 hours left of the trip. Chapter 2: Not quite a bathroom break “What is it, Ryan?” Jerry said with a hint of frustration as he noticed his son squirming in his seat as he looked into the rearview mirror. “Um…” Ryan stammered as he dreaded asking the next question. “I… have to go to the bathroom.” Jerry clicked his mouth and sighed angrily. They had been on the road for a little over 45 minutes and had successfully beat the traffic rush to the interstate by leaving early, but stopping now would negate that progress. “Sorry,” Ryan added sheepishly. “You should have gone before we left!” His father said as they continued driving. “Please?” The young boy squeaked as he felt the tension worsening. He noted that he technically did relieve himself just before they left right after he woke up, just not necessarily in the bathroom. “Why do you always do this?” Jerry said with an eye roll. “Jerry!” Linda said with a slight scowl to her spouse. “We’ll try to stop soon honey, just hang in there.” “Okay,” Ryan said as he felt a bead of sweat form. His mother looked up and saw that a rest stop was only 2 miles ahead, but her hopes were soon dashed as a “REST STOP CLOSED” sticker was placed on the sign, a further indication of the majority of public rest stops being shut down due to the pandemic. The following sign saying that the next rest stop wouldn’t be up for another 45 miles didn’t help. Another 5 minutes went by as Ryan continued to squirm, trying to distract himself with the near featureless midwestern countryside. “There!” Linda said as she noted an exit sign saying there was a Shell gas station and an old diner a couple miles ahead. “We could use a top off on the gas anyway,” she remarked, despite the tank being 3/4 full. Reluctantly, Jerry shifted into the right lane and proceeded to take the exit ramp when it came up. After about a mile, they pulled into the parking lot of the gas station and Jerry exited the van to pay at the gas pump, only to get a notification “SEE CASHIER INSIDE” as he swiped his card. Annoyed, he grabbed a mask from the glove box and headed inside the store, noticing a line of other masked people standing 6 feet apart who were already pulled up at other pumps. Ryan quickly unbuckled his seatbelt and prepared to open the van sliding door when his mother stopped him. “Honey,” she said sweetly. Ryan turned to her with desperation on his face as he wondered what was so important that his mom had to say. “I know this is going to sound strange, but I don’t want you using the bathroom here.” “What?” Ryan said in disbelief. “What do you mean?” “Your father and I talked about it last night: we really don’t trust the public bathrooms out here, especially on the interstate. There’s so many people who might be sick using those bathrooms who probably don’t wash their hands, and they could be spreading Covid.” “But the sign right there says they deep clean and disinfect it every hour!” He replied as he pointed to one of the signs at the gas station window. “I know it says that honey, but you never can trust those. Plus, you might run into a whole lot of people from all over the country who might have Covid but they’re asymptomatic and are just spreading it to everyone. You don’t want to get sick like you did last Christmas, do you?” Ryan thought back to this past winter where he spent the majority of his Christmas break bedridden and battling a fever, taking the fun of the holidays away in the process. He couldn’t really argue with his mom, as he knew he had a history of a weak immune system, and he over heard his parents the past few months constantly lamenting about the overwhelming amount of the horrifically ill patients they saw everyday in the hospitals they worked at. Ryan sighed as he struggled to keep composure at the mounting pressure in his bladder. “What do you want me to do? Go in the grass by the parking lot like a dog where everyone can see me?” “No, not that…” his mother tried to think of a way to bring it up delicately. “Your father and I were thinking the easiest and safest way for you to go to the bathroom would be if you went to the maleta…” Ryan blinked nervously as he started to realize what his mother was suggesting. “…and put on one of your pull ups… and used those.” Ryan wasn’t sure how to respond to that. The notion of it was so deathly embarrassing, but he also considered running to the gas station bathroom, which on the other hand, might actually result in him catching Covid and ending up as another pandemic statistic at a hospital. “You can put them on in the van so it’s a little more private. Even if you have to go number 2, I can help you clean up,” she concluded. “Mom!” He snapped. “I don’t have to go number 2.” He thought about making a break for the bathroom, then ultimately decided against it after realizing he’d likely get an earful from his dad later for disobeying his mother. He looked around the gas station parking lot and saw other families with kids walking around: some his age, some older, some younger. It’s not like I’ll see these kids ever again anyway, he thought. “Fine,” he said defeated. “I’ll be right back,” his mother said sweetly as she exited the front passenger seat and made her way to the trunk of the Odyssey. She unzipped the suitcase and pulled out one of Ryan’s Goodnites, as well as a package of Pampers baby wipes as Ryan hid in the backseat and crouched down to try to stay clear of the windows, mortified if one of the other kids saw his mom with his pull-ups in hand. She opened the sliding door and handed him the pull up, which he reluctantly grabbed and popped back behind the seat as he closed the door. His hands began shaking as his desperation reached a breaking point, making his fine motor skills jerky as he took his shoes off and quickly pulled his pants and briefs down. He crouched extra low as he opened up the Goodnite and slipped it on, barely in time as he began to relieve himself with an audible hiss. Ryan breathed a relieved sigh as he felt the familiar sensation of his pull up filling with the warm liquid and causing it to expand. He figured it felt different than the other times he had gone on purpose either just before bed or after waking up, probably because his mother had not only given him explicit permission, but encouragement to do so. After about a minute, Ryan finished, noticing how heavy it sagged and swole up. While it did feel very toddler like, it wasn’t as bad or embarrassing as he thought it would be. He began to get up from his crouching position on the floor by the back seat when his mom pulled open the side door. “Oh! Sorry, I thought you were in the very back row,” she exclaimed as the pantsless Ryan had his wet pull up on full display. He prayed the group of kids playing in the grass about 50 feet away didn’t see him in this state. Ryan jumped in the back row of seats where he was relatively out of view of the open door. “Are you done?” “Yes,” he answered his mother quickly. “Are you sure?” “YES!” He said annoyed. “Just making sure,” she said nonchalantly. She held up the package of baby wipes. “You got this?” “Yes mom,” he said as he grabbed the pack. “Can you please close the door?” Without another word, Linda shut the sliding door and Ryan crouched down in the back most seat row. He shimmied off the Goodnite as it made an audible plop on the floor of the van. He did a quick once over with the baby wipe before putting his underwear and pants back on, followed by his shoes. Soon, his mom opened the sliding door again. “All good?” “Yes,” Ryan answered quietly. She looked down at the wet pull up on the floor of the car. “Do you want me to throw that away for you?” Ryan hesitated, not sure if his mom holding his waste was more embarrassing or if he would rather take care of it himself. Eventually, he made a decision. “Can you take it please?” He asked, too ashamed to leave the perceived safety of the van. “Of course,” Linda said with a smile to try to cheer her son up. She rolled up the wet pull up, reminding her of the times when Ryan was a toddler. Noticing the trash can next to the gas pump was full, she began to walk towards the edge of the parking lot by the grass. Ryan began to turn red as he realized she was going to throw it away in the trash can right in front of where the other kids his age were running and playing. She promptly threw it away and proceeded to rub her hands with hand sanitizer as she walked back to the van. Opening the front passenger door, she noticed Ryan staring out the opposite window, still as red as an apple, trying to watch the other cars at the gas station to take his mind off his embarrassing ordeal. “You okay, anak?” She asked. “I’m great, just great,” he mumbled as he saw a mother exit a pick up truck with her toddler age daughter in her arms. She proceeded to lay her down on a mat on the tailgate of the truck, lifted her skirt up, and proceeded to change her diaper. In a way, Ryan almost envied how unashamed and not self conscious the little girl was and how her situation just mirrored his own. Soon, Jerry returned from the cashier line and proceeded to fill the car up quickly. He sat back in the driver seat and began to drive back onto the country road leading to the interstate. “Did he go?” He asked his wife over some country music playing on the radio. Ryan could still hear the conversation. “Yes, he did. Took him a minute, but he did.” “Is he wearing one now? I don’t want to make stops every 45 minutes or we’ll be on the road all day.” “No, he’s not. He’s still warming up to it,” she defended. “He’s done with his chocolate milk so he probably won’t have to go for a while now that he has nothing else to drink.” Jerry visibly wasn’t very happy with the answer. “I’ll have him put one on next stop,” she relented. Chapter 3: Traffic Overflow Author’s Note: we’re 3 chapters in and I just realized I should probably provide translations of the infrequent Tagalog vocabulary used: - Anak = child - Maleta= suitcase - Sige na: an expression that loosely translates to “come on” I’ll probably post these as needed for each chapter. Back to the story: The next couple hours of the trip went by fairly uneventfully as the Santos family made their way through central Illinois. Ryan had his sketchbook and colored pencils to keep him entertained by drawing custom Mandalorian armor and other Star Wars characters, while making sure to bring his liquid intake to practically zero so as to not repeat his experience at the gas station. His parents listened to podcasts and audiobooks to pass the time, noting that they were approaching lunchtime and were due to reach the historic state capital of Springfield in less than half an hour. It was a particularly hot summer day, and Linda began to notice that Ryan had not drank anything since the chocolate milk he had this morning. “Ryan, Anak, are you thirsty? Why don’t you have some water or Gatorade?” “I’m good, thanks mom,” Ryan fibbed. He was definitely a little parched after not drinking anything the past couple of hours. “Sige na! It’s all there in the cooler, we’re only about 15 minutes away from getting lunch.” “Okay, I guess,” he acquiesced. Ryan grabbed a red Gatorade and took a sip, which quickly turned into him chugging half the bottle after realizing how thirsty he was. Soon, they reached Springfield, and pulled off the exit to streets adorned with Abraham Lincoln tributes and paraphernalia. They reached a McDonald’s and pulled into the parking lot, stretching their legs and preparing to enter the restaurant. “I’m going to the bathroom if you want to watch the car,” Jerry said as he went inside after giving his wife a kiss. “Okay! I’ll go when you come back and then we’ll hit the drive through,” She responded as she walked to the opened back of the van. “Can I go too?” Ryan asked. “You need to already?” Linda asked as she began to open the giant suitcase. Before she could open the toiletries pocket, Ryan interjected when he realized what she was doing. “No, wait! I mean, can’t I go in the restaurant with dad and use their bathroom?” “Honey, we went over this,” his mom answered with a tone of empathy. “How come you and dad can go use the bathroom there and I can’t? Aren’t you afraid of getting sick?” He protested. “Oh it’s different. Your dad and I work at the hospital, and we’ve already been exposed to Covid, and even if we do get sick, it wouldn’t hit us as hard as it would you. You know how easy it is for you to get sick- you miss a week of school almost every year from the flu with your immune system issues,” his mom explained. “I guess,” Ryan sighed in defeat. He was notorious at school for getting sick easily, sometimes getting picked on when he would return to class, and despite getting fairly high grades, he often felt like he was playing catch up on class work to make up the difference. When he got sick, it almost always hit hard. “Do you still need to go?” Linda asked as took a pull up out. “No I’m good,” he replied. “You sure?” “Yes I can hold it!” Ryan insisted. “Okay,” she said somewhat defensively. Instead of putting the pull up back, Ryan noticed she put it in her purse along with the wipes. Jerry soon returned and traded spots with Linda, and they shortly all were back in the van and in line for the drive through. Eating out was a special treat for Ryan as his parents were both into eating home cooked healthy food the majority of the year. Ryan could count on one hand how many times he’s had McDonald’s the past couple years, with the most recent being his 9th birthday, where in a rare show of affection, his dad treated him to his first Big Mac instead of the kids menu he would typically get in the past. After ordering and receiving their food, the family pulled into the parking lot and ate in the van together, another social distancing precaution that was all too familiar as they travelled in the pandemic. Ryan was the first to finish his Big Mac meal, quickly devouring the burger and guzzling the orange Hi-C drink. Fully satisfied but unaccustomed to the greasy meal, he began to grow lethargic, letting out a long yawn as his parents finished their food. Linda noticed this and saw an opportunity before they hit the road. “Why don’t you take a nap, sleepy head?” She asked. “It’s the last leg of the trip, we’re only about 2 hours away from the hotel, and I know you’ve been up since before the sunrise.” “Yeah, I guess I will,” Ryan answered as he stifled another yawn. He saw his mother dig into her purse and take out the pull up. He was already expecting this and didn’t mind as he’d already worn one on car trips in the past when he was asleep, which was usually only the first leg. Now, it was a little strange since his mom was insisting on him wearing one the entirety of the trip. “You sure you don’t need to go before we leave? It’ll be easier to change if we’re stopped instead of sitting in a wet one the remainder of the trip. If you can hold it, you can use the bathroom at our hotel room- I’ll make sure to deep clean and disinfect it before any of us use it… but your father and I both think it’s best if you wear one now.” “I’ll put it on now since I want to sleep,” Ryan relented as he grabbed the pull up from his mother, “but I don’t need to go right now.” “That’s a first,” Jerry mumbled. Linda shot him a mean look and turned back to her son. “Thanks so much for making things easier anak! We’ll get whatever you want for dinner at the hotel when we get there.” Ryan moved to the back most seat for privacy as he put the pull up on. His parents patiently scrolled through their phones as he finished up getting dressed and hopped back in his seat. They continued on with their journey as they left Springfield and merged back onto the interstate, but for the first 20 minutes Ryan struggled to fall asleep as the all too familiar urge hit his bladder once again. He shifted his position in his seat to ease the pressure on his lower body, and contemplated asking his parents to use the restroom once again, only to remember what he was wearing. Instead, Ryan relaxed and proceeded to wet a moderate amount in his pull up, barely causing it to swell between his legs. Now at ease and comfortable, Ryan was able to drift off to sleep within 5 minutes. After what felt like only about 30 minutes, Ryan awoke to notice that they were stuck in bumper to bumper traffic. He checked the clock and realized he was out for a little over 2 hours, especially evidenced by the fact he noticed his pull up was significantly more full than what it was when he drifted off to sleep. “Where are we? Are we almost to the hotel?” He asked after a yawn. “We’re in Belleville,” his dad answered. “And we were 8 minutes away from the hotel according to the GPS, but that was 45 minutes ago before we ran into traffic.” “Looks like there’s a car accident about half a mile ahead,” his mom added. “We should be getting out soon though.” Ryan groaned. He was ready for the road-trip to be over. He felt another urge to pee hit his bladder, which he let loose almost immediately. Definitely feeling that large Hi-C and Gatorade, he thought, and for once was thankful he was wearing Goodnites in situations like this. “Ugh this traffic needs to ease up soon, I need to get out of this car,” Linda remarked as she sipped the last of her water bottle and turned up the A/C. She noticed how much her husband was sweating and offered him a water bottle from the cooler, to which he enthusiastically accepted. She got a second one and gave handed it towards Ryan. “Anak, drink this! I don’t need you getting heat stroke. I’m not taking no for an answer.” Ryan obeyed without question and quickly drank the water bottle until it was empty. He wanted out of this traffic jam just as much if not more than his mom. After another 20 minutes, he released another quick stream into his pull up almost absent-mindedly. Another half hour of traffic passed, where Ryan zoned out, too hot and bored to continue his drawings, when he thoughtlessly let out another steady trickle, when he felt a warm liquid run down his pant leg, causing him to stop mid stream. Oh no, he thought as he snapped back to his current reality. He lifted open the front of his waistband to view the front of his pull up, which had become visibly over saturated. He lifted up his leg and felt the seat of his pants and noticed it was slightly damp, and not from sweat. “Um… mom?” “Yes, anak?” “I kind of… have to go to the bathroom.” “Just use your pull up, honey. It’s okay.” “Um, I can’t,” Ryan said awkwardly. “What do you mean you can’t?” His dad asked. Linda turned around in her seat to face her son. “I’m kind of… wet,” Ryan mumbled, trying to avoid eye contact with his mother who now realized his predicament. “What do you- “ , Jerry glanced back and groaned. “That better not have gotten on the seat.” “Jerry!” Linda exclaimed. “I’m sorry,” Ryan mumbled in embarrassment. “It’s okay Anak, it’s not your fault. We just need to be more careful with the juice in the future,” consoled his mom. She reached into her purse and realized she had already given him the pull up she packed earlier. “Do you think I have time to get to the maleta?” “Traffic’s finally starting to move, we’re less than 10 minutes out from the hotel. He can wait,” Jerry said. “Sorry honey, do you think you can hold out for a little longer?” “I- I think so,” Ryan said, still needing to empty the rest of his bladder. Sure enough, traffic on the interstate began to accelerate after passing the scene of a multi car pile up. Thankfully no one appeared to be injured, though the spread of debris and the number of cars involved definitely accounted for the lengthy delay. Within a few minutes, the van arrived at the Snowden hotel, a small but fancy hotel located between the town and a stone’s throw from St. Louis. Jerry parked the van and put on a mask as he rushed inside to check in. Linda exited the car to stretch her legs, and Ryan got out of his seat, but stopped short of exiting the van out of fear that someone would see his wet pants. After what felt like an eternity, Jerry came back with the key cards while Linda escorted Ryan inside, power walking through the hotel corridors to get to their room. By this point, Ryan was hobbling from left to right, feeling like he was about to burst. Instinctively, he covered his groin area and quickly let go after feeling the dampness seep out through his pull up and onto his sweatpants. His mother was finally able to swipe the door open with the key card, causing Ryan to almost push his way into the hotel room and make a beeline for the bathroom. “Wait!” His mom interjected, causing Ryan to stop dead in his tracks with a look of dejection on his face. “What now?” He asked as Linda reached into her purse. She pulled out an aerosol spray and disinfectant wipes and stepped towards the bathroom. “Let me clean it first, you never know if they wiped down all the surfaces for Covid,” his mother stated as she spent the next 2 minutes doing a quick clean of the toilet, countertop, shower, and sink. Unfortunately for Ryan, it was 2 minutes too long as he accidentally let out another jet of urine into his pull up. This time, he crouched down to try to get the pool of it to absorb in the back as it was significantly less saturated than the front. After relieving most of the pressure, he was able to hold it. “Okay, you’re good,” she said as she stepped out. With a dejected lesser urgency, Ryan pulled his wet pants and pull up down with a thud and tried to pee, but could only let out a weak stream that lasted no more than a couple seconds. He covered his mouth and nose as he dropped his soaked pull up into the trash can under the sink. Ryan noticed the bottom edge of his shirt had also been slightly wet and proceeded to take that off before stepping into the shower. While he was in the bathroom, his dad entered the hotel room with the giant suitcase. After giving him a few minutes in the shower, Linda cracked the bathroom door open and left a fresh change of clothes, including normal underwear, on the countertop for her son. As he wrapped up his shower, Ryan pondered on the day, noting that while being in wet clothes for several minutes was uncomfortable, he was at least thankful his pull up was able to hold up for at least the first couple of hours of the final leg of the trip. He thought about how careless he was chugging all that water, juice, and Gatorade in such a short span of time; no wonder he was able to flood it towards the end. It wasn’t my fault, he thought. Mom said so. Ryan put on his fresh set of clothes, consisting of basketball shorts and a Spider-Man shirt, but most of all appreciating the feeling of dry underwear. His parents followed suit, spending the next hour freshening up in the shower and changing into new outfits to go out for dinner. As he waited, Ryan turned the TV on to the classic SpongeBob episode “Grandma’s kisses.” As if the universe was taunting him, an ad for Pampers Baby Dry diapers played during the commercial break, boasting about its superior absorbency compared to competitor brands. Honestly could’ve used that earlier, he thought as his dad entered the bathroom as his mom exited. Before long, Ryan and his parents made their way to the lobby where the renowned hotel restaurant was. Much to everyone’s chagrin, instead of a hostess, the family encountered a “closed” sign, followed by the reduced hours of the hotel restaurant due to Covid mitigations. “You’ve got to be kidding me! It’s barely dinner time! What were we supposed to do? Eat dinner at 3 in the afternoon?” Jerry complained to the front desk. “I’m sorry sir, we had to close early due to state mandates. Unfortunately, most, if not all, of the other restaurants in the area are closed now as well. If we can make it up to you and your family, there are grab and go prepared meals that are available at the mini convenience store around the corner down the hallway,” said the short blonde desk attendant. Too tired from the trip to make another argument, Jerry yielded. “I suppose since it’s complimentary,” he mumbled. “Excellent! There’s a self checkout at the stand, but if you charge it to your room number, I’ll make sure to take it off the bill for you,” she said in her most cheerful customer service voice. Jerry thanked her and proceeded to direct his family to the mini store. He and Linda both got salads, with Ryan taking a ham and turkey sandwich. The family brought their food up to their room, eating quickly as everyone was ready for an early night of sleep, eager to end this draining day. What a way to start this weekend, Ryan thought as he put on his pajamas and once again pulled on one of his Goodnites. Soon, he drifted off to sleep, hoping the next day would be better. Chapter 4: Arches and Shortages Ryan felt as if he was in a daze, dizzy and not quite coherent as he laid in bed. The room was still dark, save for the orange light of the street lamp outside his window, and his vision was hazy as if he were in a half dream like state. The sensation of his equilibrium being thrown off and the room spinning made him close his eyes silently and groan. His lower half of his body felt warm, and an odd, pungent scent filled the air. Suddenly, he felt as if his blanket was being pulled away, and he blindly began feeling around for it, only to feel his Tigger plush move into his reach, to which he grabbed the stuffed animal and hugged it to his face. He began to stir a little as he felt the sensation of his pajama pants being pulled off. “It’s okay Anak,” the familiar voice of his mother said softly. His head continued to pound as he felt the sides of his pull up being ripped open and his ankles held together and raised as the cool sensation of a wet wipe radiated around his lower body. After a couple minutes of the cool air and wiping sensation, he heard the telltale crinkling of one of his Goodnites being opened up, and he felt the elastic and padding make its way up his legs and onto his hips. The strong smell went away, and Ryan turned onto his side and drifted into a deep sleep once again. Rays of the morning sun shined through the hotel window and greeted Ryan’s face, causing him to wake up and realize he was in the hotel bedroom. He rubbed his eyes and immediately noticed something was amiss. Not only did he still feel a little dizzy, but he sat up in his bed and pulled the covers down to show that he was no longer wearing his pajama pants, and beyond that, his typical wet pull up felt… different. He pivoted out of bed, and the moment he stood up, the strange smell from last night hit him as he felt a semi-solid mass on the seat of his pull up, causing him to glance down at his nighttime underwear and spread his legs for a better angle to confirm his suspicion. I can’t believe I just did that, he thought. He turned to the other queen bed in the room and noticed both his parents were gone, but his mother stepped out of the bathroom in her bathrobe and wished her son a good morning. “Ummm… mom?” “Yes honey?” She noticed the distraught look on his face. “Are you okay?” “Please don’t be mad… but I think I…” Ryan could barely get his words out. “Did you poop?” She asked bluntly. “Ummm… yeah, I think so,” Ryan answered sheepishly . His mom walked up to him and immediately pulled the rear waistband of his Goodnites open for a quick peak. “Yep, you definitely did again,” she said nonchalantly. “Again?” He said. That wasn’t a dream? Linda grabbed the baby wipes that were sitting atop the nearby dresser, and before Ryan could react, she pulled down his Goodnites and began to clean the mess off of his bottom as he stood there, too unsure of how to act at the abruptness of his mom. He caught a quick glance of the mostly mostly liquid waste at the seat of his full pull up, and became disgusted at what his body had produced. “It’s not your fault, Anak. The hotel sold us expired food. We should’ve read the expiration dates on the packages before we ate. Thankfully I was okay, but your dad was throwing up all morning. He’s complaining to the manager at the front desk right now. We’re not staying the weekend here; we’re actually planning to just head home today, but we will do a quick visit to the Arch so it’s not a wasted trip,” she explained. “Okay,” Ryan replied as his mother continued to wipe his rear end like a toddler. “Can we at least close the curtains?” “Oh don’t worry Anak, we’re on the second floor. Don’t be embarrassed, this isn’t the first time I’ve had to clean you up like this,” she responded matter-of-factly. She finished wiping and put the soiled pull up and baby wipes in a plastic grocery bag and tied it up before throwing it in the hotel trash bin. “Go hop in the shower! I’ll have your clothes ready on the bed. Your dad should be almost done checking out and we can finish packing the maleta so we can go see the Arch.” Ryan quickly hopped in the shower, ruminating about his situation. That was embarrassing, he thought. You literally just crapped your pants like a toddler, and not only that, mom cleaned me up like one too… but she said it’s not my fault… it was the food! The McDonald’s from yesterday probably didn’t help either. Yeah, that’s it. It was a one off thing. Definitely a one off thing. He finished his shower and dried off, wrapping his towel around his waist as he headed towards the bed to grab the clothes his mom provided. Ryan’s eyes froze as he immediately noticed that on top of his folded Star Wars shirt and khaki cargo pants was one of his Goodnites. He turned to the giant suitcase on the floor and saw his mom zip it shut as she finished packing. “Mom, do I really have to wear one out again?” “Yes, honey, don’t you remember what we talked about yesterday? We don’t want you getting sick from the bathrooms at the Arch. Plus, we’re planning on hitting the road immediately after so we can get home before it gets too dark,” she explained. “Also… since the food last night made you sick, I’d rather you wear one in case you… have an accident again.” “But I feel fine mom!” Ryan fibbed. He did still feel a little woozy, but not as bad as last night. “And it only happened once!” “Twice,” Linda corrected. “I think you were asleep when I changed you for the first time.” “But mom,” he whined. “I don’t want to argue, Ryan,” she raised her voice slightly, her son getting the hint that she wouldn’t change her mind. “I don’t want to deal with your poopy underwear if we can avoid it.” “Fine, okay,” Ryan said curtly as he turned red. A knock at the door announced that housekeeping had arrived, to which Linda responded for the maid to come in. This took Ryan off guard as he held his towel tightly to his body as the housekeeper made her way in. She did a quick inspection of the state of the room when her nose visibly twitched under her face mask, to which she immediately made her way to the trash bin containing Ryan’s soiled Goodnites. Without a word, she made her way to the trash and replaced the liner. As she passed, Ryan darted to the bed with his clothes and pull up and held it close to his body. He swiftly made his way to the bathroom to change in privacy, starting with begrudgingly putting on his pull up. Within a couple of minutes, the housekeeper was out of the room, and Linda began getting dressed for the day. Jerry finally arrived back and took the giant suit case and smaller bags back to the car. He returned to the room just as Linda finished up and Ryan exited the bathroom. “Ready to go?” His father said enthusiastically, eager to conclude this snafu of a vacation. “Yep!” Ryan said. “I’ll pull the van up to the front,” he said as he grabbed the keys. “We’ll meet you down there in a second,” his wife responded. She turned to Ryan as Jerry left the room. “Are your pull ups on?” “I have them on,” he grumbled, avoiding her gaze. “Let me check,” she said as she tugged at his shorts waistband to see the telltale top of his pull up. “Good! Why don’t you try going potty one last time? It might be a while until we find another that’s clean and safe.” “Fine,” Ryan said quietly as he entered the bathroom. The way she said “try going potty” not too long after cleaning up his messy pull up really irked him, as if his mother was going out of her way to baby him. He managed to let out a quick stream and finished up in the bathroom after washing his hands. He accompanied his mother to the lobby where the family van was waiting outside. Before long, the family was on their way to St. Louis. Within a few minutes, they crossed into Missouri and were at the base of the famous Arch. Linda turned to Ryan as they prepared to exit the car. “How’s your stomach, Anak?” “Better,” he answered, though it did still feel noticeably bubbly, but not enough for him to be concerned. “Good! Do you think you can handle a banana? I don’t want to give you something to upset it, but I don’t want you walking around on an empty stomach either,” she said, handing him the fruit from the snack bag. “I guess,” Ryan said as he grabbed the banana and began to peel it. His appetite was barely there, but he didn’t want to fight his mother on it as he finished the fruit. “Alright, let’s get to the top of this arch,” Jerry said as he led his family towards the museum entrance at the base. Ryan looked up in awe at the Arch, distracted as he walked behind his parents. Jerry turned to Linda. “Is he wearing his nappies?” “Yes, I made sure,” she confirmed. “As much as I don’t want to deal with dirty diapers.” “It’s better than throwing out dirty clothes,” Jerry remarked. Soon, they fell in line for tickets to access the museum and the arch itself. Ryan started feeling pressure in his bladder, but rather than bother his parents about it, he simply went in his pull up. When they got their tickets, the Santos family perused the museum, reading displays depicting the story of Lewis and Clark and their expedition with Sacajawea. They fell in line to access the elevator to get to the top of the Arch, which was moving slower than usual due to limitations on the number of people they’d allow to go to the top as a Covid precaution. While Jerry was distracted checking social media on his phone, Linda whispered to Ryan. “How’s your pull up?” “It’s fine,” he answered. Ryan quickly shifted around, making sure no one else was able to hear. “Did you pee?” “Only a little,” he blushed. Linda looked over his shoulder and not so subtly pulled back the rear waistband of his pull up. Ryan quickly pulled his shirt down to cover it. “No accidents, that’s good,” she stood back up, satisfied. “I’m glad your tummy is feeling better.” Ryan chose not to acknowledge, feeling like he was about to die from embarrassment, even though no one else in line seemed to have noticed. He quickly forgot about it as they finally made it through the line and entered the pod shaped elevator to reach the top of the Arch. The ride up the curve was fun, but Ryan couldn’t help but feel a little nauseous as it went up at a strange angle, making his stomach feel even more off. Soon, they reached the top, and immediately Ryan was in awe of seeing the city from the top of such strange architecture. With the way the windows were designed, he had to jump up with his petite Filipino frame and bend over to get a good view, inadvertently exposing the back of his pull up as it rose out of the back of his shorts like a tail. Linda considered telling Ryan, but he didn’t want to interrupt his childish wonder of the bird’s eye view of St. Louis. That, and she thought it looked kind of cute. After a few minutes, Jerry began to lead his wife and son back to elevator so they could get on the road. As soon as the elevator ride down began, Ryan’s stomach began to feel pressure. He held it, not wanting to stink up such a tight space, even if it was just gas. The swaying of the elevator pod also began to aggravate his nausea, and by the time it reached the base floor, he dashed out to catch his breath, putting his hands on his knees and slouching over. His mom and dad caught up to him, concerned. “Are you okay?” Linda asked. “You’re good, deep breaths,” Jerry added. “I’m okay, I just… I didn’t like the elevator part, but the top was really cool,” Ryan said, still feeling the internal pressure on his lower abdomen. “That’s good! Let’s take one more picture by the Buffalo for Facebook and let’s go,” Jerry said. Ryan slowly followed his parents to the massive stuffed Buffalo in the museum, walking carefully. Linda noticed this as they bunched up for the picture, but decided to hold off asking until after the photos were taken. “Okay… 1, 2, 3. And 1, 2, 3. 1, 2, 3,” Jerry said, taking selfie pictures at different angles for what seemed like an eternity to Ryan as the pressure in his stomach built to unbearable levels. Ugh, I can’t take this… it’s just a fart, it’ll be okay, no one can hear it in this huge museum, and they probably wouldn’t smell it, Ryan thought as his dad took more pictures despite saying “last one” multiple times. Ryan felt his stomach gurgle as he finally released, leading to immediate regret as he felt the liquid production slowly fill his pull up. His eyes grew and face turned red in the last picture as he realized what he just did. “Okay, let’s go,” Jerry finally said, satisfied with the shots. “I’m going to use the bathroom before we head out though.” “You go ahead,” Linda insisted, sensing something was off with her son. “I’ll wait here with Ryan and I’ll go next.” She crouched down to his eye level after he slowly moved from his spot. “What’s wrong, Anak?” “Umm, I had an accident…” Ryan alluded. Linda’s eyes grew as she realized the severity of the accident. She stood back up and spotted a secluded corner of the museum a short distance away that was partly concealed by a mock up of a Native American teepee. She held Ryan’s hand as they walked behind the exhibit, making sure not too many people were around. He stood there frozen, with his legs spread wide, trying to come to terms with how he just soiled himself while awake. “Okay, let’s have a look,” Linda said sweetly to put her son more at ease. She pulled the back rear waistband of his Goodnites once more, this time seeing the brown liquid stain that was partially absorbed by the pull up. She proceeded to pull his shorts down to his ankles, seeing the full extent of the damage where the mess pooled by the seat of his pull ups. She checked her purse to realize that she left the extra pull up in the suit case along with the baby wipes, legitimately not expecting any major accidents in the brief period they would be at the Arch. She grimaced at her lack of oversight, and felt bad that her son now had to walk around in his own mess. She pulled Ryan’s cargo shorts back up. “Okay, here’s what we’re going to do,” she said, thinking aloud as she sanitized her hands. “We’ll walk over to the van and get you all freshened up there. I’ll text your dad to meet us there and we’ll be on our way after.” “I’m sorry,” Ryan said quietly, looking at the floor. “Honey, it’s okay. Accidents happen,” she said, hugging her son. “I’m your mom, it’s my job to keep you clean and healthy. Now let’s go.” The two of them held hands as they made their way through the museum and into parking lot, with Ryan self consciously trying to walk as normal as possible. Eventually they got to van, with Linda instructing Ryan to stay in the middle row of the Odyssey as she went to the trunk to open up the suit case. She grabbed the baby wipes and realized this was the last pull up, taking a mental note to pick up some more at their next stop. She opened up the sliding door to see Ryan squatting down to avoid being seen from the windows. “It’s okay,” she reassured. “Now lie down.” “Lie down? Here? On the floor?” Ryan asked. “Yes, now let’s go, your dad will be out soon.” “Can I at least lie down on the back seat?” He pleaded. “No, I don’t want any poop to get on the seats. Also, I’ll have more space to work with from here,” she explained. Reluctantly, Ryan obeyed, still self conscious about how little privacy he was about to get. He laid down on the floor as his mom blocked the view from the outside, and began by pulling his shorts and shoes off. Ryan covered his face as she began to tear the seams of the sides of his pull up and unfolded the front. Linda grimaced a little as she held up his ankles with one hand and grabbed a wipe with another. Ryan hoped no one was walking by as his mother thoroughly wiped his bottom for the next several minutes. “Okay, hard part’s done,” she said with a sigh as she lowered his ankles. She opened the pull up and slipped it up his legs to his waistline. She then put his shorts back on, and rolled up the heavily soiled pull up before tying it into a plastic shopping bag with the used wipes. “Can you get your shoes on?” “I got it,” Ryan said, hoping to regain some dignity and independence by doing the small act of tying his shoes. Jerry returned to the car and hopped in the driver seat as Linda threw the plastic bag into a nearby trash can. She got in the front passenger seat as they started their long journey home. After the first hour, Ryan fell asleep as the deep hypnotic midwestern landscape lulled him to a slumber, and Linda asked Jerry to search for the next closest drugstore or retail center. The GPS located a Walgreens off of an exit 30 miles away as they traversed the empty midwestern farmlands with the interstate. Knowing how much Jerry hated taking side trips that would delay them, she didn’t mind waiting to find a store that was conveniently just off the interstate. They soon pulled off into the remote town and quickly arrived in the parking lot of the drug store. Ryan felt the car stop and woke up disoriented. “Where are we?” He asked as he rubbed his eyes, not recognizing the area. “Your mom is just grabbing some supplies from the Walgreens. She’ll be back out soon if you want to walk around and stretch your legs a little,” his dad explained, to which Ryan obliged. Inside the store, Linda soon discovered it was slim pickings. She new Covid was causing a plethora of disruptions of the supply chain, but it was especially hitting hard out here in these remote southern Illinois towns and villages. Half of the shelves were barren or barely stocked, and she considered herself lucky to find the last bottle of Pepto Bismol for her son to ease his stomach. She picked up the last few bottles of Pedialyte and intended to supplement it with Gatorade. Finally, she made her way to the baby aisle for arguably her most important provision. She went to the nighttime underwear section at the end of the diaper aisle and saw that it was empty, except for a couple packs of the store brand nighttime pull ups, to which she learned the hard way years ago that they almost always leaked under Ryan’s nightly floods. Even the pull ups training pants were out of stock. She turned to an employee who was stocking formula in the same aisle. “Excuse me, do you have any of the boys Goodnites in stock? Like maybe in the back?” “We don’t, sorry,” apologized the employee. “We ran out of those about a month ago. I can check our inventory requests, but I think we might be getting a new shipment in about 4 days.” “I can’t do 4 days,” Linda said with a sigh. She felt a vibration on her phone and saw a text from her husband. Are you almost done? We’re trying to get home before nightfall, we gotta get on the road soon! Be right there, she replied. She doubted Jerry would be willing to make another stop, unless it was for gas, which they probably wouldn’t need for at least a couple hours. Thinking fast, she looked at what they did have in stock, noticing what was mostly left on the shelves were the variations of Huggies, Luvs, and Pampers. Of those, the only ones she thought might even remotely fit were the Pampers Baby Dry in size 6. Linda grabbed a pack of 21 and eyeballed it, noting that while her son was several pounds above the recommended weight range, his short and slender build from his Filipino genetics should allow him to fit, noting the stretchy side tabs advertised on the package. Ryan’s probably not gonna like this, but it’s what we got, she figured. She took her grocery haul to the checkout counter and paid for her items. She kept the diapers hidden in the plastic shopping bag as she bought it into the front seat of the van with her. After a quick check of Ryan’s pull up, she determined it would safely hold up for another hour or 2, but was overall happy that he hadn’t had more diarrhea. Nonetheless, she pushed Ryan to drink a bottle of Pedialyte followed by some Gatorade to replenish his fluids. Now that she had more diapers on hand, she didn’t feel as stressed as when he was down to the last pull up. Chapter 5: Full and Heavy Changes Inevitably, as they headed up north, Jerry acknowledged that they had to stop for gas. He wasn’t too upset about it as the lack of traffic and good weather meant he was making great time and was well able to make it home before dark. As Jerry refilled the tank, Linda used the bathroom herself and took the opportunity to get some cheap coffee. Ryan waited patiently inside the van, engrossed in his sketches as Linda opened the sliding door. “Anak, come here and lie down,” she said. Ryan got out of his seat and went towards his mom and laid down on the floor of the middle row, already knowing what was coming. Linda grabbed the Walgreens bag and set it down next to her, the turquoise green top of the diaper pack sticking out of the bag. She pulled down his shorts to his ankles, but this time left them on along with his shoes. Noticing this, Ryan looked over and saw his mother tear open the package labeled Pampers Baby Dry and pull out a diaper adorned with Sesame Street characters and unfolded it open. “Wait, what happened to my Goodnites?” He asked, confused. “We ran out, you’re wearing the last of them,” she said as she ripped the sides of his pull up open. “The store was out of pull ups, and this was all they had in your size. Sorry.” She unfolded the front of his wet pull up and began to wipe away urine. “Will those even fit me? Can’t we go to a bigger store like Walmart and get some?” “They should! You used to use these when you were a toddler, you didn’t even make it to their largest size by the time you potty trained,” Linda lifted up her son’s ankles to quickly wipe his bottom and slide out the wet pull up, which she replaced with the diaper. Ryan cringed a little as his mother folded the front atop his groin and he heard the tapes open. He noticed these had a strong baby powder scent to them She gingerly placed them on the landing zone, readjusting them for better fit. Satisfied with her work, she helped her son stand up, causing him look down and see the childish designs that now displayed across his bottom and front. “There we go! A bit snug, but a perfect fit,” she commented. In his mind, Ryan hated how well it fit him, cursing his genetically small frame as his mom pulled his shorts up for him. He instinctively pulled his shirt bottom down, hoping the waistband wouldn’t stick out of his shorts like he saw on many toddlers. Linda could sense how vexed her son was as he sat back down and immediately avoided eye contact with her. “Hey,” she said, causing him to look at her. “When we finish the pack, we’ll get you your normal pull-ups when we get home, okay?” “Fine,” he said as he crossed his arms. Linda rolled up the wet pull up and threw it out at the trash can by the gas pump. She kept the Pampers package by the front seat with her next to the other items she bought from Walgreens. She grabbed another Gatorade and handed it to Ryan. “Make sure you keep drinking! You need to stay hydrated to beat this stomach bug, and when we get home, I’ll give you some medicine. We only have a couple hours left and we’re home,” she reassured. Ryan didn’t respond as he continued to drink, still a bit annoyed at his predicament, but was slowly coming to terms with it. The remainder of the trip was fairly uneventful, except for a 20 minute spat of traffic as the family got closer to the Chicagoland area. About half an hour into the final leg, Ryan felt the urge to urinate, and after letting go, was surprised at how well the Pampers did at wicking away the moisture from his body, but stopped short of admitting to himself that they might feel more comfortable than his usual Goodnites. Nonetheless, they managed to make it home with only a 10 minute delay, and just in time for the sunset as Jerry parked the van in the driveway for easier unloading. Ryan helped unload the car along with his dad while Linda unpacked the cooler to keep the contents from spoiling. She watched her son carry the heavy maleta by himself into the house, and she felt almost like she had traveled back in time as she spied the familiar sight of his diaper peaking above his shorts as he struggled to carry the suitcase, which reminded her… “Ryan! Make sure to grab your diapers from the front seat and put them in your bathroom in the usual spot!” she called out the door as he made his way back outside. “Did you hear me?” “Yes, mom,” Ryan responded with an audibly annoyed tone. He hated that she specifically said your diapers. He grabbed them from the front seat as instructed, hoping no one in the neighborhood was watching. He yawned as he entered the house, realizing it was just about to be his usual bedtime as they finished unloading and unpacking everything. “Actually Ryan, hold on. Come here first,” his mom called out from the kitchen. He yawned again as he met her at the kitchen table, pouring out Pepto Bismol into a small medicine cup. She noticed how drowsy he looked as he put down the Pampers package and finished drinking the pink liquid, looking at the time, which seemed to have flown by. “Ready for bed, sleepyhead?” “Yeah,” he answered as he rubbed his eye. “Tell you what, I know it was a long day, so I’ll let you go to bed right away just this once, as long as you promise to shower first thing in the morning, okay?” “I will,” Ryan assured. His mother smiled and bent down to kiss him on the forehead. As she did that she noticed a particular familiar scent. “Actually,” she began. “Anak, can you lie down over there for me?” She gestured to the living room floor just outside the kitchen. Ryan sighed but already expected this to happen inevitably before he went to bed anyway. Linda pulled out a diaper from the package and began unfolding it as she pulled out the baby wipes pack from her purse before walking over to Ryan who was lying down on the living room floor, making himself comfortable by placing a couch pillow under his head. She pulled his shorts off his legs, leaving Ryan to feel extra exposed with just his diaper and shirt, a sensation he never got fully used to, even though he already experienced this multiple times in the past couple days. Linda noticed how saturated the diaper looked with the wetness indicator turning blue, but was glad there were no leaks, and it appeared that it could’ve handled another one of Ryan’s floods. She took a deep breath as she untaped the tabs and pulled down the front, after which she put her hands on her hips and made a frustrated face at the semi liquid mess that confirmed her suspicions. “Ryan!” “What?” “What do you mean ‘what?’ You pooped again,” Linda chastised. “When did this happen?” “While we were stuck in traffic. And you literally said I could before if I had to! And that the bathrooms weren’t safe!” He reasoned. “I mean, I did, but why didn’t you say something? We could’ve stopped somewhere and I could’ve changed you.” “I didn’t think it would matter, we were almost home anyway. And I really couldn’t help it, honest! It just hit me again like at the Arch,” Ryan began to sit up, but his mom gently pushed him back to a lying position. “Don’t move,” she sighed as she pulled out a wipe and lifted his ankles up with her other hand. “Besides, I didn’t want dad to get mad again if we had to stop because of me,” he replied, his voice trembling a little. “I’m sorry.” “No, no. Don’t be sorry, it’s not your fault,” Linda reassured after taking a deep breath, realizing that last part was true as she continued to clean up her son. “Just let me know if it happens again next time. It’s not good for you to be sitting in it for too long.” She pulled the soiled diaper out from under him and slid the fresh one in its place, gently lowering his legs back down onto it as she taped the front into place. Linda pulled Ryan to his feet and gave him a warm hug. “You know, you look so cute dressed like that,” she whispered. He immediately left her arms and embarrassingly tried to pull his shirt down. “Mooom!” “Make sure you brush your teeth before bed!” She yelled as he scurried up the stairs to the bathroom. Linda rolled up the soiled diaper and threw it away in the garage trash, followed by her bringing the open Pampers package up Ryan’s room and placing it next to his bedside table. She showered and got herself ready for bed so she could her husband in the master bedroom. Jerry was already asleep, exhausted from a long day of driving. She walked over to Ryan’s room, who was so tired, he immediately slumped onto the bed, sprawled out like a starfish, and didn’t even bother changing out of shirt, let alone putting on pajama pants. She grabbed the Tigger off the floor and put it next to his side before tucking him into the covers. The following morning, Ryan woke up once again to the familiar mushy sensation in his heavy diaper. He waddled down the stairs to see his mother in the kitchen preparing breakfast, who noticed him immediately. “Oh Anak what are you doing up so early? Go back to bed right now, you need rest to beat this stomach bug,” she said earnestly. “But mom, um,” he wasn’t sure if he wanted to mention it, but remembered what his mom said last night. “I pooped.” “Aw, it’s okay honey. Go back to your room, I’ll be up there to clean you up in a minute. Thank you for telling me,” she instructed as Ryan waddled back up to his room. He didn’t want to sit down and make the mess on his bottom worse, and he decided to stand until his mom arrived. As she stepped in the room, he laid down on the carpet without asking as Linda grabbed the baby wipes. Other than telling him to take his shirt from yesterday off, she went through her usual changing process, but took mental note how watery the consistency was of her son’s bowel movement, with most of it being absorbed by the back of the diaper, as well as how dark yellow it was stained at the front. “How’s your tummy, Anak? Has your appetite come back” “Not really, I’m still a little queasy,” he admitted. “Hmmm, I’ll get you a small bowl of oatmeal so you at least get something for breakfast. Hop in the shower and I’ll get your clothes and medicine ready too,” she said as she finished wiping him down. Ryan grabbed a towel from his drawer and wrapped it around himself as he raced to the bathroom. As he bathed, Linda took the rolled up soiled diaper and threw it in the garage trash. She washed her hands in the kitchen and prepared a small bowl of oatmeal, along with a bottle of Pedialyte and a 32 ounce bottle full of water she picked up from the hospital. She wasn’t liking how dehydrated her son was getting from the diarrhea, even if he didn’t immediately notice. Lastly, she grabbed the bottle of Pepto Bismol as she made her way back up to Ryan’s bedroom. She laid the bowl and bottles on the bedside table and grabbed a folded Lego T shirt from Ryan’s shirt drawer and placed it on his bed. She opened up the drawer where he kept his underwear and paused, ultimately deciding to close it. Ryan finished drying himself off in the bathroom and walked his toweled self back to his room, surprised to see his mom got everything ready so quickly. “Oh good you’re done! Anak come here,” she said, patting the bed. Ryan, still holding the towel around his waist, walked over and sat on the bed, which resulted in Linda gently laying him down on his pillow. She bent over next to the nightstand and pulled out a diaper from the package, unfolding it. Ryan’s eyes grew as he sat up. “Hey wait! We’re home, I can use the bathroom! It’s clean! And I’m feeling a lot better today, can’t I have my regular underwear?” “I know we’re home Anak, but I was just thinking that since you’re still sick, I want you to stay in bed today and get some rest. If you can, I want you to go back to sleep as much as possible since it will help you beat this stomach bug and help you recover faster. I also want you drinking plenty of fluids. You may not feel it, but you’re really dehydrated, and I don’t want to risk you having an unexpected accident, awake or asleep. Plus, this will help me monitor your stools,” Linda answered as she simultaneously went into mom and nurse mode. “My stools?” Ryan asked quizzically. “Your poop, Anak. I don’t think you’ve had a solid one since before the trip, and that’s not good. I know it sounds gross, but we won’t know you’ve gotten over this tummy issue until you have a solid poop,” she said nonchalantly. “Can’t I just go in the toilet while I’m awake?” He tried to reason. “Oh I would let you, Anak, but I honestly don’t want to take any chances with accidents on the bed or floor, especially with how unpredictable your stomach has been the past couple days, and I don’t want you leaving the bed a lot. If you have to go, just go and I’ll change you after, I don’t mind,” Linda said as she ripped off the towel. She lifted up Ryan’s legs and slipped the diaper under his bottom and securely taped it up. He felt extra vulnerable being naked in just a diaper, which his mom partially remedied by slipping the shirt onto him. He waited for his mom to slip shorts on, then realized there weren’t any on the bed. “Can I at least have shorts or something?” Ryan asked as he sat up. “It’s easier if you don’t honey, it’ll be easier for me to check if you’re wet and change you. It’ll also be better since it’s so hot today,” she reasoned, a fact that Ryan couldn’t argue. “I know you don’t like this, but once you’re stomach feels better and I know your poop is back to normal, you can get out of bed and wear big boy underwear again. I’ll bring you your sketchbook and I’ll let you watch shows on the iPad so you don’t get bored in bed when you’re not napping. How does that sound?” “I guess that’s okay,” Ryan compromised. Historically, his parents were strict about technology usage, determined to not have their son become one of those “iPad kids”. They only had one television in the whole house, and one laptop each for each parent’s work. They didn’t allow video games, except in the rare instance Ryan was visiting a relative or friend’s house that had a gaming system. Two things they were willing to spend money on for Ryan were books and art supplies, considering them an investment to make him more well rounded and educated. He was thankful his mom was willing to compromise on the iPad for the day; he wasn’t expecting to get a smartphone until at least high school. “Great!” Linda concluded. “Make sure you’re constantly drinking! Have a little of the oatmeal if you can too. I’ll give you some medicine in a little bit for your tummy. Try to sleep, but I’ll be checking in on you when I can.” She made her way out of the bedroom, closing the door and popping it back open almost immediately. “Use the iPad to text me if you need anything, like more water or Gatorade… or if you need to be changed.” “Okay mom, thanks, I’m good,” he said as he began to open up Disney+ on his tablet. Ryan scrolled through shows and movies with one hand while holding his water bottle with the other, aggressively sipping through the straw as he ultimately decided on The Force Awakens. After about the first 30 minutes, he nearly finished the water bottle, leading him to drink from the Pedialyte bottle, which he drank at a slightly slower pace. The movie was about to reach the final battle when Linda cracked the door open, causing Ryan to pause the film. “Everything okay? Need anything?” She asked with a smile. She saw that the water bottle was almost empty, happy to know her son was taking the hydration seriously. “Yep I’m good, mom. Thanks,” he answered quickly, eager to resume the movie. Ryan pressed play and quickly became engrossed in the action. Linda went to the bed side table and picked up the water bottle, leaving to refill it. When she returned, she decided to see if Ryan needed a change, noticing almost immediately the blue wetness indicator and that his diaper looked ready to burst. With his attention tied to the iPad in his hands, Ryan didn’t notice as his mother pulled another diaper from the package, and barely flinched as she undid the tapes on the one he was wearing, but continued to watch the movie. She unfolded the wet diaper open, and began to do a quick wipe. “Looks like someone was ready for a change,” Linda commented as she slipped out the heavy diaper and lowered his bottom onto a fresh one. “You sure went a lot.” Ryan turned red as he pretended not to hear, keeping his eyes on the film as his mom tapes up the front. “Sorry,” he said as his mom rolled up the diaper. “No, that’s a good thing! At least I know you’re hydrated,” Linda tossed it in the bedroom trash as she made her way to the door. “Try to sleep for a little bit after the movie. I’ll get you some rice for lunch later if you’re up to it.” “Okay mom,” Ryan said as the movie reached the conclusion. As the credits rolled, he locked the iPad screen and placed it next to his pillow. He spent the next 15 minutes trying to sleep, only to feel tension in his bladder, to which he quickly released from all the water and Pedialyte he was downing. Feeling more relaxed, he quickly drifted into a slumber. About an hour and a half later, Ryan woke up, feeling a familiar mush pushing against his bottom. She heard the voice of his mom talking to his dad in his parents’ bedroom across the hall. “Mom!” Ryan yelled. “Yes honey?” She called back. “Ummm, I think I need a change,” he said awkwardly. “Hang on, I’ll be right there!” Linda called back from the bedroom. Jerry was sending emails on his laptop for the upcoming work week. “You’re keeping him in nappies?” He asked as she headed for the door. “Yeah, he’s still sick, poor thing,” she answered. “Can’t he get up to use the bathroom? It’s not like we’re some germ infested public restroom.” “He can, but this is easier. I’d rather do this than pay for an expensive carpet cleaner in case he doesn’t make it,” she explained. “That’s true I suppose,” Jerry concurred. “Couldn’t you at least teach him to change himself? Changing a 9 year old isn’t exactly something most parents do at this stage in life.” “I do the laundry here, I barely trust him to wipe himself properly using the toilet,” Linda joked. “As messy as he gets, I’d rather just change him myself so it’s less headache for everyone.” “As long as I don’t have to change him,” Jerry quipped as he returned to his emails. Linda walked into Ryan’s room as he laid on his back on the bed, the iPad in his hands now the center of attention. She sniffed the air. “Sorry about that wait. Did you manage to sleep a little?,” she said as she grabbed a new diaper. “Yeah a little bit,” he answered as he decided on The Mandalorian. “I called you as soon as I woke up.” She undid the tapes and opened up the diaper, noticing how Ryan’s mess was now starting to be a little more solid in consistency. That’s a good sign, she thought as she began to wipe and replace the diaper, rolling up the old one. Ryan sat upright as he watched the show. “I’m going to pour you some medicine,” Linda said as she sanitized her hands and stood up to grab Pepto Bismol bottle on the table. She meticulously measured the proper dosage into the medicine cup, pouring some back into the bottle as she slightly poured too much after holding the measuring lines up to the light. Once she got the portion right, she turned back to her son, noticing out of the corner of her eye that his wetness indicator was already blue, but the diaper itself wasn’t too saturated. Really? I literally just changed you a second ago, she thought to herself as Ryan sipped the medicine cup and resumed the episode. She decided she’d check back on him in about an hour or so, not wanting to waste another diaper. When she returned to his room, Linda saw her son passed out, laying on his side with tablet in hand, with the show still playing. She took the iPad and plugged it into the charger, taking the opportunity to gently pat her son’s diapered bottom, noticing that while it was a little full, she was surprised there wasn’t a distinctive mush. She decided to go to the master bedroom and take a nap herself before tackling the next task of making dinner. Linda woke up an hour later, deciding to drop by Ryan’s room to see if he was still asleep. Inside, she saw him sitting up crisscross applesauce with the sketchbook and colored pencils in hand, the tablet still on the charger. She walked over to the nightstand and cleared the empty Pedialyte bottles and took the half empty water bottle. “How are you feeling, honey?” “Better! A lot better, actually,” Ryan said enthusiastically. “Looks like the medicine and rest is working,” she said happily as she left the room. Linda topped off the water bottle and placed it next to him on the bedside table. She saw how droopy her son’s diaper had become after the lengthy nap. “Looks like someone needs a diaper change too!” She playfully pulled his legs across the bed, causing him to fall back onto his pillow and nearly dropping the sketchbook. “Hey! I was working on that!” He said with a chuckle. “Looks like you were working hard on your hydration too,” she said as she undid the tapes once again and unfolded the soaked front of the diaper. She was half surprised to see no diarrhea accidents after this nap. “Good job honey! You weren’t poopy this time when you woke up,” she congratulated as Ryan covered his face in embarrassment. “Tummy feeling better?” She asked as she did a quick job of wiping. “Yes,” Ryan answered through his hands. “Good! Looks like you’re finally on the mend,” she said as she finished taping up the new diaper. “You think you’re up to some bananas and applesauce in a little bit?” Linda asked as she tossed the wet diaper in his trash. She noticed it was getting full, and proceeded to tie the plastic liner up and replace it. “Yeah, I’m actually feeling a little hungry now,” he admitted. “Coming right up!” She said cheerfully as she walked out of the room. Ryan put his sketchbook away and grabbed his tablet from the charger. He searched up Avengers: Endgame and pressed play on the lengthy movie, sipping from a Gatorade as the film commenced. A few minutes later, his mom returned with a small pack of apple sauce with a spoon and a banana, to which Ryan enthusiastically consumed, alternating with regular sips of water and Gatorade. During the last 45 minutes of the movie, Ryan felt a pressure in his stomach that he ignored. After a few minutes, the tension suddenly rose to the point he couldn’t ignore it. Realizing what he had to do, he called for his mom, and heard no answer. Ryan paused the movie and texted his mother using the messenger app on his iPad. Mom, can you come up please? he texted. After a few seconds, the typing bubble appeared, shortly followed by a response. I’m on a Zoom call for work, can you wait a bit? I kind of have to go, he texted back. Is it number 2? She asked. Yes, it’s kind of an emergency, Ryan texted back. Anak, you have your diaper, Linda texted in response. Ryan wasn’t sure how to respond to that when his mom’s typing bubble appeared again. I’ll be up in a about 30-45 minutes. The conversation showed that Linda enabled silent mode so the notifications wouldn’t distract her from the conference call. Ryan began to sweat; conflicted as to what to do as the pressure in his abdomen started to become unbearable. He contemplated running to the bathroom, but he didn’t want his mom to yell at him for getting out of bed, let alone get caught by his father. Realizing his only option, Ryan sighed as he knew what he had to do. He unpaused the movie, midway through the action of the climactic final battle. He first sat upright to relieve some tension, only to stand on his bed a second later, trying to use the movie as a distraction. He squatted down as the pressure in his bowels became increasingly unbearable, finally giving up as he released some gas, followed rapidly by what felt like warm sludge spilling into the seat of his Pampers. He grunted, releasing another quick wave until he felt empty, inadvertently releasing a stream of urine in the process. Ryan turned to view his backside, seeing a noticeable bulge now evident protruding from his bottom. He sighed, realizing this was his first time deliberately soiling himself while awake, not counting the Arch incident, as he counted that as a legitimate accident. Not wanting to make a bigger mess for his mom to clean up, Ryan laid on his belly and continued to watch the movie until his mother finished her call. Outside his room, Jerry happened to walk by and caught a good whiff of the smell emanating from his son’s room. Not wanting to deal with it himself, he went downstairs to find his wife, who was wrapping up the Zoom meeting. She turned off her microphone as Jerry entered the frame behind her and tapped her on the shoulder. “What is it?” She asked. “I think Ryan needs his nappy changed,” he said bluntly. “I know, I’ll be done in 10 minutes,” Linda assured. “Unless you want to change him yourself.” Back in his room, Ryan watched the end credits begin to roll as his mom knocked and entered the room. “Sorry for the wait, Anak,” the scent of the air hit her nose. “Ooh, your dad wasn’t kidding! Lie down!” Ryan put his iPad down and tried to ignore his mom’s comment as he started to flip onto his back, only to get stopped last second as he felt a hand gently pat his diapered bottom. “On the floor, please. That’s a really full nappy, and I don’t want to make a mess on your bedsheets.” Ryan made his way to the floor, rolling his eyes at her remark, thinking she was sounding like dad. Linda prepared by pre-pulling out some baby wipes and pulling out a diaper from the pack. “Wait,” Ryan said as she began to open up the fresh diaper. He had a stare of concentration as he relaxed and felt warm wetness pool into his Pampers, taking a few seconds to absorb. “Okay.” “Are you sure you’re done?” She said, trying to conceal a chuckle. “Yeah… sorry,” he said, covering his face again in embarrassment. “You’re okay, honey,” Linda assured, taking a deep breath as she ripped open the tapes and pulled back the front. “Ooh that’s a lot,” she commented as she noted how much of a solid load she had to clean up, lifting up Ryan’s legs by the ankles. “On the bright side, honey, I think it’s more than safe to say your stomach bug is gone.” After a few minutes of wiping, she laid Ryan’s bottom down on the fresh diaper and closed it up with the tapes. “There we go, I bet that feels much better,” she said as she smoothed out the last tape and made sure the leak guards weren’t bunched up. She placed the soiled diaper and used wipes in the plastic bag, tying it shut to keep the smell out. Ryan sat up as Linda finished sanitizing her hands. “Tell you what Ryan, if you last the whole night without your nappy getting poopy while you sleep, I think we can definitively say you’re not sick anymore by tomorrow morning. You can go back to using big boy underwear during the day, and using the normal potty, plus you won’t be stuck in bed all day. Does that sound fair?” She proposed. It didn’t take Ryan long to agree, despite cringing internally at the the childish verbiage she decided to use for the deal. “Can I go back to using pull ups too?” He added. “Like I said before, after we finish this pack, I’ll get you your normal Goodnites, unless of course you’re able to stay dry at night too,” Linda said as she stood up to go make dinner. “Deal,” Ryan said, somewhat content with the arrangement.

Lila on a family vacation This started as an English writing - training project for me. I have to give credit to the original Story “Lila’s family vacation” from Reatykeuniverse for the idea, the plot, and the beautiful name Lila that I used as a starting point. The first chapters are more like a close-bound rewrite with a lot of added sections in the middle, while the later parts just stick to the basic plot and do not have a lot in common with the original. This is the first part (apx. 6000 words) of the story that is already finished and has apx. 46000 words. While correcting takes a lot of effort for me due to my problem with reading and seeing spelling errors, it will take about two weeks to finish a chapter. So please be patient, I will try my best not to keep you waiting. Even though this is not my first story, I do a lot of writing in German, but it is my first story in English. I put a lot of effort into correcting all the grammar and spelling errors and hope there are not too many left to spoil your reading experience. I welcome any constructive feedback on my writing style, grammar and spelling, but please add as much information as possible, so I can improve. And I would also love to hear if you liked the story. If you want to know more, I just opened an intro thread in the nursery Annie's Intro ### Chapter 1 - Traveling - Discover what seemed to be lost. "Mum really, why do I have to wear diapers again?", complained Lila. "Hey honey, we are never going to force it if you don't want to," replied her mum Maria, "but you always wore them for the last years on our vacations, and it always made our trips a lot less stressful, for all of us?” She struggled with her decision while her mum placed the bag on her bed. This bag was clearly designed to appeal to a nurse in a retirement home and did not charm the little girl into the decision to wear them on the trip. As Lila stared at the colorful sheets of her bed, she felt the conflict in her. She was not eager to wear anything other than her panties. And all of her classmates in school would surely throw such a big tantrum that her parents would not dare to mention these diapers ever again. On the other hand, her mum was right, she wet the bed at least sometimes, and for some seconds she remembered how this unusual habit started for the now teenage girl. Whenever her parents could get some days off work, the family went on a trip together, and her mum used to put her girl in pull-ups just before they were leaving. All this started when Lila had a wetting accident when the family was on a city trip to Berlin when she was seven. It was the first year when she finally managed to stay dry during the day and at the packed museum, the line to the toilet was way too long for the young girl to hold it. Lila was in tears and did not want to leave the bathroom anymore, and her mum needed all her mummy magic to cheer the little girl up and get her ready for the rest of her day. To protect her from embarrassing accidents and to make it easier for her child, Lila, and her parents decided to keep her in the pull-ups she still wore for bed-wetting just in case during the day for the rest of the city trip. This worked so well that from there onwards, it became a secret family tradition for the little girl to be in pull-ups whenever they went on a vacation. In all those years, Lila didn't mind wearing pull-ups on occasions like this. She still wore them to bed at night, and wearing them on vacations during the day gave her back some kind of security. She even peed in them when she did not want to rush to the next restroom or was on the road. But now she is thirteen! Nearly a grownup woman in her eyes. And to her dismay, her mum got her tape diapers designed for a senile granny, instead of the slightly embarrassing but at least funny-looking pull-ups. Furthermore, she could slide down these bed-wetter's pants easily on her own when she headed to the bathroom. Lila had indeed outgrown her pull-ups, they did not fit her properly and on the rare occasions she wet the bed they hardly prevented the wet stains on the sheets. So the last time she'd worn them on a trip, her mom had decided to switch to diapers when she was not sleeping on her well-protected bed at home. While she still stared at the bag, Lila was obviously hesitant to wear ugly full-tape diapers, especially at her age. But after recalling her last wet night which was not even one week ago and that she probably would sleep on the plane, she ultimately decided to go with the diapers, just to be safe. "Fine..." she gave in, still trying to look serious, "But this is the last time I swear, and it will be just for the flights and when I sleep!" "You are such a responsible girl.", Maria praised her daughter, leaving her confused about what could be responsible in using diapers. "Please lie down, honey. So we get your diaper on you." Still, in her thoughts, Lila was obeying Mom's instructions sheepishly, took off her skirt and underwear, and laid herself on the soft bed while she noticed the crinkling of her mattress protector as she squirmed and twisted. "Can you put your bottoms up, please." her Mom patiently asked, not wanting to embarrass her girl more than necessary by just lifting her legs with her arms. And she unfolded a plain white fabric and laid it under her daughter's bum. Lila was weirdly feeling comfortable as she put some cream and powder on her before she taped the diaper in place and adjusted the leak guards. "We're all done, and you are ready for your vacation!" Her mum smiled at her. "Do you want to check that you have everything, we have to leave in fifteen minutes." ### Lila was in her thoughts for most of their trip to the airport. And when they arrived, Mum even needed to hold her hand because she was still daydreaming. However she looked at it, the diaper that she wore did not feel uncomfortable. She even liked the soft material that hugged her and that was wiping away all her worries. With the ease of her mind, she dreamed about all her past vacations where she was young and free. In retrospect, she had a really great childhood. Her parents were always there for Lila, and one of the reasons why she did not mind wearing her Pull-Ups in the past was that her parents did not make a big thing out of it when she had a small uppsie accident in them. After the family got their baggage checked in, they still had time to spare before heading for the gate, so they sat on one of the benches to wait and relax. Lila was exhausted from walking through the endless corridors and for a brief moment wanted to sit on her mom's lap as she did countless times in the past, but instead, she sat next to her, suddenly feeling her need to pee. "Mom," she secretly whispered, mindful that they were in a crowded airport, "I need to pee really urgently." “Oh, right now, can't you hold in any longer?” she replied searching for a bathroom while only seeing a corridor packed with endless shops offering their expensive and often useless duty-free stuff. As a young preteen child, Lila didn't mind using her pull-ups, especially when there was no clean bathroom nearby. She leaned on Mum's side, trying to get comfortable with all the people around. “This was much easier on our last trip”, she commented with a sigh. At the same time, she was getting ready to accept her daughter's wish to head to the bathroom whenever possible. “No mummy, I don't want to, my feet are hurting!”, Lila confessed. Wishing she had not protested against her parent's request for her to be diapered and unaware that her mum now could easily read the trouble of her little girl's mind like an open book "You know, I don't mind if you use your diaper, honey. I am sure it will hold up fine.", her mom carefully suggested, while at the same time easing her girl with her hand. For some seconds, Lila thought about that option out of her dilemma. Her parents put her in actual diapers, and that is what they are for, aren't they? Vaguely, she remembered the moon and the stars that promised a dry night on the package. It would soak up everything, she assured herself, while on the other hand remembering the good old days when she just peed in the pull-ups whenever she had to go. Once, she nearly let her mum talk her into going poopy, because they were in a subway with no bathrooms available. On that occasion, she finally made it to a stinky metro bathroom, and she also remembered that she wished she had any other option as it was so gross and dirty. However, this was completely different in her eyes. She just wet the bed in her sleep and the toilet was surely just a short distance away and perhaps most importantly, even when she was small for her age she was a teeny now. Her mum noticed the still ongoing fight in her girl's mind. “Don't worry, little one. Just go pee if you need to, that is what you wear them for. And it will be our secret, I promise”, she heard her mother, laying her arm on her daughter's shoulder. Was it really so strange for her to wet her diaper, she questioned her belief. Her mum just had given Lila permission to use it when she needed to pee. And the diaper felt so soft and comfy, it could not be that bad, could it? First slightly squirming, Lila tried to release the pressure on her bladder, but it was quite difficult to do so deliberately, especially sitting on a bench in a crowded airport. This time she obviously pushed, pressing her eyes together as she slowly was able to squeeze out a few drops. “It is quite hard if you are not used to it, do you want to sit with me, it makes it easier.”, her mum promised. Lila switched over to the welcoming lap, suddenly noticing the difference. Without the hard surface she was sitting on, the next push gradually grew into a steady flow, making her crotch warm and squishy for a second. She hardly could stop peeing until her need was gone, and she felt dry and comfy again. Mom had taken notice of the growing warmth on her lap and had figured out what was happening. "Are you done wetting?" she asked with a motherly smile. Still a little embarrassed but glad she had the urgent need off her mind, Lila nodded in response. "The shop assistant assured me, it will keep you dry even if you have to go pee another time. But are you still feeling comfy and dry?" asked her worried Mom as discreetly as possible. For a second she forgot she was in public, squeezing her thighs together and checking the now not-too-obvious bulge between her legs. Not bad she had to admit, it was warm and still soft but not wet as her old pull-up would have been. "I'm good.", said Lila as she decided to not switch back to her own seat and was slightly thankful that her mum talked her into wearing a diaper again. Actually, Lila thought the warm feeling of her wet diaper was quite pleasant. She could tell that she had peed quite a bit into her babyish underwear, but these diapers were more absorbent than her old bed-wetters pants, and they could definitely hold a lot more. Maybe she was hesitant when arguing that she did not need the diapers on the trip. And she had to admit that wetting herself was still a big stress relief for her on this busy transit through the airports. As the minutes passed, their flight was announced over the speakers and Lila's family made their way to the crowded boarding gate. “You should finish your bottle”, her dad reminded her about the half a liter of sparkling water in her hands. Lila took a sip, as she noticed she had to pee again. I am already wet, she thought and as she only pushed a little, she was surprised how easily she started wetting. “Lila, we better change your diaper before we board the plane, don't we honey?”, suggested her Mom, as she spotted a toilet with a baby changing symbol added to the women’s bathroom. “You know, having to change your diaper on the plane would be a nightmare and very obvious.” Without trusting her diaper too much, she agreed with Mom that a change in the plane would be better avoided. After placing their bags with Dad, Mom took Lila to the toilet. There was a changing table, but it was just made to change a baby, and it was way too small to accommodate Lila. But upmost importantly, it would have been incredibly embarrassing for the small but still teenage girl, so instead they headed to one of the empty stalls together. Her Mom shut the door, “Can you lift your skirt for me, please.” Lila shyly raised her skirt, revealing the yellow-tainted diaper. “It was a good decision we switched you to diapers”, explained Mom, as she removed the tapes, letting the sodden diaper suddenly fall on the floor with a ‘plop’. “Your pull-ups would have been leaking long ago”, she concluded. “Now, do you still need to go potty?” Yes, Lila did feel a very light need to go, but using her diaper was not as bad as she thought, and she slowly began to regret that she was so determined to not use them on the trip. At least she could be using them on the flight and avoid the smelly dirty places they surely used as toilets here as well, she was making her decision. “No, I’m fine, Mom.”, Lila replied as she remembered how disgusting the toilets in public always were. “Sure honey.”, her mum smiled again. She cleaned her darling with a couple of quick wipes, unfolded the fresh diaper, and taped it on her daughter as if she never stopped doing it. Lila let go of her skirt and enjoyed the dryness of her underwear for a second. A wet diaper did not feel uncomfortable at all, but the feeling of a fresh and clean one felt pretty nice as well. “Let's go on a vacation” her Mom cheered, as she rolled up her sodden diaper, throwing it in the bin. While Lila was in a daydream about what just happened, she stepped out of the stall and followed her Mom. ### “Honey, good morning, we have just landed.” whispered her Mom as she gently kissed Lila awake. Opening her eyes, the girl slowly began to sit upright, rubbing all the sleepiness out of her face while stretching her legs. Yes, it was a good flight, she loved the thrill of takeoff and enjoyed the view over the clouds while she was taking advantage of the drinks and snacks they delivered. Eventually, all her adventures of the day caught up with the young girl, and she had fallen asleep with a smile for the rest of her flight. Now, as she stretched and wanted to get up, she noticed the slightly damp and warm feeling in her crotch. She indeed used her diapers two times on the transit when she had to go, and she was glad that Mum had not said a word about the not-too-small amount of soda that she downed. Feeling awake and ready to explore now, Lila glanced around the plane, noticing that most of the passengers had already disembarked and were on their way to the luggage claim. She did not want to wait any longer, as her dad was busy getting their bags from the overhead compartment. And in a moment her daughter was up on her feed waiting for her day bag and ready to start their vacation. As she was on her feet, she noticed her soaked diaper sag a little and the bulge between her legs was quite visible now if you knew it was there. She checked the back of her skirt for leaks and surely was relieved that everything still was dry For a second she wondered, whenever she had used her pull-ups it never felt this heavy. But this diaper had kept her dry and could handle a lot more than her old bed-wetters pants. As they followed all the signs to the baggage claim, Lila's belly started to feel uncomfortable, and she eventually had to go to the bathroom soon. Seeing that her parents were in a bit of a rush, she paid no mind to the ache and focused on keeping up with their pace. After arriving at the baggage claim, Lila went to grab a trolley while Mom and Dad waited at the conveyor belt for their bags. She pushed the trolley forward and joyfully jumped while rolling with it for some meters when she noticed the need to go suddenly coming back. But her parents looked so busy in the hustle and bustle of the airport, and she did not dare to raise her voice. Obviously, her only option was to tell Mom to take her diaper off for her to go to the restroom. But as she thought about that stinky room, she got a slight feeling of nausea in her throat. Actually peeing in the diapers saved her from this unpleasant experience on the transit through the airports. And now that she realized that this need would not be solved in such a quick but also childish and embarrassing manner, the worries that were so distant returned. Her mum sometimes offered her to just go when she was at the edge of having an accident and even if that was some years ago, she had to admit that her current underwear was made with that kind of accident in mind. And she even wore full tape-on diapers and was not in pull-ups now. Little kids and Babies do that all the time, don't they? She even remembered the adults talking about kids on the edge of potty training, just putting a diaper on when they needed to poop. It cannot be that uncomfortable. She was wondering what it would be like to go poopy in her diaper. And while the idea settled into her mind, she even got a little curious about how it would feel. Suddenly the need to go returned. Lila was sure she would not be able to hold back much longer as she squirmed and wiggled, hoping her need just would go away. “Lila, you look so worried. What's up?” she suddenly approached her little girl who was obviously feeling uncomfortable. “I... I am fine. It is just I may need to go to the bathroom a little longer really soon.”, she admitted sheepishly. “I can go to the toilet with you after we get our bags, in about five minutes, can you still wait for so long?” she explained, not realizing that her girl was on the edge of losing the battle against her belly. Lila put her hand on her tummy and felt the growing need to go now. Slowly shaking her head, she looked at her as she always did when she desperately wanted her help. “Can’t you come with me, so we can go now.”, she asked shyly, not willing to let her mum go and signaling that she might not be able to go on her own. “No baby, Bernhard needs my help, we cannot leave right now. ... So if you really need to go so urgently, I wouldn’t mind you using your diaper for poop as well. It's just a short trip to our hotel and I can change you when we get there easily.”, she told her and stroked her back as she always did when she was uncomfortable or stressed. Her mum just suggested that she should poop in her ‘just in case’ diaper. This was so embarrassing was her first thought, but after some moments she realized it would finally take the ache from her. And while everyone else would have ditched the proposal, for Lila it calmed her dilemma and even made her a little curious. Peeing in the diaper was such a relief, so pooping herself could not be so bad after all? She assumed in her mind. She smiled in Lila's face. “I really don't mind if you need to. You don't have to fight that hard.”, she tried to ease away the little girl's resistance. Maybe using it was the best option for her. As embarrassing as it was to admit, the thought of doing that with her mum’s consent made her feel loved and protected as if nothing could harm her. So Lila started wondering what it would feel like to actually do the other thing as well. With a sigh, Lila decided she wanted to try it, at least once. And this time she had a good excuse. Her parents had no time to accompany her, and she would not dare to go into the toilet alone, which could potentially be gross, dirty, and scary with all the unfamiliar people around. Even the idea of facing all the looks of strangers, the smells and flushing sounds without someone she knew close made her confident about her decision. “I think I'll use my ... you know, Mommy.”, Lila whispered, embarrassed and felt like a loved little girl while her mommy protected her. “It's ok you will feel much better”, she heard her say as Mom smiled and nodded, and joined Dad at the conveyor belt, leaving Lila some meters away waiting with their trolley. Lila tried to let it go, like she did when she needed to pee on the plane. But the ache in her belly just intensified further, and she couldn’t help but feel self-conscious. After all, pooping herself was a lot more … involving than peeing. As she looked up again, she noticed all the adults were just staring where their luggage would appear. Surely no one would pay any attention to her, except for mum and dad of course. With that in mind, Lila leaned a little bit forward, resting some of her weight on the trolley. She relaxed her hold on her bowels and gave another slight push. A small trickle of pee released first before a tiny bit of her mess began making its way out. It cannot be that hard, Lila wondered, as she saw a little baby boy standing with his legs slightly apart, clearly doing his business in his pants. He does not care at all that he was messing his diaper. She felt the pressure in her belly coming back and also slightly spread her legs apart as she started to push. This time there wasn’t resistance in her tummy. Lila could feel the warmth quickly spreading as sticky poop squished against her bum. In relief, she exhaled and felt the load settle itself at the back of her diaper. Lila felt her belly relaxing a little. She now just wanted to feel comfortable again and all this nasty stuff out of her tummy. Once again she pushed a little harder, this time, and a few seconds later she was confident she had gotten everything out, while she realized that the feeling of pooping herself was much different from just wetting. While the diaper would quickly absorb all her pee, the poop had instead formed a slightly warm mess at the back of her diaper. However, she felt that it was actually quite pleasant and didn't feel bad at all. And it’s at least much better than having to use an icky, stinky restroom. Lila assured herself. She shook herself and pretended to smooth out the back of her skirt, carefully placing her hand on the diaper to make sure it was not too obvious as she was still in public. And she noticed the diaper was heavier now, and the sag kept most of her firm mess away from the childlike-looking girl's skin. For a second she smelled a faint lingering odor of poop. But she looked old enough that no one would expect it to be her who is poopy. Lila raised her head and saw her Mum looking over at her while she was still standing here doing her business as the little baby boy did just some moments ago. She noticed the kind smile on mummy's face as she turned back, helping dad take a heavy bag off. Mum knows, flashed to her mind as she wanted to be back with her parents. Lila slowly walked towards the conveyor belt to join them again. Somehow she wanted to tell them that she was messy, but it was much too embarrassing and babyish for her to admit. What will my daddy think of me just going in my diaper for that as well? The slight scent, however, told her parents anyway as she was approaching them. As Bernhard had picked up all their bags he sniffed and, with a knowing gaze, took Lila by her hand as he had not done for some years. “Let's get our car and finally head to the hotel.”, he said, willingly ignoring what his child just did and as if he was telling her everything was ok Lila was glad she was not alone anymore. She followed Dad and also stayed close to him while they were standing in the car rental pickup line. Standing in line, her mom decided that it was a good time to do a quick diaper check. She tried to pull on Lila's back of her pants, when her daughter quickly turned away and leaned closer to dad “Mom!” she exclaimed, “people are going to see!” “Don’t worry, no one’s going to think badly of you. And I just have to make sure that your diaper was holding up after your accident. You don't want to have a messy leak in the rental car after all. So do you let me check your diaper?” replied Mom with a loving smile while she did not even bother to lower her voice. “Mum ... !“, Lila tried to make a futile argument, while her dad just looked her in the eyes. “Really baby. No one knows you here, so it’s okay you don't need to feel ashamed about accidents while using diapers for traveling.” he underlined Mum's argument. The girl was really embarrassed now and hid her face in her dad's shirt. Lila felt loved, and she trusted her parents, but at the same time, she felt like a small toddler being checked for a messy accident. “I will have a short look.", her mum announced once more. Lila just moved her head in approval, while she felt her mum touch her bum and felt a tiny pull at her waistband and the back of her diaper. “You will be fine for now.”, she announced after a second. Getting her diaper checked by Mom was embarrassing, not only because they were in public, but also because it was their parent’s proof that she had indeed messed herself. Oh well, thought Lila. Her parents had surely smelled it already, and they would see it when she was in the hotel room. Dad hurried away with the clerk from the rental company and got over to the pick-up point. The mother and daughter couple patiently waited outside, where the company put some benches for all the waiting customers. With all the arriving passengers, nearly all seats were taken, and her mum just got the last free spot. “Do you like to sit on my lap again?”, she offered her girl, as she knew her feet were hurting after the long day of traveling. “But I have just...”, Lila stumbled as discreetly as she could, while at the same time she could not confess that she had a messy load in her diaper. “I am your mum, I don't mind your little skunky bum, and I have seen and changed you a lot in the past years”, she calmed her down, while not even confirming that this accident was a one-time ever event for her childlike small but already teenage daughter. Lila slowly sat on her mom's lap, while the strange feeling of the soft mess now spread all over her boom, confused her senses and created the strong childish need to cuddle with her mum. As her mum wrapped her loving arms around her, she no longer could stand being the independent teeny anymore but hid her face on mum's shoulder, ignoring what she might look like. Feeling her body so close and being loved by her mum was all she needed to leave her grumpy teenage thoughts behind. “Hi, you sleepy head, you have a really comfortable seat don't you”, her dad greeted her daughter as he arrived with their rental car and took their heavy luggage into the trunk. “Yes Daddy”, she cheered, not yet ready to let Mum go. “Lila is so sweet and affectionate today.”, her mother responded. “Do you want to cuddle your daddy too?”, the man offered his darling a chance to leave her mom's lap. She hugged him, still experiencing the irresistible childlike love for her parents. As if her dad had been on a week-long business trip, she now was clamping on him, even not letting him go as he lifted her up as a little girl. “We had a small issue with the car arrangement.”, the strong man on her shoulder, told his wife. “They did not have a booster for our Lila. The only possibility was the safer but more expensive child seat option for younger ones, but at least they did not charge us extra.” Feeling so much love from him, the girl could not protest, but she still didn't want it to be too childish. “What kind of child seat?”, she found the courage to ask, interrupting her parent's discussion. “Oh, it is a nice one in a purplish red color”, he advertised. Without dropping his girl to the ground, he took her over to the backseats of the car, opening the door and revealing a full-sized seat that even had shoulder straps as a seat for a rally driver. First, she wanted to protest that she was not a baby, but then the love from her parents and the comfortable hug lulled her into thinking twice about it. Wasn't her diaper the same thing, something childish, that could actually feel nice and comfortable? “Oh I am sure you are in for trouble”, his wife commented on the seat that her husband had chosen, remembering all the discussions she had with her daughter in the past weeks. Lila did not want to be a grumpy vacation Grinch, and maybe she also wanted to show her mum that she was wrong. “It is ok, at least we will have one, and we can enjoy our time here.” Her teenage side enjoyed the surprised feeling on her mum's face. “I think our big girl is not as grumpy and cranky as you think. Can I let you down to try it? It may be a little difficult with the buckles.” “But Daddy, I still want to cuddle with you.”, she confessed that the child in her was back in command. Slightly caught off guard, he whispered, “Do you mind if I tuck you in?”, he suggested, remembering the countless times that he placed his sleepy or sad daughter in the back of their car. “Yes Daddy” she mumbled while the only important thing was that he did not let her down on the hot and hard street. With some well-trained moves, he opened the door and let her slip on the seat. Without thinking, she put her hands in the shoulder straps and let him close the buckle with a click. Lila wiggled a little And while she noticed the lack of space to move, she somehow also felt comfortable. She liked the soft fabric and the small pillow that was there for her head. “I like it”, she confirmed again. And as the adults smiled a little, she added, “Just don't make me use it at home when my classmates see me. Ok?” The two adults, who were still astonished by the change in her teenage girl’s temper, got in at the front. With the push of a button, they opened the window a bit to let in the fresh summer vibes and to keep Lila's poopy smell at bay that still kind of lingered around her. As the drive was getting boring, she had time to think about all the things that changed while they left their city apartment. Most of all was that she, despite all her doubts, actually liked her diapers and the freedom she had to pee or even poop whenever she needed. But there was also the trust and love for her parents that was crowing again, as if her puberty had never sent the first confusing ideas in her mind. Making her more cranky than she actually wanted to be. ### Excited about the new place, Lila jumped on the queen-size bed in their hotel room. Her parents had just checked themselves in at the reception, and the young girl could not wait to explore everything the place had to offer. There were so many nice things she could think about that she nearly forgot about her messy diaper, that she still wore under her slightly childlike shorts. Mom had started unpacking all their bags, while her Dad headed down to the lobby, surely parking their car in the hotel's parking garage. As the last empty bag was packed away, her Mom looked at her girl. Lila was lying on the bed, checking out the kid's channels on TV while thinking about the hotel pool and the waterslides that they had here. The last things that Mom left on the bed were Lila's old travel changing mat and a fresh pack of wipes. “Honey, come, let us get that poopy diaper of yours changed.” Mom announced as she placed the mat and her wipes next to her on the bed. “Can you lift your tushie for a moment, baby?” “I am not a baby” she insisted, ignoring the obvious smell and still letting her mum slide the changing pad up under her back. Then she raised her skirt over her belly. With her hand, she signaled her girl, that she could lie back down Lila could feel the soft but water-impermeable layer around her changing area and noticed that she was indeed acting as if she was a baby girl. And while noticing that, she became a lot more self-conscious about the embarrassing thing she did. “Mom you know, I think I have to clean that up by myself.” offered Lila embarrassed, and at the same time she simply wanted to vanish into thin air. But still, she trusted her mum that she would not leave her alone with all the mess she had in her diaper. Maria placed her hand on her kid's belly, “I will do that, honey. I promised that when I told you to go poopy.” replied Mom. “Besides, when you were a baby, I’ve changed your poopy diapers a ton of times, and I really don't mind doing it again today.” Lila relaxed as she heard that, she relented in relief and slowly spread her legs, making it at least as easy as possible for her Mom. “Oh, this diaper is full.” giggled Mom as she opened the tapes, revealing the mess on her booty. “I am sorry. Your mummy should have changed your way earlier. This must have been very uncomfortable.” “It was not that bad, Mom, I nearly forgot about that after some moments.”, replied Lila honestly. “You know actually ...“, she continued, before her embarrassment suddenly stopped her. “Actually, ...?” continued her Mom, as she softly began wiping down Lila’s messy tushie. “It’s just… I don't know, it made the trip much easier for me and I kind of liked it a little, I guess…” stumbled Lila. “And I really hate to go to the smelly bathrooms. In my diapers I felt so loved and protected as if I am still your little child.”, she confessed. “You are always my child and I love you.”, she told Lila and Mom continued wiping in silence as the young girl enjoyed the feeling of the cold, soothing wipe gently rubbing against her skin while being so close to her mum. As Maria rolled up the dirty diaper, she kissed her belly. “You are all clean now.” exclaimed her mom, waiting for a second to see if she would stand up to get her panties on. But as the moments passed, it was clear that there was more Lila wanted from her. And with a sarcastically strict voice, she said, “Now, we have something to discuss, my little one. You know, I used to insist that you wear pull-ups in the past because I didn’t want you stressing about having an accident, especially since you wet the bed pretty often.” She paused for a second to see Lila’s reaction and when there was no sign of refusal she continued, “Today I promised you that you could switch back to wearing undies this year. But, you had accidents in them a lot today, and you told me you also liked the security and comfort that they gave you. So I thought we might as well keep you in diapers like what we’ve always done, or do you really want to switch back to underwear right now and just wear them as bed-wetting briefs at night?” Mom’s question surprised Lila. She did enjoy her diapers a little on the trip, and she just told her that it was comfy and made her feel protected and small. She now regretted her strong refusal. And while her pride as a teenager was on the line, she truthfully did want to be diapered again. “Do you mind if I choose the diapers?”, confessed Lila with her face red like a tomato... “Of course not, my girl. I think those will give you a much more relaxed vacation if you don't have to worry about bed-wetting when you are tired.”, said Mom, who then went to grab some fresh diapers and powder from the closet. “But how can I go to the bathroom and pee when I wear them, I mean they are real diapers and not just pull-ups” the girl wondered as she felt the soft fabric under her bum. “Oh.” Her mum replied, “I really don't mind you using them when you need to go, and if we have a toilet close by you just come with me and I help you to get to the potty” Gently, she fluffed up another plain white diaper, placed it under her booty, and sprinkled a little bit of powder. After checking the alignment was right and nothing was too tight, she taped the diaper in place and carefully adjusted the leak guards, as Lila rolled over at her belly and giggled. “You are done, baby”, she said as she gave the diaper a gentle pat “Could you tell me when you need a change.” her mum reminded her of their mutual agreement that they had on their previous trips. “Okay.” nodded Lila. The little girl somehow was conflicted. Wearing a diaper, wetting and pooping in it was surely supposed to have been so shameful. Especially for a young woman her age, but at the same time, she didn’t mind the strange feeling at all. And getting her diaper changed by her mom was supposed to be extremely embarrassing at thirteen. But for her, it was different. It felt somewhat nice. She felt like a loved child and enjoyed the childish affection and trust, she experienced while returning into this nearly lost stage of their mummy-daughter relationship.

I often wonder about this because I grew up in a chaotic environment in a big family with an alcoholic mother. There are theories about emotional stress leading to overage and adult bedwetting but there's also fairly strong evidence that it's often an inherited condition. Or maybe both combine to make it more severe? I know there's an inherited aspect in my family that seems to affect mainly males. But during puberty and beyond I developed an attachment to it and to my rubber sheet, which became like a security blanket that i didn't want to give up. I wonder what the experiences of others on here is, especially where they believe emotional stress led to bedwetting.

I always wake up happy and contented and soaking wet. Being a nightly bedwetter means I sleep soundly. How do others feel.

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.