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It’s A Family Affair Arthur Mitchell had known Betsy Allen since grade school. It was almost destined for them to get together as they were not only neighbors but we're the two in school every year that seemed to have the most wetting accidents. Well why not they were the kids that their parents seemed to have to wash wet sheets for every day because they couldn't seem to keep their's dry. Arthur's and Betsy's mother's were talking and found that both of their kids were nighttime wetters and either or both would almost daily come home from school wet or would be wet before supper. Both were happy to have a sympathetic ear to discuss the raising of bed wetters, and pants wetters. They had tried punishments, no liquids after 1800 hours or 6 pm, getting them up at different hours of the night to go potty, rewards, alarms, medications but nothing seemed to help. Betsy was even called Betsy Wetsy by the other kids and her siblings, that really didn't seem to bother her. Finally both mother's started to diaper their kids day and night which didn't cure them but helped them seem to fit in better at least the other kids quit calling Betsy; Betsy Wetsy other than her siblings who continued to call her that. About the time to start Junior High School both mothers took their child out of day time diapers, but both would either wet on the way home or later during play. But more often than not would be wet at school still so the diapers and plastic pants went back on until high school at least, both mother's thought that they would try it again then. Besides they were still wet at nights and between them both had not had more than a handful of dry nights since they were kids Since their mothers were so close Arthur would go over to Betsy's house with his mother or Betsy would go to Arthur's house with hers. They were left alone most times and the two mother's were oblivious to the budding romance between the two teenagers. Each knew the others secret of what they wore to bed and what they were wearing in the day because when the mothers talked it was as if the kids weren't right there so when the discussions for day wetting and bed wetting each child knew the other was in the same leaky boat so to speak.   This continued through Junior High School and when mom's took them out of diapers in Senior High School, the day wetting had improved but there were still accidents during school. But it was decided to let them stay out of day time diapers, nighttime was a other issue entirely. Neither showed any progress what so ever in that department. In fact, the only change had been the size of the diapers and plastic pants used meaning bigger sizes. Both Arthur and Betsy attended a local College because of their bed wetting decided campus life was not for them. During this time though they were dating and falling deeper and deeper in love with each other. They knew that each other still were bed wetters. Arthur had never called her Betsy Wetsy, telling her it would have made him a hypocrite of he had. Since they were both over 18 they planned on marring each other after college. Arthur got his degree in computer engineering while Betsy graduated with her degree in nursing. Arthur was about 5 foot 10 and was a redhead that bordered on orange he weighed about 135 he looked skinny but was pretty tough as his brothers used to tell him "I'd rather be dead than to wet my bed and be red in the head." After a few years his brothers never picked on him after he'd inflicted bloody noses, fat lips and a few black eyes. Wetting his bed had made him tougher he was sure of it. Betsy was a redhead but not orange like Artnur's, hers was more a copper color and people would say she was cute bordering on beautiful but she had an innocence about her that seemed to make her even more beautiful. When they told their parents that they planned on getting married their parents thought it was a joke. Both were still wetting their diapers at night and looked like they would forever. They brought up the point "that since they were still wetting at night how much luck do you think we would have if we were to date other non bed wetters?" "We would probably never marry and continue to live at home until we're your age!" Both sets of parents had never thought of it like that, but the more the kids talked it made sense. Besides the parents could see the love that they had for each other, and decided that they at least deserved a chance. They were married on Valentine’s day the following year.   About Christmas time Betsy informed Arthur that she was expecting their first child she was about 2 months along. Arthur couldn't have been happier as a matter of fact he was over the moon. When he remembered a statistic that if both parents were bed wetter there was a 70% chance that their kids would be, he wondered what the odds were if both parents were still active bed wetters. He brought this fact up to Betsy who said "if they do are we going to love them any less? Arthur said heck no! Betsy said "We will understand more of what their going through right?" Arthur could only agree. Betsy said "And If they don't have a problem we will teach them to not make fun of the ones who do, including us!" About 7 months later Betsy gave birth to a hefty 13 pound baby boy in mid July that they decided to call Christian after Arthur's grandfather, who went by Chris his whole life. Chris was always big from birth until, well just for ever! Of course he was a bed wetter, but that never stopped him he grew up played football and was a dang good linebacker. Went to college was drafted by the Raiders in the 2nd round had to wear diapers at night because he still wet his bed. No one ever made fun of him because he was so damn big. Some kid on an opposing team while playing football in high school said "I want you bed wetter!" Big mistake, too bad, Chris sacked his Quarterback twice. Once he pushed the guy into his own Quarterback making him trip his own guy for a loss No one ever called him that again. About 4 months after Chris was born Betsy informed Arthur that she was pregnant again and one more time Arthur couldn't have been happier and was still over the moon. She was was again about 2 months along and at the last of April gave birth to not one but two, a girl and a boy. They decided to name the girl Darla after Betsy s grandmother. The boy was a bit harder until Betsy noticed a pattern emerging we have an Arthur, a Betsy, Christian, Darla, so this has to start with E. They named him Ephraim. They got lucky Ephraim wasn't a bed wetter but Darla was not so lucky now they had 4 bed wetters and 1 that didn't. Betsy taught Ephraim that since he was the only child that didn't have problems with bed wetting that he shouldn't make fun of those that do. One night she heard Ephraim making fun of his twin sister Darla calling her ‘Pissy Darla’. Betsy took Ephraim and put a diaper on him and told him "This isn't coming from until morning, get used to it. Ephraim thought that it was a Joke so he wet it so mom would Take it off. “Look at me I'm Pissy Ephraim,” and asked mom to take it off. Mom said "No, I told you it isn't coming off until tomorrow morning!” Ephraim said “But mom I've already wet it to be Pissy Ephraim!” “That's too bad you can sleep in it and find out what it feels like to be real bed wetter like the rest of your family then.” Ephraim figured out that he had gone too far. Trying to sleep was almost impossible; the heat and sweat tended to make him more uncomfortable, so he wet it again and it felt somewhat better, not good. He woke up and went into the bathroom and turned on the light, the light hurt his eyes because he was used to the dark, ouch he said as his eyes started to adjust to the light. He lifted up the toilet seat and began to pee looking around he saw the clothes hamper, and the sink and tub, the shelving over the toilet. Dang this pee felt good, then he remembered that he had a diaper on, wait......! He woke up and the diaper was soaked and had leaked and there was a wet spot in the middle of his bed. That was just a dream, but it seemed so real the light hurt my eyes even. Then he really got worried I have to sleep in my bed and it's wet. Do Mommy and Daddy, And Chris and Darla go through this every night? It's harder to be a bed wetter than I thought, I'll never tease them again. After Darla and Ephraim were born Betsy did not get pregnant again for 2 years then she gave birth to triplets this time 2 girls 1 boy the oldest girl fell in line was named Frances, the boy was Gary, and the girl was named Hermione after a good friend of Betsy's growing up! Frances was the only one not to follow in her parents footsteps and wet her bed the other 2 again weren't so lucky.   With about 2/3 the family are bed wetters the Mitchell's got back to being a family. When Christian was a rookie for the Raiders he was drafted in the second round because the Raiders picked up a Quarterback from LSU in the first round. For some reason he had it in for Chris. When he found out that Chris was a bed wetter he got plain mean, hung Chris's wet diapers out the window on media day, for everyone to see. The QB thought that he was hot stuff, because he was a first rounder. He never missed a trick trying to humiliate Chris even as going as far as the old hand in the water, piss trick. Didn't take much for him to pee his diapers as he used his cell phone to tape it! What he didn't know was Chris may take a little ribbing about his bed wetting, but the QB was way out of line. The next day at scrimmage Chris wouldn't let him get a pass off sacked him three times, knocked down 4 passes and stuffed up the line on a QB sneak he couldn't get anywhere. On ESPN they started talking about what a bust the QB was for the Raiders, but how impressive their new inside linebacker, Chris Mitchell was the talk is they should of taken him first and let the QB fall to the third or fourth round and saved themselves a lot of money. Back to you Dan!

Rebbecca Phelps worked at an old law firm, one that had been started about 90 years ago! Old Mr. Snedly's father had started it! Passed it on to his son old Mr. Snedly, who brought his son Middle Mr. Snedly on as a partner, who brought his son Young Mr. Snedly in as a partner! Young was misleading he was almost 60. She had worked for them for about 10 years! They had hired her right out of University, and she had worked for them since! She was considered beautiful, she had to beat Old Mr. Snedly off with a stick, he might be old as dirt, but he certainly was a dirty old man! It kept her on her toes. He followed her to the lady's restroom one day, seveal years ago! That was her hiding place up until then! She was blonde, which some people thought meant stupid! They had bought into the dumb blonde jokes! She liked it when the men underestimated her she was no blonde joke, you did that and she would hand you your ass! She still went to the gym about two or three times a week where she did Zumba and did cardiovascular exercises. Plus she lifted weights! Her body was toned, as she got older, it was getting harder to stay that way! Rebbecca was also married to her husband of about 8 years Stuart or Stu as everyone called him! He was a a cop. Well he was in charge of Dispatch for the local Police Department. He had cought a few bullets and it left him with some medical issues one was his lung was damaged running made him pass out, the one good lung he had left couldn't keep up with the oxygen needs of his body, so he would pass out! He still lifted lots of weights and worked out with machines! Just nothing that involved running or lots of cardiovascular exercises! Rebbecca Called Stu and told him "It looks like another late night for me tonight!" "Should I save you dinner Becca?" That's what he called her. "Better not it looks like until the wee hours of the morning! We got that lawsuit that were fighting for our client! Looks like a late night strategy meeting, they will probably bring us in food! Sorry I can't spend this beautiful Friday night with you dear!" Rebbecca said! "Well maybe I'll see you late, late tonight Stu said, you know I love you Mrs Phelps!" "Yes I am aware Mr. Phelps! See you when I get home then, maybe!" It was another boring strategy meeting, Rebecca was fried, she had started work at 7 am and here it was almost midnight in about 19 minutes! Old Mr. Snedly was dozing off she didn't mind at least when he was asleep he wasn't chasing her! Since the Senior partner was falling asleep they decided that the meeting needed to end! It would be midnight in 12 minutes. She got out of there as fast as she possibly could, into her car, onto the freeway, and home, her watch read 12:27 am as she walked through the door. She started dropping clothes her jacket then her blouse her bra came next! Dammit if it didn't feel great to unleash her girls! Her tweed skirt was unziped, it was the companion to her jacket, dropped about 1/2 the way up the stairs! Her panty hose was next. As she she arrived at the door clad only in her panties she took them off so she was entirely naked as she entered her bed room! Stu was aseep, she was naked, she had a thought of her and Stu getting it on, or one of Stu's favorite a lick in the whiskers! She pulled the blankets down on her side of the bed and there they were! Her two thick nighttime diapers and her plastic panties! And her pajamas! Stu was so conciderate! At 32 years old Rebbecca still wet her bed, like she had when she was 5, 15 or 25, she had never stopped! She checked Stu, sure enough he had his protection on for the night! When he was shot a bullet hit the nerve that controls Stu's bladder in the day time he's not got a big probem! At night he culdnt stay dry if his life depended on it, just like her! They had met when Stu was suing the city! They weren't going to dismiss him due to his lungs! He was suing claiming that there were other jobs that he could do, like dispatch coodinator! The job had been given to a female but since he met the criteria, and was a male they had overlooked him! He was claiming sexual harrasment! She ended up being his attorney! They won the case he was able to do the dispatch coordinator job! During the trial his medical issues were brought up including his bed wetting!

WGlory B Gloria Beatrice Stallings wasn't your normal 35 year old. She was 35 yes but looked younger. She also acted younger. Oh she had a job she worked in the Secretarial Pool of a major corporation in Phoenix Arizona. Most of the guys there thought she was cute and we're always hitting on her. "They were trying, her grandma told her trying to get into her pants." Gloria Beatrice was called Glory Be by her family. For the life of her she didn't know why guys were trying to get into her pants, they wouldn't like what they found there. She lived with her grandmother, who it seems had room for every discarded grandchild that her grandmother's children just didn't seem to want anymore. Glory Be was one of those her parents tired of the fact that she never grasped the concept of toilet training. Glory Be wore diapers so she wouldn't soak her pants. She learned to poop in a toilet but not urinate. Her parents tired of it and shipped Glory Be off to grandma when she was 8. There were other cousins and family members at Grandma's house right now there was her and Gregory her cousin living with grandma. At one time there were 4 others. Greg was a troubled teen he had assaulted a brother and a sister in the home. He was going to be homeless if not for grandma. Right now it was just those two. Greg was arrested he had seen the get rich quick life of dealing drugs. He was making $800 dollars a day easy on Friday and Saturday that could rise to $1200 a day at 15 he loved what he was doing. He had a place he dealt out of, he knew grannie would kill him if she knew what he was doing. He would leave under the guise of going to school every morning but the truth was he hadn't been to school in several weeks. Grandmother never asked where the money came for the clothes he wore and the help with the food and expenses, he told her he had gotten a job as a bag boy at a supermarket. She believed him. One day as he was selling his wares he noticed a whole bunch of people he didn't know in his neighborhood. If he had been smart he would of up and ran like his competitors he was glad that they weren't out selling like him, it was a Tuesday he had already made a Saturday wages and it wasn't even noon yet. He sold to a guy that had asked him about what he had and the cost he made the deal and,.... Bam the next thing he knew he was tackled and cuffed up, the guy was a cop, how could he be so stupid? Grandma got the call. She said "What the hell, and that little son of a....." she censured herself before she cussed more. She called Glory Be who had to leave work early to drive grandma as she doesn't have the best eyesight anymore. Besides she owes grandma a lot. Her cousin had his arraignment, he was charged with Possession less than two pounds, distribution of a controlled substance. His saving grace was that he was being cooperative. He was telling who his supplier was and he had been busted as well. Since he was so cooperative they were charging him as a juvenile as he was still one. They could of easily charged him as an adult. Grandma didn't have a lot of money, they got Greg a public defender. Glory had to change her diaper it had been lunchtime when she had last changed. That was 5 hours ago. No wonder she was soaked. They got home about 9pm it had been a long day. The house seemed empty to Gloria without Greg. He was missed. She was mad and sad. Mad she thought that Greg knew better than to deal drugs. If not she was sure they had taught him about the dangers of them. That was using not selling. Sad he was her cousin after all. He was in a place for her was scary in her mind. She didn't even want to think if he gets sent to a prison for kids. It may not be as scary as adult prison but it isn't a picnic either. Glory Be got her nighttime diapers on they were cloth with plastic panties. She thought these are my prison. I'm locked in these day in and day out! That night Glory had a nightmare that she was sent to prison, everybody knew she was diapered out of need. The worse part was she lived in constant fear that they were going to take her diapers from her. That she would have to wear wet panties all the time. Being embarrassed like that was scarier than the prison itself to her.

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!

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

The following story took some time to write and was developed with the assistance of ChatGPT. The accompanying images were created using Nano Banana and other AI image-generation tools. Introduction My husband’s girlfriend’s voice pulled me out of a slumber that never fully resolved into anything solid, or maybe it was only the steady motion of the car beneath me that kept me suspended in that in-between place where waking and dreaming stop being clearly different things. Morning light moved in slow, pale bands across the windows as we traveled along the freeway, and for a while I just listened to the hum of the tires and the rhythm of movement as if those sounds might eventually explain where I was, even though I couldn’t yet connect them to any clear starting point. “Yeah, we’re on our way,” she said. There was a brief pause, and then she added, almost as if continuing an afterthought, “still asleep.” I should have known she was talking about me, but something in it didn’t fully connect, as if the meaning arrived a fraction too late to settle where it belonged. We were already moving, already far enough from home that returning would have required a kind of decision—not that I felt I was part of any such decision anymore. From where I sat, the world outside felt partial and incomplete, reduced to passing light and thoughts that never quite stabilized long enough to become usable. I tried to orient myself through small things—the rhythm of breath, the weight of my body against the seat—but even those sensations seemed to drift apart before they could form a complete picture of being here. She turned slightly and I caught her reflection in the small mirror above me, just enough to see the sunglasses hiding her eyes, but still the certainty in her expression. For a moment it felt like she had arrived somewhere I hadn’t, or perhaps had always been there and I was only now noticing it, and in that gap I couldn’t tell what was real and what was simply being assumed into place. “She’ll be forty-seven next month,” she said. “I know,” she added, after a pause, her tone still steady, still certain. The car kept moving with the same unbroken precision, and I found myself trying to gather into something coherent enough to ask where we were going, or why I was there, or how I had ended up in the car at all, but each attempt dissolved before it reached language, as though the movement from thought to speech was happening too slowly to complete itself in time. Without fully deciding to, I reached for something beside me, my hand searching near my hip and then slightly behind it, encountering only empty space before I let it fall back again as if the attempt had never fully mattered. “I’m sure the people in the car next to us think she’s no more than forty-five months old,” she said with a small laugh, as though the sentence simply fit the shape of everything around it. There was another voice on the phone—distant, indistinct—but when she responded again her tone softened slightly, becoming almost reflective. “He told me last night it feels like their marriage was a lifetime ago,” she said, and then a faint smile entered her voice, “like this is the family he always meant to have.” After that, silence settled again. I knew I should have said something then—asked, corrected, objected—but even that recognition never fully formed into action, as if the moment of turning thought into response had already passed before I could reach it. I watched the light slide across the window, warm and indifferent, until even the effort of staying awake felt like something I was being gently released from rather than something I was losing, and sleep returned without resistance just as I heard his voice begin to ask where they were. Chapter 1 — The Bid We were at yet another fundraiser dinner, one of those evenings where students were auctioned off as interns to raise money for the department, and neither of us ever liked the idea, though it came with my husband’s work and I had once helped organize these events back when I was still employed. The room always felt too bright for the kind of conversations happening inside it, everything performing politeness while money quietly decided outcomes in advance. On the way there, my husband said again that he didn’t want to participate, as he always did, a familiar line that no longer carried much weight for me. The event moved in its usual rhythm—names called, polite laughter, bids disguised as jokes that weren’t really jokes at all—until she walked on stage. I didn’t know her yet, only remember the way the room shifted, not in sound but in expectation, as though something had been placed down that people had not agreed to acknowledge. Her name was announced, a pause followed, no one raised a hand, a longer pause, and then my husband did. “One hundred dollars an hour.” The audience were bewildered and shocked by this, yet the room felt like everyone half expected him to do that. Chapter 2 — The way we were I suppose I should explain a little about myself, though even that feels like something that only makes sense when you look at it from a distance. I didn’t grow up with much, but there was enough—enough structure, enough certainty that things stayed where you placed them—and when my parents died in a car accident while I was in college, everything after that became something I had to organize deliberately, as if order itself had to be constructed rather than inherited. I met my husband when he was in law school, and I worked at the university as an assistant advisor assigned to his cohort, tracking progress, attendance, stability, the kinds of details that only matter when you are responsible for them. He was persistent in a way that didn’t feel loud at the time, and when I eventually changed departments he still found ways to remain in my orbit until I stopped redirecting him, and after that we married once he graduated. Life after that settled into something that felt structured even when it wasn’t. We tried to have children quickly, then again, then again, and by the third pregnancy my husband insisted I stay home, bed rest he called it, though it gradually became less a medical suggestion and more a way of arranging the entire household around a single expectation. There isn’t a softer way to say what happened after that, only the clinical one people use when they want distance from meaning: stillbirth. After that the house changed in small irreversible ways. We attended a parenting preparation seminar before the first pregnancy reached term, one designed for high-intensity professionals preparing for structured family life, and I remember not questioning why we were there, only noticing that the room already felt prepared for us in advance. We built the nursery early, painted it, furnished it, filled it with objects as if arrival could be made certain through preparation alone, and there was even a doll—smart, almost lifelike—that stayed in the room long after it became clear it would not be used in the way we had imagined. My husband called it excessive at first, possibly unnecessary, but grief does not respond well to removal, only to arrangement, so we kept the room, and eventually it stopped feeling like something built for a future and simply became part of the house. Chapter 3 — The Guest Her name was Sophie, though she asked to be called Ruby, and it didn’t come with explanation, just a change that felt like something updated without needing permission. She came from a lower-income background and had refused an arranged marriage at eighteen, and after that she stopped using her given name, which at the time I remember thinking sounded like something said by someone trying to make their life feel self-authored again. She entered our lives through my husband’s work, initially as someone he was helping prepare for the LSAT, reviewing materials, structuring study plans, the kind of support he gave easily because he had a way of explaining things that made people feel closer to understanding themselves than they actually were. I thought of it at the time as mentorship, something contained and practical, and Ruby learned quickly—faster than most—moving through her paralegal program and into law school with a momentum that seemed to require less support than permission. She stayed with us between terms, sometimes during exam periods, and it was never framed as permanent, only practical, temporary, convenient. I didn’t question it because it felt like helping someone build something stable, and there were nights when she and my husband worked late at the dining table, case materials spread out, quiet discussion continuing long after I had gone to bed, and I told myself it was professional because it looked professional, and at the time I didn’t have a reason to call it anything else. She had a relationship during law school that lasted for a while before ending without much ceremony, and after that there was a brief period where she seemed less anchored than before, and that was when I offered her the room—the one we had never fully stopped treating as if it might still belong to someone who had not arrived yet. It felt like the most reasonable thing to do: a place to stay, a way to be useful, a way to make the house feel less empty without needing to name why it felt that way. I told her we could make it more appropriate for an adult when I returned from visiting my sister, and she said she was fine as it was, and I believed her. Chapter 4 — The Drive My sister, and her boys, live a few hours away, and I go there sometimes when the house feels too sad. That morning I remember sitting on the dining room floor, the doll resting in my lap while my husband and Ruby were already at the table just a few feet away, eating breakfast. It was a smart doll, almost lifelike, and I remember speaking to it as if continuing something already in motion. I told it mommy would be gone for a few days, that daddy and aunty Ruby would take care of it. Even as I said it, the phrasing felt slightly misaligned, like I was borrowing words from a version of myself that had already been rehearsed without my full agreement. From the table I could hear them talking about me in the way parents do when they think you are listening but not fully understanding. Ruby’s voice was calm and measured, something about how I had been “regressing a bit under stress,” and my husband followed with, “just overwhelmed, like before.” They didn’t sound cruel. If anything, they sounded concerned—like this was a problem they had already discussed privately and were now only refining. I don’t know why, but I let it pass. I stood up, picked up my bag, and told them I would be back in a few days. The drive itself began normally, or at least normally enough that I didn’t register the moment it stopped being worth noticing. The kind of drive where nothing demands attention because nothing contradicts expectation. I remember thinking, vaguely, that I would be back in a few days, that the house would feel the same when I returned, that whatever sadness I was trying to avoid would still be waiting for me when I came back. At some point I remember being on a call, though I can’t recall what was said—only the sensation of speaking and being answered. Even my own voice began to feel slightly delayed, as if it were arriving from a place just behind where I actually was. The road continued. The conversation continued. And then, without any transition I can hold onto now, there was nothing. Sound returns before meaning. Then the smell—sharp, chemical, unmistakable—the kind air makes after an airbag deploys. A sharp click beside me. A shift in pressure across my body I don’t immediately understand. Something around my chest loosens, then tightens again, and only afterward do I realize I had been held in place the entire time without recognizing it as restraint. The seatbelt comes away last, and I am lifted out of the car in a motion that is neither abrupt nor gentle—just efficient, as though time matters more than comfort. The world tilts as I am moved. Sky appears in fragments between shoulders and equipment, bright and indifferent, while my sense of direction refuses to attach itself to anything stable. Someone is speaking above me. Not to me, but about me. “She’s conscious,” a voice says. Then, closer but still not directed at me: “Any response to questions?” I try to answer. The intention forms clearly enough, but it does not arrive as speech. It feels as if something in me is lagging behind the present, unable to catch up with the moment it is meant to occupy. I am placed somewhere that is not the ground and not the car, and my hands—when I notice them—are still, then faintly unsteady, as though waiting for instructions that never arrive. “Vitals are stable,” someone says. “Possible concussion. She’s oriented but delayed.” I understand each word individually. They refuse to assemble into anything that explains what is happening. I am awake, that much is certain, but nothing holds together long enough to become fully real. Later, the hospital becomes a sequence of partial impressions—fluorescent light that flattens time, my husband’s voice, Ruby’s voice, both of them standing above me, one on either side, present in a way that feels like continuation rather than interruption. There are papers folded neatly into a stack, a discharge process that feels already completed before I understand I was part of it. “She keeps zoning out,” my husband says as Ruby opens the door for me. His tone is not unkind, only observational, like someone repeating something they’ve already accepted as true. My attention drifts not to him, but to my baby—what happened to it, whether it was in the car with me, whether it was taken somewhere I can’t locate. Something is placed into my lap as Ruby leans in to buckle me in. My hands close around it before I have time to decide not to. At first there is a flicker of recognition—the old smart doll, almost lifelike, the one that used to respond, as if it once belonged to something beyond being held. But the impression doesn’t hold. The surface is wrong. Too smooth. Too simple. It resolves into what it is: a molded plastic child’s toy, nothing more than something meant to be carried and kept still. I hold it anyway, as though the earlier version of it might still exist somewhere in the feeling of it. “She’s overwhelmed,” Ruby replies. “It’s expected after what she’s been through.” Her hand adjusts the belt as she settles into the seat beside me. I notice my husband watching through the front window as if confirming something he already understands. “It’s like after the miscarriages,” he adds. “Same pattern. She detaches. But this time it’s worse. It’s like she’s not even trying to stay present.” Ruby doesn’t look at him. Instead, she turns slightly toward me. “Are you playing with your dolly?” My fingers tighten without instruction as I look down at it. Chapter 5 — The Morning After I woke to the smell of eggs and bacon, though for a moment I didn’t open my eyes, staying instead in that soft space where awareness returns before meaning does. There was movement somewhere in the house below me—the faint clink of a pan, the steady rhythm of a morning already underway—and I listened to it as if it belonged to somewhere else, somewhere I was only passing through. When I finally sat up, something felt slightly off. Not enough to name, only enough for my attention to hesitate before continuing. The room felt familiar in the way certain places do when you’ve been away from them for a long time, except I couldn’t immediately place it when I had left it. I called out, “Hello?” without knowing who was supposed to answer. Footsteps came a moment later, unhurried. Ruby appeared in the doorway as if she had already been moving through the house for some time, as if nothing about my waking required explanation. She looked at me for a moment, then smiled, crossing the room with the same calm certainty she always seemed to carry. “You’re up,” she said, and leaned in to press a light kiss to the top of my head. The gesture felt like something that should have answered a question I hadn’t managed to form yet. I noticed, faintly, that getting out of bed didn’t quite present itself as something immediate to do—not in a way I could explain, only in a way that made staying still feel simpler. By the time I registered that Ruby came-in, she was already left, and I was left with the sense that something was not only off, but permanently changed. Breakfast was already waiting by the time I’d arrived. Eggs, toast, avocado had been plated for me as though it was obvious what I’d wanted before I did. I ate without thinking too much, because thinking felt slightly more cloudy than it was a day before. As I took another bite, my husband leaned down and kissed the top of my head before heading out. “Mommy and daddy are going to work,” he said lightly. “Have a good day, sweetheart.” His smile reassured me, as though what he just said was the most normal thing in the world. Chapter 6 — The Last of the Big Girl Ruby had left me a list before they went out. I remembered taking it from the counter as I was leaving the house, folded neatly beside the keys, already organized into what I was supposed to buy and in what order. It felt familiar in the way written instructions sometimes do, easier to trust than my own memory. I slipped it into my pocket without reading it twice. The doll came with me. I don't remember deciding to bring it, only realizing somewhere inside the store that it was already sitting in the cart. My hand rested near it almost constantly, straightening it whenever it leaned too far to one side. Looking after it felt natural, not like caring for a baby, but more like being the older sister of someone just a little younger than me. I checked on it without thinking, making sure it was comfortable, making sure it stayed where it belonged, before returning to the list and the next item. Halfway through the store my phone vibrated. I looked down at the screen. "Ruby and I are working late again. Don't wait up—everything's handled. Have a good afternoon and evening, sweetheart. We'll see you in the morning." I read the message once. Then again. I wasn't sure whether it needed an answer. I held the phone a little longer than necessary before my attention drifted somewhere else. When I looked down again, my thumb was in my mouth. I couldn't remember deciding to put it there. After that, the shopping continued, but not in quite the same way. Part of me still moved confidently from aisle to aisle, choosing the right things, following the list, placing each item into the cart with the quiet certainty of someone completing an ordinary errand. Another part simply followed along, one hand on the cart, the other never straying far from my mouth, watching the doll more than the shelves. It felt less like I was deciding where to go than being gently led there by someone older who already knew what came next. Nothing about the trip seemed unusual while it was happening. I finished the shopping, paid, loaded the bags into the car, and drove home. Only afterward, when I tried to remember the afternoon, did I realize I couldn't say with any certainty which of us had done those things. — Around 11pm, they still weren’t home, so I went to the master bedroom. My body moved there naturally, but at the doorway something slowed me—a hesitation I couldn’t explain. I stood there for a moment, waiting for it to settle, but nothing did, and eventually I went inside anyway. I don’t remember falling asleep, only that I didn’t feel the need for anything else to make it happen. Chapter 7 – The Dream Sleep comes easily, without negotiation. The dream begins the same way it always seems to now—already in motion, already halfway through something I cannot locate the beginning of. I am sitting in a stroller again. My body is unchanged when I look down: adult, intact, fully formed. Nothing about me is reduced. On my lap is the doll. There is a pacifier in my mouth. Neither feels symbolic or uncertain. They are simply present—plastic, still, correct in a way that does not require explanation. The doll is the same one from the store. I hold it automatically, as though the act of holding is what determines where I am allowed to be. When I look up, Ruby is standing in front of me. She looks down the way a new mother looks at a child who is small enough to be carried without question. Not assessing. Not deciding. Just accepting scale as fact. The stroller moves without being pushed. At some point, the stroller is no longer there. The transition does not arrive—it simply stops being relevant. I am sitting in the living room now. The television is on, though I cannot tell when it was turned on or what I am meant to be watching. The doll remains in my lap. My hand stays on it without instruction, as if contact is the only stable rule left. I understand, distantly, that I am an adult. That thought is still accessible. Still correct. It simply no longer governs anything. Ruby moves somewhere behind me. I cannot see her, only feel her presence shifting the room the way someone adjusts a blanket that is already covering you. The television turns off without me noticing when. Her hand rests briefly near my shoulder. “You’re getting chubby,” she says, not unkindly. I do not register when the words become meaningful. Only that they fit. Time does not stop. It stops separating. Ruby no longer asks if I am awake. There is no longer a point where sleep begins or ends, only transitions that no one marks anymore. I realize I have stopped remembering the order of days. Not because they are gone. But because nothing distinguishes them from one another long enough to keep them in sequence. And I am not sure anymore whether I am still dreaming— or simply continuing. Chapter 8 — Morning Routine Ms. Ruby came into the room to unlock the rails before I’d called for help. There was no rush to her movements. No hesitation either. After a moment, she leaned in and pressed a light kiss to the top of my head. “Good Morning sweety,” she said softly, like she does every day. The latch clicked. The rails lowered. “Daddy and I are headed out for work,” Ruby continued, smoothing the edge of the bedding as she spoke. “Breakfast is on the table. Have a good day, sweetheart.” Just another day I thought… And just like that, she was gone and for a while after, I sat there trying to reconstruct how I had gotten here again. Chapter 9 — Running Errans Ms. Ruby came home earlier than expected, suggesting we run errands together, and I agreed without really agreeing. I don’t remember choosing to go with her. I only remember that not going never quite formed itself into an option that stayed in focus long enough to act on. We took my car, though Ms. Ruby drove, and she talked as we went—about life, relationships, hopes and small future things—her voice steady, continuous, as the world outside moved in an order I didn’t have to participate in. The stops came in sequence without distinction: grocery store, household supplies, small necessities she listed without looking at me, as if my presence was already included in the logic of the task rather than the reasoning behind it. At some point, I became aware that I was no longer keeping pace with her. Then the aisle shifted, and I wasn’t sure anymore where I was or how I had arrived there. Her voice cut through that distance as if it didn’t exist at all. “Mommy was so worried,” she said, her hand closing around my wrist with calm certainty before I fully registered her presence. Only then did I realize I was on the floor, and that one of my shoes was missing. The realization arrived late, as if it belonged to a version of the moment that no longer had authority. “Don’t do that again,” she said, gently, though the tone carried frustration beneath its control. “You can’t wander off like that.” I tried to respond, but the thought never completed itself into speech. I must have looked at her without understanding what had just happened—no words forming, only a delayed confusion that didn’t organize itself quickly enough to become anything usable. Ms. Ruby didn’t treat it as unusual. She only paused briefly, as though checking something already familiar, her expression softening into recognition rather than concern. “Mm,” she said quietly—not to me, but to the moment itself—and her hand moved with practiced certainty, guiding the pacifier into place as though restoring something that had simply slipped out of alignment. I didn’t resist; the idea of doing anything else never fully arrived in time to matter, and her attention had already moved on as though the correction had completed the situation. She exhaled once, then knelt and produced wet wipes, cleaning my hands slowly and methodically, not as if I had failed, but as if the state of things required resetting. “That’s better,” she murmured. Then her gaze dropped. “…Where’s your other shoe?” she asked, sharper now—not alarmed, but adjusting for something missing from a sequence she expected to already be complete. She straightened slightly, scanning without urgency, then returned to me as if the answer would reappear through continuation. “Come on,” she said, already guiding me upright again. Her hand rested around my wrist, steady and familiar, as she led me towards our next earn. Chapter 10 – The Detour We were headed to another errand when my husband called, and I remember noticing somewhere during the drive that I wasn’t at home but in the car with Ms. Ruby driving. I don’t remember arriving at that fact, only the sense that it had already been true for longer than I could account for. A moment later Ms. Ruby returned carrying two neatly stacked boxes against her chest. She placed them carefully beside her before circling around to take her seat, and the car shifted into motion as though it had been waiting for that final adjustment. His office was only a few minutes away, and he came down almost immediately. He walked toward the driver’s side first, toward Ms. Ruby, as if that was where the exchange naturally began. They kissed briefly, and his attention moved past her toward me, but it didn’t hold. It passed without urgency, not unkindly, more like confirmation than engagement, as though what mattered had already been established and only needed to be visually checked. “She’s been a bit tired today,” Ms. Ruby said. “She was fine this morning,” he replied. “She got overwhelmed in the store,” she continued. “She wandered off, again…” There was no urgency in the way it was said. No request for correction. Only continuation. He opened the door and leaned in, and for a brief moment I thought he might speak directly to me. But he didn’t. He kissed my forehead the way he always had, as if that gesture carried more certainty than words ever could, and then straightened without lingering, reaching past me to collect the boxes from the front. Nothing about it required acknowledgment. Everything about it already assumes it. After he left, the space closed again and the car resumed motion. Ms. Ruby started driving. Somewhere along the way, without noticing when it changed, Ms. Ruby became Mommy. It didn’t arrive as a thought. It didn’t announce itself. It simply was the way the moment had always been structured, like realizing you had been saying a name incorrectly for a long time without ever being corrected. Music played quietly from the front. The words came and went in fragments, never fully settling into meaning before the next sound replaced them. Sometimes it felt like language. Sometimes it felt like rhythm alone. Mommy hummed along occasionally, as though the song was familiar enough not to require attention, and I found myself listening more to the spaces between sounds than the sounds themselves. At some point I stopped trying to track what was being said. Only that it continued. Only that she was there. Only that the car kept moving. And that none of it required me to understand it for it to remain true. Chapter 11 - Status Quo I felt myself waking before I opened my eyes. Not all at once. It came back in pieces, like something being returned to me slowly and without explanation. The first thing I noticed wasn’t the room—it was my body. Something held me in place. Not tightly. Not painfully. Just completely. Like the idea of moving had already been accounted for before I tried it. My legs didn’t separate when I shifted. My arms moved, but only slightly, like there was a limit I wasn’t being told about. My feet—I couldn’t feel them properly. Just the suggestion of them, somewhere under layers I couldn’t quite place. Covered. Contained. I opened my eyes. A mobile was turning above me. Slow. Mechanical. Calm in a way that didn’t match how I felt. Then the rest of the room came in around it, like it had been waiting for permission to exist. Familiar. Too familiar. The rail was there again. Higher than I remembered. I tried to sit up, and the movement stopped halfway, as if I’d been corrected without contact. How long has it been. The thought didn’t land cleanly. It drifted instead. The car. The drive. The back seat. That was the last thing I could hold clearly, and even that felt like it was already slipping out of place. My hands moved down without asking me, searching for something that would make this make sense. A seam. A zipper. A break in the surface. Nothing. It wasn’t in parts. It was whole. One continuous thing closing somewhere I couldn’t reach. And then—something clicked into place that didn’t feel like memory so much as recognition being handed back to me. A store. Clothes held up in front of me. Measuring. Deciding. Something being prepared for a version of me that didn’t arrive. Not for me. For them. For the child we never brought home. I could see it too clearly, suddenly. The way I had looked at them. The way it had felt reasonable at the time. But these—these weren’t small. They were scaled differently. Same softness. Same shape. Just adjusted. Made to fit something that didn’t match what I expected. Except now they fit me. “You’re up,” she said softly. The sound pulled me back before I could hold onto the thought. “I—” My mouth moved, but nothing came with it. The word broke before it existed properly. Useless. I tried again, and there was nothing to catch. Just air. Just effort without shape. And then—pressure. Familiar, without me understanding why it was familiar yet. My tongue shifted. Something was there. In my mouth. A pacifier. I didn’t remember it arriving. Only that it was there now, as if it had always been part of the situation and I had only just noticed. Her lips touched my forehead. Light. Certain. A kiss that didn’t ask anything. The rail clicked. Unlocked. “You’ve had a long few days,” she said gently. “You don’t need to think about it.” Her voice didn’t change. It didn’t need to. “Mommy and daddy will take care of everything.” Ruby. The name surfaced. Or Sophie. Wait— My thought caught on itself. Slipped. Her name is mommy. The sentence arrived already decided. Not spoken. Just known. I was standing. I don’t remember deciding that either. The mirror was already in front of me. She was behind me now. Or she had always been. It was hard to tell which version required less effort. Her posture was calm. Familiar in a way that didn’t invite question. Her hands moved anyway. Adjusting. Smoothing. Like the outcome was already known and she was just finishing it. My body didn’t resist. That was the part that stayed quiet. It didn’t argue. It didn’t pull back. It didn’t correct anything. The reflection didn’t settle properly at first. It kept shifting slightly, as if it couldn’t decide what it was showing. And then I saw it. In my mouth. The pacifier. Resting there like it had never been absent. Not imagined. Not added. Just… there. My eyes stayed on it longer than I meant them to. And then they didn’t move away. When she finished, I looked down. The clothes were different. But not really. Same softness. Same shape. Same closure somewhere behind me I couldn’t reach. Just the color had changed. Something I had chosen once—for someone else. Epilogue I must have fallen asleep again, because the next thing I became aware of was that the car had stopped. Not suddenly, but in the way things end when you don’t notice the moment they stop being in motion. The voices in the front seat continued as if nothing had changed, still calm, still aligned with whatever rhythm they had been following, but the engine itself had gone quiet, and the absence of it made everything else feel slightly closer, as though the world had stepped forward into the space it left behind. A door opened. Warm air entered. Light followed it in, soft and bright in a way that didn’t immediately resolve into detail. “We’re here, sweetheart,” mommy said. I opened my eyes, but the seat in front of me still filled most of my view, and the rest of the world arrived in fragments—edges of movement, shifting brightness, things that suggested themselves before they became fully visible. Something behind me clicked, and then the pressure around my body changed in a way I didn’t fully track. I moved before I understood I had been held in place, and then I was lifted with a certainty that didn’t pause long enough to require explanation. Behind her, another voice asked, “Got everything?” “Of course,” she said. Something was placed into my hand—soft, familiar, warm from being held. A doll followed it, settling into my grip as though it had always belonged there. My fingers adjusted without instruction. My arm settled around her shoulder as she carried me out into the parking lot. The air outside was too open, too bright, filled with ordinary movement—people crossing between cars, doors opening and closing, a rhythm of life that didn’t require attention to function. None of it felt unusual, but there was a quiet uncertainty underneath it, like I was present in a place I couldn’t fully locate from where I was standing inside it. She shifted me slightly higher on her hip and stopped in front of a wide glass window. “There it is,” she said softly. For a while neither of us moved. The reflection didn’t resolve immediately into anything stable—only layered impressions of shape and position, bodies occupying space without committing to a single interpretation. I looked at it the way you look at something you almost understand, waiting for it to settle into meaning. Then it did, briefly. She stood closest to the glass, holding someone small on her hip. That smaller figure was me. I recognized it at the same time I didn’t fully trust the recognition. The proportions made sense in a way that didn’t survive attention for long. When she shifted her weight, the reflected feet hovered slightly, as if even the image couldn’t decide what was supporting what. My fingers tightened around the doll. Mommy gave a small, soft laugh. “There it is.” Then she paused. Her hand moved casually, almost absently, and for a moment I didn’t understand what I was seeing until I had already seen it. A pacifier. In her mouth. I knew the word before I had fully formed the thought. Pacifier. I knew what it was supposed to do. I knew what it meant in the structure of the world I was standing in. And I knew, with a quiet clarity that didn’t arrive as surprise, that it would not stay there—that it would return to where it was supposed to be, without anyone needing to decide that it should. My attention caught on it, held there too long to be comfortable, and then shifted again toward the glass. Mommy looked at the reflection, not at me. Then she looked at me. “Is that you, sweetheart?” she asked. I looked back. And for a moment, I knew exactly what I was supposed to be seeing. Not guessing. Not interpreting. Knowing. Then that certainty began to slip—not into something else, but into something that couldn’t hold shape long enough to remain fixed. The idea of “correct” itself lost its place, like it no longer had anywhere stable to attach. The image remained. Mommy held me easily against her side. The pacifier was still in her mouth when I looked again. And this time, the only thing I could recognize with any stability was that I no longer knew what part of what I was seeing was supposed to count as real.

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.