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I'm new to all this, but here's a story that actually is based on another story that I read. It stuck in my mind, and I started to develop the story further in my head, coming to the point where I hade to start writing things down. A huge thanks to the author of the original Swedish story "Ella och Mormor". I sincerely hope that it's okej for me to take off where you started! As I'm not a native speaker in English, so there might be a few misspelled words and confused sentence construction - but I hope it's readable anyway. All comments and suggestions are welcome. ___ Part 1 - An unexpected welcome Ella woke early to the sun streaming through her window and past the curtains. Waking up with the sun in her eyes wasn't exactly her favourite thing, but it looked like it was going to be a really nice and sunny summers day, so it was still hard to get annoyed. The fact that she woke up so early didn't matter much either, because today she was going to visit her grandmother, and if you didn't want to arrive too late, you'd have to leave quite early. Ella and her grandmother had a bit of a tradition going, that went back as far as Ella could remember - her going to Grandma's for a few weeks during the summer holidays. Even though it was now two or three years since the last time it happened, it could still be considered a bit of a tradition. Couldn't it? She had packed everything she could possibly need for a few summery weeks away from home. In the bag were shorts, tank tops, thicker sweaters for the evening, bikinis, jeans, panties and bras as well as a lot of other things you might need in the form of toiletry bags, chargers etc etc. The last thing she packed was her old pyjamas. Although the pajamas were a bit worn and far too childish for her age, it was still tradition for her to have them at grandma's. She had received the pajamas as a birthday present quite a few years ago, and already in those days it might have been a little too childish for her, with cute flowers on the pants and with the matching pink tank top. But thanks to the fact that Ella was quite slim, the pyjamas still fit just fine, even though she had become a bit more developed around the bum and breasts in recent years. It was just a little tighter, and the legs were maybe a bit short. As everything she'd seen indicated that it would become a hot day, and traveling by bus require quite comfortable clothes, Ella put on a pair of denim shorts and a black tight top. With her new sandals on her feet, she hugged her parents goodbye, picked up her bag and walked away with tense anticipation down towards the bus that would take her the first bit of the journey to grandma's. Grandma lived in a big house by the sea, with only a few old summer cottages nearby. It was maybe a twenty minute drive to the nearest supermarket and another twenty to the nearest town. There, in the house by the sea, Ella had played with the other children of the summer guests, bathed and cycled a few weeks a year, for as long as she could remember. The dust from the dirt road and the smell of juice and grandma's cinnamon buns were in her memory mixed with doing puzzles and playing cards in front of the fireplace, on rainy days. The journey to Grandma's is quite long and requires at least two changes of busses. First from her own local bus down at the bus terminal to a long-distance bus across the country, and then again to a smaller local bus which, for the last hour, has slowly been making its way out to the coast and Grandma's. She is practically alone on the last bus, which meanders through the farms and milk pallets of the coastal landscape. Ella, who is a bit of a dreamer, has let her mind wander off to all the summers she's travelled this road to the coast. She fondly remembers all the weeks spent in the big house by the sea. How grandma usually really spoils her with good food and warm care. She is really looking forward to this. When the bus finally stops at her destination and it's time to get off, the clock has already begun to approach dinner time. Grandmother stands at the bus stop waiting and happily greets her grandchild with a big hug. -Hey Ella, how nice to see you again and how big you've become, grandma laughs happily. Did the bus trip go well? -Hey grandma! Yes, it did, but it's a bit boring on such a long bus ride! - Well, luckily then, that you won't have to get back on it for a few weeks! laughs grandma. She takes Ella's bag in one hand and takes Ella herself in an arm hook with the other. They chat as they walk the old gravel road between the fields up towards grandma's house. Grandma pointing out which cottages are rented out and when the various summer guests are expected to arrive. - So there might be one or two other children to play with, Grandma winks. -Play? laughs Ella. It had been a while since I played with the other children around here. But maybe there is someone to go swimming or sunbathing with? The house is big and red with white knots, and the garden looks almost exactly as Ella remembers it. The hammock and the lilac arbor. The flagpole. The old guesthouse. Everything is where it should be, and nothing seems to have changed in the years since she was last here. The hum of the bumblebees from the lilacs is almost hypnotic. The garden opens up down towards the sea, which is only about hundred meters away, but is otherwise surrounded by a hedge towards the road and the forest on the other last side. Grandma is leading the way up the stairs to the front porch and opens the door with a creak. When they enter, she immediately carries Ella's bag into the guest room, and sets it up on the stool by the wall and opens it. Ella remains standing on the glass porch and admires the view out towards the sea, and only in the corner of her eye sences how grandma starts unpacking Ella's things and, as usual, sorts them into the second drawer in the large chest of drawers. Ella wakes up from her reverie and takes off her sandals, which she places in the shoe rack in the hall. - It's just as well to change into your nightwear right now, isn't it, Ella, darling?, grandmother shouts out towards the hall. -Traditions are meant to be kept, she also adds with a small laugh. Ella comes in and accepts the pajamas that Grandma offers her and starts unbuttoning the shorts while Grandma goes out and starts rummaging through one of the closets in the hall. Ella glances a little tensely out towards the hall and listens. It thumps a bit like cupboards and drawers being opened and closed, and then there's a bit of just about too familiar rustling. Traditions are meant to be kept, Ella quotes in her head, while there is a churning feeling in her stomach. She knows exactly what that means. There is one more tradition, which has not yet been mentioned, and it is a little more unusual. Every time Ella has been sleeping over at grandma's, grandma put her in a diaper from the first night on. It is a tradition that Ella has never questioned and which has only continued year after year. At first it was of course because Ella peed the bed and needed it, but unlike at home, she was allowed to wear a diaper all day at grandma's. When she later stopped wetting the bed and thus also stopped wearing diapers at night at home, it only continued at grandma's. Diaper from when first you arrived, and then in the morning if the diaper was dry it was left on, or if it was wet it was changed. The diaper had been wet in the morning on more that one occasion. As recently as three years ago, the "tradition" was still the same. But this time, however, Ella had thought that even grandma would have forgotten about it, or finally realized that she had grown far too big for diapers, and that she wouldn't have to wear them. Ella's musings are interrupted, however, by Grandma coming back into the room and as expected she has a few diapers in one hand and an empty diaper package, which says Luvs and a big number six, in the other. - There weren't many left in the package, Ella, darling. But there's still enough for one now, and then we'll see if we have to change to a new one for the night or tomorrow morning. So, we'll have to make sure to buy new diapers right away tomorrow. -But grandma..., begins Ella in her sweetest tone. Don't you think I'm a little bit to old for that? I mean, at home I haven't had to wear a diaper in years - not even at night - and I don't think I need to here either. - What are you saying?, Grandma laughs. Shall we break the tradition that we've had since you were little? -Yes, so..., Ella tries. -Out of the question! interrupts Grandma. It is the tradition that you are my sweet little granddaughter that I get to spoil when you are here with me, and I don't intend to break that tradition! Stop fooling around now and lie down on the bed and you'll see that you'll feel much better once we get the diaper properly on you. Ella realizes that the race is over. Since she's basically never protested before, it's hardly going to help now. She knows exactly how this will go, because she's been through it so many times before. It's actually rather silly, and almost laughable, she thinks. But at the same time, it's not that much of an issue, but rather a fairly harmless game between her and granny. Plus, it's a bit cozy to be pampered - pun intended. A tingling sensation of tension begins to sprout in her stomach. Ella unbuttons her shorts and lies back on the bed, with her knees up and her feet right on the edge of the bed, as she always used to do. Grandma slowly helps her off with the shorts and panties, folds the shorts and puts them in the suitcase. - I throw these panties in the washer, she says and smiles at Ella. It's not like you'll be using that many panties during these weeks, anyway. Then everything goes by the usual routine. A routine which in and of itself has not been carried out for several years, but one which they are both very familiar with and which over the years has turned more and more into a ritual. Ella lifts her bottom a little, so Grandma can insert the diaper under her and hold out the tapes on the sides, after which Ella puts her bottom down again and feels a distantly familiar sensation of the fluffy diaper rustling under her bottom. Grandma quietly hums a song to herself while she makes sure the diaper fits correctly. Then she dusts her with a little baby powder, which spreads a familiar, lightly perfumed scent in the room, and folds up the front of the diaper. She has to stretch the sides a fair bit to be able to attach the tapes to the front of the diaper, but after a few adjustments she is satisfied and presses the tapes down with her thumbs. -These diapers are really starting to get a bit tight on you, now that you've gotten a little bigger. - Yes, I've tried to tell you that I've grown a little too old, Ella says with a shy smile. -Don't try, young girl. You won't get away that easily. Tomorrow, we'll buy you a bit bigger diapers, Grandma says, glancing at the six-pack, which now only contains two diapers. The old ones we have left in the other drawer will probably be best left in reserve. Ella knows which diapers are in reserve. The last time she was here, they ran out of the usual diapers, and then Ella had to have one of the old reserves for the last evening and morning. They are the old school type with a rectangular separate diaper and a PVC tie-on that are tied at the sides. Then grandma suddenly pulls the old pyjama pants over her feet, and then she has to lift her bottom again so they can be pulled into place over the diaper. As Ella sits up on the edge of the bed, Grandma pulls the black top over her head, quickly replacing it with the pink tank top that belongs to the pyjamas, before turning and walking out towards the kitchen. In her hand she has Ella's panties, which are to be sent to the laundry basket. It's probably the last time I'll see a pair of panties for a couple of weeks, Ella thinks to herself. She stands up and glances quickly at the image in the mirror that hangs over the old dresser in the guest room, and sure enough, you can just about perceive the diaper's bulge under the pyjama pants, both in front and back. Ella moves a little and pulls the edge of the diaper a little, so that it fits better and more like she remembers. Maybe time for new pyjamas? Out in the kitchen, it is now time to start cooking and grandma is rattling pots and ladles. Ella carefully paws her way out into the kitchen and is a little surprised at how familiar everything feels, even though she hasn't experienced it in years. The wooden floor underfoot. The creak from the stairs. The slightly tight and too short pyjama. The diaper that is hugging her between her legs and up over the bum. The diaper doesn't quite reach the lower part of her back, as she remembers it used to, as it stops just above her buttocks, but that's probably because she got a little too big. - Well, there you are, says grandmother. I thought you were stuck in front of that mirror, as usual. If you cut the vegetables there, on the cutting board there - don't cut yourself on the knife, it's sharp - then I'll get started on the meat. -Of course, grandma, Ella answers and starts chopping onions and cutting carrots. The bench is a little high and she almost has to stand on tiptoe to be able to cut the vegetables the right way. But soon everything is in the pot and grandma brings a big glass of lemonade for Ella and a cup of coffee for herself. Thirty minutes, lots of talking and laughing, and two more glasses of lemonade later, dinner is ready and they sit down at the table. Grandma starts with the usual questioning: "how's school going?", "have you met a guy, yet?" and "What are your plans for the future?" and Ella is doing her best to balance being honest with her grandmother but not too honest to the point of worrying her, while she's chomping down on a hearty portion of the meat stew and has almost completely forgotten about the diaper. But after another half hour of eating and talking, when Ella leans back full and satisfied, she feels how all that lemonade is starting to make her feel a bit needy. She knew this moment would come. She knows after her first attempt to persuade grandma that she shouldn't need to wear a diaper, that there's no point in excusing herself to go to the toilet. So, she instead tries to relax the way she usually does here. It's a bit difficult if you're not used to doing it at the dinner table, in the middle of a conversation. But three glasses of lamonade is soon doing it's magic and she feels the warm pee starting to seep out. She is utterly surprised by how easy and natural it is to pee herself at grandma's house. She feels the vaguely familiar feeling like so many times before here, how the diaper fills up and how it swells a little between the legs and up towards the bum. They continue talking for a good while before Grandma glances at the clock and exclaims in surprise: - Oh, look at how the time flies, it's almost 11 pm! You who have had such a long journey are probably tired and want to sleep. - Yes, the journey out here doesn't get shorter just because you're older, Ella says and yawns a little. -Then we'll put this away and then it's probably time for good night, says grandma and gets up. Together they clean the table and then grandma arranges the food to go back into the fridge, while it is Ella's job to clear the dishwasher. When she reaches up to put a couple of cups on a shelf, Grandma sees that there is a small dark spot on the back of Ella's butt, just to the right of where the diaper is barely visible under the fabric. - Oh no, Ella, I think we've hade a little leak, she says putting a hand on the back of the diaper judging the amount of leakage. Yes, it has leaked. That's just another sign that we need to buy slightly bigger diapers. But it would seem it was lucky that we put one on you? Let's take the trousers off so we can wash them during the night. It doesn't matter if you go around here with just your nappy on. Ella blushes deeply. She hadn't noticed herself that she'd leaked a little. It could only be a few drops, she thinks, but it's still a bit embarrassing, and god how small she feels when grandma is the one who discovers that she's peed herself, and that it's leaked. Grandma helps her off with the pajama pants, which Ella obediently steps out of. - Go brush your teeth while I turn on the washing machine, she says while giving Ella a pat on the back of the diaper. - Grandma! complains Ella, trying to wave grandma's hand away. But she takes her toiletry kit from her bag and paws off to the large bathroom on the ground floor. The sensation of the diaper is even bigger now that she has nothing on over it. It kind of slides down a little over the butt and hangs a little heavily between the legs. The bathroom is covered with old green tiles and a black and white checkered floor. A large clawfoot tub and modern shower is at one end and a large dresser with mirror and sink at the other. She turns to the image in the large mirror over the sink that shows the entire bathroom in all its glory, and stops at the first sight. Ella barely recognizes herself. She doesn't look her age at all, standing in a childish tank top and with a clearly wet baby diaper sagging between her legs. Ella puts toothpaste on the brush and starts brushing, after which she turns back to the mirror. She carefully feels the front of the diaper and turns and mirrors her back. She spits out the toothpaste, rinses her mouth and takes two tassels from her toiletry bag. A little wit puts her hair up so that she gets a tassel on each side and reflects herself again. Now she looks even younger, if possible, and knowing that this will make grandma super happy, she leaves the bathroom. Grandma is already waiting in the guest room. She has pulled down the curtians, turned on the bedside lamp and set a small garbage can on the floor next to the door. On the half-folded bedspread there is already a pack of wet wipes, a can of powder and a new dry diaper folded up. - OH, but Ella, you're so cute with tassels in your hair, exclaims grandma while giving Ella a short hug. She puts her hands on Ella's shoulders and continues: You are just as sweet as you have always been to me. It's not that big of a deal wearing diapers at grandma's, as long as only we know, is it? - No, maybe it isn't? It actually felt quite nice not having to run to the toilet in the middle of dinner. - How nice that you feel that way, Ella, darling. I don't want you to feel uncomfortable. Lay down on the bed now and we'll make sure to get the night diaper on before you jump into bed. This thing about night diapers versus day diapers is something that Ella has only heard here at grandma's house. The night nappy has always been a real tape nappy, while the day nappy has varied quite a bit over the years. Sometimes it has been pullups and sometimes the same tape diaper as at night. But at night it has always been a tape diaper. Preferably the thickest one grandma could find. Ella lies down on the bed again with her knees up and her heels at the edge of the bed, and grandma habitually pulls of the tapes to take off her diaper, before throwing it in the trash. Ella yawns again and has to lift her bottom a little, all the while getting a little cold in her neither parts when the diaper is taken away. Grandma cleanses her thoroughly with wet wipes and then it's time again for Ella to lift her bottom, the baby powder is sprinkled and spreads its faintly perfumed scent, and finally the dry diaper tapes is attached to the front of the diaper. Granny starts looking for the pyjama pants with her eyes before she seems to remember that they are in the washing machine. - The pants are in the machine, do you want panties over the diaper or would you rather sleep with it as it is? - I can sleep in just the diaper and a shirt, Ella answered. It's quite hot. - It will be fine, and then the trousers will be clean and dry by tomorrow morning. By the way, I found this old box of things when I was cleaning, Grandma says, reaching for a box next to the bed. It's your old stuff from when you were smaller and slept here. In the box is a doll, toys, teddy bears and all sorts of things that little girls like to play with. Grandma picks up piece after piece and talks away about what Ella liked and didn't like, what her favourites were and where she bought one thing and another. Finally, she finds a semi-transparent plastic jar from which a small pink pacifier falls out. - I remember that one, says Ella and reaches for the pacifier, but grandma is faster. - It's been a really long time since you stopped using these, says grandma. She still holds the pacifier out of Ella's reach and looks at her meaningfully. - It's been a long time since I stopped wearing diapers too, Ella counters quickly and laughs a little. - You're right about that, Grandma replies and gives her the pacifier. Besides, it goes quite nice with the tassels, the tank top and the cute diaper. Ella accepts the pacifier, looks at it thoughtfully for a few moments and then nimbly puts it in her mouth. The feeling is almost overwhelming but not completely unfamiliar and certainly not unpleasant. The rubber against the palate and the shield against the lips is surprisingly pleasant. She wiggles it back and forth in her mouth a few times before she finds the accustomed movements. She smiles big at grandma behind the pacifier before taking it out and giving it back. Grandma puts the pacifier on the bedside table. -No you little girl, now it really is time for you to sleep. She hugs Ella goodnight before hugging her and kissing her on the forehead. -Sleep well, Ella, see you tomorrow. -Good night grandma. Grandma turns off the light and walks out the door, but leaves a small gap ajar so that the light of the small hall lamp can find its way into the corner of the room. Ella turns around and accidentally puts a hand on the diaper. The dry warmth between the legs and up over her bottom feels indescribably safe and familiar. She runs her finger along the edge of the diaper and slowly drifts off to sleep with a big smile on her face.

I tried to write a new story, and I hope you like it. I would appreciate it if you came with comments and aides. I hope you enjoy it. The story has non-sexual thins involved. the short story is about an 8-year-old boy who has started to struggle with bedwetting. It doesn't get any better when his sister finds out and wants revenge for something he did to her. ————— Tobias summer vacation The sunlight streamed through Tobias' windows, directly on his face. With summer vacation in full swing, he enjoyed lounging and stretching without school restrictions. His eyes widened, and he became more awake as he noticed something was wrong. His eyes suddenly stopped moving and widened as a terrifying thought gripped him. His hand slowly began to reach out, feeling under the cover of darkness. Tobias froze when his terrifying thoughts became a reality: he had wet the bed again. He got scared and called his mother without thinking. “Mom!” The sound of steps came through him, and the door to his room opened. “Good morning, sleepy head; everything alright? “ said his mom. His eyes started to get wet; tears began to roll down his skin. “What’s wrong, honey?” said his mom. Tobias lay in bed, sobbing, trying to explain what had happened. Unable to speak, he removed the blanket to reveal his wet bed to his mother. As she looked at it, her eyes filled with compassion and understanding. “Oh, have you had an accident again? Poor thing. That can happen to the best; shower, and I'll take care of your bed.” said his mom. Tobias felt embarrassed, but his mother gave him a warm smile. “Go take a warm shower, and then meet me for breakfast,” his mom said. Tobias walked in his wet pajamas to the bathroom for a refreshing shower, enjoying warm water running down his body. He exited the shower to find that his mother had left a towel with Lego Ninjago characters. Tobias dried himself and returned to his room. His mother had already laid out underpants, shorts, and a T-shirt on his freshly made bed. He descended the stairs and found his two older sisters already sitting, eating breakfast. His sisters Maria and Andrea played with their phones while eating and didn't notice Tobias coming. Maria was an 18-year-old girl who spent much time at work and with her friends and wasn't home much. Andrea was a 15-year-old girl who always got what she wanted, regardless of the consequences for others. She was tired of all the attention the little brat always got and was looking forward to spending the summer with her friends. The girls loved their parents, and although they didn't despise their little brother, they loved him but found his constant attention and spoiled nature particularly annoying. The girls always enjoyed teasing Tobias because he was much shorter than the other children his age. Sometimes, the girls would take Tobias out to play and often met strangers who mistook him for a younger child. Once, Tobias was mistakenly taken to the kindergarten when a teacher mistook him for a little child. Tobias prepared a breakfast mix and placed the bowl on the table before setting up his highchair. Tobias always found it so embarrassing that he had to use a high chair instead of sitting on an adult chair. However, he knew using a highchair was better than sitting on his knees. Their mother sat down with her children and relaxed with a cup of coffee before she broke the silence. “So kids, what's your plans today?” said his mom. Maria put the phone down and looked over to her mother. “I have work and then some plans with my friends. We will drive to the beach; a friend will pick me up soon.” Andrea glanced at Maria and rolled her eyes before speaking, "I'm going to hang out with some friends." His mother smiled at her daughters, took another sip of her coffee, and leaned closer to chat more quietly with Tobias. “Did you go to the washroom with the wet pajamas?” his mom asked. The girl's eyes filled with curiosity as they listened to their mother's whispering voice. Andrea burst into laughter before responding. “Has the baby wet the bed again? Maybe you should consider using diapers on him again, like babies need, Mom!” Andrea said. Tobias turned red with embarrassment as he heard the mocking laughter and hurtful words. He wasn't a baby, an 8-year-old kid who wanted to yell back at them, but he knew his mother would get angry from arguing. Tobias took control of his frustration and quietly ate his food while looking down. Maria giggled and laughed with her sister until their mother looked at them sternly. "Now that's enough, girls. You can leave the table," their mom said. His mother looked at him with an expression of love but also concern. “Don't listen to those girls. Now I'll clean up; the kitchen looked like a mess.” said his mom. Thinking raced through her head while she got up and walked to the kitchen to clean up. She wondered why he had started wetting the bed at night. She planned to talk to her husband and schedule a doctor's appointment when he came home. Tobias finished his food and gave his mother his plate before returning to his room. He sat down on his rug and opened his drawers full of Legos. Time flew by as he built with all the Lego bricks he had. Without him noticing, someone began brushing his hair. Tobias turned and was happy to see his father bending down behind him. "Daddy, you're home!" “Hi, champ! Had a good day?” his dad said. Tobias smiled as he saw his father sit down on the bottom to play with the Legos with him. "Do you want to join me for a little play, Daddy?" As they chatted about the day, his father built a little with his son. “When do you have a vacation, Dad?” “I don't have any holiday yet, but we'll manage. So, Mom told me about what happened last night. Is there anything that has happened that you want to talk about? It's been a while since you used to wet the bed at night.” said his dad. Tobias sat quietly and said nothing as he poked at the Lego. "I don't know, Dad. It just happened. I'm sorry." "It'll be fine, champ. It'll probably just be a bad night." his dad said. His father got up and left the room to talk to his wife. A little worried, he looked back at his son before he disappeared and went downstairs. He sat beside his wife, tired from a long day at work. She had put some dinner in the oven, which would soon be ready. "I asked Junior why he had wet the bed several times. He didn't know." his father said. She looked over at him with a worried look. "It has happened too often to be just an accident, and I soon won't have any bedwear left. No, we need to take him to a doctor. I will call them tomorrow." the mother said. She got up and started setting the table. Tobias came down the stairs simultaneously with his mother, who had just put lasagna on the table. “Tobias, can you tell your sisters it is time for dinner?” his mom said. Tobias nodded and ran up the stairs to his sisters. He knocked on the door and waited until Maria said he could come in. "It's dinner," he said, running to Andreas' room. He knocked on the door but got no answer. He tried again, but there was still no response from her. Tobias opened the door and entered the room. He studied all the drawings and figures she had created. Suddenly, he heard her voice behind him. "What are you doing in my room? Who said you could walk into my room, your little bed wetter? If it was up to me, would I put you back in diapers? It was so funny at school when you were mistaken for a kindergarten kid, and the funniest thing is that you don't look any older than one,” Andrea said mockingly. Tobias looked at her with an angry look. He wasn't a kindergarten kid; he was a big kid. “I'm not a baby! I'm a big kid!” Andrea burst out laughing as she could see his face became red. “Are you a big kid? You could be mistaken for a toddler in the right clothes, considering you are still wet in the bed. Real big kids don't wet their beds. You would have looked adorable in diapers and some childish clothes,” said Andrea as she laughed. Tobias became angry and red as he ran out of her room and into his room. He buried his face down into his bed pillow with anger. He wanted to tell his mother how much Andrea had teased him; this wasn't fear. But the more he thought about it, the more afraid he became that his mother would think it would be a good idea to put him back in diapers. Tobias cooled down and walked to join the others for dinner. “Hay, champ, you disappeared a little. Is everything okay?” his father asked with a slightly concerned tone. Tobias tried to keep his smile up but said nothing as he sat in his chair. He and his sisters giggled as they whispered to each other before Andrea spoke. "He must have been late to the table for another accident," said Andrea as the girls giggled. Their parents were visibly displeased by Andrea's choice of words and directed stern looks at her. Both girls immediately fell silent, focusing solely on their meals. Tobias felt embarrassed and ashamed at how the girls treated him. As they ate, the conversation turned to discussing their respective days, but Tobias remained silent, his mind unable to shake off the hurtful words his sister had used. Despite not being as tall or physically developed as others his age, Tobias resented being treated like a little child. He ate his food and looked over at his mom. “May I be excused from the table?” “Of course you can.” said his mother. He cleaned his table and returned to his room, still irritated by what the girls had said of him. Time passed as he looked at the TV in his room, and his mother came in. “It's time for bed, young man. Brush your teeth and come back; we need to talk,” his mother said in a warm tone. He walked to the bathroom, brushed his teeth, and went to the toilet before he came back. His mother was still sitting on his bed, waiting for him, holding his pajamas in her hand as he walked inside his room. He came to his mother, removed his clothes, and took on the pajamas before lying on the bed. “So, young man, I have spoken to your father. You have an appointment at the doctor's tomorrow. There have been too many bedwetting accidents,” his mom said calmly but in a loving tone. Tobias' face became scared, and he didn't want to go to any doctors. “Why, I promise to stop with the wetting.” “I'll make you a deal: If you behave well tomorrow, I will take you to your favorite ice cream shop. Is that okay?” his mom said. He smiled as his mother ruffled his hair and left the room. His dad walked by, gave him a wink. "Good night, champ; see you tomorrow." his dad said. The door closed as Tobias lay down and thought of the morning. His eyes became heavy, and he fell asleep. As the sun came through his window, Tobias's eyes opened; he soon felt something was wrong; he had done it again—his bed was wet. He walked out of his bed and took a shower before he took some clothes. His sister wasn't up yet, but his mother sat with a coffee. “Good morning, young man. Are you first up today? How did the night go?” said his mom. He looked at the ground, and his mother understood the answer. She came and hugged him. “It's okay. I'll fix your wet bed, and you can wake your sisters.” said his mom. He smiled and strolled over to Andrea's room. As he approached, he noticed that her door was slightly ajar. Peeking inside, he saw Andrea putting some beer into her backpack. Tobias made a misstep; his sister shouted his name as he sprinted to his mother. Upon her mother's coming, she promptly unzipped the bag, and Andrea looked at Tobias with intense hatred. “What is this? Beer! Maria, where have you got a beer from?” their mother shouted sternly. Andrea cast a sympathetic glance her mother's way while their mother fell silent as her eyes fixed on her watch. “I forgot we have a doctor's appointment, Tobias. Come. And you, young lady, I'll deal with you later,” said their mother sharply. As their mother walked away, Tobias began to turn when Andrea grasped his arm firmly. “Now listen, little pee boy. You will regret this," while Andrea's expression could terrify anyone. Andrea releases him, and he runs to his mother, who is waiting in the car with her phone. Tobias tries to tell his mother what Andrea did, but she talks with Dad about the beer. Tobias sits back and looks out the windows as they drive away. After a drive, they park the car in a parking garage and walk into a building. It feels like an eternity for Tobias to walk fast, but they make it just in time. His mother placed him on a chair as she stood in line to announce their arrival. Tobias walked over to some cool toys and started to play. A young nurse came by Tobias. “Hello there, little man. I think these toys are for big boys, but you can play with this once over here.” the nurse said with a smile. He looked over at the young nurse who had found some toys for daycare children. “There you go, have fun.” the lady said as she walked away. He became red in his face and irritated. He was not a daycare baby; he was a big kid. He returned to his mother, who had sat in the waiting room. His mother took his hand and sat beside him as they waited for their turn. The nurse came and said Tobias' name; his mother looked at him and took his hands. They walked into the man who sat in the doctor's office. He smiled and raised his hand to greet them. “Good day. I am Doctor Brown. What can I do for you?” As his mother started talking to the doctor, Tobias sat a little scared. As he looked at a picture of a girl the same age as Andrea, Tobias began to think nervously about what Andrea said before he ran to the car. Was it wrong to tell Mom about the beer? Is it okay to drink? He hired the doctor, said his name, and Tobias looked at him. “Don't be worried, Tobias. We will check everything to see if something is wrong with you, young man.” the doctor said. He rose and showed how they would take some tests. It felt like an eternity with all the testing and things the doctors wanted to do, but Tobias always returned to the incident with his sister. The look on her face was so angry and mean, and it did not look good; he felt afraid. Tobias had come back from his thoughts. He realized he now sat and waited outside in the waiting room to return to the doctor's office. At the same time, his name was up. They sat down with the doctor. He started with the easy words that they could not find anything wrong with him; he had to be immature in his body. He was small for his age, and Tobias looked wans again at the picture of the girl, which reminded him of what Andrea had said. It wasn't funny that the nurse had mistaken him for a little child. His mother raised her hand and thanked the doctor as they walked out. She looked a little worried when they walked away from the doctor. She looked at him and said she needed to stop by the store for supplies. Tobias followed along as his mother picked out the food and supplies required. His mother took a long time to look at something. He looked up and got red in the face. She was looking at diapers! “Mom! What are you doing? I don't need diapers; that is for small babies.” She lifted something into the trolley as she looked over at him. “Don't worry; it's just a safety measure. It will be our little secret. Didn't you hear the doctor say we should use protection at night? Also, it's difficult for me to change your bed every day. I had enough this morning with Andrea and the doctor. Please stop acting like a baby. It's not diapers; it's pull-ups, but if you act more like a baby, maybe I should take diapers instead!” his mother said, irritated. They had walked back to the car and were on their way home. Tobias mined raced, being mistaken for a little child; now he had to use pull-ups! They parked the car, and his mother opened the car door for him. They walked inside with all the groceries and the pull-ups. He walked in silently and into his room. He started to play some TV games as time began to fly. He heard his mother and her talking down stars, not in a great tone, and suddenly, she called out everyone's names and told them to come down. When Tobias came downstairs, Andrea sat on the sofa with an angry look and her arms crossed. His mother smiled at him with a loving tone. “Now, Andrea, Dad is going on a business trip. I don't want to sit at home, so Tobias and you will drive with me to my sister.” said their mom. Andrea became red in anger. “What about my friends? I need to be home!” said Andrea, irritated as her mother looked sternly back at her. “Now you listen, young lady. I told you that Maria needed to work so she would be home, but you would be with me and your brother. We are leaving tomorrow for my sister, and you will not be angry about it. This is entirely your fault. Now behave,” said their mom in a stern tone at her. Andrea was so upset about going on this stupid trip with her mother and little pee brother and not seeing her friends. She blamed Tobias for the whole situation! "Is my cousin Sofia there, at least?" Andrea asked. Here, Mother smiled back at her. “Yes, and so is Sam.” said his mom. Andrea just rolled her eyes and spoke silently. “Sam? He’s four, isn't he? He's just another baby but a good play buddy for Tobias.” Her eyes lit up like fire as she repeated it. “Yes, a good play buddy for Tobias,” she said as her smile grew. Tobias got worried about what Andreas's eyes shoved. Whatever she was thinking, this can't be good. “So, we are leaving tomorrow morning. Your father has to leave on a business trip tonight. Andrea and Tobias, go and pack your bags; we are leaving early tomorrow." said their mom. Tobias runs upstairs to pack his bag of toys. His mother comes upstairs with a bag and starts to pack his clothes. She has almost finished packing when she turns to him and looks him in the eyes. “I need to go downstairs, Tobias. Can you pack some underwire in your bag?” He proudly smiled at his mother as she walked out of his room and downstairs. He had put all his underwear in the bag and walked out of his room to get some things from the living room. As he came back upstairs into his bedroom, Andrea walked out with a backpack over her shoulder. “What are you doing in my room?” said Tobias. Andrea smiled at him. "Sorry, I'm just looking for you. Are you looking forward to traveling and visiting our aunt? It will surely be fun for you to play with Sam. He is probably four now, I think," Andrea said. Tobias became irritated by her foolish comments. "Why would I play with a baby? That is four. I'm a big kid,” said Tobias. “Yeah, he's four, but you are no taller than he is and don't look much older. With the right clothes, you can easily be mistaken for a 4-year-old little bedwetter you are. Mom should have bought diapers for you.” said Andrea. Tobias felt his face turn red as she threw humiliating words at him. Despite his attempts to protest and set her straight, she continued with her hurtful remarks as he walked by and slammed his door. Dinner was a bit sad. Andrea had been a lousy sister that day, and Dad was leaving for a work trip. The dinner felt slow, and time seemed to drag on. After going to the bathroom to brush his teeth and quickly visit the toilet, he returned to his room feeling a little unsettled. His mother was sitting on the bed, waiting for him. “Remember our discussion about protection?” said his mom. His eyes bulged, and his face turned red as he confidently approached his mother. “Mom, please, I don't want to wear it. Babies like Sam use diapers, not big kids,” he told his mom. His mother becomes irritated and drags him to the bed, but she offers him a warm smile before speaking. “Listen, first of all, it's not a diaper; it's a pull-up. Second, I don't have any more bed covers as they're not dry after all the wetting. Third, waking up in a wet pull-up is better than waking up in a wet bed. So, please take off your clothes and let me help you. If you're good, I'll let you watch some more TV in your bed.” said his mom. Tobias started to take off his shirt and pants, but he got a little slower when it came to his underwear; his lust was not in him. His mother gently helped him take it off. She found a white pull-up with some Paw Patrol drawings at the front. She opened it so Tobias could put his feet into it. She dragged the pull-up until it was in its place and checked that everything was in its place. He looked down and saw the soft but thick pull-up between his legs, which made keeping his feet together more challenging due to his spread-apart legs. Looking at the pull-up, he saw the paw patrol in the front. He thought it was better than diapers. His mother walked to his drawer to get a pajama top and pants. Suddenly, Tobias heard a familiar laugh behind him. He closed his eyes in shame and turned to see Andrea entering. “Now, have you seen? Mom followed my advice and put the little toddler back in a diaper.” As Andrea patted his back, Tobias blushed with embarrassment. His mom handed Tobias his pajamas and gave Andrea a stern look. “Now listen, Andrea. Tobias' doctor suggested using some protection. It's not a diaper; it's a pull-up. So let your brother be," said their mom. Andrea smiled with pride as she walked out. She started to talk silently: “The little brat is already back in his diaper. This will make my plan a lot easier. He ruined my summer, but my revenge will be satisfying. I need to talk to my cousin Sofia. I'm not finished with Tobias yet. she said as she walked to her room. Tobias' mother kissed him and walked out of his room. Tobias took his clothes on. Feeling something between his legs was strange, and he made a little bowel in the front. He watched some TV and, after a while, fell asleep. Tobias wakes to his mother's hands touching him. His eyes open to see his mother's warm smile. "Good, you're up, and you're not wet. I'm so proud of you." his mom said. He was about to leave bed, but his mother stopped him. Before she spoke, her face looked a little concerned. "Hey there, since it's still early, you'll probably doze off in the car because we have a long drive ahead. Please keep your pull-up diaper on while we're driving, just in case you have an accident. It would be very tiring for me if there were any accidents in the car while we're on the road." said his mom. Tobias's face became red with sadness. "Keep my pull-ups on? But I don't wet myself at day?" he said in frustration. His mom looked a little concerned before she looked down. He started to feel guilty. "Okay, Mom. I will wear the pull-up diaper for you." Her face smiled back at him with pride. "You are amazing for being so considerate of others. Your selflessness is admirable, and I hope your sister can learn from your example. From you. Now take your bag to the garage." said his mother. Tobias's mother excused herself from the room as he put on his pants over the pull-up diaper. Putting on his pants proved challenging, resulting in a slight bulge in the front and a curve in the back. To conceal the diaper, he put on a hoodie and picked up his bag before heading towards the car in the garage. As he stooped to set down his bag, a familiar and unexpected voice broke the silence—Andrea's voice. "Stop right there," she said as her steps came closer. As she crept up behind him, he could feel the warmth of her breath on the back of his neck, sending shivers down his spine. Every step she took seemed to echo in the silence as he anxiously wondered what she was after. Her hand moved slowly, almost hesitantly, as it reached out to touch him. She paused before him, gently raising his chin with her index finger while fixing him with a stern gaze. "I think it's wise for the baby to have his diaper on." His heart races as she stares into his eyes sternly. He becomes so afraid that he tenses up and wets his pull-up. His eyes widen with fear as the pull-up starts to swell. It was the most terrifying feeling he had ever felt. Andrea laughs at him and looks down at him with contempt. "Looks like someone needs a diaper change. It seems like you've wet your diaper. Let's go find Mom and get you changed." As they left the garage, her infectious laughter filled the air, intertwining with their footsteps. Tobias felt his heart racing with fear as they approached their mother. Andrea hid her smile and looked concerned as she glanced at her mother. "Excuse me, Mom, but Tobias had an accident, and I believe he needs a diaper change," Andrea said with a concerned expression as she looked at her mother. Their mother's face looked concerned at Tobias before she bent down to her knees, her hand stroking over his hair. "Common little one, let's change that diaper." Tobias's expression soured as a wave of embarrassment washed over him. His mother mentioned the word "diapers" instead of "pull-ups" as she gently took his hand and guided him back to his room. Once there, she swiftly removed his pants and pull-up diaper, leaving Tobias feeling utterly mortified and unable to speak a single word. She quickly swapped out the used pull-up for a fresh one and efficiently helped him back into his clothes. Before leaving, she kissed his cheek tenderly, gazing at him with love. "It's alright, little one; there's no need to feel embarrassed. Now, let's get on our way." his mother said. As she gracefully exited the room, he was left standing there, feeling the weight of humiliation from the recent events. He reached out to switch off the light before going downstairs for a quick breakfast. The morning meal was hurried, and they soon stood inside the garage. As Tobias was about to settle into the car, his sister Andrea looked at their mother. "Mom, maybe we should consider using Tobias's old car seat for the upcoming long drive. You know there have been a lot of police checks lately, especially after that terrible accident involving the child who wasn't properly secured in their seat. Even though Tobias is eight years old, he's still on the shorter side. I want to make sure he's safe, and of course, I'm also concerned about your license, Mom," Andrea said with a worried expression as she looked at her mother. Tobias' eyes got more extensive, and his face became red. "No, Mom, you can't be serious!" His mother gazed at him with quiet intensity. Afterward, she shifted her gaze back to Andrea, and her hand gently caressed Andrea's skin. "You're completely right, Andrea. I hadn't considered that. You take such good care of your brother. I'm worried about your father traveling. I'm grateful to have you, Andrea, to care for things." Their mother left the car and found Tobias's old car seat. She opened his door and looked at Tobias. As his mother hooked up the seat, he shamed out of the car. His sister smiled evilly at Tobias as their mother walked out. Without asking, she lifted Tobias, put him in his child's seat, fastened him with a belt, and fiddled with the car door before she closed it. She sighed a little and leaned into the driver's door. "I'm sorry. I need to visit the bathroom. Just stay; I won't be long." As she quickly vanished from sight, Andrea looked at Tobias with pride. She left the car and opened the trunk to find something, Tobias thought. She came back and sat down as he looked sternly at her. "Now, don't give me that look, Tobias. You know it's important to ensure that babies are securely strapped into their car seats," his sister teased him. As Tobias was on the verge of responding, his mother arrived. Opting for silence, he gazed out the window as they departed from the garage. The morning sun shone warmly on the windowpanes as the car pulled away. As they continued their journey, a significant distance had been covered when Tobias's eyes slowly opened. He had nodded off and fallen asleep during the drive. Beside him lay a bottle of water and something to eat. His mom smiled back at him from the mirror. "Good morning! Did you have a restful sleep? I quickly stopped to pick up some refreshing drinks and something to eat for you. We'll be reaching our destination in no time now." said his mother. As he started to wake up, he noted something wasn't right; he had wet himself again. The pull-up had swelled up in the front, and it didn't get any better. He needed to pee. He tried to be calm, but it got more difficult. The feeling of having to go to the bathroom began to push more and more. "Mom, I need to go to the bathroom." His mom glanced at him in the mirror and replied. "I apologize, but I can't pull over right now. We're expected to reach our destination in fifteen minutes. You're more than capable of managing that," his mother reassured him. Tobias sat uneasily in his seat, attempting to calm his nerves. Despite his efforts, he couldn't shake off the feeling of unease. Through his struggle, he noticed Andrea casting glances in his direction, adding to his discomfort. Her smile appeared mocking before she spoke. "You say you're a big boy, Tobias, so it shouldn't be a problem to hold on?" said Andrea with a big smile. As he sat there restlessly, time felt like an eternity. When his mother finally drove up a familiar driveway and stopped the car, the pressure was so great that he began to get desperate. His mother opened the car door and saw her sister waiting for them at the entrance. They met and hugged each other while Tobias sat desperately waiting for the car door to open. He repeatedly tried to open it, but the child lock was on. Frustration built up within him as he observed his mother chatting and laughing with her sister while he sat suffering. His face turned red, and his body froze when he realized the battle was lost. He desperately tried to hold it in, but it was useless. The sluices opened, and the pee filled his diaper, which swelled as much as possible, but it just continued to flow. When his nightmare was finally over, another one began. It started leaking down his side and into his pants as his aunt opened the door to greet him. When his aunt saw Tobias, her eyes widened, and his face turned red with embarrassment. There he sat, strapped in a child seat, and had just wet himself so much that his pants were now soaked. His aunt changed her gaze to slightly mocking before her voice came. "Hi, Tobias. You haven't changed a bit. I thought you had become a big boy now," she said and looked at her sister curiously. "Tobias seems to have not grown at all. I believe putting him back in a child's seat was wise. He looks like he could be as old as my Sam. I was surprised to learn that he had started wearing diapers again, which I already see has leaked through his diaper. You know, sis, when you have to put them back in diapers, you must choose a thick and long-lasting option." said his aunt to her sister. Tobias's aunt's words stung his pride, and he felt embarrassed. His aunt helped him leave the car seat while his mother approached and leaned down. She saw tears starting to come down from his eyes. Her finger wiped them away before she hugged Tobias and looked him warmly in the eyes. "Now, let's go inside, remove this wet diaper, and find clean clothes." his mother said.

Ordered the new little mermaid pull ups from wal-mart. the designs are super cute and hold a lot of potty suprisenly. Definitely check these out if you're a pull ups lover 😊

Did not expect huggies to release a 5t-6t version of their night time pull ups. But to my suprise they did and I couldn't be more happier. These seem to be a bit more stretchier then the regular 5T-6T pull ups and definitely a lot more absorbant. They feature two cute sleepy mickey mouse designs. I've already went potty 3 times in mine and no leaks! I highly recommend giving these a try if you're a pull ups fan 😊

Hey I'm trying to find alternatives to drynites as ive put on a little bit of weight due to my hrt, and no longer fit in them, and other pullups just don't have the same feel, was just wondering if anyone has any that they know of that.

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/

After years of hiding that i enjoy wearing Pullups ive finally decided to join the community as id like to meet other people similar to myself. My whole life ive always had a fascination with wearing diapers. When i was around 14 i began wearing Drynites at almost evey opertunity i could. I recently began researching into ABDL and i am very much not a fan of the ageplay, I just enjoy wearing them as they would always make me feel comfortable. i would like to chat with people that have the same interest in Pullups as i do and possibly indulge in them together eventually. Im 27 and live in Scotland and would love any advice the community can offer me.

Im new to this fourm and would love to chat with some Scottish Diaper Lovers as im looking to find friends with an interest in Pullups

Contains: Premature Ejaculation, Humiliation, Pull-ups ... Timberly Swinn, 27 F Happy for fun, would love something deeper. Sex positive, unless you’re a fuckin’ creep. I’m interested in technology and writing on the human psyche. I like board game nights with friends when we want to keep things low key. For a high energy date I’ll teach you how to play pickleball–I’d say, ‘Loser buys drinks afterwards’, but I don’t need free drinks. I’m not going to quit my career for you, don’t even ask. Looking for a sweet, sensitive guy who isn’t terrified of emotional vulnerability. Sam scanned the dating app profile, hesitated, then looked at her picture again. She was chubby and tan and didn’t appear to be more than five foot even–only an inch shorter than himself–with a short pixie cut. She radiated confidence in her selfies; attractive, self assured, and her bio got his interest. (Sure, why not?) He sent her a message. … It took two weeks of chatting before Sam could work up the courage to ask Timberly out for coffee. She countered with dinner and drinks at a local club, and he fumbled typing his response so badly he sent ‘Y3<s’ by mistake. She just…got him. They’d quickly moved off the dating app and onto a little chat app she’d recommended, and whenever he heard its notification jingle he felt his heart flutter. Timberly was funny, successful, and confident in her attractiveness–Sam thought he was just a little funny, and not in the ‘good at telling jokes’ way. He worked as an underpaid stage hand and lived out of his parents’ basement because there was nowhere else he could afford rent. What did she want out of him? He kept expecting her to drop him, to move on to someone better. In fact, he found himself almost pushing for it–he didn’t try to hide the fact he was dirt poor or put on a persona of success. Timberly didn’t mind. She insisted she was interested in who he was as a person, not the lack of a comma in his bank account. So, anxious about being underwhelming but willing to give it a try, he’d put on a shirt that properly buttoned and tan pants, walked forty minutes to the bar she’d recommended, arrived twenty minutes early, and sat on a bench outside waiting for– “Sam?” He hadn’t heard Timberly’s voice before, but he recognized her from her photos in an instant–though she hadn’t been wearing a vest over a crisp white shirt that gave her a look of strength and solid poise. Sam momentarily worried his jaw would hit the floor and his tongue would roll out like a red carpet, but he managed to come up with a reply instead. “Timberly,” he nodded his head, looking her up and down and answering all at once. “I–I feel underdressed.” “Don’t worry, I think you look just right,” she said, nodding at the restaurant door. “I’ve got us a table–and, please, you can just call me Tim.” She led him in, ordered drinks for them when the waiter came around, and let the conversation slip into talking. Sam knew he was doomed, then–he was head over heels for her. She knew what she wanted, and she was getting it. They talked about work–he had fairly little to offer to that conversation–but her ambition made him want to go run a marathon or climb a mountain or something, just any activity to match her intensity. They talked about growing up–there, he had more in common, they’d both been to charter schools and he had stories to swap. “You’re cute,” she said, after placing their dinner orders. “I–” He spluttered. The direct complement had short circuited his thoughts, and his cheeks started to burn. (Oh god, you’re blowing this. Just…breathe.) “Thank you, you look fantastic.” “Thank you,” she said, the corners of her eyes crinkling when she smiled. “But that’s not all I meant. Did you know your ears wiggle when you get excited?” “They do? I didn’t…” focusing on the sensation, he realized she was right–his ears were wiggling. “I didn’t know that.” “I read people for a living. Spotting little tells in people is my business–and it can tell you a lot about a person, too, besides just which muscles are connected to which feelings in their head.” She shrugged, her body language indicating that she found the quirk endearing. “Do you know what you want to do with your life?” she asked, pivoting the conversation so quickly it gave him whiplash. “I guess…I’d really like to be in a band,” he said, knowing it sounded lame. Tim sat back, reaching into her purse to take out her phone. “A band, huh?” “Sure, it’s kind of the fantasy, isn’t it?” And it was true, it’d been Sam’s fantasy…when he was twelve. Now, he just gave that answer because he didn’t know what else to say. “Up on stage, popular…” Eyes off him completely, Tim said, “I guess so. You don’t strike me as the ‘popular’ type.” Sam winced. “Ouch.” Her gaze returned to him, and softened a little. “Oh–I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant. I was thinking, though…is popularity chasing really your thing? That’s what you think will bring you fulfillment?” He shrugged. “I don’t…I don’t know, really. It sounds cool? But when I think about all the work that’d go into that…I don’t know. It sounds exhausting. I’d really just like to be comfortable, I think–to have friends and people I care about, to have enough free time where I can have fun, to work a job that feels like it helps people.” She set down her phone on the table and smiled. “That’s more like the Sam I know. You’ll do just fine.” “Hmm?” “I just mean, I’m enjoying this,” she said. The waiter finally stopped by, but she just asked for more water and waved him away. “I like you, Sam.” “Thanks.” Trying to find a way to fill the space and respond, he asked, “What about you? I know you like your job, but is there anything else you’re looking for in life?” She grinned. “Oh–I crave attention.” … The night went great. Better than great–they talked for hours. His crush deepend, and at the end, she drove him home. He had to awkwardly admit they were driving back to his parent’s place, but she didn’t mind; he got into her BMW and rode with her. What he wanted was to go back to her place, to hit it off in a big way, but that could wait. The night had gone well, and Tim seemed happy–he didn’t mind patience, in theory. Unfortunately, he had a tough time convincing his body of that–during the back half of the drive home, Tim had to shift the way he sat three times to hide the unfortunate erection that’d cropped up. It just wouldn’t go away, even as he kept trying to shift the conversation towards serious topics–for reasons he couldn’t quite put into words, Timberly simply made him horny. Parking on the curb, Tim walked around to get his door, let him out, and took his hand. “I had a really nice time tonight,” he said. “Me too,” she replied. “I’d like to take you out again.” He nodded enthusiastically. “Please! And–” She leaned in to kiss him, and– (Oh god, oh god–) Sam’s cheeks caught fire and he found himself unable to stifle a moan that carried into Timberly’s lips.Without warning, he found himself spurting into his boxers right there on the street, mingling embarrassment and bliss. Tim pulled back. “Was the kiss that goo–Sam?” He couldn’t help but breathe rapidly, trying to keep his face placid, unable to totally resist the sensitive shocks of bliss currently dribbling out of him. “Um…um–” Sam looked down, stupidly, shocked to see it’d soaked through. He’d stained his pants with the unexpected orgasm, right there at the end of the date, and Tim’s gaze followed his. “f**k–” he started, blush rising, before turning and sprinting into his home. He simply could not face Tim for another second. … Chirp! Chirp! Chirp! Chirp chirp! Sam didn’t answer his phone until the fifth chirp. He couldn’t bear to read the rejection message Tim had inevitably sent. Things had been going well, she’d liked him, and then he’d just blown it. (Ugh, no pun intended.) Finally, though, he had to face the music. Checking his messages… ‘Hey, Sam, I had a really nice time tonight. Don’t be embarrassed about the accident at the end–it’s not your fault.’ ‘I’d still like to go out with you again, I really didn’t mind.’ ‘How does lunch on Tuesday sound?’ ‘I knew someone in college with a similar problem. I didn’t think less of you, I was just surprised is all.’ ‘Are you okay, Sam?’ Eyes widening, he responded to the most important part first. ‘Tuesday–lunch. Yes please!’ … Things went great again, until they didn’t. Sam hadn’t experienced another bout of early ecstasy since their date, so he wrote it up as coincidence. Over excitement after a long dry spell and a wonderful night. Just to make sure, he even rubbed one out the night before. It didn’t help. They had great food, great conversation, and this time he didn’t even have the dignity of going out to the car–she reached across the table to hold his hand, gave it a squeeze, said how lovely he was looking that afternoon, and– (Oh god.) He was just glad they’d sat in a booth instead of a high top, it gave him a modicum of privacy as his cock twitched and he came in front of Timberly for the second time. “Oh, Sam–are you–” she started. He felt he had to nod, wanting to melt into nonexistence. She let him breathe, twenty seconds passing, before she said, “Hey, don’t worry about it. You can’t help it, so what’s the problem?” “Right…” he said, looking down. His jeans were stained yet again, the faint smell of cum wafting out of the booth. But when Tim smiled at him…he didn’t mind so much. … Their third date was the real breaking point. A movie at the mall, then dinner. That was the plan. But then Zoe Kravitz came on screen, and– (f**k–) Tim gave his hand a gentle squeeze, whispering under the sound of the action on screen. “Shh–it’s okay, Sammy.” That only made his blush deepen. After the film, standing in a nook by the theater exit, he tried to explain. “I swear–this was never a problem, this never happens–” “I don’t care,” Tim promised. “I’m not judging you, Sam, it’s just little accidents that happen. Some boys are like that. But…if it’s going to keep happening, you might need to do something about that.” Looking down, she gestured to the dark stain on the front of his jeans. It looked for all the world like he’d peed his pants. “I don’t know,” he said. “I guess…I could just wear a condom all the time?” She thought about it, then shook her head and took his hand–just that touch made him shudder for a moment, though thankfully he didn’t humiliate himself in front of her again. “I have another idea.” He didn’t know what she was talking about until they were deep in the mall’s retail outlet, coming up on the juvenile potty training aisle, and– He dug in his heels. “Woah! I’m not going to wear–” he dropped his voice into a low stage whisper, “diapers!” “I’m not thinking about diapers,” she said, doing nothing to match his volume shift. “Pull-ups. They make them up to your waist size, and they’ll do the trick, right?” “I, but–” he started, feeling exceptionally small–and not just in a physical sense, remembering his slim waist. “Sam,” Tim said, looking him in the eye. “Nobody except you or I will know, and it’s better than having to change your pants every time we hold hands. I’ll buy them, and a new pair of pants so we can finish our date. Just wear the pull-ups, ok, sweetie?” She wouldn’t stand for self-consciousness. He knew that, and he didn’t want to argue about the details of his diaper needs in the store when he knew he’d lose. Trying to match Timberly’s own assuredness, he nodded. “Sure.” She picked up the nearest pack, one decorated with Disney princesses, and nodded. “Ok. Let’s go find some pants, get checked out, and then we’ll find a bathroom for you to change.” … Sam hated that the pullups worked, but, well…they worked. He found himself dealing with his ‘Boy accidents’ more and more around Tim, but at least they were contained now, and all it cost was a pink waistband and the shared knowledge that he had puffy absorbent princess prints for underwear. They continued to date, weeks stretching into months, until the relationship had proper labels attached. “Boyfriend and girlfriend”. Quaint, but when Tim had declared that the terms were appropriate…he’d needed a fresh pull-up. He got to meet Tim’s friends–meeting up for game night, he was reasonably sure none of them noticed when he tensed up after Timberly laughed at one of his jokes. He had to change his pull-ups in the bathroom–twice–but had a great night otherwise. They even had sex–sort of. He lasted until she had her shirt off, but she was more than content to let Sam use his mouth and fingers to make her happy, kneeling at the foot of her bed and spending half an hour giving her the pleasure he could get in two seconds. And she never judged him. Not once. If anything, Timberly liked that she could make him pulse with pleasure just by giving him a smooch on the cheek or a squeeze of the hand. She smiled when he got flustered, said he reminded her of a kid on the playground, blushing over incredibly mild PDA. And it was mild, too. She could just stroke his hair and leave him moaning, and a deep-throated kiss was better than any marathon session he could imagine. If she really wanted, Tim could snuggle up to him on her couch during a movie, wrap her hands around his waist, and leave him quivering and drooling from pleasure. The third time she got him a pack of fresh pull-ups, she referred to them as his ‘happy pants’, and he wasn’t sure he could argue. The weird thing, though–it was just Timberly. He didn’t deal with it at work, he didn’t deal with it at home, only when he was out with her. Something about that touch, or her words, or just something made him utterly unable to control himself. He started to like it, and he was pretty sure he loved Tim, too. Four months into their relationship, she dropped two bombshells on his head. “Do you want to move in with me?” she asked, followed by, “And–your accidents are getting worse. I really think we need to get you a chastity cage.” ... Tried something new with this one, incorporating some elements I don't often use! Let me know what you think. ^^ Part two, the conclusion of their story, will be out soon! If you want to support creative endeavors like this one and get access to more content like it, you can do so here: https://www.patreon.com/PeculiarChangeling https://subscribestar.adult/peculiarchangeling

This story has been on hiatus for but while I deal with ... life. But I'm picking it up again and getting back to more regular updates, so I figured I may as well start sharing it here as well. I've been a part of the Invader Zim fandom for a while, and there's barely any ABDL content there, so I had to fix that. Chapter 1: Once is an Accident ... i. “GAHHH!! FUCK YOU, GIR!!!!” The shout from the kitchen had Dib launching himself off the couch and sliding to a halt on the tile in his socks in no time flat. He was greeted with the sight of pink milkshake over every conceivable surface; the ceiling, the counter, the walls, the table, and all over both a thoroughly amused GIR and a very angry Zim. “Shit, Zim,” Dib groaned. “I told you messing with your PAK in the kitchen was a bad idea.” Zim’s PAK sat open on the kitchen table, half dismantled from Zim’s attempt at installing an upgrade. Zim’s body seemed to have shielded it slightly, but it was still spattered with sticky pink liquid. “I didn’t think he was gonna start the blender with the top off!! ” Zim shouted, aggravated, as he rushed to mop up the mess with his shirt before it seeped too far into his PAK. “I can’t put it back on like this!!” Dib checked his watch. He’d been keeping a countdown to make sure Zim’s PAK wasn’t off for longer than the ten minute maximum. “We’ve got eight minutes before it becomes a problem. GIR —” He looked over at the robot, who was currently trying to lick milkshake out of the blender, “— start cleaning up the kitchen.” GIR saluted and gave a shrill, “Okie dokie!!!” before dashing off to grab some towels. “My life is starting to flash before my eyes, Dib!!!” Zim whined as Dib grabbed a handful of napkins and briefly ran them under the faucet. “We’ve still got time, you fucking drama queen,” Dib admonished, shoving a the napkins at Zim. “Start cleaning up with those, and I’ll follow with some rubbing alcohol to make sure everything’s dry before you plug it back in.” Zim nodded and they quickly got to work. It wasn’t long before the tight space made their tag team effort more difficult than Dib had planned, however, especially as Zim’s coordination rapidly spiraled downwards. After watching him smear strawberry chunks around for an agonizing thirty seconds, Dib finally pushed his hands aside. “We’ve got five minutes,” Dib warned. “Let me finish this and you just try to stay conscious.” Zim’s skin was an ashy shade of green and his eyes were glassy and unfocused. Even when all he had to do was sit still, he was visibly trembling. “I don’t feel so good, Dib,” he whispered hoarsely. “I know, bug, but just hang in there.” Despite the tension in the air, Dib tried harder than ever to maintain a calm demeanor, reassuring Zim in dulcet tones while scrubbing away at the sticky goo spattered all over. Behind him, he could hear GIR mostly pushing the rest of the disaster around, and he was positive he was going to need to clean that up later, as well. As the minutes ticked down, Dib’s anxiety rose like a tsunami, threatening to crash down on him every time Zim moaned in discomfort. He was down to his last minute before he knew it, and there was still a cluster of wires he had yet to clean. It was just out of reach and if he had more than sixty seconds left, he would have grabbed a cotton swab to finish cleaning them off. As it was, he twisted a napkin to give it a bit of rigidity, and blindly stuffed it in while checking his watch. “Shit.” Thirty seconds left. He shook his head and pulled his makeshift cleaning device back out. “This’ll have to do, Zim.” He leaned over and hauled Zim up onto his lap. The poor little Irken was barely even responding at this point. With seconds to spare, Dib lifted the PAK to Zim’s back and the cables shot out to reconnect with the ports on Zim’s back. Zim’s eyelids fluttered and he groaned incomprehensibly, but as he squinted and rubbed his eyes, the color was beginning to return to his cheeks. “You feeling alright?” Dib asked nervously. That last spill had been worryingly close to an awful lot of connections. Zim nodded, sliding off Dib’s lap and onto the floor. He did a couple toe touches, stretched his arms, and bounced up and down on the balls of his feet. “Yep. Everything seems to be in or—” A sudden zap of electricity made his body convulse and PAK spark. Dib watched in silent horror as Zim suddenly went limp and fell to the floor, antennae twitching twice before falling still. Before a single coherent thought could pass through Dib’s head, he jumped up and grabbed the silicone pot holders from the counter and used them to turn Zim onto his side. The Irken didn’t seem to be breathing, but it was difficult to tell for sure. Dib retrieved his phone from his pocket and held it under Zim’s mouth, waiting for it to fog up. When it didn’t, a sick knot of realization began to form in Dib’s belly. He had no idea how to give an alien CPR. He had a vague idea of Zim’s internal structure, but the question of how to restart things had simply never come up. And when even successful human CPR led to a few broken ribs, he was leery of injuring Zim further. “Stand clear.” The robotic, monotone voice sent Dib scurrying backwards in a panic. Had Zim’s PAK really just spoken ??? Was it allowed to do that on its own?? That question certainly hadn’t ever cropped up before in all the years they’d known each other. Another jolt of electricity arced between Zim’s antennae, making his muscles twitch and jerk for a few painfully slow seconds before he was still once more. Dib leaned forward, heart hammering in his chest and breath stuck in his throat. “Zim?” he whispered, reaching out with a shaking hand. Zim’s face screwed up and he let out a low groan before opening his bleary eyes. “S-sugar …” he mumbled. Dib fell forwards and hugged him tightly. “Oh thank fuck!! I thought you died!!” “Ow … I did ,” Zim grumbled. Dib sat up so fast he saw stars. “ What‽‽ ” Zim laboriously pushed himself up into a sitting position and rubbed his temples. “Well, I’m not dead now, idiot. My systems reset themselves,” he said thickly. “Death is rarely a permanent state, Dibby.” “God forbid there be a normal day in this household,” Dib sighed as GIR scooted by on a towel, oblivious and smearing pink stickiness across everything in his wake. Zim groaned and rubbed his head. “Getting reset depletes sugar reserves, so I’m going to need you to get me off this floor and grab me a snack before I keel over again.” Zim still seemed too weak to properly hold on to anything, so Dib lifted him in a bridal carry and carefully walked him to the couch. He set Zim down, propped up against the pillows, and gently touched a hand to Zim’s cheek. His skin was clammy and slightly pale, but at least he was obviously alive. “Are you gonna be alright?” Dib asked worriedly. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. Just grab me a glass of Tang and a couple sugar cookies,” Zim replied in much more subdued tones. Dib gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “You got it.” He strode into the kitchen, but stopped dead at the edge of the tile. GIR was sprawled out on the floor, attempting to make milkshake angels. Dib sighed, edged around the kitchen, and opened one of the cupboards to fish around for a bucket. Once he’d located one — and dumped out all the junk it contained — he filled it with soap, water, and a bit of rubbing alcohol. GIR did better when the list of steps to complete a task was as small as humanly possible, so mixing the cleaning solution before handing the task off reduced the opportunity for errors. “Alright, you’ve had enough fun,” Dib said irritably, shoving the bucket at a thoroughly unphased GIR. “I don’t care if you strap sponges to your feet or make yourself a towel taco, I just need this mess gone.” “Caaaan dooooo,” GIR yelled, snatching the bucket from him and dashing towards the sponges as soapy water sloshed onto the floor. Dib skirted out of his way and busied himself with grabbing Zim’s requested snack. He returned to the living room with a plate of sugar cookies and Tang in one of GIR’s sippy cups. Zim gave the cup a slightly hard stare, but ultimately shook his head and didn’t question the choice. “So I was thinking,” Dib said as he carefully sat down beside Zim, “we should take it easy for the rest of the day, considering you died for around forty-five seconds. We can just hole up and watch some horror movies, get some soda and kettle corn into you, that sort of thing.” Zim snuggled against Dib, head on his chest. “Works for me. I still feel … Ugh , it’s hard to put into words,” he grumbled, taking a long sip of his drink. “Something feels off, but I can’t explain it.” Dib frowned, numerous worries occupying the back of his brain. “We could take your PAK off again and try to do a more thorough job of cleaning it out?” he offered. “Not right now,” Zim said, squeezing his eyes shut. “If you take too long, it’s going to be that much harder on my body. I’m really not in any shape for that right now.” He nestled in closer, as if proximity to Dib would fix things. “I just …” He looked up at Dib, concern scrawled across his face. “Hold me?” he asked, voice barely a whisper. Dib’s expression softened to one that was very nearly pity. Zim had a habit of being a pain in the ass and prickly more often than not, but he regularly demanded physical comfort whenever he was feeling less than stellar for any reason. “Yeah,” Dib replied gently. “But let me grab you some kettle corn and cocoa, first.” Zim shook his sippy cup and raised his eyebrows. “In a mug?” “In a thermos ,” Dib corrected. “I don’t need you spilling all over the couch when the kitchen is already a disaster.” An hour or so later, as morning spilled into golden autumn afternoon, the kitchen was finally clean and they were midway through one of Dib’s favorite horror movies. Zim sat snuggled under multiple blankets on Dib’s lap with a belly pleasantly full of warm drinks and sugary snacks. His color has finally returned to normal and he was no longer shivering. By all accounts, he was back to normal. Still, though, he couldn’t shake the feeling something was different . As he struggled to pin down exactly what or why , a sudden crescendo of music crashed through the speakers in a cheap jump scare, startling Zim back to the present with a horribly unwelcome jolt. He was suddenly glad that Dib had insisted on giving him all his drinks in containers with a top. He grumbled under his breath, ruffled, before settling back down against Dib, vaguely aware that the space between them felt a bit warmer than it had a minute ago. Beneath him, Dib shifted slightly, froze, then freed his arm from around Zim to blindly feel around under the blankets for a moment before coming to a rest. “Er … Zim?” “What?” Zim asked gruffly, still miffed that the movie had managed to startle him as badly as it did. “Did you lose your phone again? Because I’m not getting up this time.” Dib opened his mouth, let out a sort of strangled sigh, then bit the inside of his cheek, brow furrowed. “Did you … uh. Jesus, there is no easy way to ask this …” He pressed his palm to his forehead before spitting out in a single breath, “ Please tell me you just spilled your cocoa. ” Zim turned and raised an eyebrow, holding up his thermos. “No? Why are you—” As he shifted, he finally felt what Dib was talking about, and his eyes went wider than flying saucers. “ Oh my god , Zim,” Dib groaned, taking him under the arms and lifting him away like a badly behaved cat. As he stood up and the blankets fell away, there was no question what had happened. Both their pants were soaked, along with a sizeable portion of the cushion beneath them. Zim stood in a small puddle, dripping and purple-faced with embarrassment. “How did you not feel that??” Dib asked, more baffled than upset. “Everything was already really warm!” Zim insisted frantically. Dib gave him a look that was equal parts worry and horror. “You didn’t even feel like you had to go??” Zim tossed his arms up in frustration. “Do I look like I’m five?” “I’m not trying to be an ass here, Zim,” Dib insisted, trying to tone down his intensity to something Zim would find less offensive. “I just need to know if you had any idea this was gonna happen, before it happened.” “Of course I—!” Zim stopped mid sentence, suddenly realizing that he hadn’t gotten any of the usual signals. Not so much as a twinge. “I mean, I think … fuck.” He stared down at the puddle around his feet. “I … didn’t feel anything,” he finally admitted in hushed tones. Dib pushed his glasses up to rub the bridge of his nose. “Shit. Alright. Well, first of all, you’re banned from screwing with your PAK anymore until we sort this out.” Zim shot him a snide expression. “You can’t ban me from fixing my own brain, Dib!” “Until we figure out exactly what went wrong? Yes, I can.” Dib glanced down at his soaked pants with a frown before seeming to give up and start unbuttoning things. “Just take all your clothes off here,” he instructed as he peeled away his wet clothes. “You take everything up to the wash. I’m gonna shower off and run out to the store real quick.” Zim paused in the middle of attempting to pull his socks off, balancing on one foot. “Why are you going to the store?” he asked, suspicious. Dib’s face contorted into something that was somewhere north of innocence and south of pity. Zim scowled back. “Why are you going to the store, Dib ?” he asked, enunciating each word with palpable malice. Dib held up his hands. “It’s just as an ‘in case’ measure, alright?” Zim sucked in a breath and puffed out his chest, blustering and fuming in what Dib could only imagine was very angry Irken. “It was ONE TIME !!!” he finally spat out, incensed. Dib nervously ran a hand through his hair. “Okay … and if it isn’t just one time?” Zim growled something under his breath, fists at his sides. “It might not be related to the issue with your PAK, but if it is, I’d rather be prepared,” Dib said simply. “You’re not putting me in diapers!” Zim snapped. “Fine. No diapers. But I am gonna grab a pack of pull-ups or something, just in case ,” Dib said as he tossed his underwear onto the pile, trying to remain blasé about the whole thing. Which was a difficult thing to pull off while naked and covered in piss. Zim spied Dib’s cock poking out of a thicket of hair and abruptly looked away before he could get distracted. Not to mention, he was vaguely concerned that getting turned on in wet pants might rewire him in an even worse way. He merely crossed his arms and faced away. “I’ll get you some snacks as a consolation,” Dib said as he turned to walk upstairs. “We’re almost out of Fun Dip, right? I’ll get you more of that.” Zim gathered the clothes and blankets and damp cushion with the help of his PAK legs to steady everything. He’d stupidly put his clothes-cleaning contraption upstairs, but at least he’d had the foresight to put it right outside the lift. The stairs were really just for Dib’s benefit. It was the only way the kid got any exercise, some days. Zim pulled aside one of the large speakers beside the TV to reveal the interior of an elevator, and climbed inside with his bundle. He reached the top just as Dib finished hosing himself off in the shower, and got to work loading the machine with all of the damp clothes and blankets. Dib dressed himself in a flash, hurriedly striding towards the stairs before Zim was even finished. “I’ll be back before you know it!” Dib called on his way down. Zim gave only a non-committal grunt. “Text me if you think of anything you want!” “Hmph.” Zim rolled his eyes and slammed the door to the washer shut, irritably poking at the controls until it chimed happily and began chugging away. Zim waited, one antenna perked, until he heard the front door close and lock behind Dib. His human would be gone for at least ten minutes, and ten minutes was all Zim needed to get back inside his PAK and fix this irritating little hiccup once and for all. ii. Dib’s truck rumbled along the road back home, the breeze from the windows making the bags beside him billow and snap. He caught a glimpse of the package contained inside and felt himself blush slightly. Although the situation was embarrassing and slightly worrying when it came to Zim’s overall health, Dib found that he was strangely un-squicked by recent events. Even though Zim had pissed right in his lap, he hadn’t really found the situation all that revolting. If he hadn’t been so shocked at the time, it might have even been a little hot. Zim, caught in an embarrassing situation, dependent on Dib to make things better … Dib shook his head to clear it as he pulled up to the base. He doubted he could get Zim on board with that sort of roleplay. But he could dream, at least. He killed the engine, grabbed his bags, and hopped out of the truck. Scattered leaves blew across his path, catching on the tacky lawn gnomes Zim still insisted stand guard outside. Dib would have been lying if he said he didn’t find Zim’s sense of decor at least a little amusing. He opened the door and stepped inside. “I’m back!” he shouted cheerily, kicking his shoes off. He started towards the stairs, then stopped dead. The whole base was eerily quiet, except for what he’d initially written off as the wind whistling over the roof. But as he stood there, barely breathing, it had begun to sound an awful lot more like sobbing. “ Zim ??” When there was no answer, Dib dropped his bags and raced up the spiraling steps. He came to a screeching halt at the doorway to their bedroom, where Zim was crumped on the floor, sobbing and sitting in a puddle of something that Dib would have bet money wasn’t tears. Nevertheless, Dib rushed over and scooped Zim up, hugging him close. “What’s wrong??” he asked, rubbing the small of Zim’s back in an attempt to soothe him. “I tried to fix it!!” Zim wailed, breath hitching in his throat. “The wires … they were all — hic!! — fused in the wrong spots. I tried to separate them, but … but once I put my PAK back on, it … it shorted out again. And … and when I woke up I — hic!! — I was on the floor and I know I just made it worse!!” Anger swelled in Dib’s chest for a moment, but it was quickly snuffed out by Zim’s obvious upset. There was nothing to be gained by cussing him out for his actions. He was already suffering the consequences. Plus, the sounds he was making were causing Dib heartache like he’d never felt before. All he wanted was to put things right. “It’s gonna be okay,” Dib murmured, hugging him tightly. Zim shook his head, face buried in Dib’s shoulder. “No, it isn’t !! I don’t know what’s wrong but something just isn’t right!!! ” It was hard for Dib to argue. He’d never seen Zim so worked up before. He’d seen him get a little teary over things or sometimes even cry out of frustration, but he’d never dissolved into such a thoroughly inconsolable state before. “Let’s get you cleaned up, and then we can go back to taking it easy, okay?” Dib said softly. Zim took a few shaky breaths in an attempt to get ahold of himself. “Bath,” he finally mumbled, wiping his eyes. Dib was slightly taken aback. Zim usually avoided anything deeper than a puddle like the plague. “I was just gonna let you shower off, but yeah, we can do a bath, if that’s what you want.” He stood up and carried Zim to the bathroom, watching with growing concern as Zim buried his face in the front of his hoodie. He lowered himself onto the edge of the bathtub and turned on the taps, putting his wrist in the stream to gauge the temperature before plugging the drain and gently setting Zim down. “Get settled. I’ll be right back.” Dib made it to the stairs in a few long strides, descending the steps to retrieve two of the bags he’d dropped by the door. On his way back through the bedroom, he tossed one bag onto the bed, then carried the other with him back into the bathroom. He made it back up in time to see Zim adding a hefty amount of bubble bath to the water. “You’re really going all-in on this, huh?” Dib remarked as he put his back against the wall and slid to a sitting position next to the tub. Zim ducked his head nervously. “It smells nice.” Dib leaned on the edge of the tub and reached out to cup Zim’s cheek, stroking it with his thumb. “Yeah, it does. And that means you’ll smell nice when we’re cuddled up together on the couch, later.” Zim pressed against his hand with a soft purr, eyes closed, a contented smile on his face. Dib’s own sad smile slowly faded as the full weight of the interaction started to hit him. He felt like he was talking to a slightly younger Zim. At the very least, a Zim with all the usual sass and salt stripped out. And that had him worried, sure, but the worst part was, he knew full well that some part of him was enjoying the shift. Taking care of a soft, sweet Zim fulfilled some basic need he didn’t even know he had. Zim slowly opened his eyes, and the pink packaging inside the bag suddenly caught his attention. “Do I even need to ask what that is?” he said wearily. Dib gave a weak smile and finally pulled the package out of the bag. The front graphic showed an earth child in a t-shirt and what appeared at first to be purple underwear. It didn't take Zim’s earth-shattering IQ to be able to guess they weren’t that, at all. “I was a bedwetter for way longer than I care to say,” Dib admitted, cheeks going pink. “So I can personally vouch for this brand. Pluuuus ,” he added in a sing-song tone, “they’re purple and pink! Your favorite colors.” Zim stared blankly for a second, then puffed out his cheeks. “Wow, Dib. I didn’t think I could feel any more self conscious about this, but congratulations.” Dib deflated a bit and ran his fingers through his hair. “Yeah, sorry. Just try to remember that it’s not for forever, alright?” Zim opened his mouth, then closed it and shook his head, thinking better of whatever he was about to say. Instead, he grabbed a washcloth and thrust it at Dib. “There’s still some milkshake on my back,” he said quietly. “I can’t reach it myself. Can you …? Dib took the washcloth from him, dipped it into the bath water, and gently began cleaning him up. There were strawberries caked along the outline of his PAK, along with the general stickiness coating everything. Zim held uncharacteristically still as Dib worked, merely swirling his fingers in the water and watching the bubble trails. “Are you alright?” Dib finally asked after several minutes of silence. “Yeah, Dib. I’ve always wanted to start pissing myself at random. So, you know. Never better,” Zim replied dryly without looking up. “We could keep trying to fix it, you know,” Dib offered as he poured water down Zim’s back to clean under his PAK. “No,” Zim replied sorrowfully, “it’s not just the wires. Some of the chips are damaged, and they’re not like your computer chips. They’re grown, like crystals. So you can’t just slap a new one in there any more than you can take a slice of your brain and replace it.” He leaned his head against the cool tile, eyes closed. “There are tools to regrow broken chips, but I don’t have them. There’s a chance I could pick up what I need on Vort, but that’s not possible right now because of the political situation.” Dib silently wrung out the washcloth and set it on the edge of the tub. “So you’re …” “Stuck like this for the foreseeable future, yeah,” Zim confirmed, swirling the bubbles around with his finger. “And I don’t even know the full extent of what ‘like this’ is .” “You haven’t been losing any of your other faculties, have you?” Dib asked with a concerned frown. Zim shook his head. “No, I just feel weird. Different.” He pushed the water from side to side, watching the frothy waves bounce around the tub as he struggled to find the words. “Smaller, almost,” he finally whispered. “I just want physical comfort and … simple things. I don’t know …” Dib reached out and put a finger under Zim’s chin, making him look up. “You want me to take care of you?” he asked gently. As he looked into Zim’s eyes, there was no denying that something had permanently shifted. The Zim that sat in front of him seemed to be trying to take up as little space as possible. Everything about him seemed to cry out for affection, and Dib wanted nothing more than to give it to him. Zim bit his lip nervously before giving a small nod. “Y-yeah. Being taken care of sounds nice.” Dib leaned forwards and kissed him on his forehead, then sat back on his heels. “Good, because that’s what I was planning to spend the rest of the day doing, anyways.” Dib pulled the stopper out of the drain and shook out a fuzzy purple towel as Zim stood up out of the water with a shiver. In one fluid motion, Dib wrapped Zim up in the towel and whisked him up before the alien could protest. Much to his surprise, this got a genuine laugh out of Zim instead of the usual cussing-out. “Man, you are in some rare moods today,” Dib said as he kissed Zim’s cheek. Zim shrugged self-consciously. “I guess …” His blush made his freckles stand out like stars in a dusty desert twilight, and for a moment, all Dib could do was smile and take it all in. “You’re still going to make me put one of those things on, aren’t you?” Zim asked quietly, face falling as Dib set him down on his feet. “Sorry,” Dib murmured, in lieu of saying ‘yes’. “If it had just been the one accident, I wouldn’t push, but, well.” He shrugged apologetically. “Twice is kind of a pattern.” Zim dried himself off slowly, looking over the packaging that claimed the product enclosed “ looks and feels like real underwear! ” It was a bold claim that Zim wasn’t positive would be able to hold up under scrutiny. It also hammered home the fact that Zim was departing the realm of whatever “real” underwear happened to be, and he had no idea if -- or when -- he’d be returning. The uncertainty left a knot in his guts. As Zim finished drying off his legs, Dib ripped one end of the package open and pulled out something that certainly looked more like a diaper than any sort of adult undergarment Zim had ever seen. Dib handed it over and Zim, still skeptical, took it and examined it closer. At least Dib had done his best to get the good colors. But that was really the only bright spot. Zim pulled the stretchy sides wide enough to step into it, then shimmied it up until the padding was flush with his crotch. He wiggled it around a bit, noting the muted crinkle the thing made as he shifted. He looked up to meet Dib’s eyes. “This is a diaper,” he said with a wry look. “It’s just a pull-up,” Dib corrected. “Call it whatever you want, Dib,” Zim said with a sigh as he walked towards the bedroom closet. “Doesn’t really change what it is. You know. I know.” He gestured half-heartedly towards the packaging. “Even those lying marketing executives probably know.” There wasn’t much Dib could say to that, so he gave Zim a sort of well-meaning pat on the head, and went to dig through the dresser for a change of clothes. After changing into some ridiculously fluffy pajamas, they settled in for an afternoon of sugar and scary movies with the hope of taking Zim’s mind of what a disaster the day had been so far. Zim had been concerned that Dib would want to keep a bit of distance between the two of them, but instead Dib seemed to want him as close as possible. Dib tended to be fairly affectionate as it was, but tonight he was all but smothering Zim with his love, cuddling him and preening his antennae. “Normally I’d never say this, because I’m worried you’d rip my face off and wear it as a hat, but you’re really cute,” Dib murmured between cheek kisses. “I wouldn’t kick your ass for that,” Zim said dismissively. “You always assume I want to be referred to in hard, masculine terms, but I’ve never said that.” Dib raised his eyebrows in surprise. “For real?” “Yeah,” Zim said as he snuggled against Dib’s chest. “I’d like it if you called me cute more often.” Dib smiled and hugged him close. “How about adorable?” “Mm-Hmm. That one, too.” “Sweet?” “Literally and figuratively, yes.” “My little bug?” Zim stopped with a Fun Dip stick halfway to his mouth. Those words made all eight ventricles of his heart suddenly flutter so badly, he was momentarily convinced he was experiencing a cardiac event. Dib laughed nervously, “Alright, not that one. Message received.” Zim hunched his shoulders reflexively. “Um. Actually … say that one again?” Dib looked down, trying and failing to read his expression. “What? My little bug?” he repeated cautiously. Zim closed his eyes, a stupid smile spreading across his face. The words were warm and soft, like a blanket fresh from the dryer on a chilly fall evening. “Oh, you actually like that one!” Dib remarked, more than a little surprised. “I thought the silence was because you were too nice to tell me it was stupid.” “I’m never too nice to call you stupid , Dib,” Zim pointed out with a sidelong glance and a barely concealed smirk. “But yes, when you say that, it gives me the warm-and-fuzzies.” “Sure that’s not because you’ve peed yourself again?” Dib said under his breath. Zim gave him a swift elbow to the ribs for his trouble. “Be nice to Zim!” he groused with a scowl as Dib coughed and grabbed his side. “I’ve had a rough day. Asshole.” “ Fuck , I think you broke something,” Dib wheezed as tears sprung to his eyes. “ Good . Think of that next time you decide that making me feel like filthy garbage over something I can’t help is a fantastic idea.” Zim crossed his arms and leaned his way out of Dib’s lap, flopping against the arm of the couch. Well. There he was. That was the Zim that Dib knew and (mostly) loved. Dib rubbed his ribs gingerly, a sinking feeling in his guts. “Hey, I’m sorry, alright?” he offered gently. “I didn’t mean to ruin a nice moment. I … guess I was just trying to be funny.” Zim covered his head with his arms. “It’s not funny, Dib,” he said, muffled. “It’s one of the least funny things to ever happen to me!” His shoulders shook for a moment as he sucked in a deep breath. “… especially because it is wet …” he added, so softly that Dib almost missed it. “Fuck, I’m so sorry,” Dib said frantically, standing up and giving Zim’s sleeve a little tug. “C’mere. Let’s go take care of it.” Zim looked up miserably, wiping the corner of his eye on his sleeve. “I can do it myself, Dib.” “I know you can, but I said I was going to take care of you, so come here and let me handle things.” Dib reached down and made a little “up!!” gesture with his fingers. Zim gave an aggravated little snort, but eventually stood up and allowed Dib to pick him up. He wrapped his legs and arms around Dib’s body, clinging like a toddler, face buried in Dib’s shoulder to hide how badly he was blushing. “You’ve got to tell me when you need it swapped out,” Dib admonished gently as they ascended the stairs. “I was comfy,” Zim mumbled. “If that’s seriously the lie you’re going with, I’m gonna start checking,” Dib said with a warning glance. “Do you want that?” “Of course not!!” Zim sputtered. “It’s embarrassing, okay?? I don't want to draw attention to it.” “You know what’s more embarrassing?” Dib asked as he set Zim down on the floor. “Leaking all over me and the couch. Now, do me a favor and hold your shirt out of the way.” Zim sighed and lifted up his shirt as Dib deftly pulled his pants down and ripped the sides on his pull-up to take it off. He set it on the ground and pulled out a pack of wipes from the bag on the bed, then set to work wiping Zim down. It wasn’t as if Dib wasn’t already intimately familiar with all of Zim’s bits. They had a very healthy love life, and one of Dib’s favorite things to do was put his face between Zim’s thighs and absolutely go to town eating him out until Zim’s legs shook and he couldn’t see straight. But there was something altogether different about having Dib clean him up with all the gentle care in the world, absolutely devoid of sexual subtext. Or at least, that’s how it looked . “I’m starting to think you like this more than you’ve let on,” Zim said suspiciously. It was a stab in the dark, but it was also the only thing that explained why Dib seemed so completely unbothered by the whole thing. Dib shrugged. “I guess? Taking care of you kinda hits a special part of my heart just right,” he said with a genuine smile. “I don’t like that you’re in this situation, but as long as you are, I’d love to get to pamper the absolute hell out of you.” “I said no diapers, Dib,” Zim insisted nervously. “I mean I want to dote on you, dummy,” Dib said as he rolled everything up and brought it to the bin on the other side of the room. “Although diapers would make this whole thing easier. You wouldn’t need to take everything off in order for me to change you.” Zim whined as he stepped out of his pajama bottoms. “Not yet,” he said, a pleading tone to his words. Dib came back with a fresh pull-up, sprinkled with what smelled like lavender baby powder. “Suit yourself,” he said, holding the disposable underwear out in front of Zim. “Step into this, and then we’re done.” Zim put a hand on Dib’s shoulder for balance and did as he was told. “So that’s really it?” he asked as he straightened the leg bands on his hips. “You just like coddling me? You don’t have a piss fetish or anything?” Dib didn’t immediately answer, and when Zim looked up, his face was an indescribable shade of red. “ Oh my Tallest ,” Zim said, face falling. “I trusted you!” Dib fiddled with his glasses. “I’m not getting off on this!!” he insisted. A little too intently, Zim thought. “It’s more like … it’s cute??” he attempted desperately. “It’s weirdly emotionally intimate and it just makes me want to cuddle you, okay??” “So none of it is sexual?” Zim asked dryly as he pulled up his pajama bottoms. Dib tilted his head back towards the ceiling and gave a frustrated moan. “Ohhhh my gawd, alright . Look. Let me put it this way,” he said, face still on the red side of pink. “If we were fucking and you … um … you know …” Zim raised his eyebrows. Having a laugh at Dib’s expense was simply too easy. “ No . I don’t know.” Dib ran his fingers through his hair once, and then a few extra times for good measure. “Okay. Okay okay okay . If you … if you were inside of me, and you pissed …” Dib tossed his hands up on either side of him in a greatly exaggerated shrug. “I wouldn’t hate it , alright??” Zim thought for a moment, foot tapping as he watched Dib squirm out of the corner of his eye. “But would you like it ?” he asked, trying not to grin when Dib’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. “Gah!!! Yes, Zim! Is that what you want to hear??” he yelled. “That I fucking fantasize about having the balls to ask you to piss inside me and then fuck me in it?? ” A smile tugged at the corner of Zim’s face. He’d never seen Dib snap like this before and it was highly amusing. “Holy shit …” he whispered to himself. Dib continued on with his rant, unaware. “Because I do , alright?? I think that would be hot as hell , especially if you told me what a disgusting, perverted freak I am while you do it!!” He stopped gesticulating wildly and dropped his arms, panting. His glasses had nearly slid off his face and his hair was wild. “Are you happy now??? ” Dib demanded as Zim desperately stifled a giggle with his sleeve. “You have no idea,” he replied with a grin. “I’m not taking advantage of this situation, I swear ,” Dib said, still visibly flustered as he fixed his glasses. “You’re cute and I want to take care of you. I just also haven’t stopped seeing you as my partner so, if you want to still have sex…” He trailed off with a hopeful look. “That option is still on the table.” Zim stepped forwards and hugged Dib around the waist. “Good. Because I haven’t stopped enjoying the thought of being inside you.” Dib ruffled his antennae. “Perpetually on the same page. That’s why I love you.” Zim stepped back and made an “up!!” motion with his arms, an expectant look on his face. Dib rolled his eyes, but ultimately reached down to pick him up. “Alright, alright. One more movie, because I can’t say no to that look. But then we’re going to bed for real. It really has been a long day.”

Went to Wal-Mart today and was suprised to find a box of the newly released pull ups designs! both front designs feature mickey on the front and then donald and mickey on the back for the 1st one and goofy and mickey on the 2nd one. I really like the art direction they went with these I just wish it was a different character instead of mickey. I did notice they seemed a little thinner then last years but they do hold a lot more in my opinion ☺️

I'm curious to hear stories about everyone's first time in diapers or pullups. Obviously, we all wore them as kids, but what was the first time after being potty trained? This is my story. I was in middle school and had the house to myself. My parents took my siblings to swim practice so I knew I'd knew i would have a few hours to myself. My sister is a few years younger than me but fully potty trained. We kept pullups for her in the house as a "backups" for trips or sleepovers. At the time, i was in the habit of wearing her panties any chance i got to be alone in the house. As soon as my family left I'd run to her room, open her drawer and "play" with them. I loved all the soft fabrics and designs. All my boy underwear were tighty whites up until almost high school. But she had princesses, unicorns and cartoon characters on her panties. And i wanted some for myself for awhile. I would also routinely play with her Barbies while alone. I used to play with them when i was younger (my parents were very loving and accepting) and my sister inherited my collection when she was born. And she also got her own. Well, this time when i went to grab a Barbie, the bag of pullups fell from the shelf too. I immediately got curious. I barely remembered wearing diapers/pullups as a kid. but these ones had Disney Princesses on them! and i could squeeze into her panties (just barely) so why not try a pullup. I ran in the bathroom and slid into it. It felt electric seeing Ariel and Cinderella playing on my pullup. I even forgot about the Barbie i sat on the counter (who watched me model the pullup) I left it on for awhile as i cleaned up my sisters room, putting away the panties and dolls i played with. Then about 20 mins before my family was due to arrive home, I decided i would try wetting the pullup. I ran into the bathroom and just went. it felt AMAZING! but then i began to leak and i panicked. I jumped in the tub and ripped off the pullup. I threw down a whole roll of toilet paper trying to clean up the leakage on the floor . I ended up rushing to our neighbors house (it was trash pickup day) and throwing the pullup in their bin not more than 2 minutes before my family got home. Thankfully i wasn't caught haha. The urge to wear pullups faded but has since come alive again in the last few year. I'm currently wearing girls goodnites a few times a week and trying to squeeze into pullups again. That's my story, thanks for reading. Can't wait to hear your tales too

Hey guys, I’ve been experimenting a bit with different cloths over my diaper, I usually wear pull ups to work and diapers at home, and find it great to wear a body or a onesie under my cloths just to keep the diaper well in place! Over that I usually wear some leggings or spandex shorts as I like that my diaper bulge shows a bit hehe... what do you Pfeffer to wear over a diaper or pull-ups?