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Funnily enough, this story isn't about a Middle! Sophie-only story, so no colors this time. And no, there's not going to be more chapters. It's just a fun little one-off what-if story for my friend Lyra. --------------------------------- Premise: Lyra takes extra precautions for a long flight home with no bathroom breaks. Will Lyra regret her decision when she is seated between two beautiful women? Disclaimers: diapers, public, teasing, wetting --------------------------------- The Middle By Sophie Starring: @Lyra Silver Lyra looked down at her arm rests, one on each side. They weren’t big enough for two arms, and her flight was booked solid. She would have to share. The window seat gets the window, Lyra rationalized, so surely I can have the arm rest. And the aisle seat can get up to use the bathroom whenever they want without needing to ask. That entitles me to their arm rest as well. In fact, Lyra was so nervous about asking a stranger to move out of the way that she had taken precautions. The flight from Boston to Los Angeles was six hours long, and her bladder was proportionate to the rest of her; that is to say, rather small. She had never worn a diaper outside of the comfort of her own bedroom, but it seemed the practical choice. Practicality was about the only thing that could get past her social anxiety. Nonetheless, a part of Lyra was still regretting not spending the extra eighteen dollars for an aisle seat. Inevitably, the seats beside Lyra were taken in tandem. A pair of beautiful women stood in the aisle and checked their tickets against the tag above the row. One of them had shoulder-length brown hair and wore tight fitted pants with a dressy shirt. The other had long blonde hair and was wearing a sundress that was probably intended for shorter people. They were tall, at least six inches taller than Lyra, and leaned in close to whisper to each other. Lyra caught a glance at their wedding rings in matching styles. “Excuse me,” the brunette said brightly, leaning down to meet Lyra’s eyes. She towered over her just a bit, and Lyra had to work to find her words. “Hi, uh… are these your seats?” Lyra managed to ask. “They are,” the brunette smiled. “My wife and I didn’t expect this plane to be so full, so we got the window and the aisle hoping to have the row to ourselves.” “Oh…” Lyra didn’t think about that. When she booked this seat, the two beside her were already taken. Without thinking, she offered: “Well, I could move over if you’d like to sit together.” “I want the window,” the blonde called from the aisle, a touch of annoyance in her voice. “And we paid for those seats.” “That’s a fair point,” the brunette replied, though it wasn’t clear if she was still talking to Lyra or her spouse. “Let’s keep the arrangement for now.” Then, distinctly to Lyra: “Would you please let us in?” “Oh, yeah. Of course. Sorry.” Lyra quickly stood up and shimmied her way into the aisle. When getting on the plane, she had been so cognizant to take small, careful steps and to keep her hips still. But in her hurry, every step made Lyra’s diaper crinkle. The blonde woman glanced up at her wife and the brunette raised her eyebrows. Lyra didn’t even notice the sound in her bout of social awkwardness, but after the blonde took her seat by the window - and Lyra sat down again on her padded butt - she was reminded what she was wearing. No one heard anything, Lyra thought to herself: another rationalization. All my friends say no one can even tell. They have other things to worry about. Not everyone thinks about a stranger’s underwear. Nonetheless, a part of Lyra wished she had just worn panties like she wanted to. Once again, her efficiency was getting in the way of her comfort. The plane took off without incident. Soon, the three women - with a cabin of other inconsequential characters - were soaring high above the clouds. The brunette took the armrest on Lyra’s right and the blonde took the armrest on Lyra’s left. Lyra sunk further into her seat and sighed, playing with her fingers in her lap. The middle seat is so undignified, she mused. This is middle-seat sub culture at its finest. Every so often, the women would talk over Lyra, sharing a sentence or two, and returning to their own respective forms of entertainment. The blonde watched a video on her phone; she must have been paying for wifi. The brunette was reading a mystery novel, as far as Lyra could tell by the cover. But inevitably, talking over Lyra meant talking to Lyra. “So you live in L.A.?” the brunette asked her. “Or are you visiting someone?” “I live there. I was spending the weekend with some friends.” “Oh, that’s quite a long flight to visit friends. How did you meet?” “Uh… online.” Lyra avoided that answer wherever she could. She had the sneaking suspicion that a majority of people felt online friends were somehow less than real-life friends. If anything, this weekend proved otherwise. But the strangers on the plane didn’t have her experiences. “Lindsay and I met online,” the brunette said, nodding to her wife. “I’m Margo, by the way.” “Nice to meet you, I’m Lyra.” “Lyra. That’s a cute little name, isn’t it?” “I, uh…” Lyra’s face flushed. ‘Cute’ was a diminishing enough adjective without the added ‘little’. “Very cute,” Lindsay interjected, leaning away from the window to join the conversation. “What do you do for work, Lyra?” Margo asked. “I… IT stuff. Computer stuff…” There was a more complicated answer there, but Lyra was halfway between ‘it’s not worth explaining’ and ‘I feel like I’m forgetting half the English language’. “Wow, that’s hard work,” Margo said. “Very grown up stuff,” Lindsay added. “I never would have thought you did stuff like that.” Lyra sunk further into the seat and nodded her head, unsure of what to say. Her face was hot and the way the women were speaking to her didn’t sound very realistic. It sounded like something she would read in a story. All the same, they seemed to have the same effect. “Would you like any drinks?” someone asked from the aisle. A woman was standing there with a cart of soda cans and water bottles. Lyra didn’t even hear her approach. “Yes. A water for me,” Margo said. “Sprite, please,” Lindsay said. And before Lyra could answer, Margo said: “And a water for Lyra, if that’s no trouble.” Lyra blinked in surprise. Had this stranger just ordered for her? But Lyra would have just ordered a water anyway. It didn’t seem like it was worth arguing. “Make sure to drink all of it,” Margo said, passing Lyra the plastic cup. “You don’t want to get dehydrated.” “I… yeah… okay…” Lyra put the cup to her lips and took a long sip. She was thirsty anyway. “So what do you do for fun?” Lindsay asked, sipping her own drink. Lindsay was definitely the more animated of the two, almost childlike in quality. But her height made Lyra feel small, especially when Lindsay would lean in and Lyra had to look up to talk to her. “I, uh… tabletop games. Dance. Rock climbing.” “Rock climbing?” Lindsay seemed surprised. “I bet you are the kind of girl that always got out of her crib.” Lyra stared dumbfounded, like a deer in headlights. “I… what…?” “Your crib,” Lindsay repeated. “You know, like when you’re a baby and you pull yourself over the bars? I bet you did that a lot.” “I… I’m not sure…” Lyra’s cheeks were hot with embarrassment. Lindsay’s questions weren’t even that invasive, but Lyra kept hearing something else. She can’t possibly know, Lyra rationalized yet again. This is just my brain playing tricks on me. Ego-centrism. Not everything is about me. Nonetheless, a part of Lyra couldn’t pull the rest of her together. She was bumbling through words like a toddler, and Lindsay pressed the advantage. “I love your hair.” She raised her hand to the side of Lyra’s head. “You don’t mind, do you?” “N-no, I guess not…” Not many people touched Lyra’s hair on a lark, but it didn’t seem too out of place. Lindsay’s fingers twirled Lyra’s colored tips, pulling just hard enough for Lyra to feel it. Then Lindsay picked new strands to play with, working her way across the many different colors. “Gosh you’re pretty…” Lindsay whispered, just loud enough for Lyra to hear. Lyra felt a cold cup in her hand as Margo passed her the glass of water. “Drink up, cutie,” Margo said with confidence and clarity, issuing a command like a lighthouse through the fog. Without a thought, Lyra took another long sip of the water and the cup was soon empty. Lindsay’s motions through Lyra’s hair went from twirling to running, like a rake through ocean sand. Lyra slid further down in her seat and looked up blearily at the two women. She was so warm, like ice cream melting in summer heat. Margo leaned down and tilted Lyra’s head by the chin, so that they made eye contact. “You like doing what you’re told, hm?” Margo asked. Without thinking, Lyra’s head nodded. In truth, when asked about it later, Lyra wasn’t sure if she nodded herself or if Margo did it for her. “Do you want me to tell you what to do?” Margo queried, much unlike the other question. The other one was a formality. This one was curious. Lindsay’s fingers played with Lyra’s hair and the both of them were so big… If they’re big, then I’m small, Lyra rationalized. If I’m small, then she should tell me what to do. Right? Nonetheless, a part of Lyra wondered if this was right. They were strangers, after all! But so were a few of the people she met over the weekend. If she had learned anything in the past few days, it was to let things happen. Did Lyra feel safe? Yes. Did Lyra like this? Yes. It seemed like ‘yes’ was the right answer. This time when Lyra nodded her head, she knew it was her that did it. “Good girl,” Margo whispered, and kissed Lyra softly on the forehead. “The first thing you’re going to do is put your thumb in your mouth. You’ll suck on it as a reminder that you aren’t to speak. You’re to listen and do what you’re told. Only take it out when you want us to stop.” Her thumb in her mouth? She was in public! There were dozens of people around her! But they are all facing forward, Lyla rationalized. No one will see. And if they did, why does it matter? I will never see anyone on this plane again. Nonetheless, a part of Lyra just wanted to obey the beautiful women. In her floaty, submissive state, that was the part that mattered. So Lyra put her thumb in her mouth and sucked softly on it, glancing up at Margo for approval. “Good little Lyra,” Margo cooed, kissing her once more on the forehead. Lindsay continued to play with her hair and Lyra was overwhelmed by the affection. “Now Lindsay and I are going to tell you what is about to happen. We will give you a list of instructions, but you only need to worry about one at a time. You worry about the first one. When you do that, we move onto the next. Do you understand?” Lyra nodded. She was pretty sure she understood. Worry about the first one, and look forward to the rest. “The first thing you’re going to do is wet your diaper,” Margo whispered into Lyra’s ear, loud enough that only the three of them in that row could hear. But Lyra’s heart rate skyrocketed. “Shhh,” Lindsay cooed, pulling Lyra closer. “We know you’re wearing one. It’s okay. It’s safer for little baby girls to travel in a diaper, don’t you think? It’s better than having an accident and asking a stewardess to clean it up, right?” Lyra knew there was some flaw in Lindsay’s logic, a string left unpulled. But for the life of her, she couldn’t find it. Everything Lindsay said sounded so right… so Lyra nodded again. “Good girl, such a good girl…” Lindsay rubbed her thumb across Lyra’s cheek and Lyra sucked harder on her own thumb. “Now all you gotta do is what all little girls do. One little accident will lead to so much fun. Just like playing with your toys. Getting up and using the potty is so much work.” “Take your time,” Margo said softly. “Your next instruction isn’t until the plane lands, so you have a few hours.” The next instruction… Lyra had forgotten for a brief moment that there would be more to follow. One leads to the next, leads to the next. But Lyra wasn’t kept in suspense. The two women alternated telling her every order she was to follow for the rest of the day. “When the plane lands, you are going to text two friends and give them our address,” Margo said. “You’ll hold our hands - in the middle, just like now - as we lead you down to the baggage claim,” Lindsay said. “You’ll tell us which luggage is yours by pointing, and we will get it.” “We will walk you to the parking lot, and you’ll waddle between us in your soaking wet diaper.” “You’ll get in our car, in the back seat, and we will buckle you in.” “You’ll be allowed to ask three questions on the ride home, if you use a convincing little girl voice.” “We will ask you to choose between Burger King or McDonalds on the way home, but you’ll be getting a kids’ meal.” “When we get back to the house, we will feed you at the kitchen table.” “You’ll raise your arms when we take off your dress.” “You’ll suck your pacifier when we put it in your mouth; I assume there’s one in your bag.” “You’ll lie on the bed and be a very good girl as we strip you of your soggy diaper—” “—and change you into a fresh one with lots of baby powder.” “You’ll cooperate when we dress you in the cutest little baby clothes we find in your suitcase.” “You’ll thank us when we tie your colorful hair in pigtails.” “We’ll take you out into the living room and put on a movie of your choice—” “—age appropriate of course.” “And I will pull you onto my lap,” Margo whispered. “You’ll watch quietly and helplessly as I strip off my shirt and unhook my bra. You’ll latch onto my breast when I put the nipple into your mouth. You’ll nurse like the good baby girl you are.” “And while you do,” Lindsay cooed, “you’ll spread your legs wide, flashing your diaper. You’ll keep your knees apart while I run my hand across the crinkling plastic, pressing and rubbing the padding.” “You’ll show us both how much you love being a baby—” “—and how much you love your diapers.” “And if you do—” “—if you’re a good little baby—” “—if you prove you want nothing more than to be our obedient little girl—” “—then you can lay in bed with us tonight—” “—in the middle—” “—just like right now—” “—with a beautiful woman on each side of you—” “—eager to make you happy—” “—and asking nothing in return but a little obedience.” “It all starts with one little accident,” Lindsay cooed. “Do what you’re told,” Margo whispered. Lyra’s mind was fogged over with thick wisps of smoke, like signals from a campfire. Each one had a message for her: You’re a good girl. You’re just a baby. Babies have accidents. You’re so small. You’re not in charge. They’re in charge. They are so big. Do what they say. Be the best little girl. Do what you’re told. So Lyra did what she was told. Between two gorgeous women, in the middle seat in a row of seats, on an airplane with a hundred people around her, Lyra wet her diaper. She felt the heat flood between her legs, spreading across her bare butt, and then the familiar comfort and safety of her padding soaking it all up. Though she didn’t leak, though she didn’t make a sound, though she didn’t give any indication of what she had done, Margo and Lindsay each kissed her on different cheeks and whispered at the same time in their respective ears: “Good girl, Little Lyra.” Then the rest of Lyra’s day went exactly as described. [End.] ------------- If you enjoy the story, please Like and Comment! Also consider joining our Patreon, where you can 50+ more stories in ePub and PDF formats. ❤️

I've had three incidents of soaking myself at night after drinking, each time wetting both the bed and my pants or completely soaking a cheap diaper that I meant to change. This time I even woke up a bit drunk and had to get up early to leave town and forgot to change the sheets and it was my worst wetting yet. My wife was extremely upset, completely understandable, and while she cleaned up some of it is still demanding I see someone. I'm scared to go mostly because I feel it is hard to explain the occasional bedwetting, which only recently started, without explaining that I also wear diapers for pleasure as well. I have to admit as well that my wife has been kind enough to forgive me a bit, at least so far as long as I promise to never wet the bed again. I have to put a bed pad underneath my side of the bed now and promise not to wear think diapers to bed anymore, especially if I drink at all. Still trying to process the fact I am a bedwetter again, had some problems when I was young and a bit in my teens and that I need to talk to a professional about it without it sounding weird or too awkward. My wearing of diapers actually came out of comfort as I often have anxiety about wetting myself if I don't know there is bathroom I can use nearby, long trips on buses with no bathrooms, seeing theatre shows that are long, concerts where I can 't get out easily. It's hard to admit at 44 that I need them and probably will more and more as I get older.