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16-year-old Zelinda Seacrest is a vegetable, stuck in a coma for 11 years and counting. Her mother Zentroz is worried about the health of her daughter, hoping every day that she would awaken from her endless sleep. But unbeknownst to her mother, Zelinda's dreams have served as a wondrous, attractive, and nearly permanent destination since they began 11 years ago. A magical kingdom paradise born from her imagination, with Zelinda princess over it all. And with an imagination that has grown beyond her wildest dreams, Zelinda ventures to the surface of her subconscious, bringing her overactive imagination with her. Meanwhile, Zentroz grows restless with her husband Jonathan as they receive news of the moment that they were waiting for. A care-free Zelinda finally awakens, ready to experience the strange new world that awaits her. And with the kingdom in her mind, she slowly introduces it to her parents, before gradually growing homesick of her dream world again. The thought of the mysterious dream world that her daughter describes begins to worry Zentroz. And her daughter's growing attachment to it worries her even more. And as the days and weeks go by with Zelinda's numerous revisits to the land of her imagination, her daughter begins to change more and more. What was this mysterious land that she spent so much time in? Why does Zelinda keep becoming more and more different? Before any of Zentroz's questions could even be answered, Zelinda becomes as mysterious as the dream world that she first experienced in her coma and her parents begin to find themselves right in the middle of their daughter's fantasy world. Welcome to the kingdom born from imagination. Welcome to Zelinda's Garden. I. The Planting Chapter 1: Nowhere Zelinda Seacrest’s eyes looked so empty that you would believe that there’s nothing inside her. Her eyes never changed or moved. If you were to try to talk to her, you would clearly get no answer. All you would get is a glance of her dazed stupor. A robotic glance devoid of any real intelligence. Her hazel hair flowed down to her shoulders. Her face was lightly freckled with a couple areas of acne starting to form. Her left bra strap sagged over the v-neck of her sky-blue dress. Lacking any awareness, Zelinda continued to stare into nothing. While her own heartbeat proved that she was alive, Zelinda was nowhere to be found. She was sitting on a soft tan couch, with her neck hunched over. Her parents sat beside her, impatiently looking at their phones for the time. “When is he coming?” Jonathan said, staring up from his phone screen. “It’s three minutes after four! The doctor is three minutes late!” “Calm down, dear.” Zentroz said, patting her hand on his right shoulder. “Maybe she’s with another patient.” Zentroz gazed over at her teenage daughter and tucked the bra strap back into her dress. “There honey. I fixed it.” But Zelinda didn’t respond. She maintained her same blank stare as usual. “Why do you talk to her?” Jonathan said, sighing. “She is not even there!” “How do you know?” Zentroz asked him. “There might be something going on inside her. You don’t know!” “Do you still think that? She’s been like this for 11 years!” Zentroz took the defensive. “Maybe so, but she’s still my daughter and I want to talk to her. Isn’t that right, Zelinda dear?” She waved her hands up and down over Zelinda’s eyes, which remained still. Zentroz could remember the last time that her daughter was normal. It was just a few days after Zelinda’s fifth birthday, in the year 2043. Zentroz was putting her daughter to bed. “No mommy!” she cried. “Tell me more of the story!” Zentroz held the book shut and smiled. “Don’t want to ruin the surprise, dear. You’ll hear some more tomorrow night, okay?” She leaned over her daughter’s bed and nuzzled her nose over her daughter’s face. “I love you, dear.” Zelinda gave her mother a look of curiosity. “Mommy?” “Yes dear?” she asked, staring into her eyes. “Am I a princess, like the story you told me?” Zentroz waved her hand on her daughter’s face like a magic wand. “You are, dear. You’re a beautiful princess.” Zelinda’s face lit up and she began to smile. “Look at me, mommy! I’m a princess!” Zentroz nodded, giving her daughter a very excited face. “You are! Good night, dear!” She kissed her daughter goodnight and left the room. During that night, something strange started to happen. Zelinda quickly fell asleep and was filled with the dreams from all the stories that her mother told her. Stories about beautiful princesses and heroic princes to rescue them. Fond memories of all the playtime that she had during that day. Then it happened. In the morning, Zelinda stopped. Her face gave a blank stare, which has remained unchanged to this day. Wherever Zelinda went that one night, she never wanted to come back. The doctor finally came in and shook both Zentroz’s and Jonathan’s hand. Dr. Julia Prost greeted her patient with a warm smile. “How’s Zelinda today?” Zelinda gave her usual response, giving her a blank and emotionless stare. Dr. Prost nodded. “Fine as usual, I would guess?” She adjusted her glasses and gave Zentroz a serious stare. “I know that you want to see your daughter back in the right mind. Do you mind if we run some more tests on her again?” Jonathan sighed. “What difference would that make? You have done this every month for years!” Dr. Prost gave Jonathan a sharp stare. “Yes, I know. But what else can we do? There might be something else that we can find out about her. Something that might get you your daughter back.” Zentroz elbowed Jonathan and smiled at the doctor. “Oh, we would love that! Wouldn’t you want that, honey?” Jonathan nodded. “Yes, I would, but we’ve been down this road for about 11 years now. Do you really think that this would make any difference?” “Yes!” she sharply responded. “I think that it would make a lot of difference! Let’s just do what the doctor says. Okay?” She looked back at the doctor and nodded. “Go ahead and take her. If you have any questions regarding her, they’re all going to be the same as last time. Just to save you the time.” Dr. Prost nodded. “That’s fine. And that’s also why we would like to run some more tests on her. Just asking the same questions and trying all the same things as before isn’t going to change anything. All we can do is run some more tests. Maybe we can reach her this time.” “I hope!” Zentroz said with a smile. Dr. Prost held Zelinda by the hand and led her outside the room to the lobby with Zentroz and Jonathan following. Some other specialists were standing there, ready to take Zelinda. Zentroz’s smile faded when she saw the specialists guiding Zelinda down the hallway. “Leave her to us.” Dr. Prost said, giving her a reassuring smile. I’ve trained the new staff so they’ll know what to do with her. I’ll keep a good eye on her, okay?” Zentroz nodded. “Okay. Let’s go home, honey!” Zentroz and Jonathan left, leaving Zelinda to the doctors. The doctors ran all the usual tests on Zelinda, but the results were the same as last time. By that time, it was evening, so they placed her in one of the hospital beds. Zelinda’s blank stare retired for the day. Her eyelids drooped shut and she fell asleep. *** Zelinda watched as her mother tucked her in. That was a wonderful story. She wanted to hear more and how it turned out. Where did the princess go? What land did she travel to next? Maybe she’ll tell me more if I ask her… But the mother closed the book. Zelinda, now crushed, started to cry. “No mommy!” she whined. “Tell me more of the story!” But the mother just stood there, holding the book in her hands. Zelinda glanced at the book and frowned. If only I could get that book! Maybe mommy tell me just a little more…” “Don’t want to ruin the surprise, dear,” she told her. Zelinda’s tears were erased when she heard the word “surprise”. What? Surprise? Where? Zelinda glanced around, trying to find where the surprise was. “You’ll hear some more tomorrow night, okay?” Zelinda glanced at the book that was out of her grasp. Tomorrow? I can’t wait until tomorrow! Please let it be soon! Pleeeease? She felt the nuzzling of her mother’s nose against hers. Oh, I love it when mommy does that! I hope that she kisses me too! “I love you, dear,” the mother warmly told her. Zelinda then thought of the story that she just heard again. That princess in that story…Is that me? Maybe mommy knows! Mommy knows everything… “Mommy?” she said with great eagerness. The mother stared deeply into Zelinda’s eyes. “Yes dear?” Zelinda began to smile even more. “Am I a princess, like the story you told me?” She watched her mother wave her hand on her face. It’s a magic wand! She’s turning me into a princess! “You are, dear.” The mother told Zelinda. “You’re a beautiful princess.” Zelinda smiled very brightly. She closed her eyes, imagining her beauty. She then opened her eyes. “Look at me, mommy! I’m a princess!” The mother nodded and smiled widely at Zelinda. “You are! Good night, dear!” Zelinda glanced at her mother, who gave her a very nice kiss on the cheek. There we go! She didn’t forget! Yay! After the mother left the room, Zelinda’s eyes became heavy. When she opened her eyes, she was in a magical land. She got out of her royal bed and glanced out of the window. She was in a beautiful castle on top of a very high hill. When she saw the view, her royal chamber, and her royal princess gown, she sighed with ecstasy. “Wow!” she squealed. “I really am a beautiful princess! “I never want to leave this kingdom! Ever!” And that is just what happened. Since the night she dreamt that dream, she has remained princess of her very own kingdom. All while her body continued to age day by day from the outside. While her mother was worrying about her vegetative state, she was having the time of her life, living every one of her days as a beautiful princess in a land of her very own. *** Eleven years has passed since Zelinda began the wonderful journey to her very own kingdom. Every day played out exactly as the day before. Her mother the queen would tell her that one day, the land would be hers. Everything that she could see outside the window of her castle would belong to her. Zelinda, still five years old, squealed as she played with her royal blocks. She stacked the blocks to make a royal castle of her own. Looking out of the castle, she frowned. “Mommy, can we make the castle bigger?” Right after she said that, the castle grew to exactly the size that she wanted. “Yay!” She got to her feet and ran around all the new rooms that she made in her now bigger castle. When she entered the throne room, she went and sat on the throne. “Mommy?” she asked. The queen immediately appeared. “Yes dear?” “Can I be ruler now?” she asked her. Right after she asked her, a crown appeared on her head. “You are, dear!” she told Zelinda. “You rule everything!” Zelinda smiled. “I do!” All of a sudden, Zelinda suddenly remembered the story that her mother promised that she would tell her. She glanced at the queen. “Can you tell me the story now?” The queen looked at her in confusion. “What story do you want me to tell you?” Zelinda smiled. “You know! The princess story!” The queen nodded and smiled. “You’re already a princess. What story do you want to hear?” Zelinda frowned and began to pout. “You don’t know the story. I wanna hear the story!” A portal appeared and Zelinda saw it. Wow! A flashing thing! If I go through it, will mommy tell me the story? Zelinda ran eagerly through the portal and went through it, her very own kingdom vanishing behind her…

Trapped in Diaper Dreams: Prologue I yawned, despite the three cups of coffee I'd already downed this evening. The subject of my testing, a Mr. Franklin Jones, snored next to me at a decibel level high enough that I wondered if I should be wearing ear plugs to prevent any long-term damage. Well, I'd have to remember that for next time. Mr. Jones was had volunteered for a special sleep study in which I, Dr. Hannah Lynton, tested my ingenious invention on him. It was an apparatus designed to allow a conscious person to control the dreams of someone who was asleep by measuring the activity of the awake person and projecting it as theta waves into the brain of the sleeper. On the surface, not many people see the utility of such a device. Why would you want to control someone's dreams? But they don't see the bigger picture. This could be used to allow people to speak to comatose loved ones. Or perhaps it could be used as a rehabilitation method on the criminally insane? The possibilities are as limitless as… Well, as dreams! Unfortunately, I haven't had much success. The test involved myself and the patient wearing special headgear attached to the machine between us. Then once he was asleep, I was to read a novel–in this case Moby Dick–and then when the patient awakes we ask him what he dreamt about and see if it matches the events of the book. This was our 5th time repeating this test and we've seen few positive results. On the 2nd night he did dream about being on a boat, but that's where the similarities ended. If tonight didn't yield any workable results, I'd be back to the drawing board. The door opened to my right and I managed to glance up from my book to see my colleague, Dr. Bethany Avery bringing me another cup of coffee. "Having fun yet?" she whispered. I gave her a quick smile and turned my attention back to my book. Protocol dictated that I keep distractions to a minimum. Although I had to admit, I could find myself very easily distracted by Dr. Avery… She placed the coffee cup on the tray next to me and took my empty one. "I don't know how you manage to drink so much coffee during these tests knowing you can't get up to use the bathroom until morning. Unless you're wearing an adult diaper or something?” I cringed at the thought. A diaper? Me? ”As if I would ever do something so…” Humiliating? Childish? ”Unprofessional.” She shrugged “Is it really all that less-professional than pissing in a bottle?” She glanced under my chair and I felt heat rise up to my cheeks. I know she couldn't see the bottle I'd hidden inside my purse, but I suppose she must have surmised that I was finding some way to relieve myself during these overnight tests. I think she sensed my discomfort with the topic and backed off a bit “Sorry, I'm being weird. Do whatever you think is best, doctor.” The sudden use of an honorific somehow made me feel like I'd messed up. Pushing Bethany away was the last thing I wanted. “N-no, it's fine! I umm… I guess I just… Never thought of it that way?” Perhaps I was just projecting my own desires, but I could've sworn I caught a hint of a smirk in her eyes. Was she… Enjoying watching me get all flustered? “Well, if you decide you wanna try it, I can probably sneak a diaper from the supply closet for you.” she winked, heading out of the room. My gaze lingered on the doorway after she was gone. Damn. She sure does have a way of getting under my skin… And her idea was… Not without merit. Using my “piss bottle” as she called it, was among my least favorite parts of this whole experiment. I'd never considered that there might be an alternative solution. But diapers? Really? How could I, a grown woman, stoop so low as to wear a diaper and pee myself like some kind of… Baby? And why are my cheeks burning so badly at the thought? *ZZZZZZTTT!* The lights overhead suddenly flickered as something on the machine burst and sparks spewed out. But none of that registered to my mind as my body went completely rigid and my head felt like it was on fire! I don't know if it lasted a second or several minutes, but when the Surge of electricity finally subsided I slumped in my seat, my vision darkening as I fell into unconsciousness… \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ (And now, a message from Wannatripbaby): Hi all! So this is the Prologue for a sort of Anthology series Princessdiapergirl and myself have decided to start for any sort of random, crazy story idea we get that isn't quite big or bold enough for a multi-chapter story. This way we can get straight into the good stuff without all the set-up. So far, we have one (1) fully written story for this series which we will likely post sometime within the next few days. After that? Well, that's where you come in! If you can think of any crazy or kinky scenarios you'd like to see us inflict upon our poor Dr. Hannah Lynton, leave a Comment down below and tell us! We might just make it a reality! 😁

While it is the first of the stories about Maggie, this story (as well as story number 2, 3 and 4) are not necessary to read . They are a failed experiment in weirdness where I ended up writing myself into a corner. The whole series is rebooted in story number 5, so if these stories aren't your cup of tea, you can safely skip ahead. I promise I won't get angry (just very, very disappointed😉) As with my other stories, this series has an entry on my index post. ---------------------------------- Just one more day of summer Maggie was frustrated. It had been a long day of boring lectures. Maggie felt that if somebody could make even the 1960s sound like a boring time, they really shouldn't be allowed to teach. Especially at the beginning of the semester. They'd pose a suicide risk for the students. She had told her boyfriend Christopher that over lunch. Well, he wasn't really her boyfriend; they were more like friends with benefits. He had made all the right, sympathetic noises, but she knew he'd been ogling one of the new psychology professors. Maggie had to snap her fingers in Christopher's face to wake him up. She had said that she didn't really blame him for looking; after all, it was impressive how she looked like she was in her early thirties while she had to be at least a decade older, but that hadn't been true. She had been feeling down and looking for some sympathy, not a not-quite-boyfriend who couldn't keep his attention on her for two minutes. In hindsight she regretted not just getting up and leaving right there and then. Instead she had played the part of the loyal friend and stuck around until Christopher had had to leave for class. After that, Maggie had had to endure another couple of classes that thankfully weren't quite as bad as the history lecture, but they had still been annoyingly tedious. Add to that four hours of work, and by the time Maggie returned to her tiny apartment, she was just about ready to strangle someone. She really wasn't cut out for work in the retail sector, particularly during back-to-school sales. Even flying around Azeroth on her favourite World of Warcraft character failed to relax her. There was really only one thing to do: Maggie went to bed early. For Maggie, getting ready for bed when she was feeling like this was a little more elaborate than normally. She started by pulling out the bottom towel from the neatly folded stack in her tiny bathroom. It was the biggest and softest of them all and she always made sure to put it at the bottom of the stack so she wouldn't grab it by mistake. Maggie moved the table out of the way, pulled out the sleeper sofa and quickly made the bed. Next she spread the towel out on the bed and folded it several times. After stripping, she sat down on the towel and pulled it up between her legs. She slipped her feet into a pair of oversized granny panties and pulled them up so they held the towel in place. Maggie didn't need the diaper, but for some reason she liked the feeling of being padded; she always had. The thicker the better. If she couldn't bring her legs together, that was perfect. She had lost count of how often she had woken up with most of her duvet stuffed between her legs when she was younger. As she grew older, she had begun to do it intentionally before she fell asleep. At first just using a blanket or her duvet, but eventually she switched to towels. Maggie had never shared this with anyone, but whenever she was stressed or upset, the temptation was always there. And more often than not, she acted on it. Maggie could almost feel the tension leave her body as she lay on her bed, the evening sun peeking in around the edges of her curtains and the warm summer air making a slight sheen of sweat appear on her skin. She slipped a hand inside her diaper and lazily played with herself while she listened to the traffic outside. Eventually, she drifted off to sleep. Maggie awoke with a start and found she couldn't move. She was completely paralysed as a cool draught raised goosebumps on her clammy skin. Some oddly calm corner of her mind worried how it would look if somebody saw her like this: Wearing a big diaper and with one hand inside it. If Chris saw me like this, I'd never hear the end of it. Maggie's thoughts were interrupted by a metallic gurgling sound. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the mirror next to the door. It looked less like a mirror and more like a vertical pool of mercury. Part of its surface was oozing down the wall to form a shiny puddle on the floor. Then something rose out of the puddle; human-shaped, but with a mirror finish. The annoyingly detached and nerdy part of Maggie's mind noted that it was just like the T-1000 terminator. Its surface dulled and it turned around and it was... her. It looked exactly like Maggie. It was wearing the same bulky diaper and granny panties; it even had the same tattoo of a fox barely visible over the waistband of the panties, except it was on the wrong hip. The mirror image walked over to the bed and sat down next to Maggie who pretended to be asleep, peering out through almost closed eyes. It wasn't very hard since she couldn't really move anything else anyway. "Oh stop that," the mirror image said. "I know you're awake." She reached out and brushed the hair out of Maggie's face. Maggie felt her muscles relaxing as the paralysis began to fade away. She tried to pull her hand out of her diaper, but the mirror image stopped her. "Just leave it there for now. We both know you like that." "How?" Maggie whispered. "Well, duh! I thought that'd be obvious by now. I know that your cellphone pin number is your birthday backwards, divided by three. I know you almost flunked history last term." The mirror image reached down to touch her own tattoo. "I know who held your hand while you got this and how you still have a bottle of her shampoo in your bathroom." She stroked Maggie's cheek. "I know everything about you because I am you." "I meant how is this poss.. Hang on, I do not have a bottle of Susan's shampoo," Maggie protested. "No, you're right. It's her conditioner. But that's not what's important; nor is how I'm here. What matters is why I'm here." "And why is that?" Maggie was slowly trying to slide away. "You had a crap day. you were annoyed that summer is almost over and that you're back in school with all the drama that entails. You wanted some sympathy and maybe a good hug, but that dumbass Chris was too busy thinking about that hottie professor." "Yeah," Maggie admitted reluctantly. "So I'm here to make you a deal." The mirror image took Maggie's hand in hers and looked into her eyes. "Do you remember when you were little? When summers lasted almost forever and you didn't have to worry about anything?" "Yeah?" "Wouldn't you like that again?" The mirror image slowly stroked Maggie's hand. "No stupid job or classes to go to; no responsibilities. Not a care in the world." "Mm-hm," Maggie said dreamily "I can make it that way again," the mirror image said and rose from the bed. "Take my hand." In a daze, Maggie swung her legs out of bed and got up. She walked behind the other Maggie towards the mirror, holding her hand. The mirror was so narrow that her mirror image had to step through it sideways, vanishing through the slowly rippling surface. When she pulled Maggie along and her hand made contact with the mirror, she expected it to feel cold, but it didn't. It felt more like a warm, heavy mist or fog. Maggie closed her eyes as she stepped through and when she opened them again she was still standing in her apartment, except it was different somehow. It took her a couple of moments to notice a magazine on the table, but then she realised that everything was mirrored. "Come along now," said the mirror image. Or was Maggie the mirror image on this side of the mirror? Still holding the other Maggie's hand with one hand and holding up the sagging towel diaper with the other, Maggie followed Other Maggie through the door. They emerged in the middle of a small clearing surrounded by trees. Looking back, Maggie saw a small shed. Other Maggie was saying something, but Maggie was still mesmerised by the surroundings. She bent down and picked one of the flowers next to her bare foot. "It's incredible. This even smells real." Maggie breathed deeply smelling grass and wildflowers. "It is real," Other Maggie said. Now come along. There's somebody I want you to meet." ""Like this?!?" Maggie suddenly became aware of what she was wearing. "Oh, nobody will mind. No worries, remember?" Other Maggie took Maggie's hand and pulled her along into the forest. When they came out of the forest, they were at the top of a small hill. Below them was a large house, a pond and a large garden with big trees. "We just missed lunch, but there should be some food left." When they came closer, Maggie realised that everything about the house was a little scaled up. The windows were just a foot higher up than usual, the door was bigger, the steps up the porch was just a little too high to easily walk up. It all gave her the distinct feeling of being smaller than usual. Other Maggie opened the door and walked in, pulling a acutely self-conscious Maggie along. Inside was a kitchen with the same oversized tables and chairs. There was a giant of a woman putting plates and glasses in the sink. She must have been almost seven feet tall and looked like she was in her early fifties. She had that air about her that grandmothers do, even though she was a little young for it. "Hey Mom, look who finally came to join us," Other Maggie said. She turned to Maggie and whispered: "Her real name's Eliza, but she likes it when we call her Mom." "Maggie!" Eliza exclaimed and came over to give Maggie a hug. "We've been waiting for so long. Let me have a look at you." Maggie unsuccessfully tried to cover up her bare chest and the diapers. "Nonononono, that simply won't do. Come with me, dear." Eliza took Maggie's hand and led her out of the kitchen and down the hall to a bathroom. "You hop up here," she said and patted what looked like a piece of the kitchen counter. Maggie realised that it was a giant changing table and just stood there in front of it, dumbstruck. "Oh come on now. You're a big too big for me to lift you." Maggie looked around and saw a stool next to the changing table. She used it to clamber up onto the table and sat there with her feet dangling over the edge. "Lie back dear," Eliza said as she grabbed Maggie's legs and slid her further back. Maggie lay back on the smooth, warm surface. "Are you still dry?" she asked and unceremoniously slipped a couple of fingers inside Maggie's diaper. Maggie jumped. "Hey," she blurted out. "Of course I am." Eliza pulled the granny panties and towel diaper off Maggie in one quick yank, leaving her naked and desperately trying to cover up. "Oh come now. It's nothing I haven't seen a hundred times before," she said. "Now lift your butt." Without thinking Maggie did as she was told and Eliza slid a diaper under butt. She quickly pulled it up between her legs and taped the whole thing in place. The whole operation took only seconds. She helped Maggie sit up and Maggie looked down at the teddy bear print. This is so weird. She reached down to touch it, somehow doubting that any of this was real. The plastic backing rustled softly when she did. "Now, let's see if this doesn't fit you." Eliza held up a light blue summer dress. She slipped it over Maggie's head and helped her with the sleeves before helping her down from the changing table. "Now you go outside and play with the others." Maggie walked back to the kitchen and out onto the porch, wondering what Eliza had meant by 'the others'. But once she set foot outside, she heard excited voices from the other side of the house. She tip-toed to the corner and peeked around it. By the pond she could see four children playing. No, not children. They were adults dressed as children. Then it struck her: So was she. Maggie crept closer, ducking behind bushes until she was close enough to hear what they were talking about. It seemed the three of them, two girls and a boy, were having an argument about some kind of race in the brook that fed the pond. Eventually, they decided that the only way to settle it was another race. They picked up their crude wooden boats and ran upstream. "I can see you, you know." Maggie froze. "Oh come on. That blue dress isn't exactly camouflage." Feeling like she had been caught trespassing, Maggie slowly emerged from behind her bush to see who had spoken. It was another boy. No, not boy; man. He was maybe in his late twenties, average height, a little chubby, with a deep tan and mop of curly brown hair. All in all not entirely unattractive, Maggie thought. He was sitting on a stone with his knees pulled up and his arms around them. "Um, hi?" "Hi, I'm Tommy." "Maggie." "So, you're gonna want to have a seat for the today's grand final of the race," Tommy said wearily. "I think the score is like a thousand points to Maria and a thousand points to Jacob." "So they're tied?" Maggie sat down on the stone next to Tommy. "I have no idea, I've lost count. But they should have time to finish before the rain starts." "What do you mean?" "See that cloud over there?" Tommy pointed towards the mountains in the distance. "The one that sort of looks like a fish." "Yeah?" "When it's on the other side of that mountaintop, it'll start to rain." "How do you know that?" Maggie looked at Tommy. He sighed. "That's how it is every day. It'll start to rain and we go inside to play. It'll stop halfway through dinner." "What do you mean 'every day'?" "Every day is the same here. I've tried to figure out the routine, but this place gets inside your head. Makes you forget numbers and letters and-" "Who're you?" A voice interrupted from behind them. Maggie turned around to see one of the two girls that had run off earlier. "Uh..." Maggie was a little thrown by the childish appearance of the young woman. While she might be around twenty, she was wearing a pink dress so short her diaper peeked out below the hem. She had mussed-up, blonde hair and a couple of dirty smudges on her cheeks and forehead. "Charlotte, this is Maggie," Tommy said. "Maggie, Charlotte." "Like the thpider," she lisped "She's been here a while," Tommy whispered. "Like I said, this place gets inside your head." "Will you be my friend?" Charlotte looked up at Maggie with a wide-eyed, innocent expression. "Um, sure," Maggie answered. "Yay!" Charlotte shouted and threw her arms around Maggie to give her a hug. The unrestrained enthusiasm surprised Maggie, but she returned the hug, rubbing Charlotte's back. "Does this mean you'll stop bugging me now?" a voice asked snidely. When Maggie looked to see who had spoken she saw a girl with olive skin and long black hair. She was wearing overalls and a red t-shirt and was carrying a wooden boat. "I guess you must be Maria," Maggie said. "I'm Maggie." "Ooooo, look at you talkin' all fancy," Maria replied and rolled her eyes. "Don't listen to her Maggie. She's just being a meanie," Charlotte said, frowning at Maria. She grabbed Maggie's hand and pulled her towards the garden. "Come on, I wanna show you something." Charlotte dragged Maggie around the entire garden, showing her the apple tree and the patch of strawberry plants. She was just about to lead Maggie back to the pond when the first raindrops began to fall. Maggie glanced towards the mountains and just like Tommy had said, the fish-shaped cloud was just past the top of it. Maggie followed a squealing Charlotte back to the house. She darted from tree to tree in an attempt to stay dry in the steadily increasing downpour. Charlotte on the other hand danced along the path and jumped in a couple of the small puddles that had formed by the time they reached the porch. When they reached the kitchen, Maria and Jacob were sitting by the kitchen table colouring. Jacob was concentrating with his tongue out. Tommy was nowhere to be seen. "Where's Tommy?" Maggie asked. Maria gave her a quick look before she returned to her colouring book. "Momma's changing him." Charlotte had already climbed onto one of the oversized chairs and started hoarding the blue and green crayons, but Maggie didn't feel like colouring. So she decided to explore the house instead. She found a large living room on the ground floor and bedrooms and an additional bathroom on the first floor. When she made her way up the steep staircase to the attic, however, she found something odd. Somebody had tied some string between the backs of two chairs and put a blanket over it, creating a small tent. Well, small compared to the chairs; it was more than big enough for Maggie. The tent itself wasn't really all that strange, but inside she found a shoe box filled with papers. Leafing through them, Maggie saw mathematical equations and calculations far more advanced than what she understood, but the closer she came to the top of the stack, the simpler the maths became. Eventually, the numbers were replaced by unidentifiable squiggles and then there were drawings of flowers. Bluebells to be precise. Sometimes a single flower, other times whole fields of them. "Do you like them?" Maggie almost jumped out of her skin. Charlotte was kneeling in the opening to the tent. She crawled in and sat down next to Maggie, taking the stack of papers from her. "You did that?" Charlotte nodded. "I wasn't very good at first, but Momma said that if I practised I would get better. And I did, see?" She picked up a new drawing from the floor outside the tent and held it up for Maggie. It was a picture of two stick figures in a green field dotted with blue flowers. One was wearing a pink dress and the other a blue one. "I made it for you," Charlotte said. "Um, thanks." "Come on, Momma said it's dinnertime." Charlotte crawled out of the tent, giving Maggie a perfect view of her soiled diaper as she did. The two girls joined Tommy and Jacob in putting away the crayons and colouring books. They were almost done when Eliza and Maria came back from the downstairs bathroom. "OK, anybody else need a change before dinner?" Eliza asked matter-of-factly. Charlotte looked away and scraped her foot on the floor. "Me," she said quietly. "Charlotte made a stinky! Charlotte made a stinky!" Maria began singing. Maggie could see that it upset Charlotte who looked like she was about to burst out in tears. For some reason she felt oddly protective of her. "Quit picking on her." "Yeah," Tommy chimed in. "Stop being a meanie." "Maria!" Eliza said sternly. Maria stopped immediately. "Sorry," she mumbled, not sounding very sincere. Charlotte however didn't notice and went off with Eliza. Maggie sat down next to Tommy. "So you're all wearing diapers?" she asked quietly. "Yeah. That's the first thing to go. Then it's numbers and letters like I told you. And finally you don't even remember anything from before." He nodded slightly towards Maria and Jacob. "That doesn't sound so bad. I mean, apart from the diapers this place doesn't sound all that bad." "Are you kidding? It's the same day over and over and over. The rain starts at the same time every day." He pointed out the window. "And by the time Mom puts the rest of the food back on the stove, it'll stop raining. Then just after sunset it'll get kinda windy. Tomorrow morning, just after breakfast, a big fish is going to jump in the pond, and so on and so on. Every day is the same and every day you feel a little of yourself slip away." "How long have you been here?" "Shhh," Tommy said as Eliza and Charlotte returned. "She doesn't like us talking about that." Charlotte sat down next to Maggie. Her face was cleaned up and her hair was in pigtails. Eliza looked at Maggie. "How about you dear? Are you sure you don't need a change?" Maggie nodded. "OK then," Eliza said and began putting plates on the table. During dinner, Eliza had the children talk about what they had done that day. The stew was tasty, but a little bland. After they were done, Eliza rose to put the big pot back on the stove. Tommy gave Maggie a nudge and glanced towards the window. Outside, the rain had stopped and clouds had parted to show a rosy sky. ~~~ After dinner, Tommy, Charlotte and Maggie retreated to the attic. Charlotte lay on the floor, drawing, while Tommy and Maggie sat in the tent. "OK," Maggie said, "so the days really are repeating themselves." "Mm-hm." "And you keep forgetting your old life, little by little?" Tommy nodded. "Well, how quickly does it happen? I'm guessing you've been here the shortest." "Actually, Jacob came after me. I think you lose yourself more quickly if you don't resist and he just went along with it from day one. Almost like he was running away from something." "So that's what you've been doing? Fighting it?" Charlotte scowled at them. "Momma says 'no fighting'," she said solemnly. "It's OK Charlotte, we're not fighting." "Um, 'kay," she said and returned to her drawing. "So, how long have you been 'enjoying' this summer?" Maggie made air quotes. "I don't think 'enjoying' is the right word, and why were you doing that thing with your hands?" "What do you me- Oh, the air quotes. They mean ... Look, never mind that. How long?" "I don't know," Tommy said. "Numbers, remember?" "OK, let's try something else then. Do you get older when you're here?" Tommy shrugged. "I don't think so." "So what do you remember from before you came here. Do you remember who's president?" "I'm not sure. Kind of a goofy-looking guy. Really short name." "Bush?" Maggie suggested. "Yeah, that's it. Bush." "That means you've been here m-" "And that other guy," Tommy interrupted, "he'd fit right in here. He couldn't spell either." "What do you mean?" "I don't know how to do it now, but 'potato'?" "Oh my god. You meant Bush One. You've been here for..." Maggie paused longer than she normally would have had to , "...more than 25 years?" Tommy just sat there, looking more and more uncertain. "I don't know," he mumbled. For a few minutes, they just sat there. The only sound was the scratching sound of Charlotte's crayons and the wind picking up outside. "So how do we get out of here?" Maggie finally asked. "I don't know. I don't even know if I ever knew. It's like I'm trapped in a dark cellar." "Why don't you just go back up the stairs?" Charlotte asked, putting down her crayons. "It's not really a cellar Charlotte," Tommy said with a sigh. "Hang on," Maggie said. She grabbed Tommy's arm. "How did you get here? "I'm not sure," he said hesitantly. "It's all so fuzzy. It's like it's me, but not me. Like-" "A mirror image," they both said. "What do you mean?" Tommy asked. "We try what Charlotte suggested. We go out the way we came in. We'll just have to hope that it works for all of us." "So where is this way out then?" "Up the hill and into the woods," Maggie said vaguely. "That's it? We're never going to find it in the dark." "OK my little munchkins, it's bedtime," Eliza's voice called from downstairs. "But mooooom..." Charlotte complained. "Now now, tomorrow's another day." "Okay," she said dejectedly and headed for the stairs. Tommy and Maggie followed close behind. When they came down, Eliza kneeled down and wiped a smudge off Maggie's cheek. "I set up your bed in Charlotte's room since you two are such good friends already." Charlotte squealed with delight at the news. Eliza handed Maggie a toothbrush. "Now you go brush your teeth while I get Charlotte ready. And Tommy, once I'm done with Charlotte it's your turn to have a bath." "Again?" Tommy whined, suddenly sounding more like a kid than before. The look Eliza gave him clearly told him that the matter was not up for discussion. "OK mom," he said and headed downstairs. Maggie went to the bathroom and, standing on a stool, she barely managed to reach the shelf where the toothpaste was. It was hard to control the oversized toothpaste tube and she ended up squeezing out a lot more than she intended. After she was done, Maggie took off her dress and tried to take off her diaper, but the tapes just didn't want to come loose. She even tried to wiggle out of them, but despite feeling somewhat loose, the didn't want to go down past her hips. Nor could she push it to the side to pee. The more she tried, the greater the urge became, until it was almost painful. She finally accepted the fact that the diaper was not going anywhere. She was going to have to wet it; and soon. Maggie was just standing still, almost holding her breath when she heard footsteps and Charlotte's happy chattering. OK, if I wet it now, I can get changed right away. That won't be so bad. Maggie tried to let go, but couldn't. Then she had an idea. She sat down on the toilet. The feeling of the toilet seat was enough of a sense memory to let Maggie let go. She felt a warm rush surround her crotch and seep towards her butt. Maggie slid off the toilet, feeling the warm squish of her diaper just as the door opened and Eliza peeked in. "So," she asked, "are you still dry?" obviously seeing that Maggie wasn't. "No," Maggie said, almost whispering. Shame and frustration at having had to wet herself almost made her want to cry. Eliza knelt in front of Maggie and stroked her cheek. "Don't cry, dear. That's what they're there for. Come along; mommy'll make it better." She took Maggie's hand and led her out the door. Maggie tried to grab her dress before she leaving the bathroom. "Oh just leave it pumpkin. Nobody'll mind." Eliza led Maggie down the stairs. On the way, they passed Jacob and Maggie instinctively tried covered up her bare chest and diaper. Jacob, however, didn't even seem to notice that Maggie was topless. Once inside the downstairs bathroom, Eliza helped Maggie up on the giant changing table. Maggie winced at the squishy sensation as she sat down on the wet diaper. "Now lie back and we'll get you washed and ready for bed." Maggie lay back. Lying on the changing table wearing nothing but a wet diaper felt weird and humiliating; almost like she was on display. She desperately wanted something to cover up with. While Eliza undid the tapes and pulled off the diaper, she hummed a melody that was annoyingly familiar, but Maggie couldn't place it. The whole situation felt so awkward that Maggie just closed her eyes. She almost jumped when she felt a warm wetness on her crotch. "Wha-" "Shh baby. Mommy just has to wash you so you don't get sore." The childish tone only made Maggie feel more awkward. Eliza dried and powdered Maggie before quickly putting a new diaper on her. "There we are. Doesn't that feel all better?" she asked, giving Maggie's crotch a quick pat before helping her down from the changing table. The new diaper was much thicker than the one she had worn before. Maggie couldn't even bring her legs all the way together and had to waddle slightly when she walked. "Why is it so much thicker than the other one," she asked. "We wouldn't want any leaks at night, would we?" "I guess," Maggie admitted. "Now, did you brush your teeth?" Maggie only nodded in reply. She was still fascinated with the extra bulk between her legs. It felt very different from the extra thick towel diapers she had experimented with. Eliza took Maggie's hand. "Okay then, off to bed we go." Charlotte was standing in the doorway to one of the rooms when they came up the stairs. Like Maggie, she was also wearing nothing but a diaper. "Well hello there little munchkin. Why aren't you in bed yet, and where's your nightdress?" Eliza asked. "It's too hot," Charlotte said, looking down and biting the tip of her thumb. "I guess you're right," Eliza said. "But hop in bed now." "Okay," Charlotte chirped and ducked back inside. Eliza and Maggie followed her. The room wasn't very big. There was a dresser by the wall opposite the door and a bed on either side. By the foot of each bed was a toy box. Everything was oversized and painted in cheery colours. Charlotte was already in the bed on the left. Eliza tucked them both in and kissed them good night. It was years since Maggie had gone to bed this early, but for some reason she was so tired that it didn't take her more than a few minutes before she fell asleep. Maggie woke up from somebody shaking her shoulder. For a moment she looked around in the gloom, having forgotten where she was, then she saw who had woken her up. Charlotte was standing next to her bed, clutching a worn teddy bear to her chest with one arm. "What is it Charlotte?" "Can we sleep with you? Mr Bear thinks it's scary when it's dark and windy." "OK, sure," Maggie mumbled and lifted the duvet. Charlotte crawled into bed and lay down next to her, snuggling close. Maggie pulled the duvet over them both and wrapped an arm protectively around Charlotte who was already half asleep with her thumb in her mouth. ~~~ When Maggie woke up, she was lying pressed against the wall. Charlotte was lying on her stomach; arms and legs spread as if she was skydiving, yet still managing to snore softly. Maggie caught a whiff of something and made the mistake of lifting the duvet. The smell that hit her nostrils made it quite clear what Charlotte had done. Maggie carefully made her way around Charlotte to get out of bed. She looked out of the window at the beautiful day outside. The sun was shining from a blue sky with only a few fluffy clouds. She opened the window to let in the fresh air. Or let out the smell. What had that girl been eating? Outside, the birds were singing. Maggie leaned on the windowsill and listened to the world waking up. Suddenly her crotch grew warm as she wet herself. Maggie was shocked. She hadn't noticed that she needed to pee until it was too late. Also, she didn't find wearing a wet diaper anywhere near as distasteful as she had the day before. This place is affecting me already. I have to get out of here. Charlotte stirred and stopped snoring and Maggie walked over to the bed. She knelt next to it, taking care not to put weight on her diaper. "Good morning Charlotte," Maggie said, carefully brushing the hair out of Charlotte's face. "Did Mr Bear sleep well?" she added. "Morning." Charlotte started to roll over on her back, but Maggie stopped her. "Can you keep a secret?" Maggie asked quietly. "Mm-hm." Charlotte nodded. "Me and Tommy are going on a treasure hunt today." Charlotte perked up. "Can I come too?" "Of course you can, but we can't tell anybody. Especially Eliza." "Who?" "Mom," Maggie corrected. "It'll be our secret. Just you and me and Tommy." "Okay. So where is it?" "Where is what?" "The treasure." "Oh. Um... We don't know." Charlotte looked confused. "That's why we're looking for it. I mean, it wouldn't really be a treasure hunt if we knew where it was, would it?" Maggie added. The answer seemed to satisfy Charlotte. "Come on, let's see if Mom is up so we can get you changed." Maggie helped Charlotte up and they headed downstairs. They were halfway down the stairs before Maggie realised that they were both wearing nothing but diapers. "Wait here," Maggie said and darted back up the stairs as quickly as the swollen diaper and slightly too big steps would allow. She returned with a couple of nightdresses from the dresser, but Charlotte was already downstairs and headed for the kitchen. Maggie quickly pulled one of the dresses over her head and followed her. It was a little too small so she couldn't quite get it over the diaper, but didn't really care as long as her breasts were hidden. She didn't really want to run around topless even if nobody else seemed to care about that. Maggie followed Charlotte through the kitchen and out onto the porch. There, sitting on the porch swing in the morning sun was Eliza. "Morning Momma," Charlotte said and gave her a hug. Eliza sniffed the air. "Smells like one of you need a change." She looked at Maggie. "Or maybe both of you?" Eliza got up from the swing and took Charlotte's hand. "Come on munchkin. Let's get you cleaned up." It took a while, but eventually Eliza and Charlotte returned. Charlotte was wearing the same type of short dress as the day before, except it was pale yellow today, and her hair was back in pigtails. Maggie was next and in no time at all, she was washed and powdered. Eliza held up two diapers for her. "So, teddy bears?" she wiggled one of the diapers. "Or do you want the pretty flowers?" she wiggled the other. Maggie decided it was probably best to play along to avoid raising suspicion. She pretended to think about it for a few moments and then she gave a little giggle and pointed at the diaper with the flower prints. "El... I mean, Mom?" "Yes dear?" Maggie wrinkled her nose. "I don't like dresses. Can I have pants like Maria? Pretty please?" she said, knowing that if she was going to be walking around the forest, she wanted pants and not a dress that would get caught on everything. "Are you sure? You looked so pretty in your dress yesterday." "Mm-hm." Maggie nodded. "Well OK, but then you have to remember to let me know if you have to go poopies." "Like now?" Maggie asked, feigning innocence. "Oh, you have to go now?" Maggie nodded in reply and was quickly helped off the changing table and to the toilet. Sitting down and letting go felt better than in a long time. Still, Maggie was surprised at how little it bothered her to be doing this in front of someone who was essentially a stranger. This place is really getting to me. Minutes later, Maggie was washed, powdered, diapered and back in the kitchen. She was wearing overalls with colourful patches sewn on the bib and on one of the knees. Charlotte was sitting by the table drawing something. Maggie looked over her shoulder. In the middle of the paper was a house. "What's that?" "It's a treasure map of course. We can't go on a treasure hunt without a treasure map" "Ah, of course," Maggie said. "Why didn't I think of that?" She sat down next to Charlotte and helped her with the map, drawing trees along the edges. Eliza went back outside and for a while it was just the two of them. The house seemed almost cosy; even if it repeated the same day over and over. Stop that! Maggie shook her head to clear it. As the others waddled through the kitchen door, Eliza got them changed and dressed and soon enough, it was time for breakfast. It had been ages since Maggie had oatmeal porridge for breakfast, but she had to admit that it was not only delicious, but also filling. By the time she was done, she felt as though she had a stomach full of concrete. Walking was almost a little uncomfortable. Eliza sent all the children outside to play while she cleaned up. Maria and Jacob found their boats and headed off for another round in their apparently eternal race. "I still don't see why they can't come along," Maggie told Tommy as soon as they were out of earshot. "Maria would rat us out in a heartbeat. We wouldn't be able to trust her." "Yeah, she's a big, old, meanie doody-head," Charlotte chimed in. "And Jacob? He seems like a nice enough guy." Tommy nodded. "He is. But you didn't see him when he came here. As bad as this place is, I think he had it worse back home." "Are you sure?" Maggie still felt bad for leaving the two behind. "As sure as I can be." Maggie sighed. "OK then. So it's just the three of us," she said and started up the hill she had come down only the day before. Once they reached the trees, Charlotte pulled out her map and started walking off to the left. Maggie had to stop her and point out that she was holding the map wrong every couple of minutes. As the walked deeper into the forest twigs and branches began to get caught in their clothes and the ground changed. It was no longer the smooth dirt that was easy on their bare feet. All of a sudden, pebbles and and prickly, dry grass appeared. "I think we're on the right track," Tommy said. "It's almost as if the forest doesn't want us to walk this way." Maggie agreed. Charlotte sat down on a big root. "I don't wanna do this any more. It's no fun," she complained. "What's in this treasure anyway?" Maggie saw that they were about to lose Charlotte. She sat down next to her. "You know how it's summer now," she said. Charlotte nodded. "Don't you miss the winter? Snowmen, snow angels, hot chocolate..." "And Christmas?" Charlotte said, her eyes lighting up. "Yeah. And Christmas. That's what's in the treasure: Winter." That seemed to be enough to motivate Charlotte so they continued onwards. After quite a while and two tears in Charlotte's dress, they found the clearing. Maggie thought the shed in the middle looked a lot creepier now than it had yesterday. "The treasure's in there?" Charlotte asked nervously as she tried to hide behind Maggie. "I think so." Maggie took a step forwards and all of a sudden the summer day didn't feel quite as nice and warm. There was a clammy chill in the air. "I'm scared," Charlotte complained. "I don't like this place. I want Mr Bear." "You can hold my hand Charlotte," Maggie said and held out her hand. " "M'kay," she said, grabbing the hand, but still walking behind Maggie and Tommy. Maggie didn't need to look back to understand that while she was holding one hand, the thumb of the other hand was firmly in Charlotte's mouth. "You know what Charlotte," Maggie said, trying to sound cheerful. "I think it's supposed to be scary. After all, it wouldn't be a real treasure hunt if it wasn't, would it?" Finally, after what felt like hours, they reached the door. Maggie pushed it open to reveal a brilliant golden light. "Do you guys see that too?" Maggie asked. "Uh-huh." "What's that light?" Charlotte wondered. Tommy took a step forward. "Be careful," Maggie warned. "We don't know if it'll work." "Honestly, either way it'll be better than staying here," he said and walked into the light. "Tommy?" Maggie called after a few seconds, but there was no answer. The only sound was a steadily growing rumble behind them. Maggie glanced back over her shoulder and saw that the perfect blue sky was filled with dark clouds, and lightning flashing more and more frequently. "Come on Charlotte. We have to go too," Maggie said "But I'm scared." "It's OK. I'll hold your hand all the way. And I promise I won't let go." They took another step closer. Maggie held her breath as they stepped across the threshold and into the light. For a brief moment there was the sensation of falling, and then nothing. ~~~ A light woke Maggie up. She yawned and stretched, peering into the pre-dawn gloom to see the familiar things in her tiny apartment. Outside, the street light were swaying in the wind. Wow! That was a crazy dream. She untangled herself from the sheet and sat up. That's when she saw it. She wasn't wearing the towel diaper, but a big, puffy diaper with a cheerful flower print. And it was wet.

I love it when I Dream of of some type of diaper exposure whether it's me or somebody else Just generally I want to go back to those dreams. Last night I dreamed I was on a Real World MTV type of show I noticed some Boi whom I was being introduced to had a" Pink bear awe so cute diaper" I quickly realized I met another ab/dl and asked For a hug and whispered that I would Like to squeeze his diaper butt I got anod and eye contact consent I gave him a tight hug with both hand on his diaper booty. I noticed a sound of a hiss and felt the front of the diaper start to warm up in our warm embrace. I was getting very excited and aroused with the prospect of having some one who understood my ab/dl side. Maybe it's cause I've yet to meet IRL but I woke up after that and was disappointed I could not return to that adventure The night before I dreamed I noticed another man in a abu sdk having a messy accident. Its not generally my everyday desire but still a diaper dream! I don't mind occasional dirty diaper and expect it with being diapered 24/7. Most of my dreams have been about me wearing , finding diapering unexpected areas and the excitement of putting them on , but the worst is being exposed to others , those are the nightmares

Dreamer I stretched, yawned and wriggled myself awake. I reached for my phone to check the time - 7.28 - fantastic, the best continuous night’s sleep I’d had for quite some time. Well, apart from a visit to the bathroom for a piss but otherwise, over ten hours. I was quite pleased with myself. I laid in my warm cocoon knowing that any minute I had to get up for school but so pleased with myself for catching up on what had been a few awful restless nights, I wanted to make the most of my bed’s welcoming comfort. I slipped my hand further under the blanket and rubbed up against the thick plastic pants, the huge expanded bulk underneath told me I hadn’t had the wonderful damp-free night I thought I’d had. How come I can dream of going to the toilet and executing a wonderful, no-hassle pee, yet in reality I can never rouse myself from the sleep I’m having? Even when I’m having a terrible night’s sleep, with constant wakeful interruptions, it’s when I doze, even for a few seconds that my bladder tends to operate under its own terms. In my dreams I can simply get up and go. Mind you, I tend not to be wearing thick padding in my dreams so can easily access my straining cock. I suppose that’s another thing; how come I dream so much of taking a piss? There’s never any huge build up to it, I just go and feel the relief afterwards as if I’d naturally gone to the loo. I can often hear my pee hitting the water or bouncing off the porcelain so that makes me think that my dream is real and I’m doing it for real. Except I’ve slept through the entire event and flooded my nappy, though I have to admit that is a lot better than a waterlogged bed. I hope one day someone can explain just how that works because so far doctors, relations and even Google have been unable to come to any agreement on the matter. I’ll grant that they all have good ideas but the actual reason appears to be one hell of a mystery. I mean, how can it be that for the most part of my life, well since I was three to just a few months ago I slept happily dry but not so now? As far as I can remember there’s been no trauma or accident or anything that could have caused me to suddenly lack the ability to get up in the night for a pee. It’s simply ridiculous. How can I dream the action but not action the action? # My bedroom door opens and in walks mum. A few weeks ago she used to knock first but now I’m in nappies she seems to think she can come in when she likes. I’ve tried to explain this to her, that I need some privacy, but she just ignores my request and simply refuses to see my argument. She says that now I’m wetting secrecy is a thing of the past. Apparently she’s there to make sure I’m awake and remind me I have school (as if I wasn’t aware) and to make sure that these unfortunate incidents haven’t had an adverse effect on me. She doesn't want me hiding myself away and worrying about it. “Just making sure you’re okay and slept well... and both your father and I want you to know... this will pass before long.” Actually, what I think she’s doing is checking her plan of putting me back in night time nappies and plastic protection is working and that her precious bedding is safe. I first wet the bed almost three months ago and mum was quick to suggest I wore a nappy. Of course I resented the very idea but she said that her brother, my Uncle Tom (who now lives in Australia), had a similar problem when he was my age and their mother’s quick decision to make him wear protection had saved everyone a load of heartache. Like me he disagreed with her solution to the problem, and also like me found he had no option. It was simple, cheap and completely effective in what it had to do, whilst a consensus of family opinion meant that a nappy was the answer so, as a shy teenager like me, he didn’t get a say in that particular outcome. My gran (a strong-willed woman to say the least) had been definite that the bed, bedding, jammies and the self-esteem of not swirling around in a sea of urine made it so no one but her son was affected by his burst of incontinence. Apparently he wore that bedtime protection for another twelve months or so before he seemed to “Grow out of it”. Mum applied the same logic to me and despite my teenage tantrum, denials and pleading, I was put back into nappies and made to wear vinyl pants to avoid any chance of leakage. The speed that mum had everything at her disposal was frightening, as if she’d expected me to have this problem at some point in my school life. She alleged that after that first morning of finding me in a wet bed she remembered Tom’s problem and immediately went into overdrive, locating everything she thought I’d need online and spent the day collecting it. She said she wouldn’t allow me to have a second night wallowing around in a pee-soaked bed, especially when there was such a simple preventative system she intended putting into practice. I came home from school to find my dresser just a pile of fabric nappies and a couple of packets containing ‘baby’ pants. There was a small bowl with baby pins (pink, green and blue) and an array of powders and creams, I was stunned mum had garnered together this arsenal of products to take care of my one night of bed-wetting. It was a huge surprise for a fourteen year old schoolboy. I found these ranks of supplies for an accidental, once in a lifetime, wet bed a bit over the top and quite wounded by just how convinced she was that I’d need it all. Waking up to such a mishap was an ordeal (and awful shock) in itself and although I wasn’t expecting too much sympathy I did think she’d see it as just a freak event. It wasn’t like I’d been secretly drinking or got myself into a state... it was simply misfortune. As I lay on my bed and looked at the stuff I wondered why, if she thought I needed it, she hadn’t just bought a pack of Pampers disposables and then seen how things progressed from there. That pile suggested she was getting ready for a long campaign, whilst I thought it was just a one off, a misfortune and nothing to go to such extremes over. As far as I was concerned this wasn’t a calamity - just an unlucky accident. I tried to argue that point but she wouldn’t heed my objection and said it was best to be on the safe side. She was of the firm opinion that making sure my bed and bedding was defended from ‘further urinary damage’ should I pee again, was a worthy principle; laundry would be less and I’d be the only one affected. She couldn’t see a downside to her argument and I failed to defend my case with any hope of success. She promised that if I didn’t wet for a ‘few’ (unspecified) nights then she’d re-think the nappies. I looked at the supplies piled up on the dresser and knew she was expecting the worst. # Actually, when I think about it, this wasn’t the first time I’d wet the bed. When I’d just turned twelve I was having trouble sleeping, I didn’t know why I just was having such terrible interrupted nights. My brain would fixate on one subject (usually of no relevance to anything I could recall) and would lie in bed tossing and turning as if trying to shake the thing from my brain. At the time mum was also having trouble sleeping and was using a programme of ‘natural sounds and delta waves’ to enable a peaceful night’s slumber. It appeared to have worked, as she was far more relaxed and offered the IPad to see if it would do the same for me. Mum herself was against using pills and ‘medicine’ at the best of times and preferred either to let nature take its course (as with colds and flu) or try something natural, like sounds and meditation. She wasn't a homeopathic nutter but thought quite a lot of things would sort themselves out in due course. As the sounds had some effect on her, suggested I give it a try. I scrolled down the ‘relaxing sounds’ section and found one I thought would work for me – Rain Forest. I was expecting the night calls and general wind-in-trees type of thing but in fact it was just as it said; rain... in the rain forest. I don’t know how or why it happened but I woke up in quite a large puddle of my own pee. I was shocked and worried what mum would say but she just laughed (yes laughed) and said she found it funny that the rain forest had made me soak my PJs. However, she also explained that was why all our mattresses in the house had protectors over them... because you never knew when a nocturnal mishap might occur. Anyway, despite her good humour on that occasion, as she stripped the bed and sent me to get a shower she did say that if it happened again, for whatever reason, I’d be wearing nappies to sleep in from then on. I think she was just firing a warning shot because I didn’t pee the bed again until, well, I’ve just told you. However, the speed she got all the stuff together made me think that maybe she had some items already. Meanwhile, I dumped those little night rhythms and sounds and slept without any help from the Amazonian Rain Forest or any other supposedly relaxing therapy. # I can tell you that at fourteen years old I dreaded any of my friends finding out but in our small community, and mum being a very chatty person with all the neighbours, my secret couldn’t last long. However, she did say that I wasn’t the only one with such a ‘problem’ but wouldn’t tell me who the other person(s) were. I spent quite a bit of time scrutinising the washing lines between my home and school for some indication. I thought if my nappies were blowing in the wind, which they seemed to be on a daily basis, and then there was a good chance theirs would be too. I did see the occasional pair of plastic pants and nappies drying on the line but thought they were too small to belong to anyone but a baby. Knowing there were others, but finding no evidence to back mum’s declaration, I began to feel alone and a bit stupid. I mean, staring at folks washing was definitely a bit pervy. However, the main problem was... why should I start pissing the bed? Suddenly I was waking up to a soaked nappy (as mum had predicted). It just didn’t make any sense unless I was regressing back to my childhood. However, like I told you when I was twelve, any last thought at night began to occupy my nocturnal deliberations and sleep was difficult. When I did drop off I dreamt of babies (of which I was one) and when awake that notion just kept turning over in my mind. It was uncomfortable on so many levels, none of which I was happy with... I just wanted to sleep at night and wake up dry. Don’t ask me why that particular ‘being a baby’ theory should have taken over my mind but it did. (I suppose the nightly nappy and plastic pants made a bigger impression on my psyche than I’d given it credit for.) I convinced myself that’s just what I was and daily got more and more depressed as I thought about it. I slipped from being a reasonably outgoing lad, to a self-pitying toddler. Each night, as I fitted my nightly cushion of protection, I felt myself slipping further and further back to my childhood. I’d get upset if I couldn’t get the pins in right, or pricked myself, or I’d not fastened the nappy on tight enough. I was a mess and, if no one else was around, I’d even shed a few miserable, frustrated tears. Pulling up the plastic pants (which mum insisted I always wore with a nappy) more or less proved I was a baby. So that act and thought would stick with me and the entire dream scenario would kick off again. It was like that particular theme was on constant replay. # Equally, if I managed to avoid that specific dream the other one, the one where I knew I was peeing into a toilet, took centre stage. I’d confidently spray the white ceramic bowl, listening to the splash that indicated my aim was true, often zipping up and moving on to continue to do whatever it was I was doing before my toilet break. It was two very exacting dreams; one where I was a baby, the other where I was myself, but both ended with a wake-up call of soggy misery. However, they weren’t the only two because later I dreamt I was in church, singing along with the rest of the congregation when suddenly I felt the spirit of the Lord enter me... except it wasn’t the spirit of the Lord. That nice warming glow that was wonderful and uplifting was a tepid sodden nappy when I woke up. The reason this was strange was that as a family, we didn’t go to church. Mum and dad weren’t interested and the only times I remember going was for a wedding and a couple of Christenings, other than that my experience of church was limited. However, I do watch a lot of television and it is more than likely that I was influenced by something I saw... but I don’t know what. What was even worse was that it wasn’t every morning that I woke up soaked. For instance, last Monday and Tuesday I was dry. I was jubilant for twenty four hours but Wednesday night I wet, Thursday was dry but this morning... incredibly soaked. Of course, the few weeks prior I’d wet almost every night so even when I did wake up dry the feelings of euphoria only lasted a short while. Mum had gone out of her way to make sure that the rubber pants she bought were the most sturdy she could find, so the things I had to wear at night gripped me tightly so there was no danger at all of fluid escape. I even went back to wearing jammies over them in the hope of disguising the bulk a little bit but in the end I was so hot I could hardly bear wearing anything to sleep in other than what I had to. # Although nappies were the first recourse for mum she did, after visits to the doctor and a child psychologist (which she was dead against but dad insisted I give it a go), suggested I try yoga. Having had all the other attempts at curbing my nightly flood fail: From drinking less, to getting woken up in the middle of the night - those relaxing tapes, to various homeopathic potions, it seemed an option I should at least attempt. I just couldn’t take seriously all these po-faced, loose-limbed women (only one guy) stretching and being some kind of ‘downward dog’ or some such, it left me mentally mocking the entire group. I’m sure if they knew I was a fourteen year-old still wetting the bed, they might have been ridiculing me. Anyway, I left them and tried visualisation. The trouble with this was, as soon as I found my vision, it would be usurped by my baby or toilet ‘situation’ and then that was all that occupied my head. Someone suggested to mum that I try hypnosis but she was even more sceptical about that and told her friend that she’d keep that suggestion on the back-burner for a while to see if I improved naturally. I didn’t. The doctor did eventually prescribe some pills, much to mum's resistance, but they had no effect either. So, a dry nappy with thick and durable see-thru plastic pants became the last thing I saw at night and a wet bulky one the first thing I saw in the morning. To feel the morning tightness of an expanded pair of slippery looking plastic pants let me know, in a totally unsubtle manner, that I’d wet again. I could have done without that particular wake-up call. Having said that, despite that firm grip being annoying in the beginning, it didn’t take me too long to come to terms with that particular sensation. Mum had said that I should think of them like a knight relies on his armour for protection and he wouldn’t be daft enough to wonder into a battle zone wearing just his vest and pants (we both giggled at this bizarre comparison). Although my parents were resolute in their actions they just took it as read that these things happen. Punishment or angry voices were never part of their dealing with what was going on. I suppose with Uncle Tom to point to as proof of this philosophy, I didn’t get any negativity at home. However, before they retired for the night mum or dad would come and check to make sure I wasn’t already wet because mum said I should try and prevent laying around in a damp nappy for too long. I don’t think they ever changed me whilst I slept because I’m sure I would have woken up if they’d tried. However, I wasn’t certain if I thought it weird or comforting that they checked. # As I say, mum had bought in all new stuff to cope with my situation. Mrs Pradesh, our neighbour, whose own family had grown up and moved away, offered some of the stuff they’d worn as kids should I need it but mum declined. Apparently, they’d been late in toilet training and she had quite a collection of preventative clothing. Just how late they were in coming to terms with the potty she never revealed but, judging by the size of their colourful nappies, they were at least as old as me. I’d got around a dozen white terry fabric nappies and half a dozen different pairs of vinyl pants, some of which seemed a little more robust than others. Waking up saggy and soggy, whilst these stout pants made sure I was leak-proof, was an interesting way to start the day. I say interesting, what I mean is...not very ego boosting. My self-esteem dipped and the need for that night time force-field was all I could think about... and be indebted to. The paraphernalia of making sure the required area was clean, dry and (mum insisted) smooth, together with the thick preventative creams, lotions and powders I had to administer each night made bed time a complete humiliation. Mum had talked me through the nappy operation at the beginning but then said she trusted me to do it properly myself. Then, having had one or two leaking problems because I hadn’t been thorough enough, threatened to come up and do it herself, which would mean an early bedtime of 7.30. At fourteen I didn’t want to be called in for bed that early as it would have been total humiliation for my mates to know about it. So, I knuckled down and made sure I did as good a job as mum in getting my nappy and protection up to speck. She also threatened there’d be sporadic, unannounced checks and, should it not be in place correctly, it would be a 6pm bedtime and she would supervise every aspect of getting me ready “Like I did when you were a baby”. She smiled as she said this but I’m convinced she meant it. As you might imagine this focused my attention on every detail mum had advocated. # I tried to get dad on side but he was in complete agreement with mum and, in an effort to stop my constant grumbling promised that I’d be wearing a nappy all day as well as all night if I didn’t do as they said... and ‘stop whining’. Dad saying that, and mum threatening a 6pm bed time, made me take my wetting a bit more seriously. I had been thinking that I shouldn’t be punished for something I had no control over but they said I wasn’t being punished for that... my wet nights were being contained. What I would be punished for was my constant complaining and miserable face, which they said they shouldn’t be punished having to look at when my wetting wasn’t their fault. Why do parents have the clever come backs? I have to admit since I’d started wetting I was constantly in a mood. I couldn’t see any upside to my problem and I dreaded my friends catching on... although one or two might have known, no one said anything... to my face anyway. Either side my immediate neighbours didn’t have kids my age. The Wilson's at Number 14 had twins almost two years ago, whilst the Pradesh’s at Number 18 had grown up kids who’d left and had families of their own. What this meant was that the washing line wasn’t over-looked by any of my school friends so my daily laundry was hidden from any possible prying eyes. However, both sides offered mum their support and empathy having a teenager still in need of protection. So, as I mentioned, last night I dreamt I’d gone to the toilet with no problem, yet woke up as normal sopping wet. After three months it was all getting too much and I was severely depressed not wanting to do much or go anywhere. Then it happened, the one thing I was positive would never happen, Saturday morning I fell asleep in front of the TV and, wearing only a pair of cotton briefs under my P.E. shorts, peed myself and soaked the sofa. ~ tbc ~

New story by Sophie & Pudding! This one is a little weird, but I think it's a fun read. Similar to our older stuff. Also, the chapters are pretty short so I'll try to keep a good posting schedule. The complete story is up on our Patreon in PDF and ePUB formats. Please consider supporting us! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Piper Belle By: Sophie & Pudding 1.) "So... you're having a dream about a girl named Piper." Arry had been Isaac's best friend all through college, and even now as they were facing down the end of their degrees, the two were still as close as two guys could be. To be fair, they'd had drifting interests over the years, Arry (who's real name was Harrison but treated that fact as a closely guarded secret) was definitely the more social of the pair. Isaac preferring the company of a glass of wine and a good book - he fancied himself a writer and put that above just about everything else in his life, even social engagements. And he was always knee-deep in reading two books and constantly trying to find that one good idea - the spark, he called it - for his own magnum opus. Until then, he was a sometimes-tipsy, quiet and keep to himself kind of guy. Clean, neat and unassuming - the sort you'd imagine people to describe in ten years as an unexpected serial killer. Arry smiled at Isaac like maybe there was a joke to be had, but Isaac stayed stony-eyed. "So tell me about her - about Piper Belle. Is she cute?" "I don't know, man... I guess." I played with the corner of the book in my lap, but I was having trouble concentrating. I'd read the same paragraph four times already. "She's our age - maybe a little younger, actually. She lives on her own." I kind of admired that. Arry and I lived together, but only based on necessity - rent wasn't cheap. "She has friends, kind of distant..." It wouldn't have been a big deal, even with how vivid the dreams were, if they didn't keep happening... "Yeah, well, sounds like a rich girl name so that's not surprising." Not that Arry really expected dreams to make all that much sense, but it was nice when they obeyed basic logic nonetheless. "You know a lot about her from a dream, Isaac." He meant it as an off-handed comment with a little grin, but Isaac looked down at the paper with a flash of guilt in his eyes. "Oh, you've had more than one dream about her, huh? Well shit man. Maybe you just need to get out of here, all these books are messing you up..." "Maybe..." But that wasn't it. I didn't think so, anyway. Maybe I should see a therapist, but I couldn't be sure that would even help. They were just dreams anyway - what did it matter why I was having them? "You're right, you're right. I'm just in my head too much. How about we go out tonight, you and me." "That's the spirit! Rest up, alright? You look exhausted and I wanna have a good night - I'll bring pills and we'll go find you some juicy little pinger to drag you out of your head and into her bed." Arry grinned, piling a few things into his bag. "I gotta head out for a bit - Rita wants to talk about our relationship." The boy rolled his eyes - he and Rita had been on break for like four months now and he was done with her, but she had trouble letting go. "Get some rest." I didn't even finish the chapter of my book - that was a little unheard of. But what was I supposed to do? I couldn't concentrate. I pulled some pajama pants on in place of my jeans and let my head hit the pillow. Maybe it would be better this time - maybe the dreams were just dreams... "Piper! Pipeeeeeeeerrrr." Lucky had tried shaking the girl’s shoulders, tried calling her name and now had needed to resort to pulling the entire comforter off her body, leaving the petite little waif of a girl in her yellow pajamas to curl up and make a very disapproving noise. "It's eight fifteen! The mall opens in less than an hour, gosh, we only get two days of weekend a week and you want to just waste yours laying around in my bed all day!" Her words were playful and childish, the way they tended to be when it was just the two of them. Piper and Lucky (whose birth certificate actually read Lucy but whom didn't understand why Lucy and Lucky were pronounced differently and spent the first six years of her life introducing herself as Lucky) had been born in the same day, in the same hospital, and in-fact had been taken home by one-another’s families for a whole month before the mix-up was sorted out! To say they were best friends was a little bit of an understatement, and this wonderful sunny morning saw Piper staying the previous night at Lucky's in preparation for the weekend. I sat up in bed with a frown, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. Lucky watched me with a smile and I felt my cheeks turn red. She'd been giving me weird looks like that all week, since Saturday. I had a secret, a secret I didn't tell anyone about, but Lucky was very good at finding out secrets and fifteen years had been a damn good streak of secret-keeping. She hadn't mentioned anything about it, not yet, but that look... "I hate waking up early..." "Maybe, but I bet you hate missing out on getting that babydoll dress you've been looking at all week because some other Courtney Love fan got there first." Lucky smiled playfully as she bundled her comforter up in her arms and tossed it back on the full size bed, making sure to throw it past the girl. Much to her mother’s chagrin, Piper idolized that look - the super-short babydoll dress in a solid color with black tights and a pair of Martens on her feet. She lacked the grunge credentials of her idol, but she still looked super-cute, owing mostly to her diminutive stature. "I.. I don't have the money anyway..." I bit my lip and looked at the ground. I was always most flustered when I first woke up - I hated that. Especially in a place that wasn't my own, somewhere unfamiliar, even as unfamiliar as even Lucky's place was. I climbed out of bed and stretched, my feet aching on the carpet. I hated getting out of bed... "Since I'm up, I guess we can go…” But the mall didn't open for another 45 minutes. "You want to go like that?" Lucky rolled her eyes with a smile - even for Piper, the childish yellow pajamas were not out-of-the-house wear. A little pastel night-gown, maybe, but that was in style. This wasn't. "Go shower, get changed, do your hair, and then we can go." Which all seemed logical, but lately it seemed as though Piper was struggling with the simple stuff. Showering was boring. I thought about the weird dreams, things I hadn't thought about in a couple days, and decided not to concern myself with things so trivial. It's not like they mean anything. My hair was dry before the rest of me - thank you blow dryers - and then I put myself in yesterday's clothes. I had forgotten to pack an overnight bag. "You said some boy’s name in your sleep last night.” Lucky didn't want to broach the topic too quickly, but it had come up a few times during the night and it wasn't the first time she'd heard Piper mumbling in her sleep. "Some boy named Harry, maybe? If you're crushing on a boy you know the rules, you have to tell me!" They were on the way to the mall as they spoke and Lucky was walking backwards as they talked - it was sort of her thing at the moment. Lucky had a lot of things. "Oh, no... not a boy..." Well, Arry was a boy, wasn't he? But I looked down at my feet. My eyes hurt - I'd stayed up too late playing Super Nintendo. "It's just that guy I keep dreaming about, Isaac or whatever. Arry is his friend, I think. Roommate. Something. I don't know. It's not important." "Arry is a dumb name. It's like he's got a cockney accent or something. Allo, my name is Arry, ave you eard about the orrid news?" With fifteen years of practice, Lucky deftly avoided tripping on the uneven part of the pavement as she walked backwards over it. "You know if you keep having dreams about a boy, people are going to start talking!" ”No one knows about my dreams except you!” I said assertively and the girl smirked. "And you aren't going to be a blabbermouth anyway!" My bossing Lucky around was a little cosmetic - it had very little purpose since she never listened anyway. But it was fun nonetheless. "I might! I could go up to Kassie Serene and I'd be like ‘Hi Kassie!’ and she'd be like ‘Hiya Lucky!’ and then I'd be like ‘Guess what I heard…’ and then she'd do the rest." Lucky would never actually do that, but the blush that crept across Piper's face was reward enough. The mall was predictably busy - the bike-racks were full, though the emptiness of the parking lot made it clear that it was mostly going to be girls around the age of Lucky and Piper who were loitering for a nice find. "See? Look at all the bikes, that's what happens when you oversleep!" "I don't have money anyway!" I said aggressively and Lucky stuck out her tongue. Since my mom didn't like how I dressed, I had significantly less allowance. She'd take some of it as "a fee for the movies last week" or "you didn't do all your chores". But we both knew what it really was. "Well it's someone's fifteenth next week and someone's best friend might want to get something cute for a certain someone." Lucky didn't have a lot of money herself, but she did have a part time job (very part time, really, she only worked one night a week at a cafe) and that meant she had some money of her own that she could do with as she pleased. "Oh don't waste that kind of money on me... that designer stuff is so overpriced." Though there really wasn't much else you could do in the way of buying clothes in that style. It was either overpriced or nothing... "Yeah but what price can you put on lookin' as cute as you do, Piper?" Lucky liked to drop semi-flirtatious comments like that and she winked as they walked through the doors to the mall. Lucky turned around to walk forward. "I saw this one dress that you're going to, like, totally freaking adore, but you gotta try it on first." Lookin' as good as Piper did have a price though - about 26 hours of work Lucky’s meager wage! - but this was important to her. ~~~~~~~~~~~~ Thanks for reading! Like & Comment!

I’m well-habituated to sleeping in wet nappies and my partner tolerates this. When she is away however, I will often sleep in dirty nappies as well. This is rare for me and I often experience vivid “nappy dreams” when doing this. The other night was such an occasion. I was in a pinned, kite-folded 60” x 60” terry and after clambering into bed a little wet, I had a MAJOR poop in them laying on my back along with a long wee. I could feel my crotch warm and wet but also, a warm sticky pudding in the seat of my nappy pushing up into my perineum and crotch and I fell asleep. Sometime in the early hours, the bizarre dreams became memorable. I dreamed that I was staying at somebody’s house, trying to surreptitiously deal with the abundantly filled diaper I was (as in real, waking life) wearing. I was just in a shirt, diaper and plastic pants so my nappies were clearly visible to all. Poop was leaking out my plastic pant leggings and it was on the floor and my hands as I tried to limit damage. It was falling out everywhere. Somehow, the sink was filled with poop but I thought I could hide this evidence too, unsuccessfully trying to wash it down the plug hole. Although I was in a room of my own during this dilemma, there seemed to be an endless array of open doors through which the female house owner would miraculously appear each time I got close to removing my poopy pants and I would swiftly abandon the effort imaging that she had noticed neither my nappies nor the state of them. At some point I sat down on a toilet (still wearing my nappies) that was in an en-suite to my room and a sizable quantity of poo was squeezed out the leggings elastic at my thighs and fell into the toilet. Again, the householder appeared but I thought I’d unloaded enough out of my nappy to avert further disaster for a while, I got up and walked away still in them. Suddenly I was arriving at a busy multi-story car park near a Toronto shopping centre with my wife. I was still in that loaded nappy. I don’t know why I knew I was in Toronto (I live in Australia!) and the shopping centre did not resemble any of the limited range of Toronto malls I have seen but that’s dreams for you. I’d parked my car (also all the way from Australia – must have been one hell of a drive!) in an impossibly enormous sea of vehicles and made my way to the lifts with her. I really wanted to clean myself up but that wasn’t an option for me: it was shopping time! Then things immediately fast-forwarded. Remembering nothing of the shopping I was back near the car park staring at a map that was impenetrable gibberish for me, acutely aware that I was still wearing a very smelly nappy. I could feel it and I could smell it. We couldn’t find the car park and somehow, we ended up getting onto some kind of trolley bus that would allegedly take us to it. Unlike a real-world bus, this one had a range of people seated around a table in the centre and I took my place, very conscious of my nappied-state and that I smelt bad. Somehow the trolley bus stops got further and further from where I thought the car was parked until eventually, my wife (talking to one of the other strangers seated at the table) realised that the bus was on a loop and we were about to get back to our starting point. Getting off the bus, relieved to be away from the public I waddled into the car park and immediately could not find my car. Despite a complex, colour coded path on a printed guide, I arrived at the indicated group of parking bays to not find my vehicle there. By this point, I was totally exasperated. My shit-filled nappy had to be offensive to everybody, I was sick of the continual embarrassment and the vehicle search part of this dream had just gone on for far too long in my opinion and so, in some bizarre waking-moment, I just decided that I’d had enough and that my car would be in the next group of bays: and so it was. Upon sighting the registration plate of my own vehicle, I decided that this dream was over and woke up! I was laying on my back which was unusual as I am an inveterate side sleeper. My nappy was NOT leaking although it was very, very full and moving slightly, I felt its contents oozing up past my perineum to my scrotum. Relaxing, I added another long wee to it, warming my crotch. A sour smell pervaded the blankets and a tell-tale sunburn-style sensation on my buttocks warned of imminent nappy rash.

Sometimes I wake up in the morning with a little patch of wetness and end up taking my PJ trousers or my onesie off because of it and I think that it is down to a few dreams that I enjoy having this sort of thing doesn't really happen to me often. It only happens only every once a while. So I was wondering do or can dreams cause you to wet yourself during the night and has anyone else experienced this sort of thing before. But please don't ask me what the dreams that cause me to wet myself just a little are for I can't recall them