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The Rules for Tabitha: If Tabitha is in a permission window, she may use the potty. Otherwise, she may not. If a permission window ends and she hasn’t used the potty, and Tabitha is not in front of a stranger, she must pee immediately. If she is in front of a stranger, she must seek privacy and immediately pee her pants. Tabitha must wear a diaper to bed, since she won’t know when to wake up to pee. That’s it. Those are the rules. The app: if (windowtimer == 0) { current_timer = pottytimer; pottytimer = random_range_minutes(15, 30); } if (pottytimer == 0) { play (ringtone_pottypants); current_timer = windowtimer; windowtimer = random_range_minutes(120, 480); } draw string (current_timer); It’d been simple enough to program–a randomized timer, a simple UI, and a notification sound. Anita had put it together in twenty minutes; the hardest part was installing it on Tabitha’s phone. Permission windows would last between fifteen and thirty minutes, and appear every two to eight hours–simple. Tabitha had gone along with it, too, despite all the potential pitfalls–she was confident that she’d win out against her girlfriend, and get back on top. Cocky, even–’Just you wait, in a week you’ll be the one in potty pants’. There were no tricks, no ‘gotchas’ built in. If Tabitha checked her phone regularly, watching for permission windows, making it to the potty would be trivial–but without a notification chime to signal the start of a window, only the end, she’d need to be constantly vigilant. A window could pop up at any time, and she desperately wanted to avoid missing them. If she went the whole week without a single accident–not counting the mandatory bedwetting–Anita would have to wear diapers for a month. If, however, Tabitha at least managed to keep it under three total daytime accidents, they’d call the bet a wash. For every accident beyond the third, though, Tabitha would be the household baby for two days longer. “You’re ready, potty pants?” Anita giggled, grinning at her girlfriend. “I’m going to keep my pants perfectly dry, thank you very much,” Tabitha retorted, sticking out her tongue. “The potty pants here is you, just you wait.” “Mhmm,” Anita gloated. “I’m not the one practicing her potty training.” As an act of defiance, she’d worn pale white jeans, so that any accident would stand out starkly. She wouldn’t be losing, after all. She’d put timers on her phone to remind her to check for permission windows, and her drive to win would see her through the week. They’d deliberately started on a Sunday–So that their bet would start and end on the weekend. Anita wanted to see Tabitha’s first scrambles to get to the bathroom, her desperate rush when she realized she only had a couple minutes standing between her and a soggy bottom. She got her first thrill of pleasure a couple hours later. Halfway through making lunch together, maneuvering around each other in the kitchen, one of Tabitha’s reminders beeped. Anita watched with a smirk as her girlfriend checked her phone, canceled the timer, and swiped over to the potty app. “–fuck,” Tabitha blurted, all but dropping her phone onto the counter and tearing across the kitchen, eyes huge. The bathroom was only about fifteen feet away, but Tabitha crossed it in less than a second, trying to fumble the door open and strip out of her pants at the same time. Anita burst out giggling, watching her girlfriend half stumble into the bathroom. Tabitha didn’t even shut the door, throwing herself onto the toilet instead, the sound of splashing water sending Anita into laughing fits. Not ten seconds later, she heard the pleasant chime notification she’d chosen, indicating how narrow the margin had been between success and pants-ruining disaster. Tabitha sulked out of the bathroom a minute later, blushing profusely. “Not funny.” “Aww, did you dribble into your panties?” Anita teased. “Maybe you should just start wearing diapers right away.” “The app cheated!” Tabitha fumed. “You programmed it wrong. “I did no such thing. How regular are your reminders?” Anita asked. “Every fifteen minutes,” Tabitha replied. “So there’s no way I can miss a window.” “There is, though,” Anita pointed out. “If you get the shortest possible window right after your reminder goes off–you’ll never see the window until it’s too late.” “Ugh,” Tabitha groaned, resetting her phone timer to give her alerts every twelve minutes. Anita giggled all the way through the afternoon. Tabitha had two more potty trips, and though neither of them were so dramatic as the first, she still enjoyed watching her girlfriend’s eyes widen in alarm before the inevitable rush to go. “What?” Tabitha demanded, after catching Anita’s nearly-permanent smirk yet again. “The timer,” Anita explained. “It’s just like one of those potty training watches. Y’know, the ones they make for toddlers.” “Ugh,” Tabitha said. “I am so looking forward to seeing your face when you lose.” Anita strongly doubted that would happen, so she just smirked. She knew Tabitha, and could guess how long Tabitha’s focus would last. And–maybe, if she were pressed, Anita would admit to cheating a bit. At the very least, she put a thumb on the scale when she picked out a long movie and turned up the volume. It didn’t quite drown out Tabitha’s phone alarm, but it came close–and, more than once, Tabitha missed her personal reminders. What she didn’t miss, near the end of the film, was the chime that cut through the on-screen hero’s stirring monologue. Tabitha blinked, looking down at her phone. An ignored timer languished, and the notification on screen read, ‘POTTY TIME.’ Her mouth opened, slack-jawed. “Uh–” “Oh noooo,” Anita said, feigning shock. “You didn’t make it!” Cheeks flushing, Tabitha started to stand, but Anita grabbed her wrist and pulled her back down onto their old thrift-store couch. “Oh no, you’re going right here–and you’re doing the cleanup, too. Just be glad I scotch-guarded your side of the couch.” “But–” Tabitha started. Anita shook her head. “You know the rules.” Balling her hands into embarrassed fists, Tabitha shut her eyes and kept her promise. A brilliant yellow stain flowered on the crotch of her jeans, quickly spreading down her thighs, pooling around her butt. The water resistant spray held up admirably, so that more urine ran down her white jeans onto the floor than got on the couch cushions, though it’d still need a round of cleanup to get it back to good. “Awww,” Anita cooed, reaching over to pause the film. “It’s alright, potty pants–you just didn’t make it in time!” “I–” Tabitha stammered. “This isn’t fair.” “Well, you get to wet yourself two more times before you’re in real trouble,” Anita warned. “And there’s only six days left–so I’m sure you’ll be fine, right?” Getting to her feet, the shocking yellow all the more visible around her butt, Tabitha stamped her foot in petulant annoyance. “Yes.” Neither of them believed it. And especially not when the weekday rolled around. Tabitha hadn’t been completely dumb about things–she worked at a tiny cell phone repair store that typically had her in front and a coworker working the front counter, and on the off occasions where she had to man reception, it wasn’t for long. She typically had schematics and instructions open on her phone anyways, and rushing off to the bathroom wouldn’t get in the way. She got through work just fine, with nary an accident in sight. But the commute–that caused a problem. Her drive to work had gotten lucky; even with a lengthy stint in traffic, she never had a potty window open up. The drive home, though, went differently. She checked her notifications before she left and ensured no potty window opened up, but what she couldn’t account for was the rush hour traffic on the way home, turning a fifteen minute drive into a thirty minute slog. Parking behind Anita’s motorcycle, she took out her phone and– (Fifty seconds?!) Scrambling, she threw open the car door and ran down the sidewalk to their home, grabbing the handle, reaching to her pocket for– Her keys were still in her car; she’d forgotten to take them out of the ignition in her mad dash. With thirty five seconds to go, she ran back to her car, but the driver's door was locked. She’d need the spare key, which was inside, and– She had no time for that, and she knew it. Running back to the front door, she tried the handle, desperately, then ran to the window. Both locked. Panic rising, she looked around–nobody was outside in their neighborhood, at least not that she could see, except a dog walker a block and a half down moving away from her. At a loss for what else to do, she hooked the waistband of her pants with her thumbs, jerked down, and squatted next to the door, barely saving herself the embarrassment of wet pants before she heard the chime. As she watered the flowers, she heard a knock on the window, and looked up to see Anita smirking down at her. Voice muffled by the glass, her girlfriend called out, “That still counts as an accident!” If Tabitha hadn’t been so mortified, she might have argued, but all she could muster up the strength for was a meek nod. Two days in, and she only had one accident left before she’d start accruing diaper time. And, just to rub things in, when they watched TV that evening Anita made her sit on the floor–”In case of little baby accidents”. Tuesday was better. She was diligent–she never missed a window, always caught it right away, and even loitered after work a bit to ensure she wouldn’t hit rush hour traffic again, hitting up the grocery store near the shop to kill time. What she failed to account for was not that she’d miss a window, but that one simply wouldn’t appear–by the time she got home, it’d been six hours since she’d had a window to pee, and her bladder was full to bursting. Anita misread her expression when she walked inside, taking the desperation on Tabitha’s face as embarrassment. “Aww,” she cooed. “Did you have an accident at work?” Tabitha shook her head, thighs pressed together, shifting her weight. “No, it’s just…whatever.” It was her subtle dance that tipped Anita off. “Oh, you can’t hold it much longer, can you?” Cheeks puffing up in indignation, Tabitha nodded. “Yes. You set the maximum time for too long.” “You can’t even hold it for eight hours?” Anita asked. Tabitha shook her head. “Um…it’s only been six, I just had too much to drink.” Anita snorted, walking over to greet her with a hug and a kiss. “Well, I promise not to play any waterfall noises to make your situation worse.” Shifting in her partner’s embrace, Tabitha smiled and hugged back, arms wrapped around each other. “Thanks.” “But I never said anything about tickling,” Anita said. It was too late for Tabitha to escape, Anita already had her. Hands sliding up, her fingers tickled beneath Tabitha’s armpits, her touch just gentle enough to be excruciatingly tickly, pulling giggles from deep within Tabitha’s soul. She fussed and stomped her feet, but it did nothing to keep her bladder in check, control bursting at Anita’s touch. Her pants flooded, and for the third time in as many days, she peed somewhere far, far away from the potty. That’s when Anita proposed the deal–while Tabitha was still blushing and humiliated, hot pee freshly staining her trousers. “You know,” she said, “since you’ve clearly failed your potty training, you can just be a potty pants for the rest of the week. I’ll even change your diapers for you, and then you can just pee whenever the timer tells you, or when you need to, and you won’t even have to do any laundry.” It was said so matter-of-factly, so evenly, that Tabitha just nodded. She’d lost the bet, she could see that, it would be better to cut her losses and admit defeat. If she kept this up, she’d have four more days of wet pants, and at least that many days in diapers after the fact. She missed the hidden meaning in Anita’s words. From the tone, Tabitha assumed that they were calling the bet off, but Anita had never said those words, never made that promise. Every accident would still add to Tabitha’s time in diapers, per their promise to each other, whether she peed in her jeans or went full-time potty pants and peed in diapers. Too humiliated to think straight, Tabitha said, “Okay–that’s…that’s okay. I’ll wear diapers.” In her head, she was agreeing to four days padded, give or take, but those weren’t the rules she’d agreed to–the rules were a simple algorithm, and they didn’t care if Tabitha peed into her pants or a diaper. All that mattered was whether she made it into the potty or not. Anita just smiled, and led her upstairs, before sealing her girlfriend into diapers for weeks. ... This story features my favorite pair of switchy diaper girls, who've appeared in several other stories of mine - Including an exclusive over on Patreon. If you like pants wetting and power play like this, "The Holding Challenge" features these two girls in a battle for dominance - whoever keeps their pants dry the longest gets to be the Big for a week. Subscribers can read it over on Patreon! https://www.patreon.com/posts/holding-patreon-52901536 Or on SubscribeStar! https://subscribestar.adult/peculiarchangeling

Just wanted to say "Hi" I'm a DL only and would be interested in getting to know other DLs. I have not found a lot of people to share and would appreciate good conversation. Feel free to reach out I will always be respectful to others and expect the same.