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  1. Sarah's mom is a strict disciplinarian, with rules for anything and everything. When the 14-year-old girl begins to wet her pants again, will she be able to avoid getting caught in the web of all her mother's rules? Her mother is currently attempting to potty train Sarah's 3-year-old sister, Emilia, and it's been a disaster so far. Her mother has instituted a strict regimen of potty-training rules for Emilia, and as Sarah begins to experience an ever-increasing amount of daytime and bedwetting accidents, she must navigate school, sleepovers, cheerleading practices, and a new friendship while attempting to keep her condition a secret. --- Links to all of my stories are available at https://abdlwriter.wordpress.com Chapter 1: Crime and Punishment Christmas was my mother’s favorite time of the year. Can’t say the same for myself. I mean, don’t get me wrong. I liked Christmas as much as any other kid. Racing down the stairs at the crack of dawn to get the first glimpse of the surprises beneath the tree. Decorating cookies. And candy canes. I absolutely loved candy canes. But Mom took it to the extreme. And by extreme, I mean that I’d just stepped off the bus to the sight of her at the top of a ladder stringing lights across the front of the house. It was the first week of October. I did my best to keep a straight face despite the giggles coming from my friends Desi and Samantha. They knew the drill, but it didn’t make the situation any less funny to them. At least this year, Mom was not putting up Christmas-themed Halloween decorations. Skeleton Santa, anybody? Yeah, no thanks. I try not to make eye contact with Mom. I swear she was always trying to come up with new ways to embarrass me. She had on the absolute worst Christmas sweater, which was saying a lot because she’s got a closet full of them. It was unusually chilly for a fall day in New Mexico, and any excuse to wear a sweater was a good one for her. Walking quietly up the driveway, I nearly reached the front door - Christmas wreath on it and all - without catching her eye. Like I’d ever gotten away with that. “Sarah,” Mom yelled. “Make sure to check up on your sister before you start your homework. It’s been about thirty minutes.” “Sure thing, Mom,” I reply, followed by a sigh that was too small for her to notice. I might be turning fifteen soon, but any noticeable back-talk or back-anything meant risking some hard swats to my bottom. Having been an only child for the first eleven years of my existence, I was so thrilled when Emilia was born three-and-a-half years ago. I had helped decorate Emilia’s nursery, picking out all the colors and accessories. I even arrived at the hospital all proud with by big sister shirt on. That thrill had lasted all of three weeks until I graduated from adoring older sister to unpaid babysitter. And don’t tell me it builds character. I’d heard that cliché more than enough. I opened the door to the sound of “I’m dreaming of a White Christmas” serenading through the house, followed by the pitter-patter of bare feet scrambling across the wood floor. “You’re home! You’re home,” Emilia yelled as she rushed around the corner and gave me a hug around my waist. I mean, of course, I’m home. Not like Mom usually let me go anywhere else after school was out. Fourteen might be old enough to babysit my sister, but Mom didn’t think it was old enough to do things like sleepovers. Emilia was dressed in a pink Minnie Mouse t-shirt with a matching pink Minnie Mouse pull-up. If you were wondering what Mom had asked me to check, let’s just say my latest responsibility was being conscripted into the great potty-training war. This was our third attempt. Unfortunately, Mom hadn’t found my jokes about “World War Pee” to be particularly funny. We had made two heroic attempts at potty-training already: once when Emilia had turned two and again after her third birthday. We tried every tactic we could think of. Stickers, charts, rewards, special “big-girl” panties, potty-training toilets in every room of the house. There was a week where we had let Emilia just run around naked. That was such a mess. Mom had even half-joked about having me wear pull-ups to model good potty-training behavior for Emilia. I’m so glad she didn’t go through with that. This time around, though, we needed to succeed. There weren’t any other options. Emilia would be kicked out of her preschool if she wasn’t toilet trained by her fourth birthday. Mom threw a fuss with the daycare, but I don’t blame them. Who wants to be changing a four-year-old’s dirty diaper? I sure as heck didn't. Our most recent strategy was for Emilia to be wearing a special potty-training watch that went off every thirty minutes to remind her to go to the toilet. We’ve given up on those plastic potty-chairs - such a pain to clear up after - and had instead settled for a toddler seat that could be quickly placed on the toilet in our lone bathroom. “Guess what? Guess What?” Emilia clamored while giggling. “I’ve been dry all day.” I’m a bit skeptical of that statement. Emilia isn’t very good at noticing her accidents. What was that phrase Mr. Higgins had taught us from that president recently in history class? Oh yeah, “Trust, but verify.” Emilia smelled good, at least, so she hasn’t done a number two. That was a relief. The last thing I needed right now was a poopy pull-up to change. I checked the front of her pull-up as well, and the wetness indicators were, surprisingly enough, all still unchanged. Guess she was dry after all. At home, Mom never let Emilia wear anything to cover her pull-up. She wanted to always be able to know right away whether it was dry, wet, or messy. Beep, beep, beep, beep. Well, Mom was right about the timer needing to go off. “Come on, kiddo, it’s time to get you on the potty,” I said, grabbing Emilia by the hand. This was followed by her usual, drawn-out protestations: “I don’t have to go. I don’t. I don’t have to. I... I don’t.” Then she stomped her feet and started to pout. Emilia wouldn’t have dared to do that with Mom, but I’m the good cop after all. On other days, I might have attempted to gently cajole her into cooperation. Today I wasn’t having any of it. I grabbed her under the armpits with both hands and hauled her off to the bathroom with her whining all the way. A few minutes later, it turned out that she had needed to pee after all. With the potty-training out of the way - for half-an-hour at least - I raced off to the kitchen to get an after-school snack. A few minutes of looking through the cupboards, fridge, and pantry left me feeling less hungry. There isn’t junk food of any type in sight. Mom had been on a health binge recently. I settle for a bag of veggie chips instead. I take a look at my own watch. Thankfully, it didn’t come with a timer telling me when I had to go to the bathroom. But I had to start doing homework at 4:30 p.m. That’s another one of Mom’s rules. So that gave me just about twenty minutes or so to relax. I wasn’t the only one getting a break. Mom was in the living room as well, showing Emilia how to put together a simple puzzle - of Minnie Mouse no less, cause that was my sister’s thing right now. I had barely been on the couch for just a couple seconds when Mom interrupted me. “Did you wash your hands before you started eating, young lady?” she asked. Mom had certain ways of saying things. Young lady means she knows full well what the truthful answer was. Any attempt to fib your way out of the situation would be futile. “I’ll do it right now,” I replied. I didn’t want to outright admit how close I had come to breaking one of her rules. “Remember, twenty seconds,” Mom yelled after I had already headed off to the bathroom sink. When I came back to the living room, I wanted to take over the TV. There had to be something entertaining on. But I knew better than to interrupt what Mom was watching - home videos of our previous Christmas mornings. Look, most families videotape their Christmas mornings, and then that’s the end of it. They might upload it to YouTube or let the tapes collect dust in a cardboard box in the basement. But my mom, she loves to go back and watch them. It gets her in the Christmas spirit. I grabbed a library book instead and picked up from where I had left my last bookmark. “Why is Sarah wearing a pull-up?” Emilia interjected suddenly. I was confused at first. I mean, I had panties on, after all. Then it dawned on me. Bless young children and their questions. I looked up from my book to the video playing on the TV. The slightly grainy footage must have been about six years old. But there I was, clear as day, opening presents next to the Christmas tree while wearing no clothing other than a pull-up adorned with a colorful assortment of flowers and butterflies. The pull-up was sagging between my legs and clearly soaked. I looked at the screen awkwardly for a few more seconds as felt my face go flush red before turning back to intently looking at my book. Yes, I used to be a bedwetter, and my mom had ample evidence of it for all posterity. That was not something I liked being reminded about and was certainly not a subject I cared for my blabbermouth of a sister to be aware of. OK, this was too embarrassing. I hopped off the couch, tossed my empty bowl into the sink, and walked toward my bedroom. Getting an early start on homework was better than watching videos of myself in pull-ups. By my room, I really meant our room. Cause three people in a two-bedroom house means someone ends up sharing. Which was why I’m stuck in a room with my little sister. Sharing a room with a baby, or for that matter, a toddler that isn’t toilet trained, sucks. There was always that lingering, hard to describe diaper smell that seems to persist despite the mighty powers of the Febreze can I keep in the top drawer of my dresser. I opened my backpack and pulled out the new book we were studying in my AP Literature class, “Crime and Punishment.” Earlier today, I had struggled not to laugh when Mrs. Whittleworth passed out copies of the Dostoevsky novel. Crime and punishment. That was the story of my life, if there ever was one. Mom was big on rules. That was kind of her thing. And not just the normal rules a kid might have, like “no curse words” or “eat your veggies before your dessert.” My life was highly regulated. If I ever got a grade on any school assignment, that was less than an “A.” Well, that’s a spanking. My butt still hurts when I think about the one time I got a “D” on a test. With rules, come punishments, and I’d experienced every one known to childkind. Time-outs. Getting grounded. Having my mouth washed out with soap. And spankings. That was Mom’s favorite. She cherishes her grandfather’s wooden paddle like it was an actual family heirloom. Once I logged into the computer at my desk, I made sure not to go to any sites that weren’t educational. Yes, Mom tracks where I go online, and, yes, if I waste time watching cat videos on YouTube I’ll likely not be allowed to touch the computer for the rest of the week. I logged into the website our school uses to let us track homework assignments and grades. “Shit!” I said. I didn’t like what I saw, and I was glad Mom was far enough away not to hear me. Stupid Mr. Higgins had given me a “C” on that quiz on President Reagan from earlier this week. What could I have gotten wrong? Getting a “B” wasn’t too bad, especially if it was a “B+.” But a “C?” That wasn’t going to make things fun tonight. I did, however, have something going for me. Mom had one means of grace. If I’d broken a rule, and I told her rather than try to hide it or make her wait and find out herself, the punishment was usually a lot less. Mom did check my grades every couple weeks, but I would have heard it from her already if she’d seen it. I’d gotten better at avoiding spankings recently, but I didn't think I could get Mom in a good enough mood to talk her out of them for that bad of a grade on an assignment. But I didn’t have to decide immediately. There was not any chance she checks my grades from the living room couch. Instead, I grabbed “Crime and Punishment” and jumped onto my bed, only to be greeted with a loud, crinkling sound. So irritating. Normally, I wouldn’t pay attention to the crinkle coming from the plastic mattress cover on my bed. But after the video, it was just another awkward reminder of my bedwetting phase that I’d really rather put behind me. It wasn’t that Mom had been mean or strict about it, but it had still just been such a humiliating experience. What was funny about the bedwetting was that Mom was nicer, a little, about nighttime accidents. I’d heard that the condition - I forget the medical name for it - was hereditary, but no way would I ever ask her about it. I had wet the bed nearly every night until I was about nine. Mom never made too much of a fuss about it besides making me wear pull-ups every night and keeping a plastic cover on my mattress. I had to stay dry a whole month before I was allowed to stop with the pull-ups, but no matter how hard I asked, the plastic sheet was there to stay. That, and the reminders every night that I go potty before bed, you know, just in case, like I wasn’t a fully toilet trained teenager. The rules Mom was more stringent on were the ones about daytime potty-training. It almost made me feel bad for my bratty sister. Almost, but not really. The potty-training rules were as follows: No big girl panties unless you’ve gone seven straight days with no accidents. Any accident, no matter the reason, meant you were back in pull-ups. If you had two accidents in the same day, you’d be back in diapers for all the next day. Once every thirty minutes, you had to sit on the potty for three minutes. No lying about whether you’ve had an accident. Yeah, it’s strict, but I mean, I was potty-trained during the day before I turned two, according to my mom. And Desi and Samantha’s younger siblings, who I think were around the same age as Emilia, all were perfectly capable of using the toilet on their own. Who knew what was wrong with Emilia? I flipped through the first few pages of the book. I hated AP Lit. This book was going to be the death of me. I’d only got five weeks to read and then write a report on it. Maybe I’d ask Desi for help. At least she can get onto CliffsNotes without her parents caring or noticing. As I read through the opening chapter, I couldn’t help going back to think about my own impending punishment. After fifteen minutes and only three pages, I decided that I may as well get it over with. I set the book down and headed back toward the living room. I tried to be calm as I walked into the room. I really did. But Mom must have some sort of sixth sense cause she caught on right away that I was apprehensive about something. “Sweetie, what was wrong?” Mom asked. Sweetie, now that’s another one of my mom’s keywords. She does that when she suspects I’d done something wrong, but doesn’t know what. I could still back out now, tell her that everything was OK and hold off for another day. But though I had walked into the room determined to get the spanking over with, the words just stayed stuck in my mouth, refusing to come out. Mom gets what was going on. “Do you have something you need to tell me?” she asked. I nod and walk up to her. I know the drill. This scene had played out hundreds of times before in my life. I could recite it as well as any of the lines from my school play. But just like in real life, when it comes time to go before an audience, I always mucked it up. “Mom, I broke your rule about getting good school grades,” I spat out, garbling all the words together. “No, say that slower and enunciate your words.” “I got a ‘C’ on a quiz in my American History class,” I said crisply and clearly, with my eyes pointing down at my feet. “No, young lady, you look me in the eye while I’m talking to you.” I matched my mom’s eye and felt my face go full red. Oh, I hated how I had no control over my blushing. It just always seemed to amply the shame that I felt. I repeated about how I had gotten a ‘C’ on the quiz. “And why was it wrong for you to get that grade?” “Because I need to be an ‘A’ student so I can get a good scholarship and go to college.” “And what is the punishment for getting a ‘C’ on an assignment?” This was trickier, you see. While my mom had punishments, they weren’t always consistent. Make it too easier, and she might go a lot harder on you. But if you gave yourself too much of a punishment, well, you were stuck with that as well. I decided to play it cautiously. “A spanking.” Mom gave me that look. And I knew right away I had given the wrong answer. “And just how many spankings was that punishment going to be,” she said. I hesitated, which was bad. I’m always bad at thinking on my feet. I spat out the first number that comes to mind. “Twenty.” Bad, bad, bad idea Sarah. Twenty was more than I’d gotten when I’d burnt dinner and set off the fire alarm. I probably could have gotten away with just five. But Mom didn’t object, didn’t say that seems like a bit much. She just gave a soft smile and stood up from the couch. It was so unfair. “Hold still and lift up your shirt a little,” Mom said. I complied without saying a word. The shock of impending spankings was still fresh. Why, why, why did I have to suggest twenty of them? I pulled my shirt up just enough to reveal the top of my jeans and my belt. I felt Mom’s hands as she undid my belt buckle and then pulled the entire belt loose. Next, she unbuttoned my jeans, pulled them off my hips, and let them fall down. Mom sat back down on the couch. She didn’t have to say what I was to do next. I already knew. I stepped out of the jeans, leaving them in a pile in front of the couch and carefully lay on the couch facedown so that my bottom was directly on my mom’s lap. My head was facing the TV, which only added to the humiliation. The video was paused right at an angle where you could fully see how wet the pull-up was. Yellow and saggy. Why couldn’t Mom have changed me out of it before opening presents? Emilia had stopped building her puzzle, which was about halfway done, a look of puzzlement on her face. It had been a while since I’d been spanked. Who knows, maybe she doesn’t even remember having witnessed it before. I sure as heck didn’t want an audience for this. “Emilia,” Mom said. “Go get the black bag that was in mommy’s closet.” I should have known I wasn’t going to get away with her not using a paddle. We live in a small house. It shouldn’t have taken even Emilia more than a minute to grab the bag. But it felt like an eternity. Why did I have to get a stupid “C” on that quiz, anyway? All I had wanted was to get the spanking done and over with quickly, but it kept getting drawn out. The pitter-patter of Emilia’s feet signaled that she had at last come back to the room. The plain, black gym bag was what Mom used to keep all her disciplinary supplies in. Several types of paddles. Non-toxic soap to wash out mouths. Lotions and ointments for treatment after a spanking. The next choice Mom makes would greatly determine my level of discomfort. Please, please, please don’t use the wooden paddle, I prayed silently. After Mom had finished rustling through the bag, I saw Emilia come back into view, sitting on the floor next to the coffee table where she had been working on her puzzle. But she hadn’t gone back to playing. She was facing me with a curious look in her eyes. My face was burning now. Why couldn’t Mom just send her away? Without any warning, Mom pulled down my panties to expose my bare bottom. Oh great, this was it. She held the paddle against my bottom to line it up. And she had chosen the wooden one. I’d gone a year without getting a wooden paddle spanking. Smack. The first whack knocked the breath out of me. I was barely able to squelch a sob. The strikes proceeded likely clockwork every five seconds. One after another. Left. Right. Left. Right. I was able to hold out for the first few swats. But the tears and cries of pain were inevitable. Emilia watched the entire time. And that brat even started giggling. Suddenly, as quickly as they had started, the spankings came to a stop. The only sound in the room was my heavy breath and receding sobs. A cool sensation covered my bottom as Mom rubbed a lotion into my skin. Despite the relief it was giving, I knew sitting would be a pain in the you know what for the next week. Mom pulled my underwear back up and helped me sit on her lap. Her hand took a firm grip of my chin as she held my face steady with hers. “There, there,” she said. “Now, what lesson have you learned from this?” “I’ll study harder and get good grades. I promise.” I couldn’t help it. All the pent-up emotion, pain, and tension had to come loose again. The floodgates burst open, and I cried and cried and cried into Mom’s shoulder as she rubbed my back. It was over. Thank goodness it was over. Another beeping found filled the house. But it wasn’t Emilia’s watch. Mom quickly set me down on the couch. “Put your jeans back on and help your sister clean up her toys while I get the casserole out of the oven,” she said. Just the effort of sitting up and pulling on my jeans was enough to remind me of how sore I was going to be. As I finished pulling on my jeans, the sight of Emilia sitting in front of me gave me an idea about how to teach that brat that it was not nice to laugh when your sister was getting spanked. I reached down and ever so gently gave her the slightest of tickles, enough for her to feel my touch, but hopefully not enough to blame me for what was about to happen. If there was one way in which my sister and I were most alike was that we were super ticklish at even the slightest touch. I knew all her weak spots. The result was exactly what I had hoped for. Emilia jumped up with a little squeal and placed both hands on the front of her pull-up. I didn’t even need to look at the wetness indicator to know what had just happened. “Mom,” I yelled, doing my best to keep the satisfaction out of my voice. “Emilia just had an accident.” Karma may not be a bitch, but it certainly was a wet pull-up.
  2. I've been working on creating a longer story and I've come up with "The Accidental Toddler". The story is has the familiar plot of being stuck in an automated daycare / nursery set in a near future setting. As always, feedback is welcomed. Chapter 1: The Mistake In the not-too-distant future, automation had become a way of life. Everything from driving cars to making coffee was handled by computer systems. One such system was the Potty Training and Developmental Education program. It was designed to help young children learn basic hygiene, social skills, and even some early education. The program was championed as a pre-school / head start program that advanced children’s development. The program was highly efficient, and it had helped countless families over the years. With its automated systems, parents could focus on their work without having to worry about taking care of their children's basic needs. Jack is a tall and lanky man with sharp features and a prominent nose. He has short, curly hair that's a deep shade of brown and is usually styled in a messy, tousled manner. His eyes are a piercing blue and seem to gleam with intelligence and wit. He carries himself with an air of confidence and has a quick, easy smile that can charm almost anyone. Despite his somewhat aloof demeanor, he is fiercely loyal to those he cares about and will go to great lengths to protect them. Jack had recently graduated from college and was struggling to find work in his field as more and more jobs were rapidly moving to automation. As he was scrolling through job listings on his tablet, he came across an ad for a job at the early development center. Without reading the details carefully, he assumed it was a regular daycare type of role and applied by uploading his details. Unfortunately, Jack had made an embarrassing rookie mistake when filling out the application. Instead of applying for a job at the development center, he mistakenly signed up for the potty training and early development program. The computer system was supposed to verify the applicant's age before successfully registering them, but due to a simple coding error within the systems’ source code, it failed to do so. As a result, the uploaded data to the system registered Jack as a toddler. It would only be 10 minutes later that Jack would receive the confirmation email informing him of his mistake. At first, Jack was confused and he attempted to contact the program to explain the mistake, but he couldn't get through to anyone as the system routed his call through a series of automated menus. These automated menus always ended him back to the original menu indicating a problem that would need a human to fix. He decided the best course of action was to walk to the program's office in person, hoping to clear things up. As he entered the office, he was greeted by an automated receptionist. He explained the situation, but the receptionist didn't understand. The system had already registered him, and there was no way to reverse it. The only option was to start the training program or face legal consequences for breaking the law. Jack was shocked to learn that the program was not just a voluntary service but mandatory by law for all children under the age of three. The system had been implemented as a way to ensure that all children received the same level of early education and care, regardless of their family's financial status. He was left with no choice but to accept the situation and start the training program. However, there was a catch. Since the system had registered him as a toddler, it was causing major coding faults to happen within the system. Code that hadn’t been reviewed and revised over decades begin to fault back to a non-production fail-safe subroutines that had not been updated since the completion of the system. Jack unhappily signed in and validating his identity using the biometrics scanner at the registration desk, a second robot came out and directed Jack to the intake room. In the room Jack was striped of his clothes before he was taken to the showers. A warm shower with a complete scrub down from head to toe was preformed by the robot. Once done with the shower, Jack was dried off and led over to a changing table. Before Jack arrived, the wall behind the changing table rotated and the once child sized table was swapped for one now in his size. “Great, just when I thought things couldn’t get worst” Jack said under his breath as his only hope that the center wouldn’t be able to accommodate his size begin to diminish. Jack hopped up on the table shivering a little bit from the cold plastic as he laid down. It was useless to fight the system as one way or another he was going to have to at least get into the main room in hopes of contacting someone. The machine quickly scanned Jack and a series of sounds happened beneath the changing table as the automated system searched for a diaper in his size. After a few minutes the system had found it’s answer as Jack, wide eyed watched as a generic scaled up version of a Huggies diaper is slid underneath him before pulling up between his crotch. With the closing of the second tape on his diaper the reality of his situation set in. Jack's mind raced with questions. How was he going to function like this? Would he be forced to go outside where people could see him? What if someone he knew saw him like this? The embarrassment alone was enough to make him want to crawl into a hole and never come out. As Jack was led out of the intake room, he realized that he was now dressed in a full toddler outfit. He was wearing a green short-sleeved onesie with snaps at the crotch, and a pair of bright yellow shorts with a cartoon character on the front. A pair of white socks and light up Velcro-strapped shoes completed the ensemble. Jack felt humiliated as he waddled along in his new outfit, feeling the bulky diaper between his legs. He was directed into a brightly lit room filled with toys, play mats, and small tables and chairs. Surprisingly, Jack was the only one in the playroom which Jack felt out of place as his town although small it definitely had growing families. Suddenly, a voice startled Jack as it boomed out over the room's speaker system, "Hello there little one, my name is Emily and I'll be your guide here at the center. How are you feeling?" Chapter 2: Acceptance Jack sat in the playroom, surrounded by toys and colorful objects that were meant for toddlers. He felt angry at himself for his mistake and how he could be so careless. He had never felt so helpless in his life. He couldn't believe that he was stuck in this situation, forced to go through potty training and education programs meant for young children. As he sat there, feeling sorry for himself, the door to the playroom opened, and a young woman walked in. She was in her mid-twenties, with blonde hair and blue eyes. She introduced herself as Emily, a teacher at the center. "Hi, I'm Emily. I'm sorry to meet you under these circumstances," she said, looking at Jack with sympathy. Jack didn't know how to respond. He was embarrassed and could easily feel his face turning 3 shades of red. He just nodded his head, hoping that she had a solution to his problem. Emily sat down next to him, sensing his unease. "I know this must be terrible for you, but I'm here to help you.” “We’re going to try and get you out of the system but to be honest it isn’t looking good." Jack couldn't believe what he was hearing. He sat in shock that the reality of being treated like a toddler was only getting more and more certain every minute. "Thank you," he said, surprised by her kindness. “There has to be a way out of this! I mean, I'm not a child. I shouldn't be here!" Emily looked at him with empathy. "I know, this isn’t right, but unfortunately, there's nothing we can do. The system is secure, and we’re trying everything we can to override it. “We’re attempting to reach out to anyone from the company that helped build the system but we’re running into walls”. “For now, you'll have to follow the potty-training program." Jack sighed, feeling hopeless." “But, how am I supposed to go through this?’ “I’m already potty trained and I’m not a toddler!" Emily understood his frustration. "I know it's terrible, but you’re going to have to try. The system is highly advanced and is designed to recognize patterns and behaviors, and if you don't act like toddler, it may mark your behavior as abnormal.” “If that happens it will only make getting you out of here even harder as it will assign you to a different class that we don't have access to.” “You have to go through the program like any other child while we work to get you out of here." Jack realized he had no choice. He would have to participate in the program, but he didn't know how he would manage to act like a toddler. He had never had little brother or even really been around small children to know how to act. Emily saw the look of despair on his face and decided to offer some comfort. "Look, I know this is not easy, but I promise to help you as much as I can. I'll be your teacher, and I'll make sure you're comfortable and happy.” “We'll work through this together." Jack felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe, with Emily's help, he could get through this. He smiled, feeling grateful for her kindness. "Thank you," he said. "I appreciate your offer of help" Emily smiled back but begin to look concern when Jack’s sighed. "I just don't even know how a toddler behaves so how am I’m going act like one? “I've never had a little brother or been around small children." Emily nodded in understanding. "No worries Jack. I'll help you as I’m pretty experienced in that category. In general, toddlers tend to be curious and playful, and they love to explore their environment. They also have short attention spans, so we'll keep things fun and interesting for you. We'll have to jump from play games, to reading stories, and other activities to try and meet that expectation." Jack smiled at the idea of playing games and actually having the time to read. "That sounds like it could be relaxing." Emily chuckled. "It will be. As for the potty training program.” “It’s divided into three sections: assessment, training, and qualification. The system will start with an assessment of your current skills to develop a plan that is tailored to you, and then move on to the training phase. “Once you've completed one level, you'll be able to move on to the next level." Jack felt a little relieved at the idea of the program being divided into sections. "Okay, that doesn't sound too bad." “Hopefully you guys can get me out of her before we even enter training phase and I just get to relax reading” Jack said as he relaxed his posture and leaned back in his playpen. Emily placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Well…” “The problem with the assessment phase is the system is looking for a specific behavior to ensure that the child is ready for potty training.” “Which means you’re going to have to act out those behaviors or the system will mark you as Not Ready”. “Not ready assessment is not what you want as that means you’re not going to be progressing and you’re stuck here.” Emily continued, "But this is a good thing, being qualified as “Not Ready” can be a fail-safe for us in the event you might be close to getting sent to a different class.” “Not Ready status ensures the child kept in the same class to avoid any further setbacks due to changing environments.” “We need go over the behaviors soon as the system begins the assessment phase the moment the child is dropped off.” “Know starting back at 0 is not ideal, but it's better than being sent to a different classroom." “I know I probably don’t want to know the answer but what would cause me to fall back to “Not Ready” status?” Jack asked with a bit of fear. Emily sensing the uneasiness from Jack answered “You’re not ready for that answer and we will cross that bridge if we have too”. Jack nodded, feeling a little more confident worried knowing that there was a way to prevent him from being stuck in this toddler program forever. "Okay, I understand." Emily smiled again. "Good. Now, let's get started on the assessment phase.
  3. My first memories were while I was potty training but still in diapers. I must have been about 4 years old and remember standing in the kitchen and filling my pants. After that, I also remember the changes too. I pooped in my pants off and on until about age 9, but at age 13 I started experimenting again and have ever since...35 years ago! Would love for you to share your own experiences!
  4. Hello folks, it has been a significant amount of time since I’ve posted on here or anywhere on DD. To be honest I may not even be familiar with any of the changes so please be honest with me if I’m doing something wrong. I’ve created a short story while I was without power during Hurricane Ian. I’m not going to dress this up but I’m very very new to writing short stories and I wrote this on a tablet so except the usual grammatical errors, spelling errors, etc. If I get enough responses for what I have posted I’ll post the final chapter later on. So please tell me what you like and don’t like, I’m a big boy and I can take the constructive criticism. All characters in this story should be considered 18 years or old. TARGET RUN Chapter 1 - Leaving Home “Come on Jack, baby, we need to get going” I heard the sweet voice of my girlfriend. Our relationship of 4 years had evolved from the traditional boyfriend/girlfriend to something much more involved and intimate. “Honey, mommy isn’t going to call twice. Please hurry up as mommy would like to go to the store and get back home quickly.” Rebecca said but this time with a much more demanding tone. Our relationship went from the “lovey-dovey” type of relationship to a mommy/toddler relationship. Before we even adventured down this path we both came to an agreement on dos and don’ts. Rebecca’s don’ts was a short list while her dos list was significant. However, I had a different mind set and my lists greatly differed then hers. As a compromise I agreed to do a trial run where we would go in levels. The starting level I agreed to start at was potty training. Rebecca would be in charge of my meals, clothing, entertainment, and of course my bathroom habits. I would be wearing disposable training pants such as “Pull-Ups” or “Goodnites” and I needed to ask for help going potty. “I’m coming Mommy, don’t leave me!” I shouted as I stood up off of my play-mat not taking my eyes off the switch’s screen. “If you’re taking your switch with you, you need to leave it in the car when we go inside.” Rebecca said as we walked out the door. Her keys jingled as she locked up behind us and we walked the short distance to the car. Opening the back passenger door would make you believe that the owner of the car had a toddler. a booster seat, “paw-patrol” window screen, and of course remains of gummy snacks and crackers on the floor all pointed to a little one. “Ok, up you go” Rebecca said as she lifted me into the booster seat. Being short and underweight did have some perks. It would be worth it if it didn’t come with so many health related issues that I have. Rebecca buckled me in and gave me a kiss on the check all while I kept happily playing on my switch unphased. “Mommy, where are we going?” “We’re just going to Target honey, Mommy saw that they had underjams in stock” “I roll my eyes as I’ve been trying to not to lose my big boy status and fall a level” With my current toddler / potty training level I was allowed to use the potty I mean bathroom if I could hold it. Rebecca also gave me the option of just going in my training pants and she would change me after. But in doing so I would lose some imaginary points that she keeps score of. Once I lost enough points the rule would be I’m back in diapers for at least one full day and one full night. “ok, but mommy I’m a big boy and I don’t need more training pants” I complain in a whiny voice. “Uhhh, yes you do honey.” “I only had two pull ups left from when I was babysitting my cousin” “You already peed in one and you’ve been wearing the last one since yesterday” “oh” I said shyly as I didn’t want to talk about my previous accident. Chapter 2 - The Home Incident I had been creating my very own mega blocks city with the blocks that Rebecca had gotten me. We had just started that morning with the potty training level that we had agreed upon and I was thoroughly enjoying myself. The minute Rebecca changed me out of my adult pjs into a disney themed pull-up, khaki shorts, and my Nickelodeon theme shirt our relationship flipped. I could already feel the new maternal instinct kick into full effect from Rebecca and I could already tell she was loving it. I had built a post office, fire dept, police station, even a school with how many blocks I had. I was just putting the finishing touches on the top of my skyscraper when all the juice I drank at lunch caught up to me. Wasting no time, I put the last block in place and decided to go look for Rebecca. I made my way into the living room to find Rebecca watching TV “Uhh, mommy, I…” “What is it honey?” “Do you need to go potty?” Rebecca asked as her eyes darted from me holding myself to the plastic white and blue potty in the corner. Just beside the potty on the wall hung a green frogged theme urinal. Rebecca had wasted no time in pulling out all the stops for her new potty training toddler. I couldn’t place where she got the stuff from so quickly which made me believe she must have had it from a previous job or a previous relationship. Mommy wanted to make sure I knew how to pee sitting down and while standing so I didn’t make a mess later when I graduated to big boy undies. “Yes” I stuttered out, It was beginning to feel like the back of my teeth were floating with how bad I had to go. “ok, do you need to go pee pee or poo poo?” Mommy asked, oblivious to the potty dance I was doing. “I just need to go pee” I said squirming around with my hands on my crotch. “ok lets try standing to pee this time and we will do sitting next time” Mommy walks over to me, puts her hands on my shoulders, and walks me over to the frog urinal on the wall. In one swift motion, my khaki shorts, and pull-up are pulled down. I instantly try to cover my pee pee. I mean penis with both hands. “move your hands silly boy, you’re going to get pee pee everywhere” Rebecca says as she swats away my hands and holds my pee pee in hers. “Ok go ahead and pee” she says as she aims me. I slowly let go and manage to pee a quick squirt of pee that turns into a slow steady stream. Just when I get a good stream going I close shut out of embarrassment. My body forgetting where it was due to the pressure on my bladder figured out that it is doing something that isn’t really adult oriented. “All done?” mommy asks as she shakes my pee pee. “Yeah, I guess so” I say red faced. “Ok then” mommy says as she pulls up my pulls-ups, shorts, and buttons them. “Let me know if you need to go potty again or if you need to be changed” she says as she removes the urinal from the wall and heads to the bathroom to empty it. I stare at mommy arms crossed as she walks away “I’m a big boy, I’m not going to pee in my pants”. I watch as mommy stops, turns around, and with her opposite hand pulls me in closer like she was going to hug me. “well big boy” mommy says rubbing my back. “Mommy wants you to know if you DO have an accident or you use your pants. Mommy will still love you no matter what.” Mommy says as she kisses my forehead before swatting me gently on the butt and heading back to the bathroom. I walk away from the experience with mixed feelings, happy but at the same time, still needing to pee. Walking back to my blocks in my room I was met with a decision. I could walk back to mommy to ask to potty again even after saying I was done. Or I could just pee in my pull-ups and pretend it was an accident. My internal thoughts were pulling in both directions before I made the decision. On one hand I would have to face the embarrassment of having to tell mommy that I wasn’t done and having to repeat the whole potty process. While on the other hand I could just relax and let it go but it would be so babish. In the end, my shyness won out and I let go into my pull up. I stood in the middle of the room as I stared downwards on my block set while also relaxing. A hot stream started and hit the front of the pull up before being absorbed. The front begins to swell outwards, taking on a yellow tint color, before starting to run down to the bottom. “Ahhhh” I said to myself as I peed. Just before finishing, a shiver runs down my back causing me to squirm in relief. “I must have had to go more than I thought” I wait a few minutes taking in the new sensations of having wet training pants. “that wasn’t so bad and now I can get back to playing” I thought to myself as I crouched down to begin stacking my mega blocks. “Maybe I’m on to something.” “Instead of going potty I don’t have to ask mommy for help and I get the bonus of not having to stop playing”. “Maybe it is better to go potty in my pants” I think to myself as I set my wet bottom down and begin stacking the tower. ———————————————————————————————————————- Three hours later mommy called for me to come have dinner. Mommy made for dinner chicken Alfredo with cheesy ravioli that you could smell before walking into the dinning room. I was helped into my booster seat before being pushed into the table. When I sat down I could feel the now cold wet training pants clinging to my skin. While eating I begin to squirm trying to get away from the feeling. “Jack do you need to go potty” Mommy asked, staring at me. “No mommy, I don’t need to go potty.” “This booster seat is just uncomf, uncom-fortable” I try adjusting myself to get away from the wetness by raising up and sitting back down. This only caused my pull up to squish more bringing back the cold wet feeling but now I could feel the wetness had traveled more up the back of the pull up. “Well I think we should try because afterwards I want to give you shower with mommy” Mommy says after she helps me down from my booster seat and pulls me over to the blue and white plastic potty.Before I can protest mommy is pulling my shorts down exposing my wet pull up. “Well no wonder you don’t need to go potty, you already went pee pee in your pull-ups mister” Mommy says while pointing out the “fade when wet” design was completely gone and an accompanying yellowish tint could easily be seen. “That also explains why you were so squirmy, not fun sitting in a wet diaper. is it?” Mommy says as she pokes the front of my pull ups. “They’re not diapers, they’re pull-ups and it was an accident” I said with a mean look while crossing my arms. “I bet, pretty sure I saw you shiver like you usually do when you get done peeing. earlier” Mommy said with a puzzled look. She must have peaked into the room after dumping out the urinal and saw me. I got bright red like a firetruck, “you saw that?” accidentally confirming her suspension. “Yes, but it's ok honey. If you don’t want to be a big boy you don’t have to” She said rubbing my back. “Let’s get you out of those wet training pants and into a nice hot shower” Mommy says as she helps me to step out of my shorts and pushes me towards the bathroom. We walk or I should I waddle to the bathroom with my sagging pull-ups. “If you still need to pee pee, go ahead and I won’t it count since you already peed” Mommy said as she dropped by shorts in the laundry hamper and turned on the water. Wasting no time, I let go of a stream that I had been holding during dinner. It wasn’t much but mommy did hear an audible “hsss” sound and chuckled. “You’re too cute” Mommy said, turning around and kissing me on my forehead
  5. Training the Maid Chapter1: It had been six months since Mariela was cut from her job, and because of that, she had been out on the streets for the last four months, scraping by with whatever kindness strangers would leave her as they walked by. The twenty-three year old got up from the curb she was sitting on, her shorts caked in stains and dirt along with her face and hands. Her shirt was ripped in the back which exposed her dingy bra strap. She smelled from not having a proper shower for days, and looked around before making her way towards the nearby McDonalds with what little change she had. She walked into the fast food, and immediately, an employee stopped her. “What are you doing here?” “I was just going to use the restroom.” “The restrooms in here are for paying customers,” the young girl told her. “Yes, I have money.” “Let me see.” Mariela sighed and reached into her pocket and pulled out two wrinkled dollar bills, six dimes, and 8 nickels. “That’s enough to get something, right?” The employee shook her head. “It’s not that much. I’ll take your money for you and get you some food. My manager will not let you order like you are.” “That’s fine,” Mariela held her stomach. “I don’t really care what it pays to eat, I just want anything. And now, may I use your restroom?” “No. The bathrooms in this establishment are clean, and people are doing to doubt that if they see you coming out like you are. Just wait here, and I’ll get your food.” “But….” “Look, if you move from this spot, I’m not going to hunt you down. You’ll lose your money for nothing. So, either you want to eat, or you don’t.” Mariela nodded. She was put just outside the restaurant door to wait, and while she didn’t think the girl meant to rob her, she did feel anxious to be separated from the only money she had for the night and probably the only meal she’d get with it. It took an eternity for the girl to come back, but while the girl was gone, another woman walked up to her, and she lightly patted her on the shoulder to let her know she was there. “I’m sorry,” Mariela said sadly as she moved aside thinking she was blocking the door. “Sorry?” a taller blond girl asked. “I was in your way, right?” Mariela asked. “No, sweetie. I was just wandering, what are you doing out here all by yourself, and where are your parents.” “That’s nice of you, miss, but I’m actually twenty-three years old.” The woman dwarfed Mariela easily, and so the woman shook her head at the little dirty girl and shrugged. “Baby, you don’t need to lie to me. I’m not going to turn you into the police if that’s what you are scared of. You’re probably an illegal Mexican, right? And your parents sent you to get food because they thought the police wouldn’t harass a child. Am I not right?” Mariela shook her head. “No ma’am. I really am twenty-three years old.” The woman sighed. “Okay, well, you are obviously waiting to go in to get something. Did you decide you didn’t have enough money? Maybe I can help.” Mariela shook her head. “A nice young girl is getting my food for me.” The woman shook her head and took the little girl by the hand and started to walk her into the restaurant. “Come on, baby. Let’s get you and your family some food. I’m not buying any of this.” Mariela tried to pull her hand back, but he woman was locked on to her wrist pretty good, and she pulled the little lady right into the store and they stood at the back of a line with twelve people in it. Mariela squirmed a little bit, hoping she wouldn’t wet her pants in front of everyone while they were waiting to go to the front. She knew if she got caught in the restroom, the girl would get her thrown out and keep her money. However, the tall blond that was with her, saw poor Mariela grabbing at her crotch and dancing around from time to time. “You poor little child! You need to pee, don’t you?” Mariela looked down and mumbled about not being allowed to go. “Nonsense,” Susan told her. “I’m not in a hurry. I don’t care if we lose our place in line, you are going to the bathroom before you wet your pants, sweetie.” She walked the girl, grabbing her tightly by the wrist again so she couldn’t pull away, and she marched her right into the sparkling clean restroom. Susan stood by the sink. “Go ahead go in the potty, baby. I’ll be right here, so if anyone tries to ask what you are doing in here, I’ll tell them I’m taking care of you.” Mariela sighed and went into the toilet. She had no reason to fight what the lady was doing for her. It felt good to finally get to pee after waiting for who knows how long it was taking. When Mariela came out of the toilets, the woman motioned for her to come to the sink, and she put the little woman’s hands into the water and started to wash them for her as if Mariela was a toddler or something. “Ma’am, I do know how to wash my hands,” she tried to tell her, but the blond woman was not listening to her complaints as she washed her hands so they were cleaner than they had been in a while. When you were on the streets, it was hard to get soap, and normally, she felt too nervous being in a restroom like in McDonalds to clean her hands well enough because other people wanted to use the sink, and she also noted how black the sink got as she washed her hands in it. “They are going to be pissed that I got the sink dirty,” Mariela told the nice though pretty stern and meddling woman. “Who, honey? Your parents?” “No, ma’am. I’m really an adult. The restaurant staff really told me to wait outside, and they told me if I went to the bathroom, I’d lose the money she took from me to get me something to eat.” “Well, she’s no longer in charge of you eating, is she?” the taller woman said matter-of-factly. “I’m going to take care of you for now, and make sure you get something to eat. If you really are a woman, and not a child, then you really should be ashamed at how dirty you’ve allowed yourself to become.” Mariela lowered her head in shame. She was ashamed of how she couldn’t take a shower, how she probably smelled, and how that she didn’t even have a place to live or nicer clothes to wear. “What is your name, anyway, sweetheart?” “Mariela,” she mumbled up at the meddler. “My name is Susan. When we get up to the front, our story will be you are my niece from out of town, and you are dirty because you didn’t get a bath yet after being on the road for a while, and you got mad at my place because I was telling you what to do, telling you to get in the bathroom and clean yourself up or something like that.” Mariela looked down. “If you do what I say, you can get a meal not only tonight, but I’ll take you home so you can get a bath, and let you at least get one night of a good rest, okay?” Mariela sighed and nodded. Even if she didn’t like the way it was happening, a nice meal, a refreshing shower, and a nice soft warm dry place to sleep was sounding like heaven. They were finally at the counter, and the lady recognized her immediately when they got up there. “I told you to wait outside,” the woman said. “Here, I have your bag of food.” She pushed the sack towards her. “Now get out before I call the police.” Susan stepped up. “Excuse me! Is that how we treat little kids who’ve been on the road now?” “What? How. How do you know this dirty girl?” “She’s my little niece. She was scared to get off of the bus while she was coming to my house because her parents got in some real trouble and they sent her to me. That’s why she’s kind of dirty.” “Your niece looks like she’s been out on the streets for days.” “She has,” Susan said. “But that’s really none of your business, is it? You are here to serve the public, and this child was a paying customer. So, she told me you didn’t let her come in to use the restroom. That is a violation of her rights. Maybe I’ll call the police!” The commotion drew a manager over to the scene as people in line started talking about what they were talking about. “You ought to be ashamed of yourself,” Susan rounded on the manager. “What do you train your employees to do? Attack a poor little fourteen year old girl, and practically make her pee her pants? Well, like it or not, I took my niece to your bathroom, and TOO FUCKING BAD she got your sink a little dirty washing her hands like a good girl!” The manager got really red in the face and he rounded on the employee. “Did you really tell that girl to stand outside?” he asked her. “Well, her aunt wasn’t anywhere near….” “Oh, so because she was a child,” Susan started but was cut off by the manager shushing her and then turning on the employee. “You can go home for the day, Ms. Baker. We’ll talk about this incident tomorrow.” The manager then handed Mariela the bag of food she bought and then went out around the bar where the customers order, and he took Susan and Mariela to a private corner where he whispered to them. “I’m sorry to ask, little miss, but are you sure you made it to the toilet?” Mariela’s face got really red, and Susan started to get red, too. “I’m not just asking because I want to embarrass you, child. If you did wet, even a little bit in your panties, then we owe you some new clothes.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. “Don’t worry, honey. That employee that was mean to you will be the one reimbursing me, but since I doubt you made it to the toilet because you do kind of smell, I’m going to go ahead and give you a hundred and twenty. That should help you get some clean clothes, right?” Susan took the money from the man. “Thank you so much sir. Are you going to fire that woman?” “Is that what you want us to do?” “Just firing her won’t teach your employees how to treat people. Punish her, preferably in front of the other employees so they know they can’t treat children like this, but don’t fire her.” The manager nodded. “I’ll see what I can do, but rest assured, we will make sure our employees know not to treat people like that.” “Thank you, sir.” “Were you done ordering? There doesn’t seem to be much in this bag for the two of you.” “Well, as I was saying, my niece was on the road with the last of the money her parents gave her, so she got mad at me earlier and left the house and probably thought she’d have to sleep on the streets again, but I went looking for her.” “So, you still need food?” “Yes sir.” “Well, as you were supposed to be in line, I’ll get you near the front, okay?” “Thank you, sir.” “And since your aunt is buying you dinner, baby, how about I take that sack of food from you and give you back what little spending money you had?” Mariela looked up at both of these people hardly able to speak at all. She hated that they were treating her like a child, but if she went along with everything thus far, she would have money for an extra meal, a place she could sleep safely and a nice bath. She just looked at her feet and nodded her head. Susan bent down to the little woman, and she patted her bottom to check her. “You did wet, didn’t you, honey?” Mariela shook her head. “Mariela, aunt Susan is not mad at you. It’s not your fault that you were made to wet your pants like that. Don’t be scared, sweetheart.” Susan took the little woman’s hand and started to lead her back to the lines, where the manager put her right behind the last guy that walked up to order. “There, now you’ll be next.” He told the supposed aunt with her dirty niece. “I’m sorry about the inconvenience, but the woman and her little niece were taken out of line at the fault of our store, so we had to let them order as soon as possible. It would have been no different to you had she been able to order when she was supposed to be able to.” The customers clapped though instead of getting irritated. Some of the people chanted “fire the waitress. Fire the waitress.” Susan turned on the crowd. “And where would that young woman go for work?” she asked them. “I asked the store to punish her for her inconsideration, but with the way things are right now, firing her will only mean she’ll be living on YOUR taxes that you are paying. Is that really what you want?” The crowd got quiet. Susan finally satisfied, went to ordering. “What did you want to eat, baby?” “I only had about three dollars, aunty,” Mariela decided to play up to Susan’s story. “I’m not talking about how much money you had, baby. That’s your spending money, and has nothing to do with how much I’ll spend to make sure you eat good. Order what you want, and make sure it costs at least seven dollars, baby.” “Seven?” “That’s what I said. Or more. You are a growing girl. You need to eat. I know you’ve had it hard with your family, but your daddy sent you to my house because he knew I could feed you better than that.” Mariela nodded with tears streaming down her face at the taller woman’s kindness. She shyly pointed a happy meal, but the supposed Aunt Susan smiled and said… “What else, baby? That’s barely four dollars, and barely enough to eat for a fourteen year old little lady.” Mariela looked up at her gratefully. “I mean it, sweetie. You don’t have to conserve at my house like you had to for the last, what, couple of months?” “Four,” Mariela whispered ashamed of being on the streets for that long. “Well, whatever, baby. You have got to be more hungry than that, so what other burger or whatever do you want?” “Can I have a shake?” the girl asked. “Of course, baby, but that’s still only two more dollars. I still need you to order another sandwich.” Mariela looked down. “Too shy, huh? Or don’t know what you want? How about I get you an extra cheese burger then, and if you turn out to be full, then I’m sure Uncle Steve will eat it, otherwise, it will be there for you when you decide you are still hungry.” Mariela nodded, tears just getting more insistent at coming down her face. Susan took the food, after she order for her and this man named Steve, and she pointed the girl out of the restaurant towards her light blue Nissan four door sedan. “Get in the back,” she told the little girl. “First of all, you did pee your pants, even if you don’t want to admit it, and Steve and I both would really not want to sit in your pee spot tomorrow when we go to work.” Mariela nodded. “You are also supposed to be a child, and it is better that children ride in the back anyway.” Mariela nodded. Susan didn’t go straight home, though. She took the dirty little woman to a second hand clothing store. “We are not getting your main things here,” Susan told her. “We’ll spend the hundred and twenty that that kind man will deduct from the waitress’s wages at a regular place, but you can’t go into a regular place in the clothes you are wearing, and I have nothing at my house that will fit you, sweetheart.” Mariela nodded. The woman took her around and found a floral top for five dollars and a jean skirt for fifteen. She got her some panties that looked like they came brand new, and she got her socks and a pair of better shoes. “This isn’t coming from the hundred and twenty?” Mariela asked Susan. “No, baby. That would not be right. The man paid for you to get some nice clothes, not hand me downs. This is just so you can have a bath and have something to wear in the morning.” Mariela nodded. “Now, I think I’m going to call in sick tomorrow so we can get you some clothes together, and then get you at least one more nice meal before you are on your way. And we won’t spend the whole hundred and twenty because you’ll need money for a motel or something so you can keep clean. Maybe if you are cleaner, if you really are an adult, you can find a job a little easier.” Mariela nodded. When they were done at the second hand store, though, Susan also stopped at the drug store. “Stay out here in the car,” she told her pretend niece. “You don’t need to use the restroom, do you?” Mariela shook her head no. “Okay, I’ll be right back, but there’s no reason to go in there in your wet pants embarrassing you. I had to take you into the clothing store because I didn’t know what size to get you.” Mariela nodded though she really didn’t pee her pants. Mariela sighed as she sat in the comfortable car, wishing she could stay somewhere comfortable like this after tomorrow. She would do almost anything to have this comfort again, and she had practically done anything, even selling her body if a guy was nice enough to her beforehand. Soon, Mariela was pulling up to a nice two story house, and judging by the foundation, he figured it also had a basement. “Come on, little one,” Susan said to her as she opened the car door. “You’re home, baby.” Mariela thought that all that niece carp was just for the public so that they would think Susan had a reason to help her. But Susan was not dropping the child act. Did she really think Mariela was a lost child or something? “Steve, are you home?” Susan called out as she opened the door. “I brought home dinner and a little something else.” A man a little taller than even Susan came around the corner and looked down at the very dirty little woman, her brown hair so dingy, it was hard to tell if the brown in it was her natural hair color or dirt. “Who is this?” Steve asked Susan. “I’ll tell you about her after we get her in the bath and cleaned up a bit. But she needs to eat first.” Steve nodded. Mariela felt really small as she walked behind the two tall people, and they led her to the dining room. “So, what’s your name, honey,” Steve asked her as if she was a child. “Mariela,” she mumbled a little intimidated by his size. He wasn’t only tall, but was well filled out so his body matched how tall he was. He was not fat by any means, but he was definitely a lot bigger than she was. He was like a giant. “Mariela,” he smiled and nodded at Susan who smiled. “Little Mariela was outside McDonalds trying to get some food, and some mean people in there told her to wait outside like she was a dog or something. They wouldn’t even let her use the bathroom.” “Is that why she smells?” “Obviously,” Susan said. “There’s no telling how long the little child has been out on the streets, but she’s obviously had a hard time keeping clean because look at her. Even if she hadn’t wet her pants outside of McDonalds, and was still leaking when I took her in, basically trying really hard not to wet until she got her food, but failing at it.” “Poor little one,” Steve said. “I know, right.” Mariela frowned at them both. “I didn’t wet my pants,” she tried to say but because of how big they were, and how they talked, she felt too intimidated to get mad or stay it with confidence. Steven walked over and put an arm around her hugging her from the back. “Well, we’ll have to call the police to find out where her parents are,” he told Susan. “Please! Don’t call the police,” the woman shivered. “What’s wrong, honey? Did you steal something? Are you in trouble with the police or something?” Mariela looked down tears in her eyes. “I don’t have identification. I was fired from my last job about six months ago because the restaurant was going to be inspected. Someone said they let illegals work there, and since I don’t have papers, I might be an illegal.” “Might be?” Steve asked her. “Well, I’ve never had papers as far back as I can remember. I came to the states when I was twelve, but somehow, I got separated from my parents, and then turned over to these people who kind of raised me incognito until I was seventeen. Then, I was turned out on my own after I got a restaurant job, and I just got fired from it six months ago, after working there for almost six years.” The two people looked at one another and then back at the little girl. “Honey, that’s an interesting story, but immigration would have sent you back with your parents if they caught you, and if someone smuggled you into the country, they would not have just let you go like that.” Mariela shook getting frustrated. She had no proof to her story at all, and she was aware that she was so short and she basically looked like a dirty child sitting there like that. “Mariela, baby, you are going to be our niece from now on,” Susan told her. “You’d like to not have to go back out on the streets, wouldn’t you?” Mariela frowned. “But I’m really twenty-three years old.” “I know what you are saying, baby, but look at it this way. If you keep saying you are twenty-three, and you convince us to let you take care of yourself, do you think you are going to find another job if you really are an illegal?” Mariela started to think on that, but they continued. “On the other hand, if you accept your fate as a fourteen year old child, and you stay with us as our niece, you can eventually get papers that we will get for you, and when you turn eighteen, in four years, you’ll have papers so you can work.” Mariela keep looking down at her lap. “Can I take some time to think this over?” she asked them. “Sure, baby. Take a week, if you need it, but after a week, if you still haven’t decided, and you are still in our house, then you will be treated as our niece, who has no other place to go, and you will be disciplined as a child if you try to run away after that, understand?” Mariela nodded. “She’s done eating,” Steve observed. “Take that poor little stinky girl to the bathroom and get her out of those peed in pants, honey.” Susan nodded. Susan took Mariela by the hand and led her to the bathroom closing the door behind them. “Baby, don’t be scared. Uncle Steve just said it like that because he wanted you to recognize how dirty it was to sit in peed in pants for that long. He wasn’t trying to be mean, and he was trying to get you motivated to get a shower, baby.” Susan started to help her undress. “I can do that, Susan.” “Aunt Susan or Aunty, while you are under my room, honey. And yes, I suppose you could, but Aunty is going to help her little niece because her baby niece made a boo boo in her pants and she needs to be cleaned. Besides, you haven’t had a proper bath for about four months, right?” Mariela nodded. “That’s a long time to not be properly clean, and I don’t trust you to get yourself clean enough. You are too nervous and worried about wasting things like our water to spend all the time you need to get clean, baby. But if I clean you up, you have no choice but to stay here as long as I decide you are still dirty and still need to be washed, right?” Mariela looked down. It did make sense, and she was right, that Mariela would likely try to hurry it up so she didn’t waste these people’s resources.
  6. “I’m home, mom!” said 12-year-old Emily as she walked past the entrance and went straight for the kitchen. The young girl had just finished her classes for the day. The walk home had made her parched, so she opened the fridge and poured herself a glass of barley tea. “Welcome home, Emily” replied her mom. She was also in the kitchen, preparing dinner for the day. She lowered the heat on the stove, and turned around to face her young daughter, who was gulping down her glass of tea. “How was your day?” How was your day? A seemingly casual question to ask. Between Emily and her mom, however, the question meant something quite different. Emily swallowed the last gulp of her tea, and placed the glass down on the kitchen table. She turned to face her mom, and, with a sheepish look on her face, lifted up her skirt. What lied underneath the skirt wasn’t the type of undergarment that you would expect from a 12-year-old. Instead, hugging Emily’s hips was a Goodnites pull-up. The pull-up was swollen and had a yellow tinge throughout, having absorbed much of Emily’s pee. Despite her age, Emily hasn’t quite mastered potty training — in fact, she hasn’t made very much progress at all. At school (and sometimes, at home), she wears pull-ups, for her to try and make it to the potty on time. However, outside of those short potty-training periods, she spends most of her time in tape diapers. “Oh honey, you’re soaked” said her mom. “You should have changed out of this in school.” Emily would not always make it to the bathroom in time, so she has two spare pull-ups in her backpack when she goes to school. “I did, mom, but this was my last one.” replied Emily. The girl had wet through all her three pull-ups for the day. “Oh dear” said her mom as she rummaged through Emily’s school bag to pull out her diaper pouch. Inside the pouch were two Goodnites, both rolled up, heavy and swollen with pee. “Did you even make it to the potty once today?” she asked as she dumped the two used Goodnites in the bin. Emily kept silent, but shook her head in reply. “So today was a total bust huh. What’s it going to be? Pull-ups or diapers?” asked mom. Mom was asking how Emily would like to spend the rest of the day — whether it be in pull-ups or diapers. Pull-ups meant Emily would have to try and use the toilet, while being in diapers carried no such expectation, and that Emily was free to use her diapers — a “break” from potty training. Emily’s response today was the same as it was for most other days — “Diapers!” she answered excitedly, hardly giving a thought to that question. For a girl of twelve years, she was perhaps a little too happy to be in diapers. “Oh, alright, fine,” sighed an exasperated mom. “but you’ve really got to start using those pull-ups at home eventually, okay?” she said as she walked past Emily into the living room, where she laid a changing mat on the ground. “C’mon, lie down” mom gestured to Emily. The girl walked over to the changing mat, took off her skirt, and lied down facing mom, with her knees lifted and legs spread apart. Her mother then proceeded to rip off the sides of the Goodnites, and pulled down the front of the pull-up, revealing the absorbent material that was now soaked yellow from front to back. “Geez Emily, it’s a miracle that this hasn’t leaked” mom said, as she pulled out a wet wipe and began cleaning her daughter’s diaper region. Emily let out a tiny squeal as the cold wipe made contact with her skin. Emily greatly enjoyed the diaper changes with her mom — the gentle comfort of being wiped, the slight tickle when the baby powder was applied — she loved everything about it. After dusting Emily with a generous amount of powder, mom then pulled out a fresh diaper and started fluffing it. It was far larger than a baby diaper, designed to fit older kids like Emily, and the diaper did fit her perfectly. It was also a diaper designed for heavy incontinence, and so it was thick and soft, and more than capable of handling anything that Emily could throw at it. With this diaper, she'd probably be good for a couple of wettings. After fluffing the diaper her mom proceeded to lift Emily's butt, and placed the diaper beneath, making sure it was centred before taping the diaper in place, and adjusting the leg gathers. "We're done, Emily" she said, as she rolled up the used pull-up and picked up the skirt from the floor. "Thanks mom!" chirped Emily. She stood up, grabbed her school bag and went to her room, where she immediately fired up her PlayStation to continue her game where she left off last night. On a warm summer day like today, she was perfectly happy to lounge around in just a t-shirt and a diaper, so she didn’t bother with putting on any pants. Her mom, too, was fine with Emily going pants-less, because this meant easier access to her diaper for checks and changes. She sat cross-legged on the floor, facing her TV. It didn’t take her very long before she found herself fully engrossed in the game. She was currently in the middle of a boss fight. Shortly after, she started feeling a slight twinge in her bladder — the barley tea from earlier has quickly made its way through her system, and was now working its way out. Still focused on fighting the boss, she bent her body slightly forward and released her hold on her bladder, letting her urine flow out into the thirsty diaper. Gradually, the front of the diaper took on a shade of yellow, then the middle, and finally the back, as more and more of the absorbent material soaked up her pee. After a good 20 seconds, she was finally done. She had given the diaper a good soaking — if she were wearing a Goodnite it would have leaked with just his one wetting, but this diaper had room for much more. The soft, cotton-like padding from earlier has now become a warm, squishy padding, and it was a feeling that Emily really loved. More importantly, this time, was the fact that she could simply pee her diaper without having to pause the game. Knowing that her trusty diaper could handle a lot more, she continued playing until bedtime, letting loose in her diaper whenever she felt the urge. By the time mom came in to change Emily into her nighttime diaper, it was soaked to capacity, and Emily earned herself a scolding for not asking for a change earlier. *** Emily was somewhat of an early riser. It was an early Saturday morning, but she was already awake — on weekends she’d always be the first to get up. She fixed herself a quick cereal breakfast and ate it in her room while browsing the Internet on her laptop. Her nighttime diaper was very wet—as it always was every morning—but she was in no hurry to get a change. Mom was asleep, anyway. If she were feeling particularly diligent she could take the diaper off, give herself a wipe and put on a pull-up, but she wasn’t quite feeling up to it today. Every day, shortly after she’s had her breakfast, it would be time for her morning BM. Today was no different — after browsing for a bit she felt her belly start to ache. Ever since she’s started wearing pull-ups her mom would sometimes tell her to try and poop in the toilet. The young girl wasn’t too keen on pooping on the toilet, however, and she much preferred to do it in her diaper or pull-up, so her mom still had a good number of poopy diapers to change. Today her mom was still asleep, so with no one to nag at her, she got off her chair, squatted beneath her desk, and gave a push, unloading her morning poop right into her nighttime diaper. The soft, warm mush slowly made its way out into the seat of the diaper behind her, creating a lump; and as even more poop continued coming out the lump expanded further, the mess inside the diaper finding its way into any crevice with free space. Finally, Emily was done pushing. The diaper, made for heavy incontinence, held her mess well, with no signs of giving out. She stood up and, with her hand, gently squished the lump behind her, savouring the warm, mushy texture of the soaked, poopy diaper. Satisfied, she sat herself back down, causing the mess to squish around her butt, much to her delight, and she continued browsing where she had left off earlier. A couple of hours later mom finally woke up. The first thing that she did was to get her coffee machine going, then she went to check on her daughter. “Good morning, darling. How are you doing today?” she asked. Immediately after, she caught a whiff of the air and she realised how pointless it was to ask that question because the smell made it clear that Emily was sitting in a very poopy diaper. Mom sighed silently to herself, knowing that her efforts to entice Emily to use the bathroom has once again resulted in failure — as it has on most other days. She wasn’t all too disappointed, however. Deep down, she knew that she didn’t mind having to change her young daughter’s diapers, even if they were poopy. It was an intimate time that she cherished dearly. “Honey, do you need a change?” she asked. “Morning, mom.” Emily replied. She glanced down to the front of her diaper, and gave it a gentle squeeze, as though she were giving it a check. She wasn’t quite willing to part with her diaper just yet. “Nah, I think I’m good” “Oh, don’t be silly, the smell isn’t hiding anything” mom said, with a little bit of mock bemusement. She went over to Emily, tugged at the back of the diaper and looked inside, and it was clear that the diaper was filled. “Really? You think you’re good?” she teased her daughter, while giving the back of the messy diaper a gentle slap. “C’mon, lie down on your bed, you need a change before you stink up the whole house.” Emily pouted a little, but complied nonetheless, and lied down on the bed, making sure to give it another good squish as she landed on her butt. Mom knew that this change was going to be a very messy operation, so she lifted Emily’s legs and placed the changing mat and a fresh diaper underneath, before getting to work. She pulled off the tapes and opened the diaper, revealing the insides of the very poopy diaper. With a sigh and a dry smile, she got to work. “When did you make this poopy, hon?” asked mom as she began wiping down her daughter’s butt. “Hm… I did it shortly after I woke up, and that was a couple of hours ago, so…” replied Emily. “Oh honey, you know you can’t be sitting in a messy diaper for that long, it’s terrible for your skin” said mom. Emily has had quite a number of brushes with nasty diaper rash on her bum, mostly because she’s always been too comfortable with sitting in her own mess. “I know, mom, but hey, you were sleeping and all, and I didn’t want to wake you up for a change” she said. “Or you could use the potty like you’re supposed to!” chided her mom, who used her free hand to pinch the side of Emily’s thigh, gently enough to assure her daughter that she wasn’t actually angry. “Ow, ow…. okay, I’ll try next time. I promise!” Emily said, as her mom continued with the cleanup in silence. It was a promise that she would go on to break, of course. Perhaps it was still too early for Emily to start using the toilet.
  7. Little Baby Becca

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    From the album: Potty Training

    © Little Baby Becca

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    From the album: Potty Training

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    From the album: Potty Training

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    From the album: Potty Training

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    From the album: Potty Training

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    From the album: Potty Training

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    From the album: Potty Training

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    From the album: Potty Training

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    From the album: Potty Training

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    From the album: Potty Training

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    From the album: Potty Training

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    From the album: Potty Training

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    From the album: Potty Training

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    From the album: Potty Training

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    From the album: Potty Training

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    From the album: Potty Training

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    From the album: Potty Training

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    From the album: Potty Training

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