Betsy'S Story -- Part One

[Tinkles123]

BETSY’S STORY – PART ONE – SUMMER, 1999

On a day in July --- 1

My mother, seeing my slightly reddened face and noticing a poop smell, asked, matter-of-factly, "Are you making doodoo?"

I looked up from the book I was reading, or at least trying to read. I took my pink and yellow pacifier out of my mouth. "Yes, Mom," I answered, equally matter-of factly, "but I don't think I'm finished yet, so could we please wait before you change my diaper?"

"All right," Mom agreed. "Just be sure you come and tell me as soon as you're done. I don't want you to get another rash. I noticed when I last changed your diaper that your bottom was a little red. I'm relieved that you finally made doodoo, Betsy," Mom added. "It's been two days since you last did, and I was worried you might need a suppository "

"Yes, Mom," I answered again, with just a bit of annoyance in my voice. "I'm probably a little red because I've had a lot of orange juice and not a lot of water today. It doesn't hurt so please don't worry."

I was VERY happy that I'd managed to poop before Mom felt the need to stick a suppository in me. I hated suppositories. Lying naked, sometimes for 15 minutes or more, on my changing table with a glycerine stick up my butt, then pooping uncontrollably onto a diaper that was just spread underneath me was a very unpleasant experience, even though I knew it was necessary sometimes.

I didn't like my mother's constantly keeping watch over the state of my diaper. Sometimes I'd deliberately fib and tell her my diaper was clean and dry when it wasn't. I didn't usually get away with those fibs. Mom would insist on checking my diaper if she didn't believe me, wanting to protect me from diaper rash. Of course, I didn't like diaper rash, either, So, in a way, even though being inspected so frequently and so intimately annoyed me, I was glad Mom was so vigilant. Besides, I knew that I had options

I could be potty trained, I knew, but I rejected that option for reasons I'll ralk about in a little while. I could take responsibility for letting Mom know when my diaper needed changing. I had considered doing that but frequently either forgot or became distracted because I was doing something interesting. Right then, for example, I put my pacifier back in my mouth, began sucking again, went back to reading Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone and quickly forgot about the mess in my diaper.

In a few minutes, I felt a familiar pressure and, grunting in a rather unladylike manner, pushed the rest of what had become a sizeable load of poop into my diaper. I peed while pushing out the load, bringing an already wet diaper perilously close to the point of saturation. Mom always insisted I wear plastic panties, even with disposable diapers. I never complained about having to wear them, remembering all those little yellow puddles in my plastic panties that would otherwise have leaked onto my clothes.

Placing a bookmark in the middle of a chapter about a troll on the loose in Hogwarts Castle, but taking the book with me, I went, still sucking on my paci, to find my mom.

"]CHAPTER 1

My name is Betsy Larsen. I was 12 years old in the summer of 1999 when I was reading Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. Yes, that's an astounding age for a completely healthy -- well, physically healthy, anyway -- girl to still be wearing diapers. My reason for refusing to be potty trained made excellent sense to me, however. Diapers -- and my pacifier -- kept me safe in a world that, from early childhood experience, I believed was anything but safe.

I'd been Betsy Larsen only since I was four years old. My twin brother, Billy, and I had been born to the Farrells, a troubled young couple who had been so overwhelmed by having twins to care for that they had "lost it" in a very major way. Patrick and Maureen Farrell had, before Billy and I were finally taken from their home by Child Protective Services, abused us emotionally with incredibly cruel words, physically with beatings and neglect, and, finally, sexually. I had discovered that soiling my diaper if I could, or at least wetting heavily was the best way to stop the sexual abuse. Billy had made a similar discovery.

Although we each did have our own beds, we often slept cuddled together, pacifiers in both our mouths. Almost every morning, we'd wake up in a cold, soaked bed. Eventually, one of our parents would remember to change our diapers and help us get dressed for the day. Often, our outfits weren't clean. Just as often, Billy would end up wearing items of clothing that were mine, and I'd be dressed in something of his. It didn't really matter, though. We were about the same size, and our clothes weren't all that unalike. We both wore simple pants and tee shirts most of the time, sometimes just tee shirts over a diaper. In Summer, we'd sometimes be naked on the little patio of our apartment, where a Mr. Turtle pool was set up. I remember enjoying being naked. I envied Billy's ability to pee standing up without having it run down his leg. I did discover, though, that by squatting with my legs spread wide, I could avoid peeing on myself, too.

The Farrells had not managed to potty train either Billy or me, even though we were brighter than average four year-olds. They weren't particularly good at keeping us clean and dry, either. Billy and I had many diaper rashes. More and more, though, we relied on our diapers to help keep us safe. Diaper rash was preferable to being molested.

Late one morning, when both our parents (neither had a steady job at the time) were still sleeping off the previous night's drinking, Billy and I let ourselves out the front door of our apartment and, still dressed in pajamas and with badly leaking, soiled diapers, went searching for breakfast. We'd found no food in our apartment. A neighbor saw us, took us in, cleaned us up, fed us, sent her son out to buy diapers for us, and called the police.

A very kind officer delivered Billy and me to a children's shelter. There we received new outfits and another diaper change. We managed to convince the people in charge not to separate us. Bending the rules, the director of the shelter assigned us to share a small bedroom with twin beds. Plastic mattress covers assured that we wouldn't end up with urine soaked mattresses. Billy and I felt terrified, but being together made the situation bearable.

Our parents were arrested and released on bond, posted by a friend. They were allowed no contact with us, however. Neither Billy nor I wanted to see them. Eventually, both parents surrendered their parental rights in exchange for a sentence of five years on probation. I don't know if either of them succeeded in straightening themselves out, nor do I especially care.

We first met Jim and Rose Larsen as foster parents. Billy and I had been at the shelter for a little less than a month. Our bruises and diaper rash had healed. The staff at the shelter treated us kindly, and even seemed fond of us. We were happier than we could remember being at any time in our lives. Because we were past four and still in diapers, no one had really high hopes that anyone would want to adopt us. Foster care, though, might be a possibility.

The Larsens had only recently qualified as foster parents. Finally accepting that they could not have children of their own, Jim and Rose Larsen had decided that a child did not need to be "theirs" in order for them to love him or her. We were among the first children the Larsens met. They seemed taken with us, and we instinctively liked them. They arranged an "in-home trial" weekend that worked out so well that we never went back to the shelter. It took about two years for Billy and me to be released for adoption, but we'd been thinking of Jim and Rose Larsen as Mom and Dad for a long time before we became legally theirs.

State law required that Billy and I each have a bedroom of our own in the Larsens' home, so we did. Until we were eight years old, though, we never spent a night apart. We alternated between sleeping in Billy's bedroom and mine. Rose, with help from Jim, diapered us well and carefully enough that we almost never had either a diaper rash or a leak.

No mention was made of potty training for more than a year after Billy and I came to live with the Larsens. Neither they nor the therapist we saw weekly pressed the issue at all. When the subject was brought up it was because we'd be starting school, and kids don't usually wear diapers to school.

The mere suggestion of potty training made both Billy and I rigid with fear. We protested loudly that we DID NOT WANT to use the toilet and wear big kid underwear! We wanted to make weewee and doodoo IN OUR DIAPERS, thank you very much! The discussion ended right there. Now, more than seven years later, neither the therapist we continued to see, although less frequently, nor our parents tried to impose potty training on us.

Somehow we were allowed to go to school in diapers and have them changed when necessary by either the school nurse or a teacher's aide. During Kindergarten that arrangement worked fine. Teasing began in first grade and got worse as the year went on. Before school ended for the term, our new parents decided it would be best to home school Billy and me.

Dad and Mom owned an accounting and bookkeeping business. Dad was a CPA. Mom had worked as a Junior High Math teacher until she and Dad had become serious about starting a family. Lately she'd been helping out in the accounting business, which was growing rapidly. Since Billy and I arrived, Mom had been working from home, doing bookkeping and payroll for smaller clients. Now she'd be home schooling us as well. Dad promised to help as much as he could.

Home schooling worked well for Billy and me. We had no trouble at all mastering the course work for our age group, and often ventured beyond the required curriculum as we explored whatever interested us. We visited the library several times each week, and played in neighborhood parks almost daily.

Home schooling meant that Mom no longer needed to diaper us with disposables very often. Billy and I had never worn cloth diapers and plastic panties before coming to live with the Larsens. "Cloth diapers are better for the environment," Mom explained as she pinned cloth diapers on us for the first time. "And, I think they protect you and your clothing better... not to mention the furniture."

I remember looking at my own and Billy's reflection in the mirror, and finding the way we looked in our diapers, tee shirts, and plastic panties more than acceptable. We wore an assortment of blue, yellow, pale green, pink, and, of course clear and white plastic panties. Thick cloth tabs sewed to our undershirts securely held diaper pins and kept our diapers from drooping too badly.

Wherever we went, some people noticed that Billy and I were wearing diapers. The diapers were always visible under pants. When I wore skirts and dresses (something I'd hardly ever done before coming to live with the Larsens but found I enjoyed very much), my diapers were less noticeable. Still, however, people would notice, especially if the dress was short and I was diapered heavily. Some people weren't exactly kind in their remarks when they saw us being changed in a restroom, or even when they spotted the diapers under our clothes. Mom and Dad always managed to get us away from abusive people with a minimum of fuss.

Billy and I adjusted quickly to our new routine. We'd been pretty shy around other kids, and didn't really miss being in school. We had always enjoyed each other's company more than anyone else's, and we still did. With Mom and Dad, our world felt wonderfully complete ... and safe.

The required curriculum for our grade level was not especially challenging for Billy and me. Mom challenged us, though, by helping us explore a range of fascinating subjects -- literally from architecture to zoology. With his keen interest in math, engineering, aesthetics, and functional use of space, Billy soon began designing and constructing model buildings. Soon he was at work planning a town with residential, business, industrial, and recreational areas. Over time, Dad and Billy began bringing Billy's town to life as a working scale model, complete with working cars, trucks, and trains as well as an airport that, except for the fact that the airplanes didn't actually fly, was quite realistic.

My great love has always been words. With mom's encouragement I began to write. Short little stories and simple rhymes at first, then gradually more complex material, some of which eventually saw publication. I've finished a short novel about a girl who creates a vivid fantasy life to help her cope with the very threatening life she actually leads, and I'm working on a sequel, which I'm trying to write from the point of view of the girl's brother. Trying to think like a boy is fascinating for me. Often, I ask Billy's opinion of what I've written. Sometimes Billy suggests changes. Often, though, he tells me I really "got it right." It's great having a twin brother. I wish every girl could have one.

Home schooling grew in popularity in Mayfield. It wasn't too long before the school district began to offer an enrichment program for home schooled kids. Meetings for both parents and kids happened once or twice every month, an informal athletic program began, the library started offering special activities, and, not long ago, a website had begun offering additional resources.

We met Lou Maxwell and his mother at one of the home school meetings. I hope you've had the experience of recognizing that someone you've just met is going to be a very good friend. Lou is that kind of person.

Other kids were sometimes stand-offish toward Billy and me. I could understand why. I knew quite well how unusual it was for otherwise healthy kids like us to be wearing diapers at our age. I wondered if they thought wearing diapers was somehow contagious. Lou showed no hesitation. He introduced himself totally unselfconsciously and responded to us as a friend and equal right from the beginning. When Billy asked him "Aren't you gonna ask us why we still pee and poop in our diapers?", Lou answered "Do you want me to ask you?

"I guess not, unless you're curious," Billy said.

Lou admitted openly that he wore diapers himself at night because he wet in his sleep. "Sometimes I need to wear diapers during the day, too, if I'm not going to be near a bathroom. I know what wearing diapers is like, and knowing that you wear them doesn't bother me at all."

Our moms became friends as easily as we did, and soon we were visiting each others' homes at least once a week. Both Billy and I enjoyed our friendship with Lou. Billy and Lou enjoyed Billy's models. Lou and I enjoyed fixing each other's hair and trying on clothes.

Yes, that's right. Lou's hair was long enough to style, and he enjoyed having me style it. He also enjoyed helping me experiment with my hair, which, with his encouragement, I was letting grow. Lou had a very androgynous appearance at that age. He was more pretty, really, than handsome. When we were together at Billy's and my home, Lou willingly tried on my outfits. He looked better in some of them than I did, nothing at all like a boy wearing a dress. Even Billy agreed that Lou looked great in my clothes. It felt to me that Lou and Billy were attracted to each other.

I wondered if either or both of them might be gay, but rejected that thought rather quickly. I knew several gay people. I was certain my brother wasn't gay. And, certainly, Lou's energy didn't feel gay to me. Lou felt like a girl friend to me. More and more, I began to relate to him in that way. It seemed the natural thing to do. Billy, I realize now, also related to Lou as though Lou were a girl. Which, although none of us had fully recognized the fact, Lou really was!

Neither of us was all that surprised when, for one of our regular Friday get-togethers when we were all twelve years old, Lou showed up in a skirt, blouse, earrings in newly pierced ears, a necklace, newly styled hair, and even a little make-up. Lou had been developing a decidedly more female appearance for some time. It was no longer possible not to notice his budding breasts and the curve of his hips. Lou's family doctor had referred him and his parents to an endocrinologist, who in turn had called in a geneticist. Tests revealed that Lou was genetically female. "He" would be living full-time as a female, and would need to decide eventually to undergo surgery to transform his external genitalia into a vulva and create an opening for an already existing vagina. Lou had also been offered the option of more extensive surgery to remove all female organs, so that he could continue to live as a male.

Lou told Billy and me that his mind had been almost completely made up right at the start. He had, in fact, realized quite a while ago that somehow he must be female, but had never known how to share this realization with anyone. We were the first outside his (well, from that moment on, Lou was never “he” again) family to see Lou as a girl. Lou had been out all morning shopping with her mom. They'd had a glamour shot" taken to celebrate Lou's first day as a girl. That was the reason for the make-up.

Billy's diaper couldn't completely hide the erection that he'd gotten as soon as he saw the transformed Lou. I think Lou saw it, too. I saw what looked like a cross between an embarrassed and pleased look on her face. I looked at Lou and she blushed a little. None of us mentioned Billy's erection or Lou's response, though.

i have to admit that Billy's penis fascinated me. We'd grown up together, so I was used to seeing it. Lately, it seemed to be developing a mind of its own! When Billy got aroused, which he did more and more often, his penis grew amazingly and stood straight out from his body. During the past year, Billy's body had been developing at a much more rapid pace than mine. I remained flat-chested and without pubic hair. I wasn't nearly as mature, physically, as Lou or Billy. Billy would soon have a beard. His pubic hair had already begun growing.

Within a few months, Lou's transformation was complete. Physically, mentally, emotionally, and legally female, Lou was now Mary Louise Maxwell. She, like Billy and me, saw a therapist regularly, and that was a good thing. Right away, though, everyone who knew Lou knew she was meant to be a girl.

On a day in July --- 2“Ready for a clean diaper?" Mom smiled and looked up from the papers she was working on as I waddled into her study. My diaper smelled awful, I knew.

I nodded. I must have looked somewhere between solemn and ridiculous standing in front of Mom in just a pink tee shirt and yellow flower-print plastic panties over a sagging, soiled diaper, with ny paci in my mouth and Harry Potter under my arm.

"Let's go, then." Mom led the way to my bedroom. I climbed up on my changing table -- it still fit me comfortably -- and lay down. As Mom pulled down my plastic panties and began unpinning my diaper, I opened Harry Potter and the Sorceror's Stone to the page I had marked and resumed reading.

"That must be quite a book!" Mom exclaimed. "It's been a while since you kept reading while I changed your diaper."

"Yeah," I admitted, "it's pretty good. I don't want to put it down." I'd started reading only that morning and was already halfway through the book.

"I'm glad you're enjoying it," Mom said. "You've been kind of down lately, since Billy hasn't been home as much as he used to be." She had slid the soiled diaper out from under me, rinsed the poop out in the toilet in the bathroom just ouside my door, dropped the diaper in the diaper pail, and was now cleaning my poopy bottom with wipes.

Billy was at the town swimming pool with Lou Maxwell. I could have gone with them, but I would have had to wear diapers and plastic panties under my swimsuit, and I was too self-conscious to do that, since I'd now be the only one my age wearing diapers.

Billy had decided to be potty trained. He was enjoying his freedom from diapers. I wasn't ready for such a big step, and I was still upset with Billy for going ahead without me. I could understand and appreciate Billy's reasons for giving up his diapers. I still felt that he'd abandoned me, though. Billy still needed diapers at night, "just in case," but many mornings he now woke up dry or only slightly wet.

CHAPTER 2

At about the same time Lou was having her surgery, a new magnet school for gifted and talented children was announced in Mayfield. The new school was especially interested in attractng students like Lou, Billy, and me. It sounded like a very exciting idea to all three of us. I wondered, though, how big a problem my own and Billy's diapers would present. Billy wondered, too.

It wasn’t long before Mom and Dad learned that we’d be allowed to attend the magnet school wearing disposable diapers. That was good news! I knew there would be teasing and that we’d have difficulty making friends, but being able to attend a school like the magnet school made all of it worthwhile.

Billy agreed, sort of. Almost right away, though, he’d begun thinking about how nice it would be to not be so different, to learn to use the toilet so he wouldn’t need diapers anymore. At first he didn’t say anything, but I knew he was deep in thought about something. Finally, one day, Billy seemed unusually tense all morning. When, just before lunch, Mom said “Come on, you two, let’s get you some clean diapers,” Billy replied “I don’t need a clean diaper, Mom, I need to use the toilet.”

Mom didn’t believe Billy until she’d checked his diaper. Amazed at finding it dry, she followed Billy into the bathroom where she unpinned his diaper and left him to “go potty.” Billy went through the whole process without getting pee on the floor or anything. He emerged from the bathroom, naked from the waist down, looking very proud of himself. Mom said, smiling, “I guess we need to get you some underwear!” Billy just grinned.

Mom pinned a fresh diaper on Billy but let him go without his plastic panties. Then she changed my diaper, which was soaked. Mom noticed my silence – I hadn’t congratulated Billy nor had I made any other comment – but didn’t say anything. We all had lunch, then went to K-Mart where Mom bought Billy two dozen pairs of Hanes briefs. Billy was excited to put on his new “big boy” underwear as soon as we returned home. For the rest of the day, he went to the bathroom when he needed to without any prompting. I watched, impressed but also dismayed.

When Dad came home, he beamed at the good news of Billy’s success. He didn’t belittle me, or say anything to make me feel bad. In fact, he changed my diaper with his usual good cheer before dinner, telling me about how his day had gone and asking about mine. For the first time in as long as I could remember, though, I felt self-conscious about wearing diapers. Not self-conscious enough to want to join Billy in potty training, but definitely self-conscious. I was noticeably quiet all evening, as I had been all day. Everyone “gave me space,” and said nothing about the now obvious difference between Billy and me. I had my pacifier in my mouth all evening and didn’t say much. I just sucked and thought.

Mom diapered Billy at bedtime, just in case. In the morning, his diaper was wet. Not as wet as mine, and not soiled like mine was, either, but definitely wet. He would have had wet sheets if he hadn’t been diapered. Billy went to the bathroom as soon as Mom removed his diaper, took a shower, and put on a clean pair of his new briefs. I let Mom bathe me, as she always did, and, of course, diaper me.

After breakfast, Mom left Billy and me by ourselves while she went to her study to take care of a client’s payroll.

“What the heck is this all about?” I asked Billy, the hurt in my voice unmistakable. “I thought we were both going to stay in diapers, and now you’re potty trained!”

“Not quite potty trained, but working on it,” Billy answered, trying to hide the pride he felt in his accomplishment. “I woke up wet this morning, remember.”

“Yeah, barely wet,” I said. “But you went potty right away and now you’re wearing your new underpants. I'll bet it feels really different.”

“It does feel different, but I'm getting used to it and I like it," Billy sad, a little defensively, I thought. "No one said you had to be potty trained too, Betsy,” Billy said, again defending what he’d done. “Mom and Dad aren’t upset with you at all.”

“I know,” I agreed, “but now everything is going to be harder for me.” As I listened to myself, I realized I sounded like I was whining, but I continued. “When we were both wearing diapers, I didn’t have to feel so different. You were just like me. Now you’re not!”

Billy hugged me. “I’m kind of sorry,” he said, “but it’s something I’ve been thinking about even before we found out about the school. I just thought it was time.”

As Billy spoke, I realized that the revelation that Lou Maxwell was actually a girl, even more than the thought of being with other kids in school in the Fall, might have been his motivation for potty training. I said as much.

Billy blushed. “Well, yeah, I thought she might see me as more than just a friend if I could be more grown up,” he admitted.

I couldn’t think of anything to say in response. I understood. I didn’t think that I would have given up my diapers even if I’d met someone who made my heart beat faster. But I could see why Billy would consider the possibility of being seen as more manly by a girl he had a crush on worth the price of giving up the security of diapers.

“If she doesn’t want you to be her boyfriend, will you go back to wearing diapers again?” I asked, sounding hopeful but already guessing how Billy would respond.

“I don’t think so, no,” Billy answered, sounding almost regretful. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner what I was thinking, but I knew you wouldn’t like it and you’d try to talk me out of it. I hope we can be close like we’ve always been, and I’m still fine with you wearing diapers, but it really is time for me to give them up.”

“I know,” I said, and hugged Billy. “But it’s not time for me to give them up.”

“I didn’t think it would be,” Billy agreed. “And you know I’ll stick up for you against anyone who thinks it’s weird that you aren’t potty trained. I’m still your twin brother and I always will be.”

I didn’t say anything. I just hugged Billy harder.

Throughout the rest of the day, Billy used the toilet with no problems and no accidents. He even managed to wipe himself without any help when he pooped. Nobody said anything more about him being potty trained and me not. Mom asked regularly if I was wet, like she always had,and changed my wet diapers in her usual, cheerful way. Within minutes after I’d soiled a diaper, she noticed the smell and asked if I’d “made doodoo,” again, just as she always had. When I nodded and looked a little ashamed, she assured me “It’s okay, just like it’s always been. Just remember, I don’t want you sitting in a poopy diaper, so when you make doodoo, let me know so I can get you changed right away.”

Mom smiled as she said this, and I smiled back. Neither Billy nor I had ever been very good about telling Mom or Dad when our diapers needed changing. Mom guessed correctly that my being the only one in diapers wasn’t going to change that behavior.

Mom diapered Billy again that night. In the morning he woke up soaked and with a load in his diaper. He was out of bed early, so obviously upset that I woke up, too. We’d always had a kind of awareness of how the other was feeling. I got out of bed and joined Billy in the TV room. Mom and Dad were still asleep. My diaper was probably as wet as his, but I hadn’t pooped. Billy was holding his pacifier, but it wasn’t in his mouth.

“I’m sorry,” I said, hugging Billy. “I think I know how much you wanted to wake up clean and dry.”

“I don’t understand it,” Billy said. “I don’t remember wetting or pooping. I woke up and knew right away my diaper was soaked and poopy. I don’t know know what happened.”

“Your brain probably hasn’t gotten the message yet,” I suggested. “After your first day without a diaper, you almost made it through the night without wetting. I’ll bet you didn’t sleep a whole lot, though. Last night, as you were getting more used to wearing regular underwear, you relaxed a little more, and your body did what it’s used to doing. You know you wake up with a load in your panties at least two or three times a week. It’s nothing unusual.” I was trying to reassure Billy. He did seem relieved.

“You always were smarter than me,” Billy said, putting his pacifier down on the coffee table and giving me a two arm hug.

Just then Mom walked into the TV room. She smelled poop and asked if I’d made doodoo. “No, Mom, it was me,” Billy admitted right away. I could always count on Billy to “be a man” and protect me. It had been that way for as long as I could remember. I was a little bit smarter. He was stronger, and seemed to have more courage.

“Let’s get your diaper changed, then,” Mom suggested, forgetting for the moment that Billy was potty trained now, and focusing on the situation at hand.

“I don’t want to wear a diaper today, Mom, if it’s okay,” Billy said calmly. “I had an accident but I want to keep working at being potty trained.

“Of course, Billy,” Mom said, remembering. “I’m sorry. For a moment I forgot you don’t want to wear diapers anymore.”

Mom removed Billy’s wet and soiled diaper, and cleaned his poopy bottom. Then Billy took a shower and dressed for the day, putting on a fresh pair of briefs.

Billy didn’t often have daytime accidents, but he had to work pretty hard at staying clean and dry at night. It was more than a week before he woke up completely clean and dry. The night after that, though, he was wet again, although he didn’t poop his diaper. Most mornings we’d sit in our diapers together in the TV room before Mom woke up. Billy would talk about how it was going for him.

“Sometimes I feel like giving it up,” he admitted. “Diapers still feel more normal for me than underwear, and it’s not as easy as you might think to remember to hold it when I have to pee or poop and not just go in my pants. It can kind of make you crazy!"

“I don’t even want to think about it,” I said. “You’re amazing, Billy. I don’t think I could do what you’re doing even if I wanted to.”

Billy smiled.

About two weeks into Billy’s potty training, we went to an amusement park the whole family loved. We made the trip once each year, in late Spring before it got too hot. It was a four hour drive. The day before our trip, Mom suggested gently that Billy might want to make the trip wearing diapers, “just in case.” Billy thought about it all day, before consenting to be diapered for our trip. “It’s a long time in the car,” he reasoned, “and a lot of the rides are scary. Some of the lines are long, too, and you can’t step out of the line to use the bathroom and not lose your place. I don’t want to have an accident and it wouldn’t be much fun to have to think all day about whether I had to pee or poop."

The next morning Billy woke up almost dry. After he had showered, though, Mom double diapered him for the car trip, She’d double diapered me, too, after my bath. Mom was carrying the big diaper bag, and another bag with extra diapers and plastic panties in it. We’d be gone overnight and, between the two of us, we’d use nearly three dozen diapers before returning home.

“Don’t worry about going to the bathroom today, Billy,” Mom advised. “I don’t think it will hurt your potty training. Just go in your diaper. When we come home, you’ll get back on track right away.”

Billy seemed a little doubtful, but also a little relieved. When, about halfway through the car trip, we stopped at a rest area, both our diapers needed changing. Billy seemed a little embarrassed, but he didn’t balk at having his diaper changed.

For the rest of our two day trip, Billy peed and pooped in his diapers like he always had. I enjoyed the amusement park as much as I always had. So did Billy. He forgot about diapers and just had a good time. There was an unbelievable new roller coaster this year. It was so intense that even Mom admitted she’d wet herself a little as we went down the first hill, and that was something Mom never did. “I was glad I wore a Poise pad,” Mom said, laughing about her accident.

Even more than the amusement park, though, I loved having my diaper buddy back, even though I knew it would be for only a few days.

On a day in July --- 3

Mom lifted me by my ankles, as she always had , and slid a fresh diaper under me. After liberally applying lotion, she pinned the diaper on me snugly. Then she slipped a clean pair of plastic panties – these were plain yellow with no floral pattern – over my feet and pulled them up past my knees. Lifting me again by my ankles, she pulled the plastic panties up around my waist, making sure the diaper was tucked in all around.

“All done,” Mom said, and I climbed down from the changing table.

“Not quite,” I said, and Mom replied, “Oh, of course, I forgot!” Then she patted my diapered bottom, as she always had. We both smiled.

“What do you think about taking a little break and getting some fresh air?” Mom suggested. We could both use it, and it’s too nice a day to stay inside. We could walk to the park.

The idea sounded good to me. I put a cotton skirt on over my plastic panties, and a pair of sandals. It was one of my favorite skirts, about mid-thigh length, with a simple pattern of pastel squares. I hadn’t worn this skirt much lately. I’d been more self-conscious than usual about people noticing my diapers, and they were sometimes visible under this skirt.

Mom took the small diaper bag – it had room for about four diapers, wipes, lotion, and an extra pair of plastic panties – and I packed a few pieces of fruit and two bottles of water in an insulated bag. We put both bags in a big canvas tote and added a book for each of us, in case we decided to sit on a bench or the grass and read, and two beach towels to sit or lie on. I, of course, brought Harry Potter. We were walking out the door when Mom reminded me "Don't forget your pacifier." That's my mom. She remembers everything.

Mom is kind of old-fashioned, and Sometimes does embarrassing things like asking if "I made doodoo" right in front of people. I know she loves me and cares about me, though. I've always known that. She's always doing things that let me remember how much she cares, like reminding me to bring my pacifier to the park. I was rough on pacifiers, by the way. I suckedhard on them and sometimes even chewed on them, in kind of the same way other kids chew on a pencil. When a pacifier started getting raggedy looking, a ne one always showed up on my bedside table, as if the tooth fairy had brought it or something.

CHAPTER 3

Billy stayed in diapers the whole time we were away from home. It turned out to be three days, not two. We were having so much fun at the amusement park that ee decided to stay an extra day. It felt so good to have my diaper buddy back again!

Mom had to wash a load of diapers on our second night away from home. Billy and I helped fold the diapers as soon as the dryer finished its cycle. We often helped wash and fold our own diapers. We were the ones using them, after all.

Billy and I slept in the same bed, as we most often did in hotels. All four of us Larsens usually shared one room. Sharing kept travel cost down. We were still comfortable sleeping in the same bed, despite the difference in our physical maturation rates.

Because we shared rooms, we were able to take more trips, even a cruise the previous summer. Mom had arranged for the ship's laundry to wash our diapers. It worked out fine. The ship's laundry service was very friendly.

Sometimes, like on this trip, we brought a waterproof mattress cover with us when we traveled, if the place where we were staying couldn't provide them. When she could, Mom called ahead and checked. Most places were happy to provide mattress covers, and even thanked Mom for being considerate of their bedding by asking for one.

We pulled in to our driveway a little after 8:00 on Sunday night. Since he'd be putting on his night diapers in only a few hours, Billy didn't bother switching back to underwear. But the next morning, after Mom had removed his wet, soiled night diapers and he had showered, Billy went right back to wearing his Hanes briefs.

That first day wasn't too easy for Billy. He had several accidents, one of them requiring more than just a change of underwear. Mom was out delivering some documents to a client when that one happened. My heart went out to Billy as I saw the wet spot on his shorts expanding rapidly, and then the pee running down his leg into his left sneaker.

"Oh, Billy, I'n so sorry!" I cried.

Billy didn't say anything. The look of disappointment on his face said it all, though. He squished off to the bathroom, stripped off his wet clothes, showered, and left his wet left sneaker in thr bathtub. Then he dressed again, from the skin out, finishing just as Mom walked in the door.

Billy looked embarrassed and ashamed as he explained to Mom what had happened. Mom tried to help Billy understand that it really wasn't such a big deal.

"Lots of people have accidents, Billy," Mom said. "You've already cleaned up after yourself and put on clean clothes. Now all you need to do is get over it and get on with your day."

Always one to "man up" when there was a challenge to deal with, Billy just nodded. I could see he was relieved, though. "What should I do about the wet sneaker?" Billy asked.

"Let's just put both sneakers through the washer and dryer,” Mom answered. “They look like they could use it anyway.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Billy said. And he did.

Billy’s mood lightened as the rest of the day proceeded without any further accidents. He didn’t complain when Mom told both of us to come and get our night diapers on a little earlier than usual. She didn’t want to have to bother with diaper changing later, when everyone would be tired. Billy even stayed up a while longer to watch TV with the rest of the family, dressed in only his diapers, plastic panties, and a tee shirt. He didn’t seem at all embarrassed to be seen that way.

Billy’s diaper was nearly as wet as mine the following morning. Both of us were up early, watching TV in the family room. Mom hadn’t come out of her and Dad’s bedroom yet when he felt the urge to poop, and I could see him struggling. We both made it a practice never to wake up Mom or Dad. They took good care of us and we wanted to do our best to take care of them. After he’d passed gas three or four times, I said “Billy, why don’t you just go ahead and poop and get it over with. At this point you’re probably not gonna make it until Mom wakes up anyway.”

Billy stood up, filled his diaper, then didn’t sit back down. Ever the gentleman, he was trying to make it as easy as possible for Mom to get him cleaned up by not sitting in the poop and smearing it all over his butt.

I was less polite. Watching Billy poop triggered my urge, and I filled my own diaper. I could feel it squishing all over my bottom. I was used to the feeling. It didn’t bother me.

It was another fifteen minutes before Mom woke up. By then, the poop smell in the family room was pretty strong. Billy was still standing. Mom noticed, and knew why. She thanked Billy for being so considerate and said “Let me get you out of that messy diaper so you can shower and get dressed.” Billy followed Mom to the bathroom. She was back in a few minutes, ready to get me cleaned up. Mom took off my diaper, wiped me clean, and then gave me a nice warm bath before re-diapering me.

“All clean and dry,” Mom declared. “Let’s have breakfast.”

It took a while longer, but Billy succeeded. By the beginning of summer he was clean and dry day every day. Billy still wore diapers to bed and didn't complain about having to wear them. He kept a calendar where he bored "dry," wet," or "soiled" (D,W, or S) on each date. By his own reckonibg, Billy was wet one morning out of two on average, and soiled about one morning out of five. He'd hit a plateau where he'd stay stuck for months. I remained firm in my determination to not use the toilet at all. That, pretty much, became the way things were.

Swimming season started, and Billy was eager to spend more time at the town pool. We had a pretty nice backyard pool, three and a half feet deep and twenty-four feet in diameter. Now that he didn't have to be concerned about people seeing his diapers, Billy wanted to be with the kids our age at the town pool.

Going swimming, for someone who wears diapers, can be awkward. Disposable diapers swell up horribly in water. Disposable "swim diapers" don't swell, but they're not terribly absorbent, either. Their main purpose is to keep poop out of the water. They're available only in babies' sizes so, even though I was small, they hadn't been an option for me since the year before last, and they were a little too tight that year. Billy and I had tried cloth swim diapers, last year which accomplished the same purpose but leaked pee, sometimes embarrassingly.

Most of the time we wore our regular cloth diapers and plastic panties when we went swimming. I usually wore a skirted swimsuit in an attempt to hide my diapers, but they still were pretty obvious. Neither Billy nor I had felt comfortable at the town pool in previous years. I still didn't have much enthusiasm for going there, but now Billy did.

Because her body was looking less and less like the body of the boy she was supposed to be, Lou Maxwell had been spending a lot of summer days at our house during the past two years. Now that she could completely enjoy life as a girl, Lou, like Billy, wanted to be with other kids at the town pool. They never failed to invite me to come along with them, but I almost never went, especially now that I'd likely be the only one my age who wore diapers.

When I did go with them to the pool, Billy and Lou never left me by myself and always tried to include me in whatever they were doing. When my diapers needed changing, Lou changed them in the women's dressing room. Mom had shown her how when Lou had offered and I had agreed. Lou was already a skilled diaper changer. The new friends Lou and Billy were making were always nice to me, although it felt to me like they thought of me as a rather odd little sister. Most of the time, I felt more comfortable staying home.

Mom and Dad were both concerned about me, I knew. I knew also that they realized I needed to work things out for myself. Most days they gave me all the space I needed to do that. But there were special days like the one I've been describing.

On a day in July --- 4

Mom and I found a quiet place under a tree near the lake shore at the park. We spread our beach towels on the grass and sat watching the ducks swimming in the lake for a while. I noticed a turtle sunning himself on a rock near the shore if the lake, and pointed it out to Mom. Mom showed me two hummingbirds quarreling over who'd have the first go at a honeysuckle blossom.

I lay down and dozed off. Well over an hour later I woke up and had to think for a second before remembering where I was. I saw Mom sitting and reading her book. She smiled. "Hey, Sleepyhead!" Mom said, "I guess you really needed a nap!

"Yeah, I guess so! " I yawned and stretched as I sat up, and noticed as I did that my diaper was wet. No surprise..

"It's a hotter day than I thought," Mom said. What do you say we go home and have a little swim in the pool?"

That sounded like a good idea to me. “Great!” I answered. We packed up and walked home, happy to be together.

It was about 3:30 in the afternoon when we walked in our front door. Billy wouldn’t be home before 5:00, and Dad wouldn’t be home before 6:00. Our backyard was more private than most, with a six foot fence and mature trees surrounding the property. Actually, our house was on the edge of a little woods. When we were young, Billy and I had often played naked in the backyard. We’d also skinny dipped in the pool now and then.

Our pool was more heavily chlorinated than most because, of course, Billy and I peed in the water. Our diapers and plastic panties couldn’t keep the pee out of the water. Poop was not a problem, though. Thick cloth diapers and plastic panties kept the pool poop free. We also both knew enough to get out of the pool immediately after we began pooping, or sometimes even before. Neither of us had ever had a poop accident while skinny dipping. We never skinny dipped when it was even remotely likely we were going to poop.

I had my swimsuit in hand and was taking my tee shirt off when Mom suggested “Feel like skinny dipping this afternoon?”

“Both of us?” I asked, wide-eyed.

“Why not?” Mom asked. We’ll take a cover-up with us just in case someone comes home early.

So that’s what we did. For the next half hour, Mom and I enjoyed our backyard pool wearing nothing but sunscreen. We carefully applied the sunscreen all over, especially to those places where we didn’t usually need it.

By the time Billy and Dad came home we were both dressed and busy preparing dinner, a huge salad of fresh, crunchy vegetables from the farmer’s market, broiled chicken breast with lemon pepper, and corn on the cob. We had key lime pie for dessert. It was a pretty nice summer dinner, we all thought.

We talked about our day while we ate. Dad was working hard to get his business far enough ahead so we could enjoy our vacation, a “stay-cation” this year, since we weren’t going on a long trip but would, instead, take day trips close to home and enjoy some days relaxing at home together. Billy was enjoying being with the other kids at the town pool, and hinted that more than one girl seemed to be interested in him. He said that Lou was popular with the other kids. She was becoming friendly with some of the girls, and more than one boy was trying to impress her. Kids at the pool had the impression that Lou and Billy were a couple. Billy still had thoughts that maybe he and Lou would become a couple, but so far Lou didn’t want to be in that kind of relationship with anyone. Billy was being careful not to get too insistent. Some kid named Sean seemed especially infatuated with Lou.

Mom and I told Dad and Billy about our day, including the skinny dipping. “I guess you two had the best day of any of us”! Dad said. Billy agreed.

It had been a good day, I realized, as I drifted off to sleep that night.

CHAPTER 4

In the middle of the following week, UPS delivered a large package. Mom seemed to be expecting the package, but I had no idea what was in it. So I asked.

“You’re going to need to wear disposable diapers to school,” Mom explained. “They won’t allow cloth because storing the used ones is something they don’t want to deal with. So I ordered a supply of the best disposables I could find in your size. Feel like trying one on? You probably need a clean diaper anyway.”

I was curious to discover what the disposables felt like, so I agreed quickly. Mom removed my diaper – it definitely did need changing – and unfolded one of the disposables. The box included four packages, each with 32 diapers in it. “Abena Abri-Form Air Plus Breathable Briefs” the package said. Extra small. Pretty fancy name for a diaper, I thought. The outside of the diaper looked like cloth, but it was really paper. Two tapes on each side of the diaper fastened it. There was a waistband across the back. The diaper was thick, but not as thick as the cloth diapers and plastic panties I usually wore. Mom taped it on, helped me down from the changing table, and gave me the customary pat on my diapered bottom.

“If you don’t mind, Betsy, I’d like you to wear just your tee shirt over the diaper for a while, so we can both see how well the diaper works,” Mom requested. I had no plans to go anywhere but maybe the backyard, so I agreed without complaining.

The Abena diaper felt really comfortable. Mom had taped it on as snugly as she could, and it stayed in place even as I sat, stood up, and walked around. I tried some jumping jacks (silly, I know) and the diaper stayed snug. Three hours later I would normally have been overdue for a diaper change. The Abena diaper, though, still felt dry to me. I knew I must have wet, probably more than once, but I couldn’t feel the evidence of it. Finally, six hours after mom had diapered me, the Abena diaper needed changing. Mom and I were both impressed.

“This is wonderful!” Mom exclaimed. “If we add a booster pad, you’ll be able to go all through most school days without a diaper change, unless you make doodoo.!” Mom still insists on saying “make doodoo” instead of “poop” or “have a bm.” That’s one of her endearing quirks.

I agreed that going all day without a diaper change would be a very good thing. Mom ordered booster pads designed for Abena diapers. When they arrived in a few days, we decided I’d wear the combination when Mom, Billy, Lou, Lou’s mom, and I all went shopping for school clothes. It worked amazingly well. We left for the mall at 9:00 in the morning. By noon, when everyone else used the restroom, I just waited for them.

Lou and I must have each tried on more than two dozen different dresses, skirts, and pairs of pants. We both favored skirts and dresses over pants. Lou because they were still kind of new to her, and I because they concealed my diapers better than pants would. Billy was pretty bored with all of this shopping. His clothing needs had been ridiculously easy to fill. Just a few pairs of pants, some shirts, socks, a new pair of shoes and a new pair of sneakers. He played with his Game Boy while Lou and I eagerly looked for and tried on outfits. While we were in the girl’s underwear department, Mom had an idea.

“If we bought you some panties large enough to fit over the disposable diapers, they’d help keep the diapers snug and make them even less noticeable,” she suggested. “Want to try it?”

I hesitated. I’d worn pretty panties a few times, on a special occasion, under a fancy dress. The idea of wearing panties regularly had never occurred to me. I didn’t see how it could do any harm, though, so I agreed.

Mom bought and paid for one package of Hanes cotton panties for me, opened the package and took out one pair. I went into a dressing room and slipped them on over my diaper. The panties did make my diaper fit just a bit more snugly, and they weren’t uncomfortable. Mom bought several more packages of panties for me, in pastels and white.

It was nearly 5:00 when we got back to our house. I’d been wearing the diaper and pad combination for more than eight hours, and I felt nothing worse than some extra bulk between my legs. That was a curiously good feeling. Mom checked my diaper and saw that it could probably go another hour, maybe two, before it reached a critical stage. She removed the diaper, though, and changed me into a cloth diaper and plastic panties. Billy, Lou, and I were going to have a swim, then our dads would join us and we’d all have barbecued hamburgers for dinner, with watermelon for dessert.

Billy jumped into the pool with a huge splash, as he always did. Lou and I followed, and water was soon slopping out over the sides of the pool. We played Marco Polo for a little while, then set up the course of underwater hoops we liked to swim through, and took turns negotiating them. Finally, we all relaxed on blow up rafts until our moms told us it was time to get ready for dinner.

Lou and I changed in my room. I saw how her body had developed much more than mine had. I didn’t even need a training bra yet, and Lou was almost an A cup. She had some fuzz in her crotch, too, and I didn’t. I’d seen Lou without clothes before her surgery, and I couldn’t help noticing that now she looked pretty much like any other girl. If I hadn’t known, I could never have recognized that she’d had plastic surgery.

“The doctor told me I’ll be getting my period soon,” Lou confided. “I’m already carrying tampons in my purse, just in case it happens when I’m away from home. Mom showed me how to put one in and take it out.”

I felt a little jealous. “Does it feel weird to have a tampon inside you?” I asked.

“No, not at all,” Lou said. “If you put it in right, you can’t feel it at all.” I figured it would probably be another year, maybe longer, before I found out for myself.

We’d taken showers, and Lou had put on her bra, panties, and a tee shirt dress. Now she diapered me in cloth and plastic panties – she was getting really skilled at diapering – and I put on a similar dress, although without a bra. If you looked closely, you could see the outline of my plastic panties under the dress, but it wasn’t all that noticeable. I really appreciated Lou. She was very matter of fact about the diapering. No teasing, no baby talk. I considered her my best friend.

We all enjoyed a pleasant evening together. Again today, I felt “normal,” not left out because I wore diapers. I was beginning to realize that the big difference between the “happy” days and the “not so happy” days was my frame of mind more than anything else.

As the summer continued, I went with Billy and Lou to the town pool more often, and became more comfortable there. Some days, Billy, Lou, and I would hang out at our house and enjoy our backyard pool. We didn’t go skinny dipping, though, although Billy hinted more than once that he’d like to. Sometimes, on a rainy day, we’d go to the mall, or maybe the library, or a movie. The weeks of summer vacation rolled by very pleasantly, and also too quickly.

In early August, Dad was able to leave his office for two weeks, and the four of us enjoyed our “stay-cation.” We rented a pontoon boat for a day on a nearby lake, had a picnic on the boat, and swam in the deepest water of the lake. We visited the zoo, the botanical garden, and a couple of museums. We drove several hours to an amusement park that had opened just this year, and stayed two nights exploring it. I wore my new Abena diapers on the trip. With the booster pads, I could go a whole day on two, or at the most three diapers. Billy wore the Abenas, too, although they fit him a little too snugly. He liked that he could take the diaper off easily enough when he was able to use a toilet, then re-tape them snugly. Billy wet his diaper at least once or twice during the day, and was wet every night, probably because we’d played so hard all day he slept more soundly than usual. He did say, though, that it was a lot easier wearing the Abenas than being pinned up in cloth diapers. Mom and Dad decided to buy some in Billy’s size so he’d be able to take them off himself more easily.

On the second week of our vacation, Lou and her parents joined us for another day on a pontoon boat. Lou’s brothers, Matt and Mark, both had summer jobs and didn’t come along. It was a fun day. We barbecued on the boat. Mom changed my diaper on the boat, too, but everyone else sort of looked away. It wasn’t very awkward at all. We stayed out on the lake all day. No one said anything about it, but I was pretty sure everyone else just went in the lake when they had to pee.

While Dad was on vacation, Billy and I had our thirteenth birthday. We celebrated with Mom and Dad at Red Lobster, and really pigged out.

Dad’s vacation was over all too soon and the opening of school was only two weeks away. It felt strange getting ready to go to school. Billy and I hadn’t been to regular school since first grade, and Lou had never been. We didn’t think we’d know too many kids there.

Our small garden gave us lots of fresh vegetables for summer meals. The backyard pool, the town pool, and the nearby park were good places to play. I read a whole list of books. So did Lou and Billy. In late August, Lou got her period. I knew there was something different about her, and I quickly figured out what it was when I saw her on the first day. Lou was proud of “being a woman” now, but she didn’t seem to think less of me because I was still, physically at least, very much a girl.

Lou didn’t share her news with Billy, and he never guessed. Girls are pretty much a mystery to thirteen year old boys, even a thirteen year old boy who hung around with girls as much as Billy did.

It rained hard on Labor Day, spoiling our plans for one last summer cookout. Instead, Mom cooked the burgers in the broiler, and Dad boiled the corn in a big pot. Potato salad, watermelon, and two videos made it a pretty good day after all.

I laid out my clothes for school the next day, a green jumper, white blouse, and brown loafers. Plain gold stud earrings and no other jewelry. Mom would put an Abena on me in the morning, with a booster pad. I’d wear cotton panties over the diaper. The previous week, she’d left a package with the school nurse who would change my diapers when necessary. I’d have to see the nurse at lunch time, to have my diaper checked. Other than that, I’d go through the school day just like any other student. Seventh grade girls didn’t shower for gym class, so I’d even be okay there. The diaper might show under my panties, but it wouldn’t look too bad.

I was relieved when, the next morning, I woke up with a huge load of poop in my diaper. Mom seemed pleased, too. It looked like I wouldn’t need to worry about pooping in school. Billy woke up with a soiled diaper, too. He admitted to being nervous, and almost decided to wear a diaper himself, but finally decided against it. He did put one in his backpack, though, just in case.

After a breakfast of scrambled eggs, orange juice, and toast, Billy and I walked to the corner to meet the school bus. Our first day in a new school was about to begin.

[TDL]

I managed to read it all in half an hour, and I must say I'm impressed. Looking forward to the next chapter.

[Tinkles123]

Thank you for reading all of what I posted. It's about 10,000 words. I've been working with these fictional characters, and some others yest to be introduced, for a while. I thought Mary Louise's story would be the first one told, but it turns out that Betsy needed to be "heard" first. Anyone who writes fiction understands how characters take on a life of their own. If there's enough interest I will post more of my work.

Years ago I wrote another fairly long story, "The Family Babies." Certainly, it can't hold a candle to "Hannah," but some people liked it. I believe it's still here somewhere if anyone wants to read it. I didn't quite bring that one to a conclusion, but it came close enough.

[Cute Baby]

This was most enjoyable, I hope there may be more to come.