Jump to content
LL Medico Diapers and More Bambino Diapers - ABDL Diaper Store

All My Mother's Rules (Ch. 70 & Epilogue - 2/13/24)


Recommended Posts

Thanks for the story so far, the main character should try to get the bruise checked out by the school nurse and she should tell them that she has been having bladder issues since the injury.

  • Like 1
Link to comment

Chapter 10: Not a Perfect Plan

The feeling of walking down the school hallway wearing my panties instead of a pull-up was both freeing and unnerving.

I’d been wearing a pull-up for less than twenty-four hours, yet I now felt almost naked without it, like something was missing. I was surprised at how quickly I’d grown accustomed to the snug fit of the pull-up’s elastic sides around my waist and the soft padding between my legs, as well as the assurance that I’d be protected in case any accident did happen.

At the same time, I didn’t understand why I was feeling nervous. Despite the four accidents I’d had over the past couple of days, none of them had taken place during cheerleading practice. Besides, a communal locker room wasn’t going to provide me with the privacy to wear a pull-up like I had been all day up until now. All I needed to do was to pay extra attention to my bladder, and, if the urge to go did strike, make sure to run off to use the toilet in time. Nothing different from what I’d done since I was first potty trained at the age of two. How did going to the toilet become so complicated?

Today was a practice run for tomorrow’s football game, my very first as a cheerleader. I was prepared to be bored out of my mind. I didn’t care one bit for sports – don’t ask me what the difference was between a fullback and a nickelback – and being stuck at the entire game wasn’t going to be fun. Coach Addison believes that rehearsals didn’t mean anything if you also weren’t dressed up for it, so instead of our normal casual workout clothes, we were all to be wearing our cheerleading uniforms.

I had tried on the uniform once before at home to make sure it fit properly, which it had, but this was my first time wearing it around other people and I felt a tad conspicuous even though everyone else was going to have the same outfit on. The two-piece uniform was a dark blue polyester miniskirt combined with a dark-blue and lime-green top that intentionally didn’t go all the way down to my waist. I’d practically be showing more skin with this than I would in my bathing suit. The bluish bruise on my hip, which thankfully was beginning to look slightly better, was peaking out over the top of the mini-skirt. At least it matched one of the school colors.

The uniform was the antithesis of my normal style, given how I’d prefer to go to school with jeans paired with either a hoodie or a graphic t-shirt. The only redeeming part of the outfit was that while it doesn’t cover much, the parts it covered it does cover well. That was to say, I wasn’t going to be flashing anybody while wearing it.

Claire strutted into the locker room while I was finishing getting the top tugged over my head. I could still make out the slight mark on her face from where I had slapped her during lunch when she had been bullying Lisa. I’d nearly forgotten about that spat, but I supposed the fact that I made it to cheerleading practice without a visit to the principal’s office signified that Claire had determined that tattling on me wasn’t worth the risk of getting into trouble herself. Still, I couldn’t help but suspect that she was entertaining thoughts of revenge.

Claire didn’t deem me worthy of even a frosty “hello” as she silently grabbed her gym bag from the locker next to me and proceeded to one of the empty toilet stalls to get dressed in privacy. She’s so stuck up. Too good to hang out with students in her own grade. Too good to dress in the locker room like the rest of us. How in the world am I supposed to deal with her for four more years of cheerleading?

After changing into my cheerleading outfit, I took another stop at the toilet. I didn’t have any urge to pee. I’d already empty my bladder when I wet the pull-up in class about twenty minutes ago. Still, since I would be going back to panties for the hour-and-a-half practice, I figured it was prudent to leave as little room for error as possible when it came to my bladder.

The only remaining stall was next to the one Claire had gone into to change. As much as I tried to go, I couldn’t get any urine to come out. Not a drop. This was awkward. In the stall next to me I heard Claire’s clothing rustle as she changed into her cheerleading outfit. I remembered Desi’s advice that I needed to watch my back around her and how Claire and tripped me yesterday in practice. Following that advice would be more important than ever given the stunt I’d pulled with Claire at lunch. Out of habit, I flushed the toilet before I left the stall, even though it was completely unnecessary.

---

Practice always began with a warm-up jog and stretches. The past two days, we had stood around in a circle and done individual stretches for our legs and arms. Those stretches were beginning to get less painful as my body acclimated to the increased physical activity. Give it a few weeks and practice would soon become a breeze, I hope.

“Now, everyone pair up with someone in your class,” Coach Addison said. “It’s time to do some buddy stretches.”

Someone from my class? Oh, great. That leaves me stuck with Claire, who was standing nearly opposite of me in the circle. At least she doesn’t look as if she was any happier with this than I am. We stared at each other for a couple of seconds without moving. I wasn’t in any hurry to do anything with her.

“Come on girls. Get moving,” coach said, clapping her hands a couple of times.

We didn’t have a choice. I took the initiative and walked over to where Claire was standing. We still didn’t say anything, as all the other girls on the team got paired up as well.

“These stretches were going to be done with one person laying down and the other person standing and assisting them. Whoever was youngest can start on the ground.”

“I’m fifteen,” Claire said bluntly.

My birthday wasn’t for another week, so I laid down in the short-cut grass. The sensation on my skin was somewhere been an itch or a tickle, and it wasn’t pleasant. I stared up at the cloudless sky waiting for the next part of coach’s instructions, doing my best not to look up into Claire’s face.

“Now,” coach began, talking to the girls who were still standing. “For this first stretch, you were going to take one of your teammates’ legs in your arm and you were slowly going to move it up till it was perpendicular to the ground. Keep another hand on the knee so the leg stays straight. Don’t let it bend.”

Claire was neither gentle nor slow.

“Ow! Ow! Stop,” I said, nearly screeching as I twisted my leg out of Claire’s grip.

I so wanted to “accidentally” kick her.

Claire turned on a look of contrition in a flash as coach turned to glare at us.

“Sorry. I’m so sorry,” she said.

“Claire, be careful. You can hurt someone if stretches aren’t done right,” coach said.

I was pretty certain Claire had already known that.

---

“Water break!” Coach shouted.

After an hour of practice, we all ran to where we had left our water bottles on the sideline. I nearly collapsed onto the first row of the bleachers, so exhausted I could hardly think. I had been wrong about how easy practice had been getting, as this had easily been the most tiring practice that we had gone through yet. I was winded enough that I didn’t mind sitting on the cold metal surface. Anything was better than standing and doing more jumps, sprints, and cheers.

As I took a larger drink of water than I probably should have, I realized that the bustle of practice had managed to do something that my classes hadn’t managed to do, which was to take my mind off of my bladder. That wasn’t a good thing.

Nature’s call was here, and it was demanding an answer right now. The porta potties weren’t far off, just about sixty yards or so down the sideline. I prayed so hard that no one was in them.

I knew that no one likely cared a bit if I was going off for a quick pee during one of our brief breaks as I’d seen others did so a few times, but I still felt as if each and every one of my teammates eyes were gazing directly at my back and judging me as I began walking toward the porta potties.

I wanted to run so badly. The pressuring on my bladder was growing exponentially to the point that I felt as though I would pee myself if I didn’t pick up the pace. But I couldn’t run. Not in front of everyone like this where my whole team could see my embarrassment of struggling to hold my bladder. I regretted not finding a way to wear the pull-up to practice.

As I got closer both porta potties appeared to be open. I fumbled with the door of the first one I got to. My hands were shaking so much that I couldn’t get the door to open. The green sign said “Available.” Why wouldn’t it open? After several panicky seconds I at last figured out the proper way to twist the handle. I swung the door open and slammed it shut behind me. But I was too late. My bladder got the better of me and I began to pee uncontrollably.

I spread my feet out as wide as I could to prevent the stream of pee from splattering onto my shoes as it ran down through my panties and the bottom of the mini-skirt straight to the floor of the porta potty. It went on for so long. I didn’t have that much to drink. Did I? I felt helpless without the ability to stop peeing. The rapid tapping splatter of the urine on the plastic floor of the porta potty was way too loud. I hoped no one was waiting outside. At least the porta potty was in a sorry enough state that a puddle of pee on the floor didn’t make much of a difference to its overall condition. The condition of my panties and mini-skirt were a much bigger concern.

I didn’t get it. I couldn’t go an hour without wearing a pull-up before I peed myself. How am I supposed to make it through the rest of the cheerleading practice, let alone the season, with this issue? I was miss bladder of steel. The girl who could go the entire day at school without darkening the doorway of a bathroom.

I inspected my skirt and was relieved to find that the only wet spot was directly between my legs. The spot was dark enough that it was barely noticeable. I pulled out a ton of toilet paper and just dropped it on the floor to absorb the urine. I didn’t bother picking it up. With some additional toilet paper, I attempted to dry the wet spot on panties and skirt. It was still damp enough that I would feel it, but the wet spot was gone enough that if anyone saw it, hopefully it would just appear like I had been sweating a lot.

The only thing going for me at the moment was that there were only about thirty minutes left in the practice. Surely I could go that long without peeing myself.

---

I actually did manage to get through the remainder of cheerleading practice without peeing myself, and with no one giving any indication that they suspected I had an accident, I was in the clear.

Showering in the locker room after practice was awkward – no curtains divided the shower heads to offer any privacy – but it was still preferable to having Mom bathe me like a baby. I kept my eyes focused directly on the wall in front of me as I got myself cleaned up, as if avoiding eye contact with everyone else somehow made me less naked.

The bruises on my butt from the spanking earlier this week had faded to almost nothing, but even if one of my teammates noticed them, I doubted they would think much of it. After all, with all the tumbles and falls I had taken during the first three days of practice, I had less bruises than one might expect to see.

I still didn’t know what to do about the accident. I toyed with the idea of quitting the team. I had no idea how bad Mom’s punishment would be, but whatever she chose, I couldn’t imagine it being anything worse than wetting myself in front of all my teammates, or worse, in front of a whole stadium full of people. No way they would keep me on the team anyway if they found out about my accidents.

While on the way from the locker room to the parking lot where Mom was waiting to pick me up, I stopped into a completely empty bathroom. The two additional accidents I that had happened today had left me with no other choice. With the whole bathroom to myself, I quickly swapped my panties for one of the extra pull-ups I had brought with me in my backpack.

I’d arrived at school this morning with what I had thought was a perfect plan to get my accidents to stop. By the time I left for home, I couldn’t see how I was ever going to get back to being potty trained.

 

 

  • Like 4
  • Thanks 1
Link to comment
  • MinnesotaWriter changed the title to All My Mother's Rules (Ch. 10 --- 4/17/20)

Thanks for the chapter, hopefully she eventually gets checked out by the nurse of the school (she should get herself truly diapered to cope with the leaks :P).

Link to comment

She seems to be both remarkably lucky in getting away from accidents without consequences and smart enough to know that sooner or later her luck will run dry. She’s likely to understand that it’s time to escalate with the countermeasures.

Link to comment

hmm :)  I woner if she got caught wearing a pullup by her mother saying she'd been having accidents and so putting herself out of her panties behold here's her logs of her accidents and I've been following the rule so you can't ding me for not following them :)  Not tellling her mom but maybe she;s already enforcing the rules herself and enforcing them.  Which only can mean her mother has taken over her daughters mind and imprinted all of her rules and values there successfully!

Link to comment

Thanks for all the comments, should have a new chapter up this evening. It's one I've been looking forward to writing.

On 4/17/2020 at 4:24 PM, Arendeth said:

Thanks for the chapter, hopefully she eventually gets checked out by the nurse of the school (she should get herself truly diapered to cope with the leaks :P).

You're welcome.  We'll have to see what does or doesn't happen with the school nurse. 

On 4/18/2020 at 2:55 AM, Bonsai said:

She seems to be both remarkably lucky in getting away from accidents without consequences and smart enough to know that sooner or later her luck will run dry. She’s likely to understand that it’s time to escalate with the countermeasures.

I think her luck has a better chance of running wet ?

On 4/18/2020 at 6:41 AM, deewet said:

For sure!  And without a doubt, her mother will shortly know about her "situation" but what she believes at first will be interesting.

No comment ?

17 hours ago, Sarah Penguin said:

hmm :)  I woner if she got caught wearing a pullup by her mother saying she'd been having accidents and so putting herself out of her panties behold here's her logs of her accidents and I've been following the rule so you can't ding me for not following them :)  Not tellling her mom but maybe she;s already enforcing the rules herself and enforcing them.  Which only can mean her mother has taken over her daughters mind and imprinted all of her rules and values there successfully!

Quite the interesting theory.

  • Like 1
Link to comment

Chapter 11: Discovery

I had never been more attuned to my bodily functions than in the past week. Every waking moment was spent trying to decipher what my bladder was trying to tell me. Was it time to pee? Already? Again? Could I hold off for a little bit longer or did I need to sprint to the toilet right away?

At this point, I’d have had better luck trying to understand Chinese than whatever messages my bladder was sending. It was a little over a week since my disastrous attempt at wearing panties during cheerleading practice and the ensuing accident in the porta potty. I’d had a pull-up on almost every moment since. And I need the pull-ups I was taking from my little sister. There was no more room whatsoever for denial about what was happening with my body. Not a single school day has passed without me wetting myself, including one more time during cheerleading practice. The only thing standing between me and everyone knowing about the wetting issue were the pull-ups.

I felt like a secret agent in a spy film every time I disguised my pull-up for cheerleading practice. I kept whatever clothing I was going to wear for the practice in my backpack. Then, after my last class, I would changed into those clothes with a dry pull-up in a restroom before heading to the locker room ready to begin practice. Once it was over, I went to one of the toilet stalls in the locker room, took off the pull-up, and buried it in the trash before going to shower. I had panties on for the briefest time after showering, but I used an empty restroom to change back into a pull-up before Mom picked me up to go home. The process was exhausting, but I wasn’t taking any chances with my bladder.

At home I’d been having much better luck with avoiding accidents, thanks in part to the continuing efforts to potty train Emilia. I was still taking her to the toilet every thirty minutes when the potty-training alarm went off on her watch. I let her do her business, and as soon as I sent her back to play, I would hop on the toilet myself. The routine was humiliating, but it was better than peeing myself. That wasn’t to say I hadn’t wet a pull-up a couple of times at home, but not nearly as often as I’d done at school.

I was trying to avoid going through too many pull-ups, which wasn’t that hard since Mom rarely changed Emilia. Since I was the one who did the changing, I was responsible for telling Mom when it was time to order another box of pull-ups from Amazon, and I didn’t want her to get suspicious if we started to go through them way too fast.

The only area of success with my potty training has been at night. I’d managed to avoid a repeat of my lone bedwetting accident by rigorously monitoring how much I drink in the evening, making sure to cut off my liquids early, and use the toilet immediately before getting in bed. While I’d woken up in a dry bed and pull-up every night, there had been a couple of times where the urge to pee has gotten me out of bed and in search of the toilet in the wee hours of the morning.

I wish that I could say that potty training was going better for Emilia than it had been for me, but that wasn’t the case. She’s not had a single dry day either, and she’s woken up with a soaked diaper each morning. In just the last week, Mom has had to put her back in diapers on two separate occasions during the day. Like me, I felt as though my sister was also giving up on potty training. It was all I could do to keep from blushing when Mom told Emilia that she needed to be a big girl and use the potty like her older sister. And now I had a sleepover to worry about.

---

“I still can’t believe your mom was really letting you come over for a sleepover,” Samantha said as she took a seat at our table in the cafeteria.

Our moms had talked the night before. Mom had been insistent that she get to know Samantha’s parents at least a little bit before finally signing off on the sleepover at their place. The fact that Samantha’s Mom was a well-respected lawyer gave her an advantage in assuring Mom that I’d be taken care of just fine while spending the night at their house. The sleepover was officially official. I would be going over to Samantha’s house tomorrow night after the Fortnite team tryout that I’d convinced Mom to let me take part in.

I truly wanted to be enthusiastic about the sleepover. I’d begged and begged and begged Mom to let me go on one for years without getting her to budge on it, and it was just last week that I’d finally found the right argument to persuade her. The week leading up to the sleepover should have been one of the best of my life as I plotted all the things I would do with Desi and Samantha.

But I was terrified out of my mind. I couldn’t wear a pull-up to Samantha’s house. How would I manage to throw it away if I did have an accident? But if I wear panties instead, that was just inviting trouble. If I peed my pants at her house, I’d never live it down. They’d never invite me over there again. I had hoped that I’d be able to regain some measure of control over my bladder in the past week, but instead of making progress, it felt like I’d been backsliding.

I’d considered going to see the school nurse, but I knew the first call she’d make after my visit would be to my mother, and everything I was doing now was for the purpose of keeping Mom from finding out about my accidents. Even now, with my friends, I felt completely alone as there wasn’t anybody I could confide in about what I was going through.

Desi, Samantha, and I were at our usual lunch table again. They had just returned to the table with hamburgers and fries on their trays while I ate the supposedly healthier meal Mom had packed for me.

Samantha snapped her fingers in front of my face to get my attention.

“Earth to Sarah. Earth to Sarah. You need to stop daydreaming. I’m talking to you about the sleepover.”

“Oh. Yeah,” I replied, shocked that I had zoned out so easily. “It still doesn’t seem real that it is happening. The whole thing is surreal.”

“We still need to decide on a movie,” Desi interjected.

I liked superhero and sci-fi movies. They were both into rom coms. So that meant we were going to watch a rom com.

“I’m outvoted, so you guys are going to have to settle on one,” I said, resigned to my fate.

I could feel the urge to pee growing in my bladder again, but there weren’t any bathrooms close by to this side of the cafeteria. I didn’t feel like spending ten minutes of my precious lunch break time in the bathroom, but I also didn’t like my odds of holding it in until my bathroom break before the next class period starts.

What did it matter anyway? I gave up trying to hold it in and let the pee soak into the pull-up. After a week of using the pull-ups, the feeling of wetting one wasn’t nearly as jarring of an experience, and sitting in a wet pull-up wasn’t as bad as enduring increasingly painful urges to pee. I didn’t even bother looking down at my pants to make sure there hadn’t been any leaks. The pull-ups hadn’t given me any trouble so far in that regard.

My bladder now relieved, I was able to focus on the sleepover planning without any distractions. We – and again by we I mean Desi and Samantha – settled on “Crazy Rich Asians” as the movie to watch. Even if the movie choice was meh in my opinion, I still was excited about our other plans. For one, I couldn’t wait to try on some of Samantha’s makeup. With the lunch period now nearly over, I needed to make a break for the bathroom to get cleaned up.

“I’ll join you guys in class. I just need to use the bathroom quick,” I said to Desi and Claire as I stood up a few minutes early from the lunch table.

It wasn’t technically a lie. I did need to use the bathroom, just not for the reason they would be thinking of.

---

I had again chosen a stall at the far corner of the bathroom. Its walls were adorned with messages about who was screwing who and some slightly witty ditties about disliked teachers. The privacy was worth it, though. No one was likely to walk in front of the stall and accidentally get a tiny glimpse of me changing into a dry pull-up. I untied and removed my shoes and then slid off my jeans and panties – I still was wearing those on top of the pull-ups – and hung them up quietly on a small hanger on the stall door. That left just the pull-up, and there was no doubt as to its condition.

I’d brought baby wipes in my backpack along with the extra pull-ups, but I had skipped on the baby powder. I couldn’t risk smelling like that in class. I slid the pull-up down my legs like I had with my jeans and panties, as ripping the sides open would have been too noisy with the possibility of several other girls still being in the bathroom. Getting the wet pull-up off my skin was such a relief.

I cleaned myself up with the wipes before tossing them into the trash. The first time I’d worn a pull-up to school, I’d tried to clean myself up with toilet paper. That had been a mistake.

Rip. Rip. That was the noise coming from one of the stalls toward the entrance to the bathroom. The sound was so out of place that it took me a while to realize where I’d heard it before. It sounded just like the noise Emilia’s pull-ups made when I changed her as I ripped them open on their tear-off sides. But that didn’t make any sense. Someone else at school wearing a pull-up? Would someone risk making that much noise? Maybe I’d been quiet enough that she thought that she had the bathroom to herself.

Unfortunately, being in the stall at the very end of the bathroom, I didn’t have a way to ascertain who the potential pull-up wearer was. The stall walls went nearly to the floor so I couldn’t peek my head down beneath them. And being at the end, she wouldn’t pass me on her way out of the bathroom, either.

I sat as completely still as I could on the toilet seat, not daring to even reach for the fresh pull-up in my backpack that I had been about to put on. I strained my ears. I could make out some faint noises coming from the other end of the bathroom. I thought I could perhaps hear the faint crinkle of a pull-up being put on, but I couldn’t tell for sure.

Waiting like this would make me late for class, and Mr. Adams was not one to approve of that, but I simply had to know. While it was likely that I had just been imagining things, the thought would eat away at me all day if I didn’t wait until the girl was done to be able to check out the stall. I waited until I heard the sound of a toilet flush, followed by the sound of a stall door opening and water pouring out the faucet. With that background noise started, I raced to put the pull-up on and get dressed, but by the time I was finished buckling my belt the faucet had stopped and the bathroom door been had opened and then slammed shut.

I checked each stall as I walked by them. They were all empty. I had the room to myself. I peered into the stall closest to the bathroom entrance, where I had been sure the sounds had been coming from. I knew I should just go to class. This wasn’t any of my business, after all. But my curiosity beat out my better judgement.

I walked into the stall and closed the door behind me. The small trash bin appeared full, but it was topped with quite a few wads of loose, clean toilet paper, much like how I also was hiding my used pull-ups in the garbage.

This wasn’t going to be sanitary, but I needed to know. I carefully pulled the loose toilet paper at the top of the garbage bin aside to reveal a pull-up unlike any I had seen before. Emilia’s pull-ups all featured a cartoon character prominently, and the pull-ups I had worn back when I had been wetting the bed had all been decorated with a plethora of colorful, girly designs. The pull-up sitting in the trash was completely different. It was almost completely white, with some clinical markings on it, and the stretchy mesh-like material on its sides was not the same as the pull-up I had on. The pull-up was also clearly larger than Emilia’s, so that could only mean it was for one of the students at the school.

There was one last thing I needed to be sure of. I gently pressed the back of my hand against the pull-up. I really shouldn’t have, but I couldn’t leave the bathroom without knowing. Yes, it was still warm. Someone had just been wearing it. But who?

  • Like 5
  • Thanks 1
Link to comment
  • MinnesotaWriter changed the title to All My Mother's Rules (Ch. 11 --- 4/19/20)

Thanks for the chapter, I wonder who it was that was using the pull up maybe one of the bullies as is often the case.

Link to comment

So, she’s more or less able to handle her issues as long as she follows her usual routine. Sleepover = out of routine! Will peer pressure convince her to do stupid things, such as drinking soda before bedtime, or not wearing protection?

P.S.: It won’t take her long to start suspecting who could be the owner of the wet pull-up...

 

Link to comment

I'm intrigued.  It's been a week and her accidents are continuing.  I think the coverup will be worse than the accidents in her mother's eyes.

Link to comment

Chapter 12: Fortnite

It was only shortly after noon on Saturday, and I was already dying of thirst.

I’d not had anything to drink since taking a sip of water when I first woke up this morning. Without any cheerleading events this weekend and therefor no physical activities I needed to be hydrated for, I’d decided to extremely limit my fluids in preparation for tonight’s sleepover. I tried to swallow some spit, as if that would make a difference, but it only exacerbated the dryness in my mouth. The felting was simply unbearable, but the thought of peeing my pants at Samantha’s house later tonight was the only thing I could think of that would be worse.

Later today, Mom was going to drop me off at the school for the Fortnite tryout. Getting Mom to give the go-ahead for the tryout had ended up going much more smoothly than I had expected, especially after I pointed out how colleges now days were starting to give out E-Sports scholarships. I neglected to tell Mom that there was absolutely no way I would be good enough to qualify for something like that. But I got her approval, and Mom even said that she was happy I was being so outgoing to start my high school career.

Yesterday’s discovery of the pull-up in the restroom was still weighing on me. It boggled my mind that I wasn’t the only girl at the high school who had issues with her bladder. I had spent the remainder of the school day trying hard not to look at people’s butts. I mean, I’d taken a peek at a cute girl’s rear end before, but I hadn’t ever been trying to figure what was underneath someone’s pants. But try as I might, nothing I saw gave any indication of someone who was also wearing a pull-up to school. Of course, no one – at least as far as I knew – had ever noticed my pull-ups, so what were the odds that I’d be able to see that someone else was wearing them?

I only had about an hour before we were going to leave for the school for the tryout. Mom was going to drop me off, and then Samantha’s mom would pick me up at the school and then get Desi on the way back to their house. I ran through my mental checklist of everything I was putting into my overnight bag. I had all my toiletries, pajamas, a fresh set of clothes for tomorrow, and some candy Mom had given me to share with my friends as we watched movies tonight.

I took out the extra pull-ups I had gotten into the habit of keeping in the bottom of my backpack and placed them carefully back into Emilia’s dresser. I couldn’t risk having those with me at Samantha’s house. As I pulled my water bottle out of my backpack, I had to struggle to resist the urge to take a drink of water. At this point, even lukewarm water was becoming appealing to me.

I considered taking off the pull-up I was wearing before heading out for the tryout, but I didn’t want to risk it. I could always take it off in the bathroom afterward before Samantha’s mom picked me up. I had still kept wearing my panties over the pull-ups, so I’d be able to swap over to just wearing those without a hassle.

While I was continuing to review what I had packed, Emilia came crawling into the room. She had on a pair of denim overalls on top of a onesie. The choice of clothes may have been intended to disguise the diaper my little sister was wearing as punishment for the two accidents that she had yesterday, but the outfit instead highlighted the diaper bulging around her crotch and butt. It probably was wet, but I didn’t bother to check. Mom kept to a strict schedule of changing wet diapers every two hours, so it didn’t matter if Emilia had wet the diaper or not.

“It’s lunch time. Come on. Come on,” she said.

A pizza lunch on Saturday was one of our many family traditions, and Mom always insisted that we eat all of our meals together. I picked Emilia up to carry her to the kitchen. I felt bad that Mom had made her crawl along the wood floor to our room to let me know it was time for lunch.

A frozen pizza Mom had cooked was sitting in the middle of the kitchen table on a cutting board. The pepperoni pizza – not one of my favorites – had been cut into eight slices. What didn’t make sense was the three small candles that had been stuck into the pizza. What in the world?

Then Mom began singing the Happy Birthday song, and Emilia joined in. I’d been so focused on the fact that today was my first sleepover that I’d forgotten completely that it was also my birthday. No cake, but we didn’t always do cake, so that wasn’t much of a surprise.

“I’d got your present saved for after you were back from the sleepover tomorrow,” Mom said, code for her not having gone to buy my present yet.

Mom had filled a sippy cup with Cool-Aid for Emilia and had set aside two large glasses – already filled to the brim – for myself and her. My decision to avoid drinking lots of liquids was going to get tested.

I placed Emilia in the highchair, sat down in the chair beside her, and waited for Mom to quickly say grace before beginning to eat. I helped myself to two smaller slices that hadn’t been poked with a candle, while Mom was busy cutting up one of the pieces into smaller bits for Emilia. I didn’t like pepperoni that much and was glad to avoid the larger slices Mom might have stuck me with had I waited for her to dish the pizza onto my plate.

More concerning than the pizza was the large glass of Cool-Aid. The pale blue liquid wasn’t appealing, but it was usually Mom’s go-to fun drink when we weren’t having milk, water, or juice. Mom had never been big on letting me drink soda – and Emilia was too young to ever have tried any – a holdover from when doctors had advised her to have me avoid sugar and caffeine when she had been trying to limit my bedwetting. Wild Blue was the flavor on the Cool-Aid container, but I don’t think that counted as a flavor, despite whatever marketing companies might think. I took a small sip. Blueberry. Maybe.

I scarfed the pizza down while Mom was busy feeding Emilia by sticking the small bits of pizza into her mouth with a plastic fork. I was grateful for the distraction of Mom babying my sister. If I could get up from the table without her noticing, perhaps I could quietly empty my Cool-Aid into the sink and avoid drinking it.

I stood up from the table with my empty plate and full glass in hand just as Mom was putting another bite into Emilia’s mouth, but Mom turned around just as I took my first step toward the sink.

“Sarah, you know better than that. Finish your drink, young lady. You need to be setting a good example for your little sister.”

I didn’t have a choice, so I broke my liquid fast and chugged down the Cool-Aid in a series of rapid gulps. I shuddered both at the taste and the though as to what this was going to do to my bladder.

---

I had gone to the bathroom to pee right before getting in the car for Mom to drive me to the high school, and I had again stopped at the bathroom and tried my best to empty my bladder before going to the computer lab.

Even with my trip to the bathroom, I had still gotten to the tryout about fifteen minutes early. As I walked into the computer lab only the coach of the Fortnite team – Mr. Olson, who also teaches chemistry – and Lisa were present. Lisa looked up for a brief second when I entered the room, but then refocused on the computer monitor in front of her. We hadn’t spoken to each other since the incident with Claire last week.

Had there been other girls present, I was not sure I would have chosen to sit next to her. However, since it was just the two of us, it would have been awkward – and maybe a bit rude – to not take a seat at the computer next to hers.

I greeted Lisa as I sat down and received a meek “hi” in response from her. I really didn’t expect much conversation-wise from her. I turned on the computer and logged in with my school password to see that Fortnite had already been installed.

“You can go ahead and turn on the game and make sure the settings and controls were all set up the way that you like,” Mr. Olson said as he walked over to me.

As I made sure all the key bindings were set to my liking, four other girls made their way into the room. I’d seen a couple of them before, but hadn’t met any of them. They were all upperclassmen, leaving me and Lisa as the only freshmen for the tryout.

Mr. Olson surveyed the room once the clock hit 2 p.m. and it was time to begin the tryout.

“Congratulations,” he said with a laugh. “We have six spots, so you are all on the team, as long as you were sure that was what you want to do.”

“So, do we actually need a tryout, then?” asked Amanda, the senior who had taken the seat to my right.

“Of course we will. We still have to determine who the starters and reserves were. It’s no different from any other sports team. The first half of the tryout will be having you play three individual games while I watch and see how you do. Afterword, I would divide you up into teams to see how well you perform as a group with some Duo games.”

I decided I was fine being a reserve as long as it got Mom to let me practice playing Fortnite at home, but my hopes of being a starter increased as the first two games went along well. I finished in the top fifteen players each time and managed to score several kills in both games, but by the middle of the third and final solo game, all the Cool-Aid Mom had made me drink earlier was beginning to irritate my bladder. I hadn’t had that much liquid all at once in more than a week, and my bladder was not in any way prepared to handle it.

In the past week, I had gotten a good sense for whether I could make it to a toilet or if the urges would end up with an embarrassing accident and this situation felt much more like the latter option.

I toyed with the idea of trying to lose on purpose. Maybe I would be allowed to go to the bathroom with my last game over. I could make my character run from the hiding place I had chosen in the hope of finding an opponent that could kill me and end the game. But I couldn’t do that. I had played so well during the tryout up until now and I didn’t want to make a bad impression on the coach.

I needed to move. If I could just to squirm a little in my seat, I would be fine. Once I got to this level of urgency in my bladder, holding still would ensure that I would lose control, but I had to hold still to keep my focus on the game. I pressed my feet firmly against the ground, stilled my body, and let the inevitable take place.

As I finished emptying my bladder into the pull-up, in my peripheral vision it felt as if some of the other girls had turned to look at me. I tried not to panic. Had they heard me peeing? What if the pull-up had leaked?

I peaked to my right. Amanda was focused on her game. I then looked to my left and Lisa’s eyes rose to meet mine for just the briefest moment before we turned back to looking at our own screens. Had she been looking down at my waist? What for?

In my concern during the aftermath of my accident, I had gotten distracted from the Fortnite game and hadn’t noticed the sound of the footsteps coming from behind me. I heard the bang and saw my character’s health meter drop dramatically. I turned the character around and tried to build some walls to protect myself, but after another shot, my character was dead. A message on the screen flashed to let me know that I had finished in sixth place. The best result I had achieved so far in the tryout, but still disappointing given how well I had been doing.

With my three rounds over, I turned to look at the rest of the girls in the room. Everyone but Lisa appeared to have wrapped up. After a glimpse at my pants which confirmed that the pull-up had handled my accident without a leak, I scooted my chair slightly over to behind Lisa’s and watched as she deftly moved her character in the game on the way to a first place finish. We jumped up and cheered as she got the final kill. Lisa acted like the win was normal and didn’t say anything, but her face blushed once she turned around and saw that we all had been watching her.

“Mr. Olson, could we take a bathroom break now before the next game?” asked one of the girls at the far end of the computer lab.

“Sure, anyone who needs to could go. Be back in five minutes.”

I doubted there was much more pee remaining in my bladder, but I wanted a chance to remove the wet pull-up. I was dismayed when I saw that everyone but Lisa get up to go to the bathroom. I had hoped to have some privacy.

“You OK with not going to the bathroom, Lisa,” Olson asked. “There won’t be another break till the tryout was done.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” she replied, giving her dress a tug as she shifted in her seat.

On the way to the closest bathroom, we chatted about how our first three games had gone. I was surprised to find out that I had done the best out of all of them. Once in the bathroom, I took my normal spot at the very back. While it was such a relief to slide the wet pull-up off of my butt and down to my legs, with someone sitting in the stall next to me, I was too nervous to remove my pants to get the pull-up off. There was no way I was going to go the quicker, yet nosier, route of ripping the pull-ups sides to remove it.

I managed to pee a little. Hopefully that was the rest of the Cool-Aid. As much as I wanted to get the soaked pull-up off for good, I couldn’t find a way do it discreetly during the five minutes that coach had allotted to us for the bathroom break. I flushed the toilet around the same time that everyone else was and slid the wet pull-up back up till it was snug across my waist. The urine-soaked material had cooled in the few minutes the pull-up had been off of my skin and the colder, clammy felting was so uncomfortable as my jeans pressed the pull-up against me.

Upon my return to the computer lab, I gradually eased myself back into my chair in anticipating of how the pull-up was going to squish against me.

“Listen up,” Mr. Olson said once everyone was in their seats again. “We’re going to break into three pairs. You’re going to be matched with a teammate with similar skills.”

As Mr. Olson read off the first two pairings, I realized that he hadn’t included my name. What does that mean?

“... And for our final group. Lisa and Sarah,” he said.

“I’ll try not to hold you back,” I said, turning to look at Lisa.

She widened her lips slightly to give me a small smile back, opened her mouth as if to say something and then didn’t as she instead stuttered and turned back to look intently at her monitor. This might be tough.

As I followed Lisa’s character in the game, it became clear that she was on a whole different level of ability than me. She started right off with a raid on one of the secret agent bases to load up on weapons and supplies. Risky, but she had the whole route memorized, knowing exactly where each chest of items was. I simply followed her lead, so engrossed in the game that I’d completely forgotten about the wet pull-up I was wearing. Lisa barely said anything to me as we played. I ended up doing most of the talking and she would just nod in response.

We finished our three games with first, second, and fifth place finishes – better by far than any of the other teams – and the tryout came to a close with Mr. Olson announcing that Lisa and I would be two of the starters. I thanked Mr. Olson for that decision, but by the time I had turned to look for Lisa – I’d wanted to compliment her on how well she had played – she was gone with all of her things. I liked having her as a teammate, but it was going to be hard if we didn’t communicate at all.

Once in the bathroom by myself, I breathed an audible sigh of relief as I ripped the pull-up off. Sitting in it for the past hour had been so gross. I did my best to clean myself up with toilet paper as I hadn’t brought the baby wipes in the backpack, but I couldn’t get the gross felting entirely off of my skin.

I left the pull-up hidden in the trash. I’d taken to burying it much further after the one I had found. The feel of the panties against my skin was so wonderful. I remembered how my last outing in panties had ended in failure inside a porta potty. I wasn’t at all confident I could succeed until I returned home tomorrow, but I didn’t have any choice in the matter. Today I was fifteen, and I was going to my first sleepover.

  • Like 4
  • Thanks 1
Link to comment
  • MinnesotaWriter changed the title to All My Mother's Rules (Ch. 12 --- 5/3/20)

Strike one on Sarah and strike two on Lisa. I guess Lisa, the pro player, would have some advice for Sarah to avoid to have a very public strike three tonight.

Link to comment

Thanks for the chapter, someones going to end up wet :p.

Link to comment
On 5/3/2020 at 4:04 PM, Bonsai said:

Strike one on Sarah and strike two on Lisa. I guess Lisa, the pro player, would have some advice for Sarah to avoid to have a very public strike three tonight.

I think newer players don't always know they need advice until after they've realized they've made a mistake.

On 5/3/2020 at 5:40 PM, Arendeth said:

Thanks for the chapter, someones going to end up wet :p.

I wouldn't bet against that.

On 5/3/2020 at 6:03 PM, Sarah Penguin said:

:)

?

Link to comment

Chapter 13: Sleepover Part 1 - The Bedwetter

The first thing I did when I got to Samantha’s house was to make sure I knew where all the bathrooms were.

That might seem as if it would be a simple task, but Samantha’s maze of a house was massive. I’d only been there a couple of times before, so I wasn’t too familiar with the layout, but it had four bathrooms. Four. It was hard to imagine compared to the single-bathroom house my mom, sister, and I lived in. Given the likelihood that I’d use each bathroom at least once before tomorrow morning, I made sure I knew exactly where each one was.

I took a bathroom break as soon as I arrived at the house. My bladder had gotten close to bursting on the car ride over. Since I’d be staying the night this time around, Samantha gave me the whole tour. They had four bedrooms and two bathrooms alone on the second floor of the house, which I hadn’t been to before. That meant that Samantha along with her younger siblings – Tommy and Lilian – each had their own bedrooms. So unfair. I was jealous. However, we’d be spending most of the night in the basement game room with a massive TV and big, comfy couches to lounge on.

We sat down on some waist-high stools around the island piece in the kitchen and snacked on some potato chips while trading gossip about how the week had gone. I’d been to Samantha’s house before, but this time just felt so different. The fact that I was really able to stay here all night hadn’t sunk in yet.

I watched Lilian run by the kitchen toward the bathroom with a bit of jealousy. The toddler was six months younger than Emilia, and she’d already been potty trained for nearly a year. I wish it could have been that easy with my younger sister. How could Lilian get potty trained so fast when it was such a struggle for Emilia?

Samantha had noticed me watching her younger sister. I’d complained enough about Emilia’s potty-training woes that Samantha managed to guess what I was thinking about.

“Still having trouble with Emilia?” Samantha asked.

“Yep, I’m stuck on diaper and pull-up changing duty twenty-four-seven. I’m glad to finally get a break from it today.”

“Gross,” Samantha said, but her expression of curiosity didn’t match what she was saying.

If anything, she was quite interested in the status of Emilia’s potty-training. I was just happy to have someone to vent to.

“It wasn’t too bad. She’s at least gotten the hang of doing number two in the toilet, so I don’t have many messy cleanups to do. Still, she won’t stop wetting herself, even with taking her to the toilet every thirty minutes.”

I neglected to mention how Mom had been forcing Emilia to wear diapers as a punishment. I didn’t want to admit that the potty training had been going that badly.

“How old is she again?” Samantha asked.

“Three-and-a-half. So six months older than Lilian.”

“They should meet sometimes. I bet they could become best friends. Just like us.”

“That might be good. I would just hope that Lilian’s potty-training skills might rub off on Emilia.”

“Does Emilia still even fit in pull-ups with how old she is now?”

I had to suppress a laugh at that question. If only she knew that I could even squeeze into the pull-ups without much of an issue.

“Not yet. She’s in the biggest size of the pull-ups we use during the day and the diapers we use at night.”

This discussion about potty training made me realized I hadn’t told my friends about the pull-up I had found in the high school bathroom stall. Two weeks ago, before any of my wetting accidents had started, and I had begun wearing my sister’s pull-ups, I would have considered that a juicy bit of gossip to share, and no doubt we would have spent a bunch of time speculating about who the pull-up might have belonged to, but now I hesitated to share the story, even though this was an otherwise perfect time to bring it up. If I had my friends looking intentionally for signs that someone was wearing a pull-up, that might inadvertently lead them in my direction.

I wanted to be able to confide to my friends about what I had been going through with the bladder issues. I thought Desi might be understanding, but it could be hard to judge how Samantha might respond. She was a loyal friend, but she could be judgmental of people outside our friend group -- especially if they were different in some way. Maybe if we got into some deep, late-night discussion, I might be able to gradually introduce them to what I had been going to them to gauge how they might respond. Our conversation shifted to how the Fortnite tryout had gone earlier today.

“Did that weirdo still show up to the try-out?” Samantha asked.

“You need to stop calling her that,” I said. “Yeah, Lisa is a bit awkward, but it isn’t her fault that she was homeschooled.”

Samantha simply rolled her eyes.

“How did the tryout go?” Desi asked.

I explained how Lisa and I had been the two best players and that we had both been picked as starters. My detailed description of the Fortnite games wasn’t nearly as exciting to them as it was to me. Their boredom at being forced to listen to my tale was interrupted when Samantha’s mom entered the room with the pizzas she had gone to pick up. Pizza twice in a day? I guess it was a lucky day for me, after all.

“What kind of soda do you want with the pizza?” Samantha asked.

I didn’t want any kind of soda, but I couldn’t think of a polite way to decline the offer. You were supposed to eat junk food during a sleepover, after all.

“I don’t know. Pick one for me.”

Mom rarely let me drink soda, so I didn’t have much of a preference as to what flavor I would like. Samantha returned to the table with three cold cans of Mountain Dew that she had grabbed from the fridge. I didn’t want to even begin to guess how much sugar and caffeine must be in them. Samantha made a show of chugging the entire could of Mountain Dew in just a few seconds.

“Show-off,” Desi muttered.

“Well, could either of you do better,” Samantha retorted.

Desi chugged her could of soda nearly as quickly as Samantha had, without spilling even a single drop. They both turned to look at me.

“Chug it! Chug it! Chug it!” they chanted in unison.

I had no desire to drink the soda. I had hoped to get away with just a few sips. I popped the can open and started to pour the soda into my mouth. I gagged at the burning feeling of the carbonation. This was the first time I’d had any soda in at least three or four months, and I was not at all prepared for how it would taste or feel in my mouth. Desi jokingly patted me on the back as I finished coughing.

“Maybe I should save this to drink sometime later,” I said, hoping that later would end up turning into never.

“You can’t do that. It will go flat. Just drink it now,” Samantha said.

I looked back down at the still mostly full could of soda. I couldn’t think of a good excuse to avoid drinking it, but the possibility of wetting myself would be much higher if I did.

“Come on Sarah,” Samantha said. “It’s just soda. You’re supposed to like drinking it.”

I slowly sipped from the can until I had completely drained it, careful to avoid the reaction I had gotten when I had tried to drink it much quicker. I knew liquids didn’t immediately go to my bladder, but no sooner had I finished drinking the soda than I felt the urge to pee coming on again. This was going to be a long evening.

---

I returned from the bathroom to find Samantha and Desi debating what activity we should start with for the sleepover. I was eager to try on some makeup, but they had different plans on their minds.

“What should we do before we watch movies tonight?” Desi asked.

“We could swim in the pool,” Samantha said.

“Swim? It’s way too cold for that today,” I said. “Plus, you didn’t tell me anything about us doing that. I didn’t bring my swimsuit.”

“I’m sorry, I should have mentioned it. Desi just always brings one when we do a sleepover. You can wear a swimsuit that I’ve outgrown,” said Samantha, who had several inches on me. “I’m sure it will fit you just fine.”

Desi grabbed her bag and went to a bathroom to change into her swimsuit. She had just gotten the cast off of her foot earlier today, so she was free to join in on the swimming as well. Samantha led me upstairs to her bedroom. She pulled out a hanger from the closet with the old swimsuit attached. I looked at the two-piece swimsuit a bit awkwardly. I recognized it from when we had gone to the water park together a summer ago. It may have been a perfectly normal piece of swimwear, but Mom had derided it as indecent when she had seen Samantha wearing it. Mom only allowed me to wear one-piece swimsuits.

“Oh, come on,” Samantha said. “Your mom wasn’t going to find out, and it is not like any of our neighbors can see the pool through the fence anyways.”

I relented, stripped off my clothes, and tried the swimsuit on. The fit was tight, which I suppose was better than it being loose. I felt naked, even though everything that needed to be covered was covered. I nearly jumped when Samantha returned to the room, instinctively crossing my arms across my body.

“Stop being so prude,” Samantha said. “Hurry up. We’ve only got an hour or so of daylight left.”

I shivered as I stepped out into Samantha’s backyard in just a swimsuit. Samantha and Desi both went ahead of me and jumped eagerly in the pool. I stepped back to avoid getting splashed. Goose bumps began sprouting on my arms as I remained on the stone patio.

“Jump in. The water is heated,” Samantha said.

I tip-toed up to the edge of the pool and dipped my foot into the water. Not as warm as I had expected, but it was still better than the cold swimming pools I was accustomed to at the local YMCA and definitely better than standing out of the water shivering. I made a cannonball jump into the pool, splashing both Desi and Samantha. The pool was only four feet deep, but for me, that meant I had to stand up on my toes to keep the water from splashing into my mouth.

We splashed around on several inflatable pool toys, trying to knock each other off their float while staying on our own. After that, we settled into a game of tag. I was the best swimmer of the group, and I had no problem swimming rapidly toward one of my friends to tap them and then getting away before they could swipe back at me. I was chasing down Samantha at the moment, and I had her boxed into one of the corners.

She dove underwater, trying to get down past me, but I took a deep breath and dived down after her as well and tapped her firmly on the back with my hand. I kicked off the wall and began swimming toward the other end of the pool before coming to a stop a ways away from her. As my toes made contact with the bottom of the pool, the water around my waist began to feel warmer, and I realized I was in the middle of peeing. Given that I was already completely wet, the sensation of urinating hadn’t been as immediately noticeable as the other accidents I’d had in a pull-up.

I couldn’t remain in that spot for long. Samantha was now chasing after me, wanting to get me back for tagging her. I began moving toward the opposite side of the pool, but when I turned back to see what Samantha was doing, I saw that she was stopped right where I had just had the accident, her face showing an expression of disgust as she began to walk backwards from that spot where she must have noticed the unusual warmth.

“Sarah! Did you just pee in the pool?” Samantha shouted at me.

Desi turned to stare at me as well. I couldn’t admit that I had an accident, but with Samantha adamant that she could tell that someone had peed in the pool, I couldn’t deny having done so. My only option was to pretend that I had done it on purpose.

“Yes,” I replied curtly.

“Gross!” Desi shrieked, scrambling to get out of the pool.

“Relax, the chlorine gets rid of it,” I said, and then turned to Samantha. “There is chlorine in the water, right?”

“Of course there is, but that doesn’t mean you could just pee wherever you feel like it,” Samantha said. “Just gross.”

Desi would have nothing to do with getting back into the pool, so that meant it was time to head back inside. She shot me another look of disgust as we dried ourselves off with towels on the patio. After we had finished changing into our pajamas in Samantha’s room, we went to the basement to get started with a movie, but Tommy was already there, playing a video game on the TV.

“Mom, could you make Tommy get off of his game?” Samantha yelled up the stairs, trying to get her mother’s attention.

“No, I told him he could play for a bit before going to bed,” her Mom replied back. “You know he goes to bed early, so you’ll have plenty of time once he was done.”

“Whatever,” Samantha muttered loudly, stalking away with a pouting face.

I couldn’t believe the things Samantha could get away with. If I’d dared to behave like that, I’d wind up bent over Mom’s legs on the receiving end of a spanking.

“You girls just head upstairs and find another game to play until you could start your movie,” Samantha’s Mom said, ignoring her daughter’s outburst.

“What game should we play,” Desi asked.

“Didn’t you tell me that you always play Truth or Dare?” I said, eager to give that game a try.

“Of course,” Samantha said. “Have you ever played it?”

“No.”

“Do you know the rules?”

“Truth means you have to answer a question with complete honesty. Dare means you have to complete the task that you were given.”

The three of us went back up to Samantha’s room and sat down on blankets in a circle on the floor.

“It’s your first time, so you are going to have to start,” Samantha said to me. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” I said without any hesitation.

Samantha and Desi shared a glance and then whispered quietly between each other, trying to decide what question to ask me.

“Have you ever kissed a boy,” Desi asked.

Of course she’d ask something like that.

“No,” I replied.

“What about kissing a girl,” Samantha interjected.

I gasped. That was a rather scandalous question in a conservative community like ours. Besides, they were only supposed to ask one question.

“No!” I replied loudly. That didn’t mean I hadn’t thought of doing so.

“I’d never want to,” I added, just to be clear.

We stuck to truths for the first several rounds, with no one quite having the nerve to go for a dare. I learned that Samantha had once gotten three “Fs” on a report card and Desi had first said a curse word in front of her mom at the age of three, while I was forced to tell them that I’d eaten a booger before. The truths part was getting boring. I wanted to get on to the exciting stuff.

“Truth or Dare?” Samantha asked me when my turn came around again.

“Dare!” I said.

“I think I have one,” Samantha said before Desi could say anything.

“I dare you to pants my brother,” Samantha said.

“Do what?” I replied.

I didn’t understand what she was asking me to do. Samantha rolled her eyes at me.

“It just means that you pull down someone pants by surprise. Just their pants of course. You don’t want them to be naked.”

I was surprised by Samantha’s request. It was a strange dare, but not something that should be too difficult or embarrassing for me to do.

Tommy was standing in front of the TV downstairs wearing basketball shorts and t-shirt, jumping up and down and waving his arms in response to some sort of motion sensing game he was playing on the TV. As far as dares went, I felt like I had lucked out with being given an easy one. Instead of making a show of sneaking behind Tommy, which I felt was more likely to be noticed, I walked confidently up to the couch behind him like I was up to my own business. Samantha followed behind me, holding her phone up as if she was recording the dare.

I walked all the way past Tommy. He didn’t pay any attention to me; he was too absorbed in the game to care one bit about what I was doing. I doubled back, this time intent on carrying out the dare. I came to a stop directly behind Tommy, kneeling down so my hands could reach his pants. In one motion, I got a firm grip on either side of his shorts and tugged them all the way to the floor. I wasn’t prepared for what I was about to see.

I hadn’t given much thought as to what was going to happen after I pulled Tommy’s pants down, but I had figured I would see either underwear or maybe boxers, likely decorated with cartoon characters or superheroes. Instead, Tommy was wearing a pull-up. The sides of the pull-up were a solid blue, with the main design being a series of horizontal blue lines. It was the last thing I had expected to see.

I don’t think Tommy immediately realized what had happened. He at first tried to reach down and grab his pants, but his hands weren’t able to reach all the way to his feet. Tommy then turned around and placed both his hands on the front of the pull-up, trying unsuccessfully hiding it from view. Tears began to form around his eyes. I stepped back and sat on the couch, embarrassed at the secret I had unwittingly revealed. However, Samantha wasn’t surprised at all.

“Aww, does baby have his diapie on for bedtime already?” Samantha said mockingly to her younger brother.

Tommy started to run off. Samantha handed the phone to Desi and chased him down. She grabbed Tommy and then turned him around so he was facing us with his hands held above his head and the dry pull-up fully exposed.

“Desi, come show Tommy the video,” Samantha said.

Desi walked over to wear Samantha was holding Tommy in place and then played the video for all of us to see. The images in the video were crystal clear, leaving no doubt that Tommy was wearing a pull-up. Even more tears streamed down Tommy’s face as he watched it silently.

“Tommy, do you want your friends to know that you were a baby?”

“I was not a baby,” he protested weakly, not a particularly effective argument when one was wearing a pull-up.

“Big kids don’t wear diapies,” Samantha said, ignoring Tommy’s protestations. “If you don’t want your friends to see this video, you were going to do as we say and be a good baby boy and you weren’t going to tell mommy about any of this. Do you understand?”

Tommy remained silent except for his quiet sobbing.

“Do you understand,” Samantha said, more firmly this time around.

Tommy nodded his head.

“Come on baby, hold up your shirt and show off your diapie,” Samantha said to Tommy, as she grabbed her phone and started another recording.

“Why don’t you tell everyone what you were wearing,” Samantha said.

Tommy muttered something that we couldn’t hear.

“Say it louder for the camera.”

“A pull-up.”

“And why were you wearing the pull-up?”

Tommy started to say something, but hesitated, stuttered and then fell silent. Samantha pressed on with her interrogation.

“What do you do every night when you were asleep?”

“I wet the bed.”

I was aghast at the whole sequence of events. I knew Samantha could sometimes be a bit stuck up, and maybe even mean on occasion, but it had always seemed lighthearted compared to how cruel she was being to her brother. The whole situation reminded me vividly of how Mom treated Emilia. I was so thankful I had chosen to not wear a pull-up or bring any in my backpack as backup. What if they had pantsed me instead?

I had thought – in hindsight quite foolishly – that perhaps I could confide in my friends about all the struggles I had been going through with my bladder and wetting accidents. Carrying the burden of that secret all to myself the past week had caused no small amount of stress.

Samantha snatched Tommy’s shorts off the ground before he could grab them.

“You aren’t going to be needed these,” Samantha said, giving Tommy a pat on his bottom as she led Desi and I back upstairs to continue the game of Truth or Dare.

  • Like 4
  • Sad 1
Link to comment
  • MinnesotaWriter changed the title to All My Mother's Rules (Ch. 13 --- 5/6/20)
  • MinnesotaWriter changed the title to All My Mother's Rules (Ch. 70 & Epilogue - 2/13/24)

Create an account or sign in to comment

You need to be a member in order to leave a comment

Create an account

Sign up for a new account in our community. It's easy!

Register a new account

Sign in

Already have an account? Sign in here.

Sign In Now
×
×
  • Create New...