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

[WBDaddy]

21 hours ago, MinnesotaWriter said:

While the outside was white, the interior padding had a peach colored hue.

Good old Tranquility ATN's.  

Probably the best plastic-backed option out there that will fit a younger teen.  

And, I kinda agree with Arendeth, it probably won't take long for Mom to bust her for having all the backup pull-ups and wind up in diapers at school for a day.  

I'd bet tall money she quits cheerleading if that happens.  

[MinnesotaWriter]

On 6/19/2020 at 9:51 PM, BabySofia said:

This is the first chapter where I haven't totally hated her mom. I still think she needs to find out why her daughter is suddenly having issues, but at least this puts into some perspective why her blinders are on. Looking forward to more soon!

Thanks, there's more still to be learned about Sarah's mom.

On 6/19/2020 at 10:54 PM, Arendeth said:

Thanks for the chapter those diapers are likely to be ended up on her for school in no time.

You're welcome. We'll have to see what happens with school going forward.

On 6/20/2020 at 1:18 AM, Bonsai said:

Well, this solves part of the tension. I’m wondering if mom isn’t at least in part glad that her daughter is locked back in diapers at night, away from those no-sleep-sleepovers and the nasty influence of her “friends”.

Maybe mom knows more than she shows to know and is using the situation for her own purposes?

That's a good point. Bedwetting and sleepovers aren't all that compatible, so we'll have to see how that plays out.

On 6/20/2020 at 2:25 AM, GQLF said:

The mother former once to be a bedwetting and diaper, so she have daughter back into diaper, I hope this is good develop. Sarah can understand her mother, find this balance point, instead of trying to hide the accident all the time

maybe mother have wear diaper to sleep now?

Don't think we'll be seeing Sarah's mom have a return to bed-wetting. 

On 6/20/2020 at 1:12 PM, Nat said:

Just imagine her mom goes from evil to loving when she is back in diapers again. But I think she is still a lazy parent for having Sarah do all the work of taking care of Amelia. 

The one change with Sarah being back in pull-ups (and now a diaper at night) is that her mom has relieved Sarah of much of the responsibility of caring for Emilia. 
 

18 hours ago, WBDaddy said:

Good old Tranquility ATN's.  

Probably the best plastic-backed option out there that will fit a younger teen.  

And, I kinda agree with Arendeth, it probably won't take long for Mom to bust her for having all the backup pull-ups and wind up in diapers at school for a day.  

I'd bet tall money she quits cheerleading if that happens.  

Nice catch. Sounds like someone knows their diapers. 

[GQLF]

Maybe I think more, if Sarah's mom It's really wetting the bed, that's it house rules establish one's authority to her's two daughters, to hide herself's bedwetting diaper.

[Orion]

Love the new chapter!

[WBDaddy]

On 6/21/2020 at 3:32 PM, MinnesotaWriter said:

Nice catch. Sounds like someone knows their diapers. 

I had a tiny ex-wife who wouldn't fit in any of the AB diapers available at the time, so that was the best we could do.  This was shortly after Molicare discontinued their purple plastic-backed briefs. 

[Jayme]

Tranquility ATN's are decently made, I'm just glad her mother didn't go with Dry24's... talk about noisy.

[Arendeth]

On 6/23/2020 at 6:28 AM, Jayme said:

Tranquility ATN's are decently made, I'm just glad her mother didn't go with Dry24's... talk about noisy.

Dry 24/7 has better absorbency but worse tapes though (both don't have the best softness though)

Dry24/7 isn't that noisy as far as diapers go though Tykables are much noisier (no one but the wearer would likely notice though)

[jaycanrdezum]

Eagerly awaiting more!

[MinnesotaWriter]

Chapter 23: Best Served Cold

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

For once in the past few days, the alarm-clock woke me up in the morning before Mom did. I sat up in bed as quickly as I could to smack the snooze button on the alarm clock. Another five minutes in bed would be great.

As I collapsed back onto the mattress, I felt the cold, clammy squishiness of the diaper against my bottom. Oh great. I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised that I had wet the diaper, but still, the fact that I had been wearing the diaper had been completely out of my mind until I felt it as I laid down in bed again.

I slid my hand beneath my pajama pants to feel the diaper. Beneath the plastic lining of it around my crotch, the diaper was squishy yet clumpy, as the absorbent gel had broken apart overnight. The diaper also didn’t feel all that full, unlike how the pull-ups did after I used them. There wasn’t even the slightest sensation of moisture on the outside of the diaper. I could have probably peed in it one or two more times before it reached the point of overflowing.

When I had pressed the snooze button, I had been looking forward to getting a few more minutes of sleep, but now all I wanted was for Mom to come in and change me. The thought of wearing pull-ups had never been so appealing to me before.

Mom opened the door to the bedroom a minute later. No doubt she had heard the alarm going off as well. I kept my eyes closed. I knew what was going to happen as soon as I opened them. It was a conversation I wasn’t eager to have. I opened my eyes when the sound of Mom’s footsteps told me that she was right next to my bed.

“Did you sleep well last night?”

“Yes.”

“And you didn’t wake up at all in the middle of the night?”

“Nope.”

“And how did the diaper do? Did you have an accident?”

To wet the diaper was one thing. To verbally admit it to my mother was something else.

“I don’t know,” I replied, breaking off eye contact with her.

“I’ll need to check then.”

Mom pulled my sheets off of me so that the top of my pajama pants were in view. She then tugged the top of my pajamas down slightly, just enough to see the obvious wet spot.

“See, isn’t this so much better than having to wake up to a wet bed in the middle of the night?”

I didn’t respond. Admitting that Mom was right about having me wear a diaper to bed was not something that I wanted to do. But she did have a point. I didn’t feel nearly as tired as I had during the previous mornings this week.

“Come on,” Mom said, putting my pajamas back in place. “Let’s get you off of the bed so that I could get the changing mat in place.

“Mommy, I need to be changed too,” Emilia whined from her crib.

Ugh, just another thing I have in common with my sister now. Once I had gotten up, Mom tossed the covers over to the corner of the bed and placed the change mat in the middle of it. I crawled dutifully onto the middle of the mat.

“Sweetie, you need to slide over so we could make room for your sister as well,” Mom said.

“But...”

“No buts. It would be quicker to change you both at once.”

Emilia was aware that my bedwetting had restarted, but she hadn’t seen me in a diaper yet, something I had been hoping to avoid. I moved over to the side of the mat as Mom scooped Emilia up out of her crib and laid her down next to me.

Mom pulled off my pajama pants completed, leaving the wet diaper almost completely exposed. Only the very top portion of it was hidden by my t-shirt. Mom did the same for Emilia, and now we were both laying on the bed, each with just a t-shirt and a diaper on. As Mom grabbed wipes and a clean pull-up for Emilia, my sister turned her head to take a look at my diaper.

“My diaper looks cuter,” she said.

Thanks a lot, sis. I turned my head to the side so that Emilia couldn’t see how badly I was blushing.

“Don’t tease your sister, Emilia. Diapers for kids your sister’s age don’t come with cute designs.”

It made sense. Younger kids might be able to be tricked into feeling good about wearing a pull-up or diaper if it came with interesting designs on it. That trick wouldn’t be nearly as effective for teenagers.

The four tapes on the diaper came off with several loud rips. I shivered involuntarily as Mom pressed the cold baby wipes against my skin. Even though the wipes were cold, they felt incredibly good as the yucky residue from peeing in the diaper got wiped off.

I couldn’t decide how I was supposed to feel. The humiliation of having my mother change me was still there, though it wasn’t as bad now that she had been doing it for five days in a row.

Part of me felt relieved. Relieved that I wasn’t waking up super tired. Relieved that I didn’t have to wake up and change the sheets in the middle of the night. But that’s just it. To acknowledge the feeling of relief was to acknowledge that there was something that I should be receiving relief from. In that sense, the relief I was feeling was just a band-aid incapable of covering the larger issue – that I no longer had total control over my bladder during the day and apparently now had no semblance of control over it at night.

I didn’t want to receive relief from my problems. I wanted them to go away altogether. But to do that, I needed answers. I needed to know why my body had suddenly begun to behave the way that it had and what I could do to try to fix it. Doing any research at home was out of the question since Mom closely monitored all my internet activities. Mom wasn’t likely to take me to a doctor and going to the school nurse would get back to her. I could try to use one of the computers in the library. Even though the library wasn’t heavily used by students, there was still the risk of someone noticing, but with how desperate I now was for any sort of answers, it now felt like it would be worth it.

When she finished with the wipes, Mom handed me a towel and I went off to the bathroom to shower and think through my plans for when I got to school.

---

I was dressed – or rather not dressed – the same way as with each of the previous school days this week. You would think that it would just make more sense for me to get my complete school outfit on while I got dressed after the shower, but Mom hadn’t relented on her insistence that she be able to see my pull-up at all times when I’m at home, meaning that I wasn’t going to be allowed to put my jeans on until right before I was about to head out the door to get on the bus.

That Emilia was dressed the same way as me wasn’t at all comforting. I was her older sister. It had been my job to get her potty trained, and now Mom seemed set on treating me as if I’m a toddler as well. The resentment I’d been feeling toward Emilia over how she had tattled to Mom about my accident — the whole reason I’m in this mess right now — had been simmering all week. I knew better than to lash out at my younger sister overtly, but I wouldn’t turn down a discrete opportunity to get back at her.

Emilia did a bit of a wiggle dance as she ate her cereal. I knew what that meant. Her bladder was telling her that it was time to go potty, and she was trying to put it off as long as possible. A week ago, when I had been responsible for Emilia’s potty training, I would have reminded her that she needed to go sit on the toilet. But that wasn’t my problem now. I wouldn’t even have to change her if she did wet her pull-up. So why should I care?

After a few minutes, where Emilia’s squirming had continued to increase, she jumped off of her chair all of the sudden and took a few quick steps toward the bathroom. It was too little, too late. Emilia paused and tried to squeeze her legs together. I knew right away what that meant.

“Mom,” I shouted down the hallway, trying hard to keep a note of glee out of my voice. “Emilia just had an accident.”

I should have felt bad, but I didn’t. It was her fault that Mom still had me wearing pull-ups. Emilia plopped down on the floor and started to cry. I didn’t do anything to comfort her. Instead, I tuned out the noise as I finished my bowl of cereal.

---

Since we shared the same schedule, Samantha, Desi, and I all had our morning study period together. Having a time where we could chit-chat together in the middle of the school day was normally great, but now I needed an excuse to get away from them if I was to go to the library to do some research about my bladder problems.

I waited a few minutes into the period for when my friends had already gotten settled down into their comfy chairs in one of the study lounges.

“Hey, I need to go over to the library to look for some books for my history project. Do either of you want to come?”

Desi shook her head. Samantha gave me a look like I was crazy.

The library was pretty empty. The school was more than thirty-years-old so it was a holdover from a time when students weren’t likely to have access to every bit of information imaginable on their smartphones or laptops.

Only one of the eight computers in the library lab was in use. With small screens, they were relics of another era. I don’t think any of them ran on anything newer than Windows XP. I looked for a computer that another student had failed to log out of. I didn’t want any of the things I was about to search for to show up under my student ID.

I took a seat at one on the far end that had been left turned on. With a wall right behind me, it was unlikely that someone would come by and be able to see what I was doing on the computer. I began by opening up a web browser and pretending to do some homework related searches.

As I opened up another search tab, I was at a loss as to what I should type. There must be a medical term to describe what I’m experiencing, but I had no idea what it would be. My fingers froze above the keyboard. Did I dare type it out? I took a look around the room. No one was near me. But what should I type? I hesitated, and then rapidly typed out “14 and beginning to pee myself.”

The search resulted in a flurry of article titles, most of which had a word I didn’t recognize. Incontinence? I did another search, this time just for that word by itself. Google linked to a definition right away – “Lack of voluntary control over urination or defecation.” That fit what I was dealing with. I hadn’t even considered the possibility of losing control over doing number two. I guess I should be glad it was only my bladder that was causing me problems.

I felt a lot better knowing that there was a name for the problem I was dealing with. Now I just needed to find out what could be done to regain control of my bladder. I typed “fixing incontinence” into the search bar. Pills, surgeries, diets, implants, exercises. The amount of potential causes and solutions to my bladder issues left me overwhelmed. I closed those browser tabs, my nerves finally having gotten the better of me.

I wasn’t much better off than when I had started. I now knew that the issue I was dealing with was called incontinence, but the reasons for why it might have started and what could be done to treat it were so varied that I had no clue for where I should even begin.

Before leaving the library, I grabbed the first book I could find on George H.W. Bush to back up the cover story I’d given my friends about my trip to the library. Desi and Samantha were both flipping through their phones when I returned to the study lounge. I’m guessing not much actually studying had occurred while I was away at the library.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” Desi asked.

“Yep.”

Desi nudged Samantha gently with her foot.

“Hey, we need to get started on our project as well.”

“Relax, we’ve got plenty of time,” Samantha replied.

I hoped Lisa was also on top of the project. We hadn’t discussed the assignment since it had been given earlier this week.

“Hey,” Desi said, with the tone of just having remembered something important. “Halloween is less than a week away. We need to plan for trick-or-treating.”

I had to hold back the urge to glare at her. This wasn’t something I wanted reminding of.

“I’m sorry,” Desi said. “I forgot that your Mom doesn’t like trick-or-treating.”

“It’s not that she doesn’t like it,” I replied. “It’s just that she decided that once I turned thirteen that I was too old to go out trick-or-treating anymore.”

“That’s not cool,” Samantha said.

“I know. Mom doesn’t even give candy to kids if they look like they were old enough to be in high school.”

It had been a tradition for us to all go trick-or-treating together. Samantha’s neighborhood was the best in terms of how much candy was given out. But for the past two years, Samantha and Desi had to go trick-or-treating without me.

“Wait,” Samantha said. “We don’t have to go trick-or-treating to have fun on Halloween. We’re in high school now. We could go to the school’s Halloween party instead.”

“I don’t know how Mom is going to feel about it.”

“But this was a high school party, not trick or treating,” Desi said. “So I’m sure she’ll let you come.”

“I don’t even have any idea of what I’d be dressing up as.”

“It’s still almost a week away, so you’ll have plenty of time to figure something out,” Desi said.

I nodded in agreement. Being able to dress up again for Halloween did sound like a bunch of fun, but getting Mom to sign off on it was going to be a challenge.

[GQLF]

I like this ch, hope Sarah's Pull-ups can make it Halloween Party.

[Arendeth]

Thanks for the chapter, I guess Emilia is going to get revenge on Sarah by getting her caught in a wet pullup or getting exposing the "extra" pullups she has been taking from Emilia.

[Nat]

I think this story is getting better now that the mom sounds non abusive now. 

[Sarah Penguin]

[Bonsai]

I’m trying to guess how this story gets to the turning point where Sarah finally finds a medical answer to her issue and, since apparently her mom isn’t going to help and internet gave inconclusive answers, Lisa becomes my best bet.

[The Cle-venger]

This is a very well written story, I would like to see it continue ?

[aldl4811]

Very nice. Deep development of these characters 

[thedman]

I am missing this story, I hope we will get an update soon.

[The All]

MinnesotaWriter, I just want to thank you for a nice, slow-paced but amazingly well-written story. I only just now stumbled across this one, and simply had to read through everything you've posted of it so far, it was so enjoyable. I hope you have been able to write more of it, and that we'll be getting more of it soon. Even more, I hope you keep writing, finish the story and bring us more stories in the future.

[thedman]

Bump.....

 

I hope that we will see some new content soon, I love this story

[deewet]

I  was glad to see this thread is still alive, as this story is one of my favorites!  I was quite anxious for a while that it had gone away.  Please continue ASAP as it is so good and I really need something to look forward to on a regular basis in these difficult times!!

[martijn]

are there more chapters for this storie? 

 

[Arendeth]

Not until the author rights some more. Everyone stay safe.

[SashaButters]

Wow, I really enjoyed this. Great job! It's hard to stumble across well written stories that aren't sexualized. I prefer stories about kids needing them rather than age playing adults who wear for fun.

 

[MinnesotaWriter]

I'm back! 

Thanks for all your kind notes while I was gone (Has it really been three months? that went by so fast).  Life has settled down for me, and I should have plenty of time to write for the foreseeable future. I'm extremely excited about what the next chapters will reveal. I should have a new chapter up by tomorrow evening. 

[MinnesotaWriter]

Chapter 24: Just Pee Yourself

There are very few times in my life where I had been grateful to be soaking wet from head to toe, but this was one of them.

Cheerleading wasn’t nearly as glamorous as TV shows made it out to be. Tonight’s football game had to be on the only day it had rained so far this month. It didn’t help much either that the football team had completely sucked. I was still mostly a novice when it came to the rules of the sport, but you don’t need to know the rules to know that not scoring any points wasn’t good.

Throughout the game, I had kept waiting to hear a crack of thunder. Any sign of lightning would have brought the event to an immediate halt. But to my dismay, it was only a steady, hours-long rainstorm that I had no choice but to endure.

More than two hours had passed and a glance up at the scoreboard told me that there were still six minutes and twenty-five seconds remaining in the third quarter. Seriously, why do football games have to take this long?

Besides a handful of parents who are way more emotionally invested in their children’s athletic success – or lack thereof – than they should be, the stands were basically empty. Mom and Emilia were both in the stands, with a large umbrella protecting them against the rain. Mom didn’t miss any opportunities to show up for any of the games I was cheerleading at, and she hadn’t managed to find a babysitter, so Emilia had got brought along as well.

By halftime, with the team trailing by twenty-eight points, most of the fans had made the sensible decision that sitting out in the rain just was not worth their time. Us cheerleaders didn’t have that luxury. We were still waving our pom-poms and repetitively going through the chants and cheers that we’d already done so many times tonight.

One major consolation was that Claire — my fellow freshman cheerleader and a complete and total bitch — was completely miserable about the weather. Her perfect blonde hair was a mess. And her make-up, which she’d used way too much of, was completely ruined in the rain. As wrong as it might be, I had to admit that it was a sight that made me feel warm and fuzzy inside, especially after her recent failed attempt to expose my pull-ups.

The only upside to being out in the rain was that once you’re completely soaked, you aren’t able to get any wetter. My pull-up, however, would have been completely soaked even if it had been a dry, sunny, and cloudless evening, like Friday evenings are supposed to be on an October night in New Mexico.

The rain had saved me from a lot of potential trouble. I was still wearing one of my own pull-ups, as I hadn’t found time to change into the pull-ups I had been taking from my still-not-potty-trained three-year-old sister.

My scheme to avoid Mom’s tracking of my bladder accidents by using Emilia’s pull-ups instead had nearly last gotten me to the weekend without Mom catching on to a single one of my accidents. Unlike our football team, I had actually made it to the red zone.

Nearly a week ago on Sunday, I’d had an inopportune leak from the pull-ups I had been taking from Emilia to hide the bladder problem I’d been dealing with for several weeks now. My sister had witnessed the accident, and that brat had gone running to tell Mom. While I had managed to hide the pull-up, I didn’t have the time to hide my wet pants or the puddle on the floor.

Mom, who had no idea I had already been using my sister’s pull-ups, insisted on putting me back in pull-ups, having saved the ones I had been using up to several years ago as a bedwetter. Now I was stuck following the same potty-training rules as my three-and-a-half-year-old sister, meaning that I had to keep my pull-ups dry – or at least trick Mom into thinking I had – before Mom would end this toilet training charade.

Kaboom!

I paused in the middle of the cheer routine we were in the middle of doing to look up and see a large flash of lightning streak across the sky. About time. The referees blew their whistles to bring the game to a halt, and the announcer ordered everyone off of the field.

---

I didn’t hesitate to take Mom up on her offer to take me home to get dried up and cleaned off. While I had gotten into a good routine for hiding my pull-ups when I changed in the locker-room, I was still glad I wouldn’t have to deal with that tonight.

Despite being wrapped in a towel, I sat shivering in the passenger seat on the drive home. For some reason, I felt colder now that I was out of the rain. Though I’d become accustomed to the feeling of a soaked pull-up, the way it had swelled up from the rain was something else entirely. I doubted the pull-up could absorb a single additional drop of water or urine at this point.

As soon as we arrived back at the house, I made an immediate dash toward the bathroom. All I wanted to do was get my wet, cold clothing off and take a hot shower.

“Sarah, wait up. I need to check your pull-up.”

Not again. Though I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised. With my back turned to her, I rolled my eyes.

“There’s no need, Mom, it’s soaked.”

I instantly regretted my choice of words.

“What! Why didn’t you tell me you had an accident?”

I sighed. I really should be more careful.

“I didn’t have an accident. My whole outfit got drenched in the rain. Can you just let me get cleaned up?”

I unwrapped the towel and turned to face Mom again. While I hadn’t told Mom the entire truth, the fact that my outfit had gotten soaked in the rain was too obvious to dispute.

“Fine, get yourself cleaned up.”

I waited until the bathroom door was safely shut behind me before I let myself breathe a sigh of relief. I examined the pull-up carefully after removing it. While it wasn’t super obvious that I had peed in it, if Mom had taken the time to look closely, she would have noticed the faint yellow stains. I’d gotten quite lucky there. If I could just hide my accidents for forty-eight more hours, I could finally get Mom off of my back.

---

Friday evenings usually mean watching a movie after Emilia had been put to bed. Normally, that would be hard to do with how late the football games would go, but since the thunderstorm had cut the game short, we had time for a quick movie tonight. Mom occasionally lets me pick the movie we watch, but not tonight. She had her mind set on watching a cheesy Hallmark Christmas movie, and there was no dissuading her.

I fiddled with my phone through most of the movie. I was glad that the movie had kept conversation between us to a minimum. We hadn’t talked about the whole nighttime diaper thing since Mom had gotten me up in the morning. I’d done my best to repress that memory throughout the day, but now that my impending bedtime was rapidly approaching as each minute of the movie ticked away, I couldn’t help but feel an oncoming sense of dread.

I didn’t know how I was supposed to feel about wearing a diaper to bed. On one hand, I had never been more humiliated than having my mother tape a diaper on me. But on the other hand, I knew that I had a bedwetting problem, and waking up in the middle of the night wearing a soggy pull-up and surrounded by wet sheets was incredibly unpleasant.

What I did know was that I didn’t want to have a conversation with her about it. If I needed to wear the diapers to bed, I just wanted to get it done and over with until I could learn more about this incontinence thing that I had read about in the school library earlier today. While I hadn’t managed to find a solution to my problems, the fact that there was a medical term for it and lots of people writing about it online meant that there had to be something that could be done to help prevent me from wetting myself.

The movie wrapped up at last. Yes, the girl got the guy. Christmas was saved. Everyone lived happily ever after. I knew Mom would want to be getting me diapered for bed soon, but since I had something else to ask her, I tried to pre-emptively change the subject.

“So Mom,” I began, trying to figure out the best way to phrase the request I was about to make. “There’s going to be a Halloween costume party at the high school, and I was wondering if it would be OK for me to go to it, since I won’t be doing any trick-or-treating?”

Mom paused before replying. That wasn’t usually a good sign.

“How about this? If you don’t have any more daytime accidents before then, I’ll let you go to the party.”

“It was only one accident during the day,” I replied, the lie rolling easily off my lips, but I had no intention of Mom ever discovering the truth of the situation. “Do you really need to hold it against me for that long?”

“Stop complaining. Since it was just one accident, you don’t have anything to worry about. I just want to be making sure you are setting a good example for Emilia.”

I know Mom thought that making me follow the same potty training rules as my younger sister would help with Emilia’s potty training, but I felt it was having the opposite effect. I mean from my sister’s perspective, if even her older sister could be put back in pull-ups and diapers, wouldn’t that discourage her and make her think potty training wasn’t possible?

I decided not to press the issue any more with Mom. The offer about the Halloween party was as good as I was going to get, and I didn’t want to talk about my bladder problems any more than I needed to. We both sat on the couch silently for the next few minutes. I fiddled with my phone awkwardly. I knew what was about to happen, and while I wanted to just get it over with, I couldn’t bring myself to initiate that conversation.

“Alright Sarah, it was time to get you ready for bed,” Mom said matter of fact, as if there was nothing out of the ordinary with her needing to put a diaper on her teenage daughter before sending her off to bed.

I took that as a cue to run off to the bathroom. I didn’t care to have Mom have to remind me to go potty.

A changing pad, diaper, and baby powder were already laid out neatly when I stepped into Mom’s bedroom a few minutes later. I knew what to do without her saying anything. I laid down on the changing mat and closed my eyes.

---

My bedroom was still dark when I woke up, unlike the previous night where I had managed to get an uninterrupted night of sleep. While I hadn’t forgotten that I was wearing a diaper, if I had, the loud crinkle it gave as I sat up would have done it for me. With the sensation of needing to pee coming from my bladder, I didn’t have to check the diaper to know that it was still dry.

The urge to go wasn’t so strong that I needed to get up and rush to the bathroom right this instance, but it was strong enough that I doubted I’d be able to ignore my bladder long enough to go back to sleep. And, if I did somehow manage to get to sleep, my chances of waking up without a wet diaper were basically zero.

I surveyed my options. Peeing in the diaper was a non-starter. And Mom had been clear that I was not to wake her up in the middle of the night, so that wasn’t an option either. If I could get the diaper off and then back on again all by myself, I could use the toilet and avoid waking up to a wet diaper in the morning, and my mother would be none the wiser.

I tip-toed stealthily out of my room and down the hallway. Thankfully, Mom slept with her bedroom door shut, so there wasn’t any possibility of her seeing me.

I tried unsuccessfully to pull the diaper down to my knees, but Mom had done too good of a job when she had diapered me, having made sure that the tapes were placed to create an extremely snug fit around my waist. Unlike Emilia’s baby diapers, the sides weren’t stretchy at all. I gave one of the four tapes a gentle tug, but it refused to come loose.

As much as I didn’t want to risk causing any damage to the diaper – I needed to be able to put the tapes back on in a way that Mom wouldn’t notice – the urge to urinate was getting more and more unbearable now that my body was aware that relief was only moments away. If I don’t hurry, I might end up stuck in a wet diaper after all.

Trying to loosen the tape on the diaper felt a lot like trying to pull a band-aid off of my skin. Slow and gentle doesn’t usually work, sometimes you’ve just got to rip it off. I gave the tape a quick and firm tug.

“Shit...”

I’d managed to get the tape off, all right. But it had taken a small chunk of the plastic outer cover of the diaper along with it, leaving the fluffy white absorbent material inside the diaper exposed. So much for being able to re-use the diaper. But the damage was done and there wasn’t any going back. I ripped off the remaining three tapes, all of which also made small tears in the diaper, and plopped down promptly onto the toilet.

Even though I’d just saved myself from having a wet diaper or bed, I didn’t like my remaining options.

If I didn’t have a diaper on when Mom checked on me in the morning, there would be hell to pay, and no explanation would be good enough to save my hide. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to tape on a new diaper all by myself, but even if I could, the diapers were somewhere in Mom’s room, and I wouldn’t be able to get to them without waking her up.

That left one option, which, as dreadful as it might be, was still preferable to anything else that my sleep-deprived brain was able to come up with.

I walked up to Mom’s bedroom door and gave it a couple of soft knocks. I paused, and pressed my ear close to the bedroom door. Nothing. I hadn’t been loud enough to stir her out of bed. I knocked a lot harder the second time. I really wanted to get back to bed, and I knew I would be in so much trouble if I did so without getting another diaper on. But even with the louder knocking, I still didn’t get a response from Mom.

“Mom, please, could you get up?” I said, as I tapped repeatedly on the door.

This felt so embarrassing. It’s been ages since I’ve had to wake Mom up in the middle of the night. As I again pressed my ear against the door, I at least heard Mom’s blankets shuffling as she got herself out of bed. Mom cracked open the door to take a look at me with an annoyed frown on her face.

“What are you doing out of bed, young lady? It’s still the middle of the night.”

I decided to get right to the issue.

“I need a new diaper.”

Mom gave me a tired, quizzical look. I don’t think she understood my question.

“Sweetie, if you had an accident in your diaper, you just need to go back to sleep. The whole point of wearing a diaper is so that you could stay in bed all night long without any disruptions.”

Really? Yes, I’d wet the bed quite a few times in the past week, but I was still upset that Mom had immediately assumed that my request was because I had a wet diaper that needed to be changed.

“I didn’t wet my diaper. I woke up and needed to pee so I took it off to go to the bathroom, but the outside of the diaper ripped when I took the tapes off, so I need you to put a new one on me.”

“Sarah, while I’m glad you made it to the potty on time, the purpose of putting you in a diaper wasn’t just to keep your bed dry. Neither of us are going to be getting enough sleep if you keep having to get me up every night. Next time this happens, I expect you to stay in bed, use the diaper if you need to, and go back to sleep until the morning.”

“Wait. What?”

“You heard me clearly. Next time, just pee yourself.”

My jaw dropped at that response.

“I’m fifteen. I’m not going to pee in a diaper on purpose,” I said loudly. I knew better than to raise my voice at Mom, but this was just ridiculous. No way was I going to intentionally pee myself in a diaper.

“Close your mouth, young lady, and don’t give me that tone. You’re fifteen? Well, fifteen-year-olds are able to stay in bed all night without wetting themselves or getting up to use the toilet. You’ll be treated like you’re fifteen when you behave like you are fifteen.”

I was fortunate that Mom hadn’t turned the lights on, so she couldn’t fully make out how angry I must have appeared. There was no winning an argument with Mom. I’d gotten two spankings in the past couple of weeks, and I didn’t want another one, which was where this conversation was going to end if I didn’t relent.

After a few moments, I just nodded my head in response, worried that I couldn’t keep an angry tone out of anything I were to say.

The diapering that followed wasn’t nearly as gentle as the previous two had been as Mom hurried to get the diaper taped on me. She ended up putting the tapes on too tight, and it felt like they were pinching against my skin, but I didn’t care to complain and have her repeat the process all over again.

I waddled back into bed without bothering to put my pajama bottoms back on, only to come across the most disturbing feeling – I needed to pee. Now, it wasn’t as if I had to go that badly, or that it would be anything more than a trickle if I went, but the sensation coming from my bladder was enough that getting to sleep was going to be really hard.

I tossed and turned for what felt like an hour, but no matter what I did, I couldn’t shake that tiny urge to pee or get my mind off of the fact that I had wet the diaper. And despite all the twisting and turning, the diaper remained and snug around my waist as it had when Mom had put it on me an hour ago.

All I wanted to do at this point was to fall asleep. I wouldn’t care as much if I had an accident while I was asleep, but to intentionally wet myself in a scenario where it would be reasonable to let me use the toilet just felt so wrong.

Just pee yourself. Just pee yourself. Just pee yourself.

That phrase from the nightmare I’d had when my bedwetting issues first began kept coming back to me. That haunting, painful, humiliating request. I’d first heard Mr. Higgins say it to Lisa, in admonishing her about wanting a hall pass to get to the restroom. And now, Mom was telling me the same thing.

It made no sense to me at all, but what was the point? Anything I did to resist was only going to result in a worse punishment. With the sleepy acknowledgement at last that this was not a battle that I was going to win, I let my bladder go and swiftly drifted off to sleep.