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

[babysimba74]

I can see them switching beds Sarah in the Emilia's crib and Emilia in Sarah's bed since Emilia is fully potty trained

[AB_DeLane]

Well, apparently 15 isn't the limit for how many posts you can quote from at once ?. But yes, I'm enjoying seeing all of the speculation, some of it may not even be that far off track.

On 11/14/2021 at 3:01 PM, AdultInnocence said:

That was very brave of her to say that to the other parent. She isn't wrong in being incontinent, since she is having increasing difficulty staying dry.

For sure, though it is interesting to see what comes of her making that acknowledgement herself.

On 11/14/2021 at 3:09 PM, Sarah Penguin said:

On 11/14/2021 at 3:34 PM, Night Rain said:

That most have been embarrassing to admit poor Sarah.

Absolutely!

On 11/14/2021 at 3:48 PM, WBDaddy said:

I have a suspicion that this isn't just a character development incident.  In fact, my hunch is that the woman in the store is one of her classmates' parents, and this is going to get back around the school. 

Interesting theory. Can neither confirm nor deny.

On 11/14/2021 at 10:48 PM, GQLF said:

It is expected that Sarah's mother may go back to get the pull up. When she comes back, it may be more embarrassing to meet the mother and daughter.

That would certainly be embarrassing, though maybe less so for Sarah since the other mom already knows anyways.

On 11/14/2021 at 10:56 PM, thedman said:

Wow, great twist to end that chapter off! Now, the big question, what did mom "forget".....

Nothing like a good cliffhanger, but yes, we'll figure that out in the next chapter.

On 11/15/2021 at 3:33 AM, spark said:

I have no idea where MW is going with this.

Most of the time, if I watch a movie- 15 minutes into the movie and I know exactly where we end up.   I may not know how, but I usually know where it ends.  I enjoy the journey.

Most ABDL stories that I enjoy, I know exactly where it ends up, and the journey isn't that big of surprise.   They start by wetting the bed, end up in diapers, and eventually end up as a baby.  FTR- I think that's been Sarah's path so far, but it's been done in a unique way.

In the traditional 'Disney' ending trope, Sarah would overcome obstacle, gain control, and live happily ever after,.  In this story that is Sarah defeating her mother.  To be honest, that's what MW did with Diapers Never Lie.

The complexity is that this is written for an ABDL audience, an our happily ever after is different.    It's the author's choice-but in my ideal ending- Sarah is in diapers at the end of the end story   I don't want mom to win, and that's hard to reconcile.

 

 

Interesting theories. Can't comment on the ending, other than that we are approaching a part of my outline that I've been looking forward to writing for a quite a while.

On 11/15/2021 at 3:59 AM, Arendeth said:

Thanks for the chapter, I'm guessing the her mom is off to buy lots of baby diapers that are sized to fit her.

That would be awkward for Sarah.

On 11/15/2021 at 6:54 AM, Bel George said:

I wouldn't be suprised if Sarah's mom came back with a bag of diapers and then started talking about it with the woman in front of them.  It's not Sarah's mom that gets embarrassed.  On the contrary, she may be interested in humiliating her daughter a bit, thinking it will help her in the end.

On 11/15/2021 at 7:23 AM, WBDaddy said:

I don't get that vibe.  In fact, quite the contrary, the mother is quite cognizant of child abuse laws and how easily she could get run up the flagpole for the way she's treating her daughters, regardless of whether she believes the methods are efficacious.  

Sarah's mom does certainly go for humiliation as a punishment, but with how she has been discreet in dressing Sarah for being in public and didn't send her to school in a diaper, being public about it might not fit into her mindset. She has shown that she has an understanding of social norms.

On 11/15/2021 at 10:31 PM, AdultInnocence said:

One way it could end that way would be that she ends up becoming real good friends with Lisa more so than now and is over there more. Lisa's Uncle may inquire and could even find out from school that she had an accident in cheer-leading. then he takes her to a Dr through the school (since he would normally need the parent's permission) to find out the cause was from the cheer-leading accident. Then he could end up getting temporary guardianship over her, but since it wasn't found right away, the damage is permanent and she's just going to get worse.

Then she has a happily ever after that she is out from under her mom's roof and living with a good friend, but ends up having to stay in diapers for the foreseeable future. It also leaves the story open for a sequel.

I also have no idea what direction this is going. The journey so far has been interesting.

Another interesting theory, and yes, there are quite a few things left in store for Sarah before this is all said and done.

On 11/16/2021 at 7:23 PM, spark said:

As bad as mom is, I don't think the abuse would lead her from being removed from the home, and she doesn't seem like the type of girl who would run aways to escape from her mother.

The mom is guilty of two types of abuse.  The first one is neglect, because she is neglecting to take Sarah do the doctor despite the seemingly sudden bladder issue.   I would think a responsible parent who's 14-year-old daughter suddenly starts to wet her pants in the day would immediately contact the doctor, and want a thorough physical.   That's just common sense, even if she had only recently stopped wetting the bed.

Instead, mom is treating this as if she thinks Sarah lacks proper toilet training, and subjecting her to degrading punishments and emotional abuse.    Unfortunately, none of those are to the level that would have Sara and Emilia removed from the home.   Even the baby treatment would likely just put the family on a monitor status, and I'm pretty sure mom would not allow CPS to notice the full extent. 

There is no way that another adult could get medical treatment for Sarah without mom's consent.    

Unfortunately, Sarah has not let anybody know what has happened since the fall.    She managed to use Emilia's Pull Ups and keep the full extent of her issues from her mother, and mom only knows that she has had occasional.  She didn't share with Lisa that she started wetting her pants after the cheerleading accident, nor did she share with any of her friends.   

Mom is going through with the one-day break from potty training and treating Sarah like a baby, which is what she did with Emilia.   And then mom will likely force Sarah into the time toileting, but Sarah is going to still have the bladder issues.  That means diapers and the baby treatment, but mom can't keep Sarah out of school everytime she is diapered during the day.

That is a conundrum, Sarah's accidents are going to continue and if her mom knows about all of them now, we'll have to see how she handles or adjusts the punishments that Sarah is getting.

On 11/16/2021 at 10:20 PM, bigbear95 said:

I wonder if Sarah admitting to the mom that the sound was from her was to atone for what she was doing to Emilia.

Sarah certainly has been feeling guilty as of late for how she treated her younger sister.

On 11/16/2021 at 11:39 PM, GQLF said:

I don't think baby diapers can withstand Sarah's urine volume at the age of 15. If so, it's just for shame, but on the contrary, baby diapers are cheaper and won't arouse the suspicion of strangers.

I think baby diapers would work absorbency wise, given that Sarah can wear her sister's pull-ups and have them absorb small accidents (of course, she's also had them leak on her as well). Part of that is she is needing to urinate frequently, which means she is going in smaller amounts every time.

On 11/17/2021 at 7:55 AM, babysimba74 said:

I can see them switching beds Sarah in the Emilia's crib and Emilia in Sarah's bed since Emilia is fully potty trained

That would be quite the role reversal.

[GQLF]

Suddenly realized that Sarah's mother may want Sarah to wear Pampers in Goodnites when she goes to school, so she doesn't need to wear them on her feet when changing diapers, which is more suitable for Sarah to deal with bladder problems at school.

[spark]

7 hours ago, MinnesotaWriter said:

Interesting theories. Can't comment on the ending, other than that we are approaching a part of my outline that I've been looking forward to writing for a quite a while.

FTR- I think you hit a sweet spot in prequel.  The ending kind of matched the need for the protagonist to win, but still keep the diaper conflict.   It's a different situation, and more like Empire Strikes Back to Return of the Jedi.  

With that reference, I only have one request as a fan: Please don't go into Ewok Territory

[AB_DeLane]

Chapter 39: Open Wide

“Open wide.”

I obediently parted my lips as Mom returned the pacifier to my mouth the moment the front door latched shut with a metallic click. The pacifier didn’t taste any better than it had this morning, and it took a conscious effort to make sure it didn’t fall out of my mouth and drop to the floor. I thought about how fussy Emilia had been as a toddler when Mom had weaned her off of her pacifier. How is it that babies actually want to have this in their mouth? Of course, weaned implies a gradual process; Mom had simply decided one morning that Emilia would no longer to use a pacifier, at least during times while she was being potty trained.

I expected Mom to check my diaper now that we were home, but to my surprise, she didn’t lift up my dress to inspect it, let alone give me a pat on the bottom. I’d already wet the diaper twice this morning, but even though the wetness from the diaper was making me feel that a change was needed, I remembered how these diapers would last the entire night for me, and I typically slept for around eight to nine hours. If I had this diaper on that long during the day, I wouldn’t get changed until it was time to pick Emilia up later in the afternoon.

The pacifier in my mouth did serve one important purpose. It reminded me of Mom’s admonishment that I wasn’t supposed to be saying anything. The urge to ask what the plan was for this morning still bubbled up, and I nearly opened my mouth to ask Mom a question before I remembered that I wasn’t supposed to.

“Go on over to the living room,” Mom said, setting her hand firmly atop my shoulder.

That touch from Mom let me know exactly what she wanted without her needing to tell me so. My heart sank almost as quickly as my knees did as I settled down on to the floor. Mom had said I was being punished like this to make sure my sister saw that she was being consistent, but any hope that this charade would let up some while my sister wasn’t around immediately faded away.

“That’s right,” Mom said, in the smooth, drawn-out way one would talk encouragingly to a small child. “Babies who wear diapers still have to crawl across the house. Good job.”

The dress may have been a great outfit to wear on a shopping trip, but it was incredibly impractical for trying to maneuver around on the floor, as the front of the dress kept getting caught underneath my knees. When I reached the kitchen entrance – marking the halfway point of the journey – I switched positions, so I was sitting with my bottom on the floor with my dress pulled up above my waist. Yes, that meant pressing down on the wet diaper, but as uncomfortable as that was, it happened to be the best of my limited options. Scooting forward across the floor in a manner that kind of resembled a crab walk wasn’t any less humiliating than crawling, but it was easier on my wrists and Mom didn’t put forward any objections.

Mom stopped in the kitchen to put the few groceries and baby food away, while I finally got to the carpeted surface of the living room and switched back to crawling on my hands and knees as I made my way to the couch. However, that left me in a bit of a bind. I wasn’t sure how Mom’s stance against standing worked with needing to get up to get on the couch. Well, if I simply crawled up onto it, I wouldn’t technically be standing, I thought, as I began to lift myself up onto the couch.

“Down,” Mom said sharply with a snap of her fingers as I was halfway up.

I landed on my well-padded bottom as I dropped back down to the carpet.

“No, no, sweetie,” Mom said, her tone softening as she stood way above me with a juice pouch in her hand. “Babies are better off sitting on the floor.”

Mom set the apple juice pouch on the coffee table in front of the couch.

“Make sure to finish it. Babies need to have plenty to drink.”

I moved toward being in front of the center of the couch, where I could sit with my legs stretched out beneath the coffee table and my back propped up against the couch. Mom had already punctured the top of the juice pouch with the little plastic straw it came with. I used the first sip as an opportunity to briefly remove the pacifier from my mouth. Why did sucking on the pacifier make me feel so thirsty?

The TV remote was another object babies were not allowed to touch, as Mom made sure to inform me. Mom turned the TV on and kept it on the same channel that Emilia had been watching earlier in the morning. However, she did drop the volume in half, giving me the ability to ignore the once blaring theme music to the current show, which I didn’t recognize.

Mom rummaged through the cubbies along the wall where Emilia’s toys and other playthings were kept, coming back from it with a coloring book and crayons, which she set on the coffee table next to the juice pouch. I hated coloring, but I also had no other options to pass the time, and I’d rather ignore the juvenile nonsense playing out on the TV. I flipped through the coloring book – more than half of the pages had been filled in already – before settling in on a scene with Snow White and the Seven Dwarves. I knew Emilia wouldn’t be bothered if I used that one, as it was one of her least favorites.

At least Mom hadn’t found time to mix the baby formula yet. When she had left me standing in line at the grocery store earlier this morning, she had returned with a small container of baby formula in hand. And not even one for older babies. This one said it was for newborns. Thankfully, by that time the woman in front of us was too busy emptying her cart and getting ready to pay for her purchases to pay any attention to Mom. I still couldn’t believe I’d actually risked telling her about my accident. What was I thinking?

I began to relax as Mom took a seat on the couch, letting me know that this was the last of the baby things that would be happening for now. She pulled out her laptop, and I could hear the sound of her fingers tapping away at the keys as I stared down at the still-blank coloring page. When was the last time I had colored with crayons? Early elementary school?

My mind wandered as I attempted to fill in the coloring page. I had severely underestimated how boring this day was going to be. I emptied my bladder again in the diaper almost as soon as the urge to urinate arrived, and then immediately regretted that decision. This was one of the few times where I’d be able to practice holding my bladder as long as I could without needing to worry about the consequences of having an accident. I resolved to pay more attention to my bladder going forward.

A familiar jingle – “I’m a big kid now” – playing on the TV got my attention, and I turned up to catch the second half of an advertisement for pull-ups playing on the screen. That was way too on the nose, but it was the first of many ads for pull-ups, diapers, and other baby products, which, given the target audience of these shows, made perfect sense.

The next urge to pee came about thirty minutes or so later. I didn’t have a clear view of a clock so I could only estimate based on start and stop times of shows on the TV. I tried to squeeze my legs together the best I could with how I was seated, crossing my feet over each other.

One Mississippi. Two Mississippi. I counted silently in my head, getting all the way to one-hundred-seventy-eight, nearly three minutes, before I couldn’t hold out any longer and began to fill the diaper up even more. Still, I felt prouder of myself than I probably should of, but had I had a pull-up on, three minutes would have been enough to likely make it to the toilet in time.

This time, the warmth in the diaper didn’t fade away, while it still wasn’t as full as I had experienced sometimes in the morning after spending a full night in it, I was beginning to approach a point where a change – as humiliating as it would be – would be a welcome relief. I wasn’t going to ask Mom for a change, though. That would only serve to give her another chance to rub in just how much of a baby I was being today.

Mom left the room and returned with a hairbrush in hand. Thankfully, it wasn’t one she had ever used for spankings. I’d kept my should-length hair unbraided today, but from the hair ties Mom had in her other hand, it was clear she had other plans for how I was to spend the rest of the day.

Mom took a seat on the couch directly behind me, with her legs spread to either side of me, and, for the first time since I was around Emilia’s age, began to brush my hair. I winced and bit down onto the pacifier as the brush momentarily got snagged by a small tangle, but she was practiced enough from doing my sister’s hair that the brushing was otherwise a painless experience. I felt her part my hair in half with a couple of hair ties, before starting the first of two French braids. I wasn’t looking forward to seeing what this looked like in the mirror.

Less than a minute later, Mom had finished with both of the braids and had set the brush down beside her on the couch. She tossed the pigtails forward so that they were resting on the front of each of my shoulders and then went back to working on her laptop.

---

“Open wide for the airplane,” Mom said, as she swung the spoon with an oversized serving of sweet potato baby food back and forth while bringing it closer and closer to my mouth.

I would have rolled my eyes if I wasn’t so embarrassed. I opened my mouth all the way, closing it only once the spoon was completely in. The sweet potato actually wasn’t that bad. Not really all that different from eating mashed potatoes.

Mom was putting her full effort into the meal. I could have finished off the contents of the baby jars in a matter of minutes, at the very longest, had I been allowed to eat from them with a spoon myself. Instead, Mom was taking turns between her exaggerated feeding of me and eating from her own bowl of chicken soup.

I was certain my diaper was now close to the point of leaking. Squeezing into the highchair made it impossible to escape the feeling of the wetness against my skin. At least if it leaked, it would be her problem to clean up, not mine.

The jar of sweet potato baby food was followed by a carrot flavored one – yuck – and a blueberry-banana mix I would have to reluctantly admit was rather tasty.

Three jars of baby food didn’t come close to leaving me full. I didn’t get a look at exactly how much was in them, but they couldn’t have been more than a couple of ounces each. I knew better than to tell Mom that I was still hungry. I had no chance of getting any actual food, and I wasn’t going to play baby food jar roulette with mashed peas still being amongst the remaining options.

Mom left me seated in the highchair while she cleaned up from lunch. My mouth was parched as I hadn’t been given anything to drink with the meal, but when I heard the microwave get started, I suspected that I knew what she was going to have me drink next.

---

“Open wider.”

Mom had taken a seat on the left side of the couch with a pillow propped up against the armrest. I laid down on my back across her lap, with my head propped up and resting against the pillow. I didn’t want the bottle she was now holding up to my face with her right hand, but the baby food had made me thirsty.

I hesitated a moment while Mom held the tip of the bottle in front of my lips, but eventually followed her request and opened my mouth. The liquid inside the bottle looked almost indistinguishable from milk, but I was leery about how it would taste. I took my first tentative sip from the bottle. And basically, nothing came out. Just a tiny squirt of warm liquid that tasted like bland, slightly sweetened milk.

The need to quench my thirst overwhelmed my sense of shame at being fed like this. I sucked enthusiastically on the bottle, falling into a steady rhythm as Mom continued to hold the bottle at an increasingly higher angle to ensure that I got every last drop while using her other hand to rub gently on my head. I had no way of knowing exactly how long it took me to finish drinking from the bottle, as I couldn’t see any clocks from the angle I was lying at, but it was a lot of effort for how little I had ended up drinking.

“Aww, you did such a good job with your bottle,” Mom said when I had emptied it at last.

She set the bottle aside, replaced it right away with the pacifier, and gave my cheeks a gentle pinch.

“I think mommy needs to check if her baby girl needs a diaper change.

I reflexively tried to squeeze my legs together as Mom lifted up the front of my dress, but the diaper was too swollen up now for that to make any difference. She slid her hand underneath my leggings all the way down to the middle of the diaper. I could feel the warmth from the urine as she pressed her hand firmly against the most soaked part of the diaper and gave it a brief squeeze.

“Better get you in a clean diapey quickly. I bet you are going to go potty again soon from that bottle, and I don’t think it could hold any more.”

I lowered myself from the couch onto the floor, ready to crawl all the way across the house to get changed in the bedroom. By the time I got there, Mom already had all the diaper-changing supplies arranged on the bed.

Mom pulled my dress off over my head and removed my leggings completely as well. Without the leggings to support the diaper, I was finally able to see that it really had gotten right up to the point of leaking. Even the smallest additional accident would have been more than it could handle. I cooperated fully with the ensuing diaper change. Each of the cold baby wipes that Mom ran across my skin felt like a massive relief, even though I knew that it wouldn’t be long before the fresh diaper she put me in would be wet. I doubted I’d be able to hold out for an hour, let alone thirty minutes, this time around.

“I have some calls to make for work, so we’re going to put you down for a nap until I have that all finished.”

I started to roll over to get under the covers of the bed, but Mom held the covers down with her hand.

“Babies sleep in a crib, not a big girl bed.”

I looked over at Emilia’s crib. It was barely big enough for her to stretch out completely. Our bedroom was too small for anything else. I momentarily forgot what Mom had said about not talking.

“But I’m not going to be able to fit in there,” I said, with the pacifier falling to the side of me on the bed.

“Of course you’ll fit. Now pick up the pacifier and get in your sister’s crib.”

I didn’t know why I suddenly felt like arguing, or why the crib was the final straw in this day of being babied, but I continued my objections.

“It’s hardly big enough, even for Emilia.”

“You’re going to be quiet or I’m going to give you something to actually make a fuss about.”

“But...”

I didn’t get a chance to finish my final objection. My head jolted to the side as Mom smacked the palm of her hand into my cheek. The left side of my face stung. I looked back toward Mom with my mouth gaping open, as she grabbed the pacifier and shoved it back into my mouth.

“In the crib. Now.”

I scrambled off of the bed, wearing only a diaper, a thin top, and socks. Now I noticed how cold the house was. I walked several steps over to the crib — surely even Mom would see the absurdity of crawling that distance — and stuffed myself into the crib through the gap in the side panel that had been slid open.

I laid down on my right side in a fetal position with my knees pulled up toward my chest, so that my left cheek, which was still stinging from when Mom had hit me, would have to be pressed down against the pillow. Mom dropped one of my little sister’s thin blankets on top of me. It barely fit. If I were to stretch out my feet even a couple of inches, my feet would be out by themselves in the cold.

“I’m going to be doing video calls for a while, so you are to stay in the crib until I come back to get you. No exceptions at all. Do you understand?”

I nudged my head up and down slightly with my eyes facing down toward the mattress.

Mom shut the lights off before closing the door behind herself. No matter what I tried, I couldn’t get myself into a comfortable position. I switched from laying on my side to being on my back. I still had to scrunch up my knees toward myself to be able to fit, but it did feel better than being on my side. Well above my head, a mobile with a bunch of farm animals on it spun gradually in a circle.

The only good news was that Mom would have to be done with her calls by the time Emilia needed to be picked up. And since she wasn’t going to leave me at home, I could expect my nap to be over by then, at the latest. I wasn’t tired at all. Once Mom had gone back to putting me in diapers every night, my sleep schedule had gotten back on track, as I was able to make it through the night without being woken up by wet bedding.

I struggled to see how the next few weeks would be any different from this. Back when I had been sneakily using Emilia’s pull-ups, I was routinely having at least one accident in them a day, and sometimes twice. With Mom now to be aware of every accident I’m having, any chance of getting back into panties was non-existent, and further diapered days seemed all but inevitable at this point.

As long as I kept my concentration up, I could avoid having any accidents at home. But with only one bathroom, despite my best efforts, there would still be times I’d be stuck having to wait longer than I could hold my bladder, especially at school.

I remembered what I had witnessed Samantha doing to her younger brother, how she had stuck his hand in warm water at night to make him wet the bed. I thought about what I could do to get Emilia to start having accidents again, giving me an opportunity to smuggle away some of her pull-ups. I hadn’t tried putting on any of my sister’s nighttime diapers, but given that her pull-ups fit me, I was fairly certain that I’d be able to squeeze into one of those diapers as well. The problem with that is she only used one diaper a night, so even if I could get her to wet the bed again, I wouldn’t be able to get away with taking more than one or two of those diapers before Mom caught on to the fact that they were going missing. So that wasn’t going to be the solution to my issues.

Lisa had mentioned seeing a doctor who specialized in treating incontinence issues. I was at the point now where the embarrassment of such a visit would be outweighed by my desire to find any solution that would let me be able to go back to using the toilet as normal.

The only time I had gone to a doctor in recent memory had been before the cheerleading tryout at the start of the school year. Mom had called up the school to try to talk them out of making me do it, but the school had simply informed her that physicals were a state requirement to make sure any students that took part in sports were healthy enough to do so and that there wasn’t any alternative if she wanted me to try out for the cheerleading team.

That wasn’t the worst of it, though. I’d had to get a half-dozen or so different vaccine shots at the checkup since I had apparently gotten far behind on those. And they had put them all in a row on the same arm, too.

The only other doctor’s visit I could recall must have been when I was about four or five years old. It would have been shortly before I had started kindergarten. According to Mom, my daytime potty training had only taken a day or so to complete, but the bedwetting had kept up regardless of anything she had attempted. She’d gotten frustrated enough to take me to a doctor but only got more frustrated when the doctor didn’t treat the bedwetting as a big deal. And when none of the doctor’s advice – don’t drink anything a few hours before bed, limit sugary drinks for dinner, go to the bathroom right before going to sleep, use a wetting alarm, wake up at night to go to the bathroom – did anything to alleviate the issue, she never bothered to take me for a follow-up visit.

Her attitude was why pay for a visit to the doctor when she could get the same answers on Google for free? As far as I knew, the same held true for my sister. The only times Emilia went to the doctor were for vaccinations required by the daycare and preschool.

I doubted I could convince Mom to take me to a doctor. Pushing the issue might just make her do more research of her own on how to solve things, and I suspected there were even worse home remedies out there than the suppository laxatives she had used on Emilia and me. I could talk to Lisa and get more information on the types of things her doctor had recommended for her. But I would need to wait to do that in person, in case Mom looked at any of my messages on my phone or computer.

Another option would be if I could buy some pull-ups of my own to use. I had money saved from babysitting I’d done over the summer, but I couldn’t order anything online privately, and while there were a couple of pharmacy stores in walking distance, I couldn’t figure out when I’d have a chance to go off to one of those stores without Mom noticing. If the opportunity came up, I’d make sure to take advantage of it, but there wasn’t any way that was going to be the case.

Mom hadn’t made any mention of how long her phone call was supposed to last, but she would need to pick Emilia up in the late afternoon. I hoped I wouldn’t have to be trapped in my room until then.

I’d been so distracted by my attempts to work through a solution to my problem that I suddenly realized that my diaper was wet, even though I didn’t have any recollection of having gone in it even once since the latest diaper change. I wrapped my arms around my legs and pulled my chest up so I could bury my head between my knees as tears began to stream uncontrollably down my cheek. I didn’t even know why I was still keeping the pacifier in my mouth at this point, but I kept it in place for some reason. I just didn’t get it. Bedwetting was out of my control, and given how I had done that through most of elementary school, it didn’t bother me anywhere close to as much as the daytime bladder accidents did.

I felt I could control my accidents, if not perfectly, at least to a very large extent, as long as I managed my liquids and made sure to pay attention to the slightest of signals from my bladder. So why did I keep having so many accidents?

But I had a more pressing problem than figuring out how I was going to avoid wetting my pull-up tomorrow. The pressure building in my abdomen indicated the need to do something far more disgusting than urinating in my diaper. My body was giving me every indication that I needed to go, and holding it in was getting increasingly more uncomfortable.

For a while, I attempted to ignore the urge. But trying to intentionally not think about something is easier said than done. In some ways, this was worse than the laxative. In that case, the urge to go had been accompanied by the uncontrollable ability to go. Right now, I was stuck in the flux of both needing to go and not being able to make myself do it, resulting in an increasing discomfort that I wasn’t able to mitigate.

I finally sat up in the crib and crouched on the tips of my toes. The squishy mattress made it difficult to keep my balance, and I fell down once before I got myself up and steadied once again.

I had absolutely no desire to mess my diaper. And I wanted absolutely nothing more than for the discomfort in my bowels to go away. I wrapped my arms around the lower part of my chest and squeezed.

I let out an audible groan as I emptied my bowels into the diaper. This was an entirely different feeling than the laxative. Much more solid and sticky, leaving a large lump in just one part of the diaper, rather than the mess from the laxative that had spread out throughout the diaper. The smell wasn’t bad. Well, it was bad, but it wasn’t anything close to the stench I had dealt with for my only other messy diaper.

The phrase “relieving yourself” was never more accurate than right now. The combination of relief and shame made it hard to understand how I should feel right now. I took extra care with laying back down on my side, making sure not to sit on the mess I had made in the diaper, lest it spread around further on my bottom. The need to pee again went and passed without me doing anything to fight it. I was too mentally exhausted to keep up my earlier efforts to try to work on gaining bladder control. I just wanted this day to end so I could start again tomorrow with a fresh slate.

The warm mess in my diaper gradually cooled as the wait for Mom continued. My room, which already had been rather dark when Mom had left, was getting close to pitch black as the sun set early in the late-fall evening. The pacifier was still in my mouth as I heard Mom walk through the hallway on her way to the bedroom. I closed my eyes, pretending as if I had actually gotten some sleep during the supposed naptime.

My eyes hurt for a second after Mom opened the door and turned the light on. I wasn’t as ready as I thought I was for that sudden flash. Mom paused for a moment after stepping through the doorway.

“Uh, oh, what do I smell in here?” Mom asked, but her tone was jovial, not angry or surprised.

I blinked repeatedly as I opened my eyes to see Mom standing in front of the crib, looking down at me.

“Sweetie, do you want to tell mommy what you did in your diaper?”

I didn’t give her any response, not even a nod of my head. I don’t think I could ever work up the courage to audibly acknowledge having messed a diaper.

“OK, well, let’s see what this baby did in her diaper.”

I shivered as Mom pulled the blanket off of me and slid her hand to the back of the diaper until she was palming the lumpy mess.

“Aww, it’s OK, mommy would get your poopy diaper all cleaned up,” Mom said, stretching out the final few words of that sentence. “And hurry up out of the crib. We need to leave soon to go and pick up your sister.”

I somehow managed to get out of the crib without sitting back down on the diaper and waddled awkwardly over to the bed, where I laid back down on the changing pad that Mom had left there from before the nap time. The smell hit me harder once the diaper was untapped and opened up.

Mom placed her hands between my legs and gently began to move them apart to make room for her to wipe my bottom clean.

“Open wider.”

 

 

 

 

[GQLF]

Although Sarah tried hard to escape her mother's management, it was obvious that she could not control her bladder, which was obviously devastating to any of her plans.

I don't think Sarah has other ways to hide the accident. Before she has no economic independence, the more concealment will only lead to worse results. I don't think her mother will let Sarah go to school only in pull-up tomorrow. Maybe there will be more other measures, such as putting on Emelia's night diaper in pull-up, or continuing to ask for leave, which is possible.

[AdultInnocence]

I commented on the other forum as well just so it showed more feedback there, although I do prefer this site (Shhhh don't let them know lol).

She had time to think about solutions. It may not be fair but I’d love to see her make her sister have accidents just so she isn’t the only one back in a diaper. That’s how I could see it if I was her anyway. Hopefully talking to Lisa and/or actually talking to a proper doctor will get her in the direction she needs for help. This story is at a point where it could go either way, and I suspect it’s probably getting closer to where it could come to and end with a nice epilogue.

Thanks for the chapter. Looking forward to future chapters.

[Night Rain]

There comes a point in life where you gotta say enough is enough. Sarah's is so stressed out over her problem that she should just try and get the help she needs. Screw what her mom would do its time to make a stand.

[Sarah Penguin]

[Allman90]

Love it

[spark]

23 minutes ago, Night Rain said:

There comes a point in life where you gotta say enough is enough. Sarah's is so stressed out over her problem that she should just try and get the help she needs. Screw what her mom would do its time to make a stand.

That really hard to do for a 14-year-old, but that's what a guidance counselor is for.   Anybody in her school is a mandated reporter.   I would feel obligated to report it if I was told about what happened, and likely the school would passively request mom take Sarah to a doctor.  Especially because the fall happened in a school event.    If mom neglected, they would have to report it to CPS.   PS- I don't think it would help.

If Sarah posted on Qoura asking "I've been wetting my pants for the last few months.  I'm afraid to let my mom know why, and she is punishing me by making me wearing diapers and treating me like a baby.  I used to use my sisters Pull Ups, but she is now potty trained.   Even if I told her, my mom wouldn't take me to a doctor, so what should I do?"

I hope that explained that in good Quora style, but my answer would be: Tell somebody at the school.  Ideally, tell your Guidance Counselor, but any adult on campus is a mandated reported.   Let somebody know.   Even if mom didn't take her to the doctor, a school would make sure Sarah had a way to deal with her accidents with dignity. 

Coming clean to Lisa about it, because Lisa would understand that more than anybody else, but so far- Sarah has hid most of the aspects of her incontinence.  I don't think Lisa shared with Sarah the full extent of the abuse she suffered as well, and Sarah only knows that she has issues with bladder control.

For the 985th time, I'm going to say that mom is an idiot.   She clearly has massive Dunning-Kruger going on

 

 

[ABDLblueboy]

Excellent story, I can see how much work was put into it. Some great dedication. Keep up the good work

[deewet]

I will expect that Sara's mother will soon be diapering Sara on a daily basis, in addition to the nightly sessions she has been doing.  The lack of control that she has remaining will result in many more day time accidents especially after this session of being forced to use the diapers and she will find that she will find it much harder to manage any level of control following this "punishment"

[Baby Billy]

That chapter was upsetting in so many ways that it hurt to think about.  Her mother should have CPS on her for so many reasons.  One a child should see a doctor at least once a year until the doctor says other wise.  Two when the wetting first started she should have made an appointment right away and talked to her about anything that may have happened.  I am afraid that she is so afraid of her mother to say anything, I am not a fan or hitting children under any circumstance.  To hit a 14 year old even with an open hand is assault and would get her arrested if she did that in public.  I hope someone can find out and help her.

[Little Sherri]

Welcome back!

[spark]

24 minutes ago, Baby Billy said:

That chapter was upsetting in so many ways that it hurt to think about.  Her mother should have CPS on her for so many reasons.  One a child should see a doctor at least once a year until the doctor says other wise.  Two when the wetting first started she should have made an appointment right away and talked to her about anything that may have happened.  I am afraid that she is so afraid of her mother to say anything, I am not a fan or hitting children under any circumstance.  To hit a 14 year old even with an open hand is assault and would get her arrested if she did that in public.  I hope someone can find out and help her.

Based on how MW has presented the character, mom wouldn't hit Sara in anger.  She would definitely give Sara a firm spanking, but that would be something that mom had full control.   Control, under the guise of teaching responsibility seems to be the primary motive for me.

[Lost Little Neppy]

30 minutes ago, Baby Billy said:

That chapter was upsetting in so many ways that it hurt to think about.  Her mother should have CPS on her for so many reasons.  One a child should see a doctor at least once a year until the doctor says other wise.  Two when the wetting first started she should have made an appointment right away and talked to her about anything that may have happened.  I am afraid that she is so afraid of her mother to say anything, I am not a fan or hitting children under any circumstance.  To hit a 14 year old even with an open hand is assault and would get her arrested if she did that in public.  I hope someone can find out and help her.

And the thing is, she seems to be operating under the pretense that this works. She mentioned earlier that she had to be diapered in her youth as well, not just in babyhood or even toddlerhood. She probably thinks that since this treatment was used on her and she "turned out fine," it will work on her daughters as well. And it's so painful to watch, but at the same time, I look more and more forward to this.

Maybe Sara and Emilia will live with Lisa, since her aunt and uncle are also foster parents?

[AB_DeLane]

  

 You guys are funny. I'm going through trying to respond to all the comments and I get three or four more during the time I'm typing this up. ? But I don't think I missed anyone.

On 11/21/2021 at 9:54 PM, GQLF said:

Although Sarah tried hard to escape her mother's management, it was obvious that she could not control her bladder, which was obviously devastating to any of her plans.

I don't think Sarah has other ways to hide the accident. Before she has no economic independence, the more concealment will only lead to worse results. I don't think her mother will let Sarah go to school only in pull-up tomorrow. Maybe there will be more other measures, such as putting on Emelia's night diaper in pull-up, or continuing to ask for leave, which is possible.

For sure, we'll have to see how mom decided to handle things for school the next day.

On 11/21/2021 at 10:34 PM, AdultInnocence said:

I commented on the other forum as well just so it showed more feedback there, although I do prefer this site (Shhhh don't let them know lol).

She had time to think about solutions. It may not be fair but I’d love to see her make her sister have accidents just so she isn’t the only one back in a diaper. That’s how I could see it if I was her anyway. Hopefully talking to Lisa and/or actually talking to a proper doctor will get her in the direction she needs for help. This story is at a point where it could go either way, and I suspect it’s probably getting closer to where it could come to and end with a nice epilogue.

Thanks for the chapter. Looking forward to future chapters.

Well, I think the one thing we know about Sarah is she is resourceful, so it's fair to say she'll act on at least some of the solutions she has considered.

There are about 15 chapters and and epilogue left so far in the outline. That said, it might be more in the low to mid twenties. Chapter 37, for example, was supposed to be the kept home from school and babied chapter, and that ended up becoming four whole chapters instead (don't ask me how that happened, I'm still not entirely sure). There's a lot that's still to come.
 

On 11/21/2021 at 10:42 PM, Night Rain said:

There comes a point in life where you gotta say enough is enough. Sarah's is so stressed out over her problem that she should just try and get the help she needs. Screw what her mom would do its time to make a stand.

I think the challenge for Sarah is that obedience to her mom is so ingrained, that instead of direct defiance, she has developed more indirect methods of dealing with her mother's rules as a means of coping with it.

On 11/21/2021 at 11:16 PM, Sarah Penguin said:

?

On 11/21/2021 at 11:54 PM, Allman90 said:

Love it

Thanks!

On 11/22/2021 at 12:46 AM, spark said:

That really hard to do for a 14-year-old, but that's what a guidance counselor is for.   Anybody in her school is a mandated reporter.   I would feel obligated to report it if I was told about what happened, and likely the school would passively request mom take Sarah to a doctor.  Especially because the fall happened in a school event.    If mom neglected, they would have to report it to CPS.   PS- I don't think it would help.

If Sarah posted on Qoura asking "I've been wetting my pants for the last few months.  I'm afraid to let my mom know why, and she is punishing me by making me wearing diapers and treating me like a baby.  I used to use my sisters Pull Ups, but she is now potty trained.   Even if I told her, my mom wouldn't take me to a doctor, so what should I do?"

I hope that explained that in good Quora style, but my answer would be: Tell somebody at the school.  Ideally, tell your Guidance Counselor, but any adult on campus is a mandated reported.   Let somebody know.   Even if mom didn't take her to the doctor, a school would make sure Sarah had a way to deal with her accidents with dignity. 

Coming clean to Lisa about it, because Lisa would understand that more than anybody else, but so far- Sarah has hid most of the aspects of her incontinence.  I don't think Lisa shared with Sarah the full extent of the abuse she suffered as well, and Sarah only knows that she has issues with bladder control.

For the 985th time, I'm going to say that mom is an idiot.   She clearly has massive Dunning-Kruger going on

 

 

That's an interesting Quara example. And yes, you nailed the style. Honestly though, anytime I see some Quora or Yahoo answers story of a minor being forced to wear diapers for rather absurd reasons (Baptism or wedding diapers, anyone?), I pretty much always assume it was written by a pervy adult or a troll.

As far as Sarah's knowledge of Lisa's history goes. Sarah is basically aware of all the main details of Lisa's past from "Diapers Never Lie."

To quote from that Chapter 30, where Lisa gives a brief summery of her backstory to Sarah:

On 1/31/2021 at 12:42 PM, MinnesotaWriter said:

I wasn’t sure what had shocked me most about Lisa’s story. Her attempt to kill her mother. The death of her father and younger sister in a car crash. How she had never once in her life been fully toilet trained. Her parent’s abuse and torment over her incontinence. How she had attempted to kill herself in the shock of nearly killing her mother. Or the fact that she told this entire story without shedding a single tear.  

And, to be fair, a sizable minority of the population does suffer from Dunning-Kruger.

On 11/22/2021 at 1:42 AM, ABDLblueboy said:

Excellent story, I can see how much work was put into it. Some great dedication. Keep up the good work

Thanks!

On 11/22/2021 at 5:47 AM, deewet said:

I will expect that Sara's mother will soon be diapering Sara on a daily basis, in addition to the nightly sessions she has been doing.  The lack of control that she has remaining will result in many more day time accidents especially after this session of being forced to use the diapers and she will find that she will find it much harder to manage any level of control following this "punishment"

That's a good point. The diapers could very well end making control harder rather than easier.

On 11/22/2021 at 1:31 PM, Baby Billy said:

That chapter was upsetting in so many ways that it hurt to think about.  Her mother should have CPS on her for so many reasons.  One a child should see a doctor at least once a year until the doctor says other wise.  Two when the wetting first started she should have made an appointment right away and talked to her about anything that may have happened.  I am afraid that she is so afraid of her mother to say anything, I am not a fan or hitting children under any circumstance.  To hit a 14 year old even with an open hand is assault and would get her arrested if she did that in public.  I hope someone can find out and help her.

One thing I should note as well, since this happened a long time back in the story, Sarah's mom did slap her once in the face before, after she had said a swear word.

But yes, the way the mom is treating Sarah is far from appropriate. We'll have to see how that get resolved later on.

On 11/22/2021 at 1:53 PM, Little Sherri said:

Welcome back!

Thanks!

On 11/22/2021 at 1:57 PM, spark said:

Based on how MW has presented the character, mom wouldn't hit Sara in anger.  She would definitely give Sara a firm spanking, but that would be something that mom had full control.   Control, under the guise of teaching responsibility seems to be the primary motive for me.

Like I mentioned above. Not entirely correct. Sarah's mom did hit her, in chapter 15 or 16, after Sarah said a swear word.

On 11/22/2021 at 2:02 PM, Lost Little Neppy said:

And the thing is, she seems to be operating under the pretense that this works. She mentioned earlier that she had to be diapered in her youth as well, not just in babyhood or even toddlerhood. She probably thinks that since this treatment was used on her and she "turned out fine," it will work on her daughters as well. And it's so painful to watch, but at the same time, I look more and more forward to this.

Maybe Sara and Emilia will live with Lisa, since her aunt and uncle are also foster parents?

No one sees themselves as a villain. Or at least no one likes to. So it makes sense that from the mother's perspective that she is going to believe she is correct or at least try to justify her actions in some way.

What is really problematic for Sarah is that to her mom, these methods finally succeeded with Emilia, which only encourages this behavior going forward.

And finally, some of these scene are very much meant to be painful or uncomfortable to watch. A lot of that is in response to a lot stories that go the forced diapering route without reflecting on how jarring that treatment would be under more realistic circumstances.

[AdultInnocence]

22 hours ago, spark said:

That really hard to do for a 14-year-old, but that's what a guidance counselor is for.   Anybody in her school is a mandated reporter.   I would feel obligated to report it if I was told about what happened, and likely the school would passively request mom take Sarah to a doctor.  Especially because the fall happened in a school event.    If mom neglected, they would have to report it to CPS.   PS- I don't think it would help.

If Sarah posted on Qoura asking "I've been wetting my pants for the last few months.  I'm afraid to let my mom know why, and she is punishing me by making me wearing diapers and treating me like a baby.  I used to use my sisters Pull Ups, but she is now potty trained.   Even if I told her, my mom wouldn't take me to a doctor, so what should I do?"

I hope that explained that in good Quora style, but my answer would be: Tell somebody at the school.  Ideally, tell your Guidance Counselor, but any adult on campus is a mandated reported.   Let somebody know.   Even if mom didn't take her to the doctor, a school would make sure Sarah had a way to deal with her accidents with dignity. 

Coming clean to Lisa about it, because Lisa would understand that more than anybody else, but so far- Sarah has hid most of the aspects of her incontinence.  I don't think Lisa shared with Sarah the full extent of the abuse she suffered as well, and Sarah only knows that she has issues with bladder control.

For the 985th time, I'm going to say that mom is an idiot.   She clearly has massive Dunning-Kruger going on

 

 

If she fully explained things to Lisa then Lisa would be quite understanding and since she does know Lisa's backstory...

Funny how a planned chapter can turn into three or four! It worked though and you did what you felt was best for the story, which is how it should be.

Edited for clarification

Edited November 23, 2021 by AdultInnocence
Clarification

[Arendeth]

Thanks for the chapters.

[AB_DeLane]

Chapter 40: Little Battles

I could barely refrain from twiddling my thumbs as I sat in the passenger seat of the car while I waited for Mom to finish picking up my younger sister from her preschool class. She had already been inside for about five minutes now. While I hadn’t been along to pick up my sister before, it felt like it was taking longer than it should have.

Mom had been in so much of a hurry to get me changed, dressed, and out the door that I hadn’t had time to ask her if I could bring my phone along with me like I had this morning. I was certain I had missed messages from Desi, Samantha, and Lisa. I guess I’d just have to tell them tomorrow that I had been too tired and sick to respond.

I wasn’t sure if I was smelling baby powder in the car or if it was my imagination, but it did seem as if there was a hint of lavender in the air. I guess Mom must have gone heavy on sprinkling that on my bottom after getting me cleaned up from having messed myself during naptime earlier this afternoon.

I turned back to watching out the window. We were parked in a spot where I had a clear line of sight from the passenger side door to the entrance of the preschool. A dozen or so parents, mostly mothers, but there had been one father, had already entered alone and exited with their kids during the time Mom had remained inside.

Then the front door swung open, and Mom stepped outside, holding my sister by the hand. I couldn’t believe my luck. Emilia had on an entirely different outfit than the one that Mom had dropped her off in. My sister’s jeans and unicorn hoodie had been replaced with plain black leggings and a Minnie Mouse sweater. Had Emilia finally had an accident? There had been times before when she had gone through a serious regression after a period of successful potty training. That would be the answer to my question about how I was supposed to secretly get some additional pull-ups for myself.

Mom had a plastic bag in her hand, which appeared to have Emilia’s outfit from earlier today tucked inside. I squinted out the window, but the hoodie went down too far on Emilia’s waist for me to see if there was an outline of a pull-up or diaper showing from beneath the leggings.

“Sorry we took so long,” Mom said, as she opened the back door and got Emilia settled into her car seat. “One of the kids in her class had just spilled a thing of juice all over Emilia and we had to get her into a spare set of clothes.”

So close. I should have known it wasn’t going to be this easy. That was OK though. I had another plan in mind.

I made note of the time on the clock on the dashboard as we pulled out of the parking lot. I wish I had my phone on me, as I could have gotten a more precise measurement, but this would have to do. There were no detours this time on the way home from the preschool. I was grateful both because I would be spared the discomfort of having to be out in public with a diaper on, and because I wanted to get an accurate sense of how long it would take to travel between the preschool center and our house.

Precisely ten minutes later, the car was pulling into the driving and coming to a stop. We’d hit a little less than half the red lights along the way, so I figured it was a fairly representative sample of how long that trip would take going in one direction.

My diaper was still dry as I stepped inside the front door. I let Emilia run on ahead of me first. I didn’t like having to get down on my hands and knees to crawl with her standing and watching me. Is this how my sister had felt every time she had been forced to crawl around me? Thankfully, Emilia was so preoccupied with the idea of going to watch TV in the other room that she went sprinting off down the hallway while I was taking my sweet time getting my shoes off.

I grabbed the pacifier off of the stand in the entryway and popped it into my mouth before Mom had the opportunity to do so. I caught an annoyed glance from her. But what exactly did she have to complain about? Winning those little battles, being able to maintain a smidgen of my own agency, felt wonderful even if it wasn’t doing anything to change the tide of the war. I felt prouder of myself than I should have, and then I started to worry. I hoped that I hadn’t given the entirely wrong impression. It wouldn’t do to have Mom mistakenly believe that I somehow liked having a pacifier in my mouth.

I had to endure another half-hour of watching the children’s TV program Emilia picked out while we waited for Mom to make dinner. The remote remained exclusively in my sister’s control for the evening. I nearly wet my diaper without noticing and leaked a little into it before regaining control. This time, I was able to count to almost three hundred before the inevitable release. That was the best I’d done all day, except for the small leak at the beginning. At the rate Mom had been going through the day, I suspected that I wasn’t going to get changed until it was time to go to bed.

Emilia liked to sit as close up to the TV as she could, something that Mom often scolded her for. Had our roles been normal, and not reversed like they were now, I might have told her to sit a few feet back, as Mom would have wanted me to. Instead, that let me sit out of her sight, and for preschoolers, that meant out of mind as well, so Emilia paid little attention to me.

I averted my eyes the one time I caught her turning around to look at me during a commercial break. I wondered what she was thinking about this. My normally talkative three-and-a-half-year-old sister hadn’t said anything about the pacifier or any of the other ways Mom had been babying me. Was Mom’s toilet training process just so normal to her that what was happening to me didn’t seem like it was out of place?

---

The highchair was waiting for me again in the kitchen when Mom called Emilia and me to come for dinner. Mom went with a simple dinner for the evening: frozen, dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets and waffle fries that were cooked in the oven, along with baby carrots and small pieces of cauliflower to dip in ranch sauce. I appreciated getting finger food for dinner, even if the lack of napkins meant my hands were rather greasy by the time the meal was finished.

While there are many things that babies are not allowed to do, sadly, homework wasn’t an item on that list. After dinner, Mom sent me crawling off to my bedroom to get my assignments for tomorrow worked on while Emilia went back to the living room to play with her dolls, pouting, because Mom had told her that her TV time was done for the day. This time, alone in my room, I set the pacifier on my desk as soon as I shut the bedroom door behind me.

My phone was still off limits, even though I was allowed to use my computer at least for homework, so I would have to wait until tomorrow to respond to any messages from my friends. I didn’t have much to do, as I hadn’t been to school today to get any fresh assignments. I suspected I would be much busier when I got home from school tomorrow, but without cheerleading practice, I’d have an extra several hours to work on it. Mom had been picking me up from school every day following cheerleading practice and would typically pick up Emilia on the way over to get me. But now that I was finishing school at a normal time, I’d be able to ride home on the bus with my friends again. And as long as I wasn’t in diapers, I’m sure Mom would allow me to stay home and not have to ride along with her to pick up my sister.

It only took me about an hour to get my remaining homework assignments wrapped up, but I was in no hurry to return to the living room. Mom would probably just question me as to why I had only spent an hour doing homework, anyway. I opened up a new web browser on my computer and stared blankly at it for a few minutes. Mom had software that monitored everything I did on the computer. I didn’t believe that she actually checked it much, but it also had crazy tight restrictions that ended up blocking sites that were completely innocuous. Still, I was always in the habit of thinking twice before doing anything that might draw her attention.

I opened up Google Maps. I knew Mom wouldn’t even give a second thought if somehow, she was to notice that in my web browsing history. I zoomed in on our neighborhood until our house was in view on the center of the screen. One feature I’d recently discovered was the ability to click on two points on the map and get the exact distance between them. I didn’t dare put in the address of the location I was checking out, that, for sure, would create the risk of Mom asking questions I wouldn’t have any good answers for, so I had to make do with an estimated distance instead. Just under a mile. Now, could I get there and back in under twenty minutes?

Since I had the bedroom door shut, I had a chance to stand and stretch before going back to crawling. Having to move around on the floor had made me so much sorer than I would have expected. I went through a bunch of the warmup stretches that I had practiced during the time that I had been on the cheerleading team. Some of the poses were manageable. Others, because of the bulky diaper between my legs, were difficult to get into without feeling really uncomfortable. But there was only so much stretching that I could do before boredom set in again.

I cracked open my door and peeked out to make sure the coast was clear. Then I took several disobedient steps through the hallway — another little battle that I’d won — before placing the pacifier back in my mouth and crawling the remainder of the way.

The TV was off when I got to the living room. Emilia had a couple dozen of her tiny dolls set up in between the coffee table and the TV with one of their toy houses and other miscellaneous accessories, while Mom was on the couch, reading a book and drinking tea from one of her many Christmas mugs.

“There you are. I’ve got the coloring book set out for you,” Mom said, pointing to the coffee table.

Maybe I should have remained in my room for a while longer after all. I picked another page to color, this time one with Belle, and scribbled in between the lines half-heartedly. With my diaper now getting closer to the point of needing to be changed, I wasn’t able to settle into any position to sit on the floor that was comfortable. The rest of the evening dragged on slowly. I wished my sister had to use a pacifier as well, then I wouldn’t have to listen to her incessant prattling as she played with her dolls.

“It’s time for bed,” Mom announced suddenly, setting her mug down on a side table.

Thank goodness that this day was finally about to come to a much-needed end. On any other day, I would have objected strenuously to being sent to bed this early, but the sooner I could drift off to sleep, the sooner this would all be over.

---

Emilia had already changed into a knee-length baby-blue nightgown by the time I had arrived at the bedroom door. Maybe Mom could change me while my sister brushed her teeth and used the toilet one last time before bed. But Mom stepped out of the bedroom right behind my sister.

“It’s time to go potty one last time before bed,” Mom said.

Even with Emilia’s recent dry stretch, Mom hadn’t been taking any chances with my younger sister

“But I don’t need to go,” Emilia whined.

“Remember, Emilia, you need to set a good example for your sister. Why don’t you show her how to use the potty like a big girl? Can you do that for me?”

Emilia looked down at me and then back up at Mom.

“OK.”

Emilia stepped past me in the hallway and then stepped into the bathroom.

“Hurry up,” Mom said, as I had been slow to follow my sister. “You can stand up to watch this.”

When I stepped into the bathroom, Emilia was already standing next to the toilet with the top lid off. I turned my face aside as my little sister sat on the toilet and relieved herself, looking back at her and Mom after the sound of the trickling had come to a complete stop. Emilia then grabbed a stool so she could reach the sink to wash her hands.

“Tell me, Emilia, where do big girls go potty?” Mom asked my sister when she had finished washing her hands and was now drying them with a towel.

“In the toilet.”

“And where do babies go potty?”

“They go potty in their diapies.”

“That’s right,” Mom said, making a pointed glance in my direction. “Since your sister has been a baby today, I think it is time to check her diaper to see if she’s gone potty in it and needs to be changed.”

Mom turned back toward me.

“Lift up your dress so Emilia can check your diaper.”

I complied with Mom’s request. I just wanted to get this one last embarrassing scene done with so I could get to bed. I grabbed the edges of my dress and lifted them up so that the dress was entirely above the waistline of my leggings, which themselves were sitting higher up on my waist than normal, in order to completely obscure the diaper.

Emilia walked up toward me, but paused, as though she wasn’t exactly certain what she should do, and then Mom stepped up beside her to give some further instructions.

“Here, if you want to check your sister’s diaper, you need to grab the front of the leggings and pull them down.”

I shivered as I felt my sister’s damp fingers brush against my belly as she fumbled with the waistband of my leggings for a few seconds before finally getting a good grip with both of her hands. It turned out that my sister had taken my mom’s instructions very literally. She tugged down on my leggings as hard as she could, and with one pull, managed to get them all the way beneath the diaper.

I didn’t need a good look at the diaper to know how full it was. I could feel the diaper tapes dig into my skin now that the soggy diaper was no longer being supported by the leggings.

“Eww,” Emilia said, quickly withdrawing her hands from my leggings and taking a step back.

I bit into the pacifier to prevent myself from saying anything that might result in being on the receiving end of another slap from Mom. Exactly how many times had I changed my little sister’s wet and messy diapers over the past several years? And she had the gall to be audibly grossed out the first time she checked one of mine. Of course, I also realized that no remark, no matter how witty or clever, was going to prove effective while I was still wearing a wet diaper, so I made the wise choice to remain silent.

Mom didn’t say anything right away in response to Emilia. She simply leaned in and cupped her hand to feel the crotch of the diaper. I hated how that slight pressure against the diaper could create an uncomfortable reminder of how wet it was.

“You think it is time to get your sister changed into a new diaper?”

“Yeah.”

“I think so too. Mommy is going to get Sarah’s wet diaper changed, while you get your teeth brushed.”

I took that opportunity to walk back to the bedroom before Mom could remind me that I should go back to crawling. Once Mom was done changing my diaper, she replaced my leggings and skirt with a nightgown similar to the one my sister had on.

“Why don’t you crawl back to the living room,” Mom said, as she tossed my used diaper in the trash. “We need to talk for a bit after I finish getting your sister tucked into bed.”

As I made my way over to the living room, all I could think about was what specifically Mom wanted to discuss. Saying that there was a need to talk was the most ominous thing Mom could do. At least with something like being told you were going to get a spanking, you knew both what was going to happen and how things were going to be after it. This was far more foreboding, and I couldn’t come up with anything she would want to talk with me about apart from my accidents and the diapers.

I ignored the coloring book page on the coffee table, even though I hadn’t quite finished it yet until Mom returned to the room about five minutes later – I suppose getting Emilia ready for bed is quicker when it doesn’t involve any diaper or pull-up changes – and took a seat behind me on the couch.

“Why don’t you get up and sit on my lap for a bit?”

I stood up and turned around so that my back was toward Mom, trying to figure out how to best sit down on her lap.

“No, no, the other way around,” Mom said, placing a hand on my waist and guiding me until I turned around to face her.

Mom grabbed my hands and placed them on her shoulders, which I gripped as I climbed onto her lap. I wrapped my legs around her waist and rested my head on her shoulder. We sat like that for a minute or so. Mom hadn’t asked me to take the pacifier out of my mouth yet, so I wasn’t sure what type of conversation was to be had. She placed one hand on my back, on the other firmly on my bottom. I could hear the diaper crinkle as she patted it.

“Do you like being a baby?” Mom asked.

“No,” I replied, a few seconds later, after I managed to get the pacifier out of my mouth. How could Mom possibly think that I somehow was enjoying anything of this?

“Well, I don’t know what has gotten into you lately,” Mom said. “I hope this is a good reminder that you need to start acting your age again.”

I didn’t add anything to the conversation. From experience, I knew it was better just to wait and let Mom talk and get her lecture out of her system unless she directly asked me a question.

“If you keep being lazy and continue to piss yourself during the day, we will do this again, and we’ll do this as many times as it takes until you start behaving like a big girl again. Is that understood? I don’t want to punish you any more than I have to, but you’re way too old to be having this many accidents during the day.”

Mom grabbed me by the shoulders and gently pushed me out on her lap enough so that I was looking into her face rather than nestling my head in her shoulder.

“The pacifier stays in until I say otherwise,” Mom said, as she grabbed the pacifier that I was holding in my hand and shoved it back into my mouth.

“Now, are you going to be a big girl and use the potty tomorrow?”

I nodded.

“I can’t hear you, Sarah.”

“Wes,” I replied, as the pacifier muffled my response.

 

 

[Arendeth]

Thanks for the chapter, with her incontinence issues she is going to be doomed to diapers.

[Sarah Penguin]

[Night Rain]

Sarah should just tell her mom the truth about what's been happening. But knowing her mom she'll think that Sarah is lying.

[spark]

1 hour ago, Night Rain said:

Sarah should just tell her mom the truth about what's been happening. But knowing her mom she'll think that Sarah is lying.

Any normal parent would have figured out that there was a serious issue going on.   I get the feeling mom would blame Sarah if she broke her leg and think she is old enough to be able to walk by herself.