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

[MinnesotaWriter]

Going to take a quick break from our regularly scheduled programming for a brief announcement.

I published my first book on Amazon: "The Baby Once Again." It's free to read with Kindle Unlimited.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CP398RYN

Ava Greene has big plans for the summer after her high school graduation, but the discovery of an old photo album awakens a desire she never knew existed.

The only child of divorced parents, Ava Greene’s final summer break before starting her freshman year of college is off to a lousy start. Her two best friends are unexpectedly away for the summer, and her parents remain absent from her life as they pursue their own careers. She finds herself longing for a time when life was simpler, when the discovery of her old baby photo album raises an intriguing question. What would it be like to be a baby again?

The answer to that question is simple enough, at least until her secret gets out.

[spark]

Wow, congrats on the book.

 

I have to wonder what her mom knows.   It's been a awhile since her mom was present, and she is more of a b-- than I remember.

[MinnesotaWriter]

4 hours ago, AdultInnocence said:

Dun dun  duuuun, there was a little bit of suspense there. I also wonder if her mom is aware of things more than she is letting on and that is why the full box of diapers in the order. Could also be like she thought and just got them for a good holiday price.

I like to use Black Friday / Cyber Monday myself to stock up on diapers. I don't go through too many, so a few cases can last most of the year, and the nice ones aren't cheap.

4 hours ago, CDfm said:

That could have been a closer call than you might think.  I always wonder what someone thinks when they give me a swat on the rear.  There have been times where I get a puzzling look from them and I am sure they have felt the added paddling.  I haven’t had anyone say anything though.  It also seems like lately there have been several times where I know someone has seen my diaper. In Physical therapy, I have been caught by three different people.  I had my shoulder replaced so you would think that the last place they would need to have access is my bottom but twice now they ran tape from the shoulder to the hip and the third time I had to remove my shirt and the top of the diaper was sticking up a little farther than normal. Now I know that my medical records have that information in it but I don’t know they have access to that part of it. Again no one has said anything but the looks of confusion are there. 
I am looking forward to seeing how the rest of the evening goes and if mom suddenly realized something was different. 

We've got another chapter at home. We'll have to see how careful Sarah is about keeping her pull-up a secret.

31 minutes ago, spark said:

Wow, congrats on the book.

 

I have to wonder what her mom knows.   It's been a awhile since her mom was present, and she is more of a b-- than I remember.

Thanks, it was an interesting experience writing a story all at once, rather than a chapter at a time. 

And for Sarah's mom, yes, we've been away from her for a little longer than intended. Felt like we were due for a re-introduction to her.

[AdultInnocence]

8 hours ago, CDfm said:

I am looking forward to seeing how the rest of the evening goes and if mom suddenly realized something was different. 

We also got to see how strict her mom is. Things that I wouldn't think were talking back or sass, it's like her mom looks for excuses to have her older one in trouble. 

The younger one gets a lot more leeway. We get to see that when she is allowed to watch TV, even if their mom had to choose the show. She seems to be very controlling and we got to see a lot of that interaction this last chapter.

8 hours ago, MinnesotaWriter said:

Going to take a quick break from our regularly scheduled programming for a brief announcement.

I published my first book on Amazon: "The Baby Once Again." It's free to read with Kindle Unlimited.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CP398RYN

I have enough credits to buy it. I'll have to do that and give this a read.

[Lost Little Neppy]

I like the pen name you chose, haha. Love the image, too, I would love to wear padding like that!

[thedman]

I have to echo CDfm's thoughts on the whole butt pat thing here.  It has happened to me a time or twelve before as well.  Most notably I was at a concert in a well boosted M4 and this chick was grinding up against me from behind when suddenly she eased up and next thing I knew I felt the back of my shirt get lifted up for a few seconds, grinding resumed not long after :😀 

 

As for the story, I feel a sense of premonition about her leaving the box of diapers for mom to unbox, I feel like what comes out of the box may not be what she was expecting to see.

[MinnesotaWriter]

17 hours ago, AdultInnocence said:

We also got to see how strict her mom is. Things that I wouldn't think were talking back or sass, it's like her mom looks for excuses to have her older one in trouble. 

The younger one gets a lot more leeway. We get to see that when she is allowed to watch TV, even if their mom had to choose the show. She seems to be very controlling and we got to see a lot of that interaction this last chapter.

I have enough credits to buy it. I'll have to do that and give this a read.

Yep, I wanted to really use this and the next chapter (which will be a much longer one) to get back into the family dynamics. Your description matches what I was trying to go for there.

And appreciate that you're interested in taking a look at my book.

8 hours ago, Lost Little Neppy said:

I like the pen name you chose, haha. Love the image, too, I would love to wear padding like that!

Thanks, I had a fun time coming up with the pen name. Was very glad when I decided on it, that it didn't seem like it was taken by anyone else.

For the cover photo, I used an ai art generator for it. Just need the machines to start making our diapers as well, and then we'll be sitting good.

8 hours ago, thedman said:

I have to echo CDfm's thoughts on the whole butt pat thing here.  It has happened to me a time or twelve before as well.  Most notably I was at a concert in a well boosted M4 and this chick was grinding up against me from behind when suddenly she eased up and next thing I knew I felt the back of my shirt get lifted up for a few seconds, grinding resumed not long after :😀 

 

As for the story, I feel a sense of premonition about her leaving the box of diapers for mom to unbox, I feel like what comes out of the box may not be what she was expecting to see.

I may or may not have drawn on a butt pat experience of my own for writing this may chapter. I think I didn't get caught, at the time at least, when it happened to me.

As for the box, we'll find out its contents in the next chapter.

[spark]

I read the story during my breaks and after work, today and wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed it.  The realism and way you wrote the characters were similar, but they were very different characters

[BabySofia]

2 hours ago, MinnesotaWriter said:

For the cover photo, I used an ai art generator for it.

Which AI Generator did you use?

[MinnesotaWriter]

1 hour ago, spark said:

I read the story during my breaks and after work, today and wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed it.  The realism and way you wrote the characters were similar, but they were very different characters

Thanks! I'm glad you enjoyed it. I prefer to write in first-person, but that does get tricky with wanting to make sure that characters stay distinct. I've tried to write some stories in third-person, but it never felt quiet right. I like the way you can get inside a character's head from a first-person perspective.

57 minutes ago, BabySofia said:

Which AI Generator did you use?

I ran a local version of Stable Diffusion on my PC with this ABDL model from CivitAI: Omorashi Omutsu Pomello - Pomello v1.0 | Stable Diffusion Checkpoint | Civitai

[BabySofia]

57 minutes ago, MinnesotaWriter said:

I ran a local version of Stable Diffusion on my PC with this ABDL model

Thanks, it's one of the better AI generated images I've seen with a diaper.

[Arendeth]

Thanks for the chapter.

[MinnesotaWriter]

Chapter 52: Tangled Webs

With the Christmas tree in front of the window now fully decorated, Mom left me at home to babysit my younger sister while she went out to run some more errands and bring back something to eat for dinner.

As much as I disliked unpaid babysitting duties, it was preferable to going out with Mom for an hour or two and risking an accident in my pull-up. And even though it was later in the afternoon on Black Friday, stores were still bound to be pretty busy at this point.

Whenever Mom left me at home with my three-year-old sister, I was supposed to stay in the same room as Emilia, to make sure she didn’t get into any trouble, not that there was much she could do in our fairly child-proof house.

At least with Emilia being toilet trained, she was semi-self-sufficient. Yes, she did need reminders to wash her hands after going potty, but she was getting good and going to the toilet on her own without needing any prompting. However, if Mom or I noticed that she hadn’t gone in a while, we would tell her to go to the bathroom, a command that was typically obeyed without any fuss.

All I needed to do was to make sure she was properly entertained and had access to any drinks or snacks that she might want.

The easiest option with Emilia now was to simply turn the TV on to her favorite show and give her a sippy cup and a bag of gummies. That was almost guaranteed to keep her full attention while I went and did what I pleased. If Mom wanted more active babysitting, then, well, she was getting exactly what she paid for.

What I really wanted to be doing was trying out my new mouse with a round of Fortnite. But for now, I was sitting next to her in the living room, working on the pelvic exercises that Lisa had demonstrated for me last week. I tried and failed to stifle a yawn as I worked to stretch my pelvic muscles. All the effects of the coffee from this morning were wearing off, and I was beginning to feel the impact of having gotten out of bed before five in the morning.

Lisa described the pelvic exercises as pretending that you needed to pee and then attempting to hold it in. It seemed a rather silly thing to practice, as I had plenty of real-life experiences attempting to do that.

If it hadn’t been for Lisa telling me that these exercises were the number one reason she had been able to regain control of her bladder, I would have given up on them already. It didn’t feel like it was making any kind of difference.

I thought back to all the different medical tests Lisa had mentioned undergoing to try to find the root cause of her own continence issues along with all the medications she had experimented with.

It left me wondering again what exactly the cause of my bladder issues was. The loss of control had been both gradual and all at once. Would those tests be able to tell me why? And would knowing make any kind of difference?

But there was no way I would be able to go to the doctor without first telling Mom about all the issues that I had been having, and doing so would mean both disclosing that I was having accidents again, and admitting to all the steps I had been taking to avoid them. Mom would go ballistic if she were to find out how I had been biking off on my own to purchase pull-ups.

The more likely outcome would be Mom putting me back in diapers, rather than any trip to the hospital.

After we had finished putting together the Christmas tree, Mom had made me re-stock the closet with the diapers. I counted all the diapers after stacking the new ones in the closet. There were now eighty-three diapers on the shelf. Almost enough for three months.

It was probably for the best that I was doing this task myself. It would make it less likely for Mom to notice the extra diaper I swiped this morning for the outing to the mall.

I had gone through the diapers a lot faster during that month where I had been punished on and off for repeatedly wetting my pull-up. I had spent entire days held home from school, forced to wear diapers, and be treated like a baby. I was trying my best to block out those memories, as recent as they were. But every time they popped up again, it only reinforced my resolve to take every precaution against Mom discovering my bladder issues and to do whatever it would take to get them fixed.

The exercise didn’t seem to be going anywhere. At least Emilia, who was sitting on the carpet closer to the TV, was too engrossed in her show to pay any attention to my straining.

Emilia remained fully toilet trained both during the day and at night. I couldn’t believe how she had managed to avoid having even the slightest setback.

I caught myself almost wishing that Emilia would wake up to a wet bed or perhaps wet her pants in the car while riding home from preschool, anything to help restore the balance in our relationship as older sister and baby sister. Either of those scenarios would have Mom putting her back in pull-ups for at least a week.

An intrusive thought slipped into my mind, the idea of perhaps doing something to make my younger sister have accidents again. I could find a way to prevent her from being able to get to the toilet on time during the day, or perhaps I could use the warm water trick in the evening.

That had worked for Samantha and her brother, after all, right?

But I couldn’t bring myself to do something that cruel to Emilia. I had no choice but to continue this re-potty-training process all on my own.

I leaned my head back against the couch. I could get away with closing my eyes for a few seconds.

---

“Wake up, Sarah. Wake up.”

I blinked rapidly. Emilia was kneeling on the floor in front of me, nudging my shoulder with both of her tiny hands.

“You went pee pee.”

I did what? But that didn’t make sense. I had a pull-up on, after all. Then I felt a wetness around my side that was coming from outside the pull-up.

I had committed a cardinal sin for a bedwetter wearing a pull-up while sleeping. I had fallen asleep on my side. The right side of my skirt and leggings were soaked, while my left side, which had been facing up, remained dry.

I looked up at Emilia, who had a confused expression on her face. How does one even begin to offer an explanation to their younger sister for why they wet their pants while taking a nap?

We just stared silently at each other while the reality of the situation soaked in.

How long had I been out? I frantically grabbed my phone off the coffee table and checked the time. I had only been asleep for about twenty minutes. That was a relief, as I would have plenty of time until Mom got back home. But it was annoying as well. It was one thing to wet the bed overnight while sleeping for eight or more hours. It was another thing for that to happen during a tiny nap. That shouldn’t even have been possible.

I wanted to blame the exercises I had been doing before I went to sleep, but that really couldn’t have been the cause of that accident. It was my own fault. I should have gone to bed to take a nap, or at least have laid down in a safer position.

“Shoo,” I said, waving my hand at Emilia, who was still watching me. “Go watch your show.”

She didn’t budge. It was a miracle that she still obeyed me even once in a while when Mom left me in charge, given the times our roles had been reversed when Mom had put me back in diapers.

Even if I wouldn’t be able to prevent Emilia from informing Mom of the accident, I could at least keep her out of the way while I got things cleaned up. I grabbed another two baggies of gummies from the kitchen cupboard, telling Emilia that she could only have them if she were to behave herself and go back to watching TV. That was an easy deal to sell. With her snacks in hand, she plopped herself in front of the TV again.

But I had more pressing problems than dealing with Emilia.

With Emilia quickly engrossed in her show once again, I went to the bedroom to get cleaned up.

After removing my wet clothes, I rolled the wet pull-up into a ball and stuffed it in a plastic baggy to help hide the smell. I would then wrap it in paper towels and bury it as far down as I could in the garbage can in the kitchen, leaving Mom with no chance of coming across it.

I started to head toward my secret cache where I hid my pull-up, but paused before grabbing one.

There was no way of hiding this accident from Mom. Emilia was a massive tattle tale. I’d be lucky if news of this accident wasn’t the very first thing out of her mouth the second that Mom was home.

There was a non-zero chance that I’d either be receiving a spanking or being forced to wear a pull-up, or worse, a diaper, as a punishment for wetting myself during that nap. Wearing a pull-up under my clothes would be too much to risk.

I opened the more rarely used top drawer of my dresser and pulled out a pair of underwear. This was going to be a massive challenge, but I didn’t have any other choice left to me. I went back to my typical outfit of jeans and a hoodie.

The next thing to deal with was my wet clothes. Those went into the washing machine with clothes that needed to be washed. Staying on top of my chores would at least be a positive in Mom’s eyes.

Finally, there was the carpet to deal with. I applied a liberal amount of carpet cleaning spray to the wet spot on the carpet and then waited impatiently for five minutes before getting some wet and dry paper towels to finish cleaning up that spot.

I got down on my hands and knees to sniff the spot on the carpet wasn’t it was nearly dry. I couldn’t detect any trace of urine, just the slightly irritating scent of the cleaning solution. I hoped that this successful cleaning would help keep Mom in a better mood once she got home.

Now there was nothing to do but wait.

---

 

I tried to watch along with Emilia while waiting for the inevitable sound of the front door opening, but I found myself unable to pay attention to the show. My bladder had to be a higher priority right now. If I were to have another accident that my sister was to witness, my problems with Mom would get even worse than they were already shaping up to be.

There simply was no way that I was going to be able to avoid having Mom find out about the accident. The only question that remained was what was the best way to inform her to reduce whatever consequences came to mind.

I was running all the possible options through my mind.

It was imperative that Mom find out about the accident from me and not Emilia, lest she think that I had been attempting to hide it. Mom always claimed to be more lenient if I came and told her about something I had done wrong rather than waiting for her to find out about it herself.

I was also going to need to put an immediate focus on the fact that I had fallen asleep. Mom would be unhappy that I had done that while watching Emilia, but as long as I could convince her that it had been simply another bedwetting episode rather than a return of my daytime accidents, I could perhaps get out of having her force me to wear pull-ups or diapers, even if I faced some other discipline for being lax in my babysitting duties.

Mom had only been gone for about forty-five minutes at this point. She had said she’d be gone for one to two hours, so I was potentially going to need to wait a while before her return, especially with how busy stores were still likely to be at this point.

Only one short TV episode had passed before I was beginning to feel the need to pee. The need to go wasn’t super strong this time, but without a pull-up on, I couldn’t afford to stay and watch the show for a little while longer. I slipped off to the bathroom, leaving Emilia to watch the show by herself. That she had managed to not need to go to the toilet at all since Mom had left on the errand was infuriating. Why did it have to be so easy for her and so difficult for me?

I nearly sat down on the toilet right away before remembering that I needed to make use of every opportunity I had to try to strengthen my bladder.

I instead stood in front of the toilet, with my legs crossed and my hands pressed tightly between my legs. I had let my underwear drop down to my knees, so when the moment came to finally need to sit down on the toilet, I could do so in less than a second.

My phone was sitting on the floor. On the screen was a timer out counting upwards. I had started the timer the second I entered the bathroom. It was already past the ten-minute mark now, but I was attempting to hold out as long as I possibly could.

There had been times when I had attempted to hold my bladder as long as possible, accepting an accident in my pull-up as the inevitable consequence of that decision. But this time I wanted to have my cake and eat it too. I would hold my bladder until I absolutely needed to go, and then I would sit down on the toilet to do my business.

I squirmed desperately in front of the toilet. Being able to wait ten minutes after I had gotten the urge to pee was good. While I had been tracking how long I was waiting between going to the toilet, I realized there was another equally important measurement. I need to also work on how long I could hold my bladder after it began telling me that I needed to pee. This would be essential for when I was going back to school on Monday.

While I was feeling proud of the ten minutes I had lasted so far, I really wanted to push for fifteen minutes. I had rarely been able to make it that long, and if I could somehow manage to make it to that count consistently, I would be able to drastically reduce the amount of accidents I was having away from the house.

Then I heard the sound of knocking. I almost begin to pee myself in surprise.

But it was only Emilia knocking on the bathroom door, not Mom at the front door.

“I need to pee.”

“I’ll be done soon,” I replied, as the need to squirm increased even more.

If I were to make Emilia have an accident, perhaps I could convince her that it would be best for the both of us to make no mention of what had occurred to Mom.

But could I trust a three-year-old to understand that it was in her best interest to keep a secret?

Then I remembered how well that had worked out the last time Emilia had come across me peeing my pants, back when all my accidents were first beginning. Yeah, I wasn’t going to be able to trust her on this.

I sat down on the toilet, my bladder letting go the second my skin made contact with the frigid plastic of the toilet seat. There wasn’t a lot that came out, but what needed to come out did so with some urgency.

“Please. I need to pee.”

I wiped myself clean as fast as I could, as the urgency in Emilia’s whining only increased. She squeezed right past me without so much as a thank-you the moment I opened the door. At least she hadn’t left a puddle on the floor for me to clean up.

I washed my hands in the sink as Emilia did her business. I did remember this time to make sure she washed her hands as soon as she was done, though she had to use a little stepstool to be able to reach the sink.

With any luck, I’d be able to at least hold off on going to the bathroom again before Mom made it home. I still needed to practice my explanation.

---

There were no knocks on the front door or the ringing of the doorbell to announce that Mom arrived home about ten minutes later, just the bang and creak of the front door being pushed open.

I stood up immediately from the couch. Even if I hadn’t been needing to tell Mom about my accident, I knew I was going to be expected to assist with bringing in groceries from the car.

Emilia was still sitting on the floor right in front of the TV as I walked over to greet Mom. I was probably going to get an earful as well for letting my sister watch TV the whole time, but there wasn’t anything I could do about that.

“There you are,” Mom said. “There’s a bunch of stuff that needs to be brought in from the car.”

Mom rarely had to phrase her requests as questions. There were just statements about things she expected me to do without any delay. But there was no way I was doing that before having this conversation with Mom. This had to happen before Emilia finally got up from her TV show.

“I have something I need to tell you first.”

“That can wait. All the frozen foods need to get inside ASAP.”

“It’s important.”

Mom gave me a silent look that told me that she expected it to be pretty damn important for me to delay doing an urgent chore.

“I had a bedwetting accident.”

Mom’s jaw dropped a little. I figured that admission wasn’t on the list of things she was expecting to come out of my mouth.

“You did what?”

I took a deep breath.

“I was watching a TV show with Emilia. I was really tired. I dozed off and fell asleep in front of the couch. When Emilia woke me up, I was all wet.”

I had worked hard on my explanation for the past hour. It needed to be concise, with a clear emphasis on this being a bedwetting accident, with Emilia as evidence for that.

“What the hell am I supposed to do with you?”

Here it comes. That, at least, was a rhetorical question that I knew very well not to answer.

“You’re fifteen years old, for crying out loud. You shouldn’t be peeing yourself during the day.”

“Is an accident during a nap any different than at night? I’m asleep for both of those.”

“It’s still completely irresponsible. How am I supposed to discipline you for this?”

This was the worst of Mom’s questions. There was never a good enough answer. If she didn’t think what I had suggested was sufficient, I was liable to receive a much more severe punishment, but if I went too far in the other direction, she would go with what I suggested rather than tone it down.

I decided to try to make the punishment fit the crime, while hopefully avoiding any actual future ramifications.

“You could make it a rule that I need to put on a diaper before taking a nap?”

I had no intention of taking any more naps any time soon, so that wasn’t likely to ever come into play. And, given how I did seem to be prone to wetting myself while napping, wearing a diaper would be better than the alternative of dealing with a leaking pull-up.

“That’s a really good idea,” Mom said. “But that doesn’t deal with the fact that you were being neglectful with watching your sister. She could have gotten into so much trouble while you were asleep. You’re very lucky that she didn’t get into anything that she shouldn’t have.”

“Emilia was fine. She wasn’t going to get up from the TV, anyway.”

“Don’t talk back like that, Sarah. If you’re not going to be a responsible older sister, perhaps you should be the younger sister for the rest of the day.”

I had to bite my lower lip to prevent myself from arguing any further with Mom. I could see the direction this conversation was heading, and I didn’t like it one bit.

“If you can’t be trusted to behave like a responsible older sister, you can be treated like a baby instead. Now, you can come with me to the store to get some pull-ups, or you can wear the diaper for the rest of today.”

I hated how Mom made me choose my own punishments, especially in scenarios like this where I wasn’t left with any good choices.

I weighed my options.

I had no desire for Mom to put me back in a diaper for the day again, not after having been able to successfully avoid that for so long.

On the other hand, going to the store to purchase the pull-ups with Mom was a massive risk. There was a chance that I might run into someone who knew me, and with Mom around, coming up with an alibi for why the pull-ups were being purchased would be next to impossible.

Not to mention that with one of Mom’s pull-ups on me for the rest of the day, she would be watching me like a hawk to check on any possible accidents. One more slip up and I’d be in a world of trouble.

Wearing a diaper would suck, but at least things would be back to normal tomorrow for sure.

“I’ll wear a diaper,” I said, taking the lesser of the two evils.

---

I had time to contemplate whether I had made the right decision as I walked back and forth to the car, taking a half-dozen trips to bring in the remaining groceries, which I helped Mom put away in the refrigerator and cupboards. Chores were about the only thing that could delay Mom from immediately meting out discipline.

I may have taken a few more trips to bring the groceries in than necessary, even if I knew it was only prolonging the inevitable.

It was already nearly time for dinner. The smell of the rotisserie chicken Mom had brought home was making my mouth water. Wearing a diaper for several hours before bed wasn't the punishment I wanted to have, but I knew from my experiences over the past several months that it could have gone much worse for me.

"Mommy, I'm hungry," Emilia whined, as she joined us in the kitchen, acting as if I somehow hadn't given her way more snacks than normal for the afternoon.

"Not yet," Mom said. "Your sister wasn't doing a good job babysitting you this afternoon. She took a nap when she was supposed to be watching you and peed herself. She's going to be wearing diapers the rest of today, and you can be the big sister tonight."

"Yeah, I can be big sister," Emilia said with a giggle.

Mom hadn't bothered to check with Emilia that I had, in fact, peed my pants. I suppose Mom wouldn't think I'd have any reason to say so if it actually hadn't happened.

"We better go get a diapie on your sister then," Mom said to Emilia.

That was my cue that I needed to head to our bedroom.

I stripped off my pants and underwear and laid down on the bed as Mom grabbed a diaper from the closet, as if I could retain some dignity by doing some of these steps myself rather than waiting for Mom to undress me.

The process wasn't any less humiliating than it had been the first night Mom had brought me to her bedroom to tell me that I was going to be needing to wear diapers to bed as pull-ups weren't sufficient to contain my nighttime accident.

In fact, with the addition of Emilia looking on, it was even more so.

I wasn't sure what was worse, Mom saying nothing to me as the silence was broken only by the crinkling of the diaper as she slid it under my bottom, or hearing her ask Emilia to help with fetching the baby powder, which was applied liberally on my bottom before the diaper was taped shut.

But Mom wasn't finished with turning me back into a baby. She had me lift my arms in the air as she pulled off my hoodie. That was replaced with a short t-shirt that only barely made it all the way down to the top of the diaper.

Getting all my skirts out of the closet this morning had been a bad idea, as it only served to give Mom additional ideas of how to dress me. Mom grabbed a skirt from the closet and slid it on me while I was still lying in the bed. This was one I had passed on wearing this morning because it didn't come nearly as close to reaching my knees.

I would have preferred sweatpants or even leggings. I didn't care if the outline of the diaper padding was visible, so long as it was at least covered up in a way that didn't make it totally obvious that it was wet whenever I peed it in. I stood up from the bed only to realize that not only did the skirt only barely cover the bottom of the diaper, an inch or so of the waistband was sticking out above the skirt as well.

"I have an important job for you since you're going to be the big sister this evening," Mom said to Emilia. "You need to keep an eye on your little sister's diaper and let me know when it needs to be changed."

---

Dinner was largely uneventful. There wasn't a highchair to sit on or bib to wear, and Mom didn't make me drink out of a bottle or a sippy cup.

Perhaps those items had been discarded when Mom believed that daytime accidents were a thing of the past for Emilia and me. Mom didn't have any additional pull-ups for me, and I knew that she had tossed all of Emilia's pull-ups and diapers.

Emilia was taking her role as big sister for the evening very seriously. My diaper was checked right before and after dinner. My diaper was dry both times. I didn't think that would be the case the next time that Emilia lifted up my skirt.

With my punishment not having extended to full-on babying, I slipped off to the bedroom after dinner, partly to get away from Emilia, who was liable to forget about the diaper checks as long as I was out of sight, and partly to finally try out the new gaming mouse I had purchased this morning.

I got it plugged into the USB slot in my computer, made sure the proper drivers were installed and turned on Fortnite. I probably could have gone another five or so minutes without wetting my diaper, but it was hard to concentrate on playing video games while I was that squirmy, so I let my bladder empty a little into the diaper.

There would be a noticeable wet spot should Emilia wander over to the bedroom and check, but I knew it wouldn't be nearly enough yet for Mom to change me. That probably wasn't going to happen until it was time to hop in the shower before bed.

The new mouse fit nicely in my hand, though it was going to take a little while to get used to how much more responsive and sensitive it was to my inputs. There were probably some additional settings I would need to adjust before I had it working exactly as I wanted.

I yawned again as the first round got underway. The nap this afternoon clearly hadn't been enough to allow me to make it all the way to my normal bedtime without feeling exhausted again.

My character was gunned down a lot earlier than normal for the several rounds that I played. It was tempting to blame the new mouse or being tired for my troubles, but that wasn't really what the issue was about. After the latest death, I didn't start a new round right away. I was finding it hard to focus on the game. I stared at the main menu for the game, but my mind was elsewhere.

My mind kept wandering back to this morning, the first time I had hung out with all my friends since the sleepover at Lisa's place.

For Samantha, Desi, and Lisa, they seemed to feel like they had come out of the sleepover with closer connections to each other because of the secrets that had been revealed. Having someone's deepest secrets revealed to you is as impactful as the process of letting those secrets out to someone else.

And now they thought everything was all good now between us. But I knew better.

Samantha was hiding her diaper desires from her parents. And the secret she was keeping from everyone was how she was responsible for her younger brother's bedwetting.

I was hiding my accidents from Mom, but I was hiding that I was hiding those accidents from my friends.

And the circle of people who were aware of my accident had expanded to include Lisa's aunt and uncle. One stray comment between them and Mom would be a disaster for me as well. They didn't realize they were holding that secret for me, but they were.

All the lies. All the deceptions. How long was it going to last?

While I had initially felt some relief when I had gotten away with only partially revealing my secrets at the sleepover, I was now on a razer's edge, trying to find an impossible balance between keeping my secret hidden from Mom while being open to my friends about my struggles.

I had worked hard to come up with excuses for why it wouldn't work for my friends to come over and hang out at my house.

Having them over was simply not feasible. I couldn't tell them that I was hiding my accidents from Mom. They wouldn't understand. But if they weren't aware that I needed to hide that situation from Mom, there was no way to prevent it from potentially coming up in a conversation around her.

But I was going to run out of excuses at some point, or my friends would just begin to get suspicious about the situation, and what was I supposed to do then? The only option out of this mess was that I would need to get my daytime potty training complete to the point where I could be wearing underwear all the time during the day.

It wasn't as though I hadn't made any progress so far. I was beginning to be able to hold my bladder for slightly longer periods of time, and I was getting more of a warning before needing to pee, which also reduced the number of accidents I was having.

I was not looking forward to attending school this coming Monday, when classes resumed after having a week off for Thanksgiving. That was going to prove to be the bigger challenge.

At least now that my friends were aware of my dilemma, I wouldn't be feeling as self-conscious about going to the toilet between every class period.

Lisa and I had worked out a plan for potty training during the next week of school. We would use the restroom between each of our classes, which would mean going about every fifty minutes. Practicing waiting for longer periods would be useful, but trying to go two class periods while staying fully hydrated simply wasn't going to be possible.

The only reason I had even managed to last two class periods previously had been because I had been drinking almost no liquids at all while at school. I knew now from Lisa that while this reduced accidents in the short-term, it only served to reduce the amount of liquids my bladder was used to holding and leave me out of practice with actually holding in my bladder.

As I let myself wet the diaper again, this time without making any effort to practice holding onto my bladder for a little while longer, I almost think I understood why Lisa had switched back to only wearing diapers for a time, back when she had been dealing with the bullying from Claire. It all could be too much.

A pitter-patter of footsteps from the hallway informed me that Emilia had finally remembered her big sister duties.

"Diapie check," she yelled with excitement.

I rotated my swivel chair enough that she could reach my diaper.

"Wet," she announced, as she pulled her hand back from my warm diaper.

She ran back out of the bedroom and down the hallway, presumably to inform Mom of her findings.

If shame was a cure for bedwetting and incontinence, I'd have been better a long time ago.

 

 

 

 

 

[CDfm]

Awesome new chapter.  That couldn’t have been a very enviable position to find yourself in.  Risk the little sister telling mom or step up and cut your own throat.  I think she actually made the right choice. Something tells me this punishment isn’t going to be over with in just a day though. Mom’s punishment for having a daytime accident is a week of pull-ups and keeping dry for the full week. I can’t imagine mom changing her punishments now. Because she chose diapers it wouldn’t surprise me to find her in a diaper for the week.  
I am excited to see what happens next. 

[spark]

That was a great chapter

Not only is Mom controlling, but her methods are counterproductive.   As she said, if shame was productive, she would have stopped a long time.

You've written mom in a way that she is almost absurdly cruel, but I posted with a similar theme My Summer With Aunt Amanda.  It the older child who has accidents, ends up in diapers, and is treated.  In your story, Mom puts Sarah in a diaper and treats her like a baby for a whole day after she has two accidents, and then she goes back to Pull Ups.  In my story, one accident gets you put in Pull-ups until you can stay dry.  After two accidents in Pull-ups (in five days), you're back in diapers and treated like a baby.  On paper, Aunt Amanda is harsher than Sarah's mom.  But I wrote her in a way that sounds more sympathetic.  Mind you, mine is a case of extreme Stockholm Syndrome, and this is a story about surviving horrific emotional abuse.

[Night Rain]

Sarah really needs to tell the truth fully about her problems. As all this is going to royally mess things up

[GQLF]

I tried using AI on this website to create images, but the results were similar when using only TAGs such as "diapers", "mother and daughter", and "swimsuit". Additionally, when TAGs for “dress” and “diapers” appear, there are often no diapers in the images. Can you recommend some TAG combinations. For example, in a picture, what should I do if I want my mother to wear diapers and my daughter to wear mature clothes?

[Kahlez]

Sooner or later this tangled web will be a massive problem for her. 

17 hours ago, MinnesotaWriter said:

I was hiding my accidents from mom, but I was hiding that I was hiding those accidents from my friends.

At least she should explain to her friends not mention anything in case they have contact with her mom. Otherwise I can see a disaster in the making right there.

[bubble-pop1]

Amazing Chapter! Looks like the role reversal makes Emilia grow up even faster, soon outrun Sarah in terms of privilege and responsibility.

For Sarah, things are not easy as she is trapped in Emilia's shoe. Sooner or later she will be the one being full-time baby sister if she cannot overcome her current situation.

[BabySofia]

On 11/28/2023 at 5:04 PM, MinnesotaWriter said:

I published my first book on Amazon: "The Baby Once Again." It's free to read with Kindle Unlimited.

Just finished reading this, really enjoyed it! 

[MinnesotaWriter]

On 11/30/2023 at 9:44 PM, CDfm said:

Awesome new chapter.  That couldn’t have been a very enviable position to find yourself in.  Risk the little sister telling mom or step up and cut your own throat.  I think she actually made the right choice. Something tells me this punishment isn’t going to be over with in just a day though. Mom’s punishment for having a daytime accident is a week of pull-ups and keeping dry for the full week. I can’t imagine mom changing her punishments now. Because she chose diapers it wouldn’t surprise me to find her in a diaper for the week.  
I am excited to see what happens next. 

Thanks! We'll have to see if Sarah was successful in convincing her mom that this shouldn't be treated like a normal daytime accident since she was asleep.

On 11/30/2023 at 9:44 PM, spark said:

That was a great chapter

Not only is Mom controlling, but her methods are counterproductive.   As she said, if shame was productive, she would have stopped a long time.

You've written mom in a way that she is almost absurdly cruel, but I posted with a similar theme My Summer With Aunt Amanda.  It the older child who has accidents, ends up in diapers, and is treated.  In your story, Mom puts Sarah in a diaper and treats her like a baby for a whole day after she has two accidents, and then she goes back to Pull Ups.  In my story, one accident gets you put in Pull-ups until you can stay dry.  After two accidents in Pull-ups (in five days), you're back in diapers and treated like a baby.  On paper, Aunt Amanda is harsher than Sarah's mom.  But I wrote her in a way that sounds more sympathetic.  Mind you, mine is a case of extreme Stockholm Syndrome, and this is a story about surviving horrific emotional abuse.

Thanks! Sarah's mom certainly is not meant to be a sympathetic character.

On 11/30/2023 at 11:13 PM, Night Rain said:

Sarah really needs to tell the truth fully about her problems. As all this is going to royally mess things up

That does seem to be the direction things are going.

On 12/1/2023 at 2:04 AM, GQLF said:

I tried using AI on this website to create images, but the results were similar when using only TAGs such as "diapers", "mother and daughter", and "swimsuit". Additionally, when TAGs for “dress” and “diapers” appear, there are often no diapers in the images. Can you recommend some TAG combinations. For example, in a picture, what should I do if I want my mother to wear diapers and my daughter to wear mature clothes?

AI with more than one subject is going to be complicated if you want the two to be differentiated. Not enough of an expert to give you any advice on that.

On 12/1/2023 at 8:42 AM, Kahlez said:

Sooner or later this tangled web will be a massive problem for her. 

At least she should explain to her friends not mention anything in case they have contact with her mom. Otherwise I can see a disaster in the making right there.

The more lies you tell, the harder it is to keep your own story straight. We've got school and then a get-together with her friends in coming chapters, lots of chances for things to get discussed further.

On 12/1/2023 at 10:07 AM, bubble-pop1 said:

Amazing Chapter! Looks like the role reversal makes Emilia grow up even faster, soon outrun Sarah in terms of privilege and responsibility.

For Sarah, things are not easy as she is trapped in Emilia's shoe. Sooner or later she will be the one being full-time baby sister if she cannot overcome her current situation.

Thanks! We'll have to see how far the role reversal ends up going.

22 hours ago, BabySofia said:

Just finished reading this, really enjoyed it! 

Thanks! Glad you liked it.

[spark]

19 minutes ago, MinnesotaWriter said:

Thanks! Sarah's mom certainly is not meant to be a sympathetic character.

I'd say that you nailed it.  That woman is clinically narcissistic, and at least from Sarah's perspective, she is incapable of loving her daughters.  Emilia is written as a willing accomplice right now, but Sarah is every bit as guilty at the beginning of the story.  Sarah's mom was equally abusive to Emilia at the beginning of the story and despite her misgivings- Sarah participated in the abuse.

My main characters are almost always an extension of me, and my caregivers are an idealized version that tends to pull from parts of my mom's personality.   That doesn't mean my mom was abusive or as manipulative as the characters that I've created.    

I'm hoping you don't write yourself in a box.   It's a complex task because we all want Sarah to win this conflict, however- it's a diaper story, and in our world, the protagonist can't defeat diapers.  PS- if that's where you end up, go for it.

I can think of a Pollyanna/quasi-realistic ending to this story if Sarah would just let somebody know what is happening.  The second she tells an adult at her school that she's been having bladder issues for two months and is afraid to tell her mother the full story, the adult is required to report it.  It's the law.   In that version, CPS immediately investigates and sees through Mom's manipulations, and Sarah and Emilia are rescued from a narcissistic parent who will never change her ways.

Sadly, that is far less realistic than we all hope.  Your version is far more realistic.  Teens, especially the 14/15 range keep things closed.   They don't let adults know what they are thinking, and they damn sure don't let their friends know what they are thinking.  Even if they did, it's rarely a black-or-white situation, and even if CPS is notified- nothing really will happen.   FTR- trying nothing and hoping it works happens most of the time in education.

[MinnesotaWriter]

Chapter 53: Potty Training

I made a beeline for the nearest restroom the moment I stepped out of the school bus on Monday morning, leaving Samantha and Desi to go save a seat for me in our first class.

Our bus had been one of the first to arrive this morning, so I at least didn't have a massive crowd of other students to contend with as I speed-walked through the main entrance. This was my first time wearing my new peach-colored pull-ups to school, and while they had been thoroughly tested over the last week, I felt slightly more self-conscious than before.

While these pull-ups were only slightly less thin than the ones I had previously been wearing, they were made for adults, not young teenagers. That meant a much higher rise on my waist. If I hadn't folded the waistband of the pull-ups down, more than an inch of them would have been peeking out from the top of my jeans.

And for all the advertising about these pull-ups being discreet and underwear-like, there wasn't any way that a close observer could mistake them for a normal pair of panties. It was just another thing I'd have to be aware of throughout the day. Potty training while at school was going to be much more mentally taxing than doing so at home.

My gambit with admitting my accident over the weekend had paid off with Mom, as she had only kept me in a diaper for the remainder of Friday. I spent the rest of the weekend doing everything I could to ready myself for a return to school.

Going to and from home to school was going to be the hardest part of this initial stage of toilet training.

I had the short end of the stick when it came to the bus ride to school. There weren't many others on the bus when it picked me up a half-block from my house. I'd used the restroom as the last thing I did before getting on the bus. Mom had left before me to take Emilia to daycare before going to work. Her hybrid job had her spending a mix of time between working at home and in the office.

Before, the bus ride had been less of an issue, as I had avoided drinking almost anything during breakfast. But with Lisa's insistence that I stay hydrated, I had a full cup of orange juice with breakfast. I at least made sure that drinking the orange juice was the very last thing I did before stepping out the door, but even then, I now had a dire need to reach a restroom in time.

The closest restroom was only a hundred feet or so inside the main entrance, and most of the stalls weren't occupied when I entered.

Our knowledge of the public restrooms at our high school was second to none. We not only knew which ones were on the most direct route between all of our classes, but also which ones were busiest at which times of the day, and which provided garbage bins discreet enough to dispose of a wet pull-up or diaper in.

I pulled my jeans and pull-up down simultaneously, making sure the jeans weren't pulled too far down and that the pullup was tucked into them. The walls on the bathroom stalls didn't go down as far as they should have. It was possible to see the feet of the person adjacent to you.

I tried to exert some final control over my bladder as I sat on the toilet seat, straining my muscles to try to last even another minute or two without peeing. But it was no use. My bladder had already reached its limit.

I passed the first test of the morning. I'd survived the bus ride to school without any accidents. As I sat on the toilet, not rushing to get up as I wanted to make certain that I had fully emptied my bladder, I made a note in my phone of the success, and how long I had gone between trips to the toilet.

That was one successful trip to the toilet down for today, but I had another eight more to go.

Samantha and Desi were loitering in the hallway outside of our first class with a few other students, as the classroom door was still locked. We had all of our classes together, while Lisa only shared two of them with us.

They both were aware of the potty-training plan that Lisa and I were following and had the common sense not to make any comment about it while there were other students around.

While I was standing in line, I got my water bottle out of my backpack and took several measured sips from it. Lisa had given me one of her extra water bottles, the kind with the measurement marked off in dashes going up the water bottle. I checked how much I had drunk after each sip until I had drunk four ounces of water.

Sixty-four ounces a day was the measurement we both were aiming to hit. If I did four ounces between each of my classes, that allowed me to be over halfway to that mark by the time I arrived home in the afternoon.

It was a stupidly large amount of water to be drinking while at home, let alone on a school day. I had been insistent that this amount of hydration had been unnecessary until Lisa had made me count up how much water I had drunk in the past three days, which only amounted to about seventy ounces.

I was forced to admit that she had a good point, though I had still pushed back against drinking too much water before going to bed, even though doing so had yet to bring my bedwetting to a halt.

Lisa's argument was that dealing with the daytime accidents was more important and that we could both worry about the bedwetting later. I had reluctantly relented, the only result being that my morning diapers had been more soaked than usual.

It wasn't supposed to be a competition between Lisa and me, but that is what it felt like now. And it wasn't just about that time in the mall where she had outlasted me in a competition to see how long we could go without going to the toilet. We had been sharing our potty training stats with each other every evening. Not only was Lisa having fewer accidents than me, but she was consistently managing to go longer and longer without needing to get to the toilet.

Her gradual improvements contrasted sharply with my experience. There wasn't any rhyme or reason to what I was dealing with. Some days I'd have multiple accidents, with my bladder seemingly going from zero to one hundred in a matter of seconds. On other days, I'd stay dry the whole time without much effort on my behalf, leaving me confused as to why I could repeat that result day in and day out.

"Hey, are you all set for the test?" Samantha asked.

"When would I ever not be?"

Teachers who assign a test the day after a weeklong break from school are the embodiment of evil. Instead of spending several hours last night playing Fortnite, I'd been forced to go over a study guide for this math test. I probably could have aced it without studying, but I wasn't leaving anything to chance with how Mom monitored my grades.

"Good," Samantha said. "I can borrow your review notes, then, right?"

It was one thing to cram for a test the night before and a completely different thing to cram for one in the final fifteen minutes. I mean, at least study on the bus ride over.

Samantha was in luck that I had brought my notes with me just in case something came to mind that I wanted to check.

I had been so focused on toilet training that I hadn't paid much attention to Samantha's outfit for the day. The fit of Samantha's leggings made it clear that she was back to wearing underwear. Her time as a baby wasn't going to extend to school hours. Not unless we had another costume party.

It really wasn't fair how she could move back and forth between both worlds, wearing diapers on one day and regular underwear on the next, passing back and forth between those two sides of herself without any issue.

Me, I was stuck with pull-ups during the day and diapers at night for the foreseeable future, barring some sudden, unexpected improvement in my toilet training. It wasn't that I hadn't accepted her explanation about her desire to be a baby. It was just another annoying reminder of my own lack of control.

Our teacher finally arrived to unlock the door about three minutes before class was set to begin. She was holding a large mug of coffee and seemed as though she hadn't fully woken up yet.

I passed both tests during this first morning class. None of the questions on the test were particularly difficult. I suspected our teacher had timed the test as a way to partially extend her vacation. She sat up front at her desk, sipping coffee and idly tapped away at the keyboard.

The only difficulty I had during the test was making sure I wasn't so absorbed in making sure I was answering the questions correctly to not be paying attention to any signals my bladder might be sending. I had to remind myself to take a short pause every few questions to make sure I wasn't getting too distracted.

For this class at least, my bladder was on its best behavior. I was only feeling the slightest need to pee by the time I put down my pencil with just a few minutes remaining before the bell rang to let us out.

Samantha joined me on the next trip to the restroom, while Desi, with her bladder of steel, went to grab something from her locker and go on to our next classroom. I took the stall at the far end of the restroom, and with Samantha in the only one adjacent to mine, I didn't have to worry so much about someone accidentally getting a peek of my pull-up.

Things got progressively worse during the next three classes before lunch period. The small amounts of water I was drinking between each class were beginning to add up.

It was the final class period before lunch and my streak of potty-training successes was very much in danger of coming to an end.

I was unable to keep my eyes from constantly returning to looking at the classroom clock near the doorway. But with each glance at the clock, it felt as though less and less time was passing by.

One of the bathroom passes hanging up next to the door was still available. For this teacher, I didn't have to ask permission to leave and use the restroom, so long as there was a pass for me to grab.

But that was against the rules that Lisa and I had agreed to.

Lisa had insisted that toilet training meant training to be able to be on a normal toilet schedule that someone wearing underwear would follow and that working to do that was more important than just trying to avoid having any accidents at all, that an accident wasn't shameful as long as you were making your best effort to hold in your bladder as long as possible.

I casually rested one of my hands on my lap. Anything to try to stop the need to begin squirming. I looked to the left at Lisa. Her eyes were attentively glued to the whiteboard at the front of the room where our teacher was jotting down points we would need to be aware of for an end-of-semester test.

She didn't appear the least bit concerned about the state of her bladder. I highly doubted that she'd had an accident at all so far today.

There were still ten minutes left in the class period, and it would take me at least another several minutes before I'd be able to get to the nearest toilet. I struggled to admit to myself that I wasn't going to make it.

It was no use. I felt a warmth spread throughout the inside of the pull-up. It wasn't even lunchtime yet, and I'd already failed my first day of potty training at school.

---

My new pull-up worked as expected, avoiding any embarrassing leaks after wetting myself at my desk.

This new pull-up was certainly an improvement for having to sit in class for ten minutes after having wet myself. The initial warmth and wetness faded away quickly after the accident, and the squishiness of the wet pull-up was only noticeable if I shifted at all in my seat.

I managed to avoid looking at the classroom clock anymore until the bell finally rang, and I followed Lisa off to the nearest restroom while Samantha and Desi headed toward the cafeteria.

I didn't say anything to Lisa about the accident as we walked down the hallway. Could she tell I'd had an accident? She seemed to have some kind of sixth sense about those things.

Midday was the worst time for trying to use the restroom. Finding a restroom where I didn't have to wait in line was the main challenge. That was even worse right now because I needed a bathroom stall where I could discreetly change out of a wet pull-up.

The restrooms Lisa was leading me to were a little off the main hallways, so they often had quite a few stalls that weren't full. They also had a handicap stall that was the perfect spot to change a wet pull-up in an emergency.

But we weren't in luck today. The restroom was nearly full as we walked in. Worst of all, the handicap stall at the far end of the restroom was already taken.

The last thing I wanted to deal with right now was having to stealthily change my pull-up without anyone in the stalls next to mine becoming aware of what I was doing.

That was probably the only benefit for Lisa with her incontinence issues being more widely known. If someone did happen to catch a glimpse of her pull-up from under the restroom stall walls, it wasn't as though some big secret was being revealed.

I didn't have that luxury.

I motioned for Lisa to step into the first stall we passed, while I had to go about two-thirds of the way down before I came to an open one. But that wasn't a problem. I preferred to be as far from the entrance as possible to minimize the amount of people walking past the stall I was in.

It took me about a minute to slowly tear the sides of the pull-up. As noisy as the bathroom was, the sound was so different from anything else happening in the room that I was sure it would stand out if I were to rip the sides as quickly as I would at home.

Getting the new pull-up on was the trickiest part because that involved taking both my shoes and jeans off.

It would all be a lot easier if I just went the route Lisa did and wore dresses every day. But in my mind, changing clothing styles like that would be tantamount to admitting defeat. I'd be already preparing myself for a yet-to-occur potty accident. Still, as I slipped my feet out of my jeans to allow myself to slide on a new pull-up, I found myself pondering the idea of a brief wardrobe change, if only until I was doing better with the toilet training.

With my jeans all the way to the floor, I wiggled my feet out of my shoes, which I had laced up extremely loosely for that purpose.

The next part was the worst. The stall to the left of me was empty, but there was someone in the stall on the right. If I slipped my pull-up on now, there was a chance that it would be noticed briefly before I had gotten it all the way up my legs.

I waited for several minutes, praying that the stall on my left would stay empty until the girl next to me flushed the toilet and stood up.

I immediately slipped the new pull-up on, now that I had a window of opportunity where I could do so sight unseen and breathe a sigh of relief once that was done.

I really needed to reconsider wearing a dress.

---

Desi and Samantha had been first to arrive in the cafeteria, courtesy of not needing to rush off to the restroom after our class had ended. They had secured a table in a more out-of-the-way corner of the cafeteria, giving us enough privacy that we could talk about whatever we wanted without fear of being overhead unless someone happened to walk by.

I had taken to keeping my lunch bag in my backpack. I didn't care for the additional weight I had to lug around before the lunch period, but it made it easier to have enough time to not rush through lunch despite the frequent trips to the bathroom that I was making.

Lisa also beat me to the lunch table today. Probably hadn't needed to change her pull-up while she was in the restroom.

"Finally," Desi said as I sat down next to her at the four-seat table.

I rolled my eyes and caught Lisa giving me a look that told me she suspected my lengthier stay in the restroom was due to needing to change my pull-up.

"My mom actually found time to pack a lunch for me today, and of course, she forgot that I hate pears," Samantha said. "Anyone takers?"

"I'm good," Desi said. Lisa, who had just taken a bite out of her sandwich, shook her head back and forth.

"I'll take it," I said, sitting up in my seat and stretching across the table to grab the pear.

I realized after I bit into it that the extra water content wasn't going to be doing me any favors, but I didn't care as much since I already wasn't going to achieve my goal of staying dry the whole day at school.

"Hey, um, your underwear is showing when you do that," Desi said.

I lifted up the front of my jacket. Sure enough, the top of the pull-up was sticking out above the top of my jeans. I looked around, before hastily scrunching the pull-up back beneath my jeans. The case for wearing a dress was getting stronger by the minute.

"Underwear?" Samantha asked. "That's great. Things are going that good for you already?"

"It's not that kind of underwear," I said.

"Oh," Samantha said, glancing at Lisa and turning her gaze back to me. "But like, your plan has been going good so far?"

Lisa saved me from having to answer that question immediately.

"It's gone perfect for me so far today," she said with a smile.

"How have you been doing?" Lisa asked me.

If I lied to Samantha and Desi, Lisa would know, and I knew how she felt about me not being forthcoming with my friends.

"It's gone mostly well. Just one accident. It's harder to drink this much water," I said, pointing to the half-empty water bottle sitting in front of me on the table."

"That's it?" Desi asked. "I think I had nearly that much coffee to drink this morning."

I didn't even want to think about what would have happened if I had drunk that much before even stepping outside of the house this morning. Even these new pull-ups wouldn't have survived that large of an accident.

"You think you're on track to be like, fully back to normal?" Samantha asked Lisa.

"Maybe, might even get to the point that I can donate all my pull-ups to a thrift store by the end of the year," Lisa said.

"Or you could donate them to Samantha's backpack," Desi joked.

"Hey, that's not funny," Samantha said. "But actually, I wouldn't exactly mind that either."

I watched in silence as my friends laughed as they bantered back and forth. There wasn't anything funny to me about the topic of diapers and pull-ups.

For Samantha, it was just a game of dress-up and make-believe. For Lisa, it was a competition to see how quickly she'd be able to get to wearing underwear. For Desi, it was just this quirky thing about her three friends.

For me, with the threat of all of Mom's discipline hanging over my head, pull-ups and diapers and potty training were almost a matter of life and death, or at least it certainly felt like that on some days.

"Hey, is something wrong?" Desi asked me.

"I'm fine," I said, in a tone that suggested I was anything but fine. "I'll see you guys at the next class. I forgot. I need to grab something from my locker."

I got up in a rush. I would have forgotten to grab my new water bottle if Desi hadn't picked it up to hand it to me.

It simply wasn't fair. Both Lisa and I wanted out of pull-ups, but only she was on track to do that. Both Samantha and I wore pull-ups and diapers, but only she wanted to. And Desi, outside of being dared to pee in a pull-up once at a sleepover, was completely clueless about what any of us were dealing with.

I didn't actually need to grab anything from my locker, but I wandered over in that direction anyway. I had some time to kill before I went to find a restroom to use before the next class began.

The pear proved to be a poor decision. I had yet another accident in the class immediately after lunch. This time I at least was able to secure a handicap stall so I could change quickly enough to be on time for my next class.

After that, I did manage to avoid any further accidents until the bus dropped me off a half-block from my house.

Two accidents on the first day of potty training at school. There wasn't any way to go but up from that.

---

In the four weeks following Thanksgiving, my theory that my potty training couldn't go any worse was tested and found to be lacking.

Lisa and I had stuck to our schedule of taking potty breaks between each class for three weeks. Lisa only wet herself on one occasion, at the beginning of the second week. For me, the most I could do was two consecutive days without any accidents.

That wouldn't be so bad if there had been signs that I was making some sort of progress, but the random nature of my accidents continued to befuddle me. There were days where everything was good, and then days where nothing seemed to be able to go right, with no clear idea of what was causing the difference between them.

It was the last day of school before our two-week-long Christmas break began. Christmas break was always something to be excited about, but I needed it now more than ever. Two weeks of being able to continue practicing holding in my bladder, free from the stress of midterms and crowded restrooms. I'd be all ready for a fresh start next year. I already knew what my New Year's resolution was going to be.

We had a number of get-togethers already planned, though we had to work around the holiday plans everyone's families had.

We were getting together at Samantha's place Saturday afternoon, though a sleepover wasn't going to work because Samantha was going to be off to California the following morning.

There wasn't anything else planned until after Christmas when we were going over for a sleepover at Lisa's place on New Year's Eve.

The only good thing about this next meetup at Samantha's place was that it wasn't going to be a sleepover. The last thing I needed was Mom calling Samantha's mom to inform her of my bedwetting, and all the questions that would come of that because that topic hadn't been discussed prior to the one and only sleepover I'd had at Samantha's place.

The nice thing was that Lisa, with her lack of any siblings, made for the ideal place for future sleepovers, so it was possible that I could avoid spending the night at Desi's or Samantha's places in the near future at least.

After a week of struggling with being able to change wet pull-ups quickly enough to get to class on time, including two occasions where a teacher had publicly chastised me for being late, I worked up the courage to make a massive change to the outfits I was wearing to school.

A thorough examination of my closet revealed that I did, in fact, have two dresses that would work for me to wear to school, as long as I wore some thigh-high socks to compensate for how much colder it was getting.

Lisa proved to be more than happy to pass along another trio of dresses that she had outgrown. Our height difference came in handy. While I wanted a dress that would make sure my pull-up was fully covered, I didn't want to wear something that went all the way down to my ankles. I felt incredibly self-aware the first few days I started wearing the dresses, but apart from my friends, I didn't receive any comments about the sudden change.

For Mom's part, she wasn't even aware that I was wearing different clothes than usual. I would usually get dressed and leave for school after she had dropped Emilia off at daycare and gone to work. And on days she was working from home, she was too focused on her computer to notice what I was wearing. The dresses also came off the moment I got back to my bedroom, swapped for my familiar jeans and hoodie.

As disappointing as the first three weeks after Thanksgiving had been, this most recent one had proven to be far worse.

Emboldened by her recent successes, Lisa wanted to change the potty-training schedule, moving ahead to a much more difficult phase.

I hadn't yet managed to stay dry at school for three consecutive days, let alone nine like Lisa had, but in my zeal to keep up with her, I offered to move ahead to the next phase this final week before Christmas break was to begin.

This was the schedule that we agreed upon: Use the restroom and drink four ounces of water, sit through a class, drink another four ounces of water, and sit through a second class. Then we could use the restroom and repeat that cycle again.

I wasn't ready yet. Not even remotely close to being ready.

Lisa was doing well, though it was clear that having to go multiple classes without using the restroom was something that she was going to need to spend more time practicing. Through the first four days with that new schedule, she managed to stay dry twice the whole time.

The first four days of following that routine had gone worse for me. I'd only been able to make it to the toilet without having an accident a little over half the time, but that meant I was averaging more than two accidents a day just while at school.

Today, however, was a complete and total disaster.

The last class of the day was history, which was taught by Lisa's uncle.

Mr. Higgins was one of the stricter teachers I'd had regarding allowing students to leave his class to use the restroom. That was something that struck me as a bit odd, given the issues that his own niece had to deal with. He didn't even make any exceptions for her.

I'd already had three accidents in my pull-up today. The only time I'd made it to the toilet successfully was when I used the restroom right after getting off the bus. Since then, I hadn't been able to last two class periods without wetting myself.

I had an important choice to make in his class this afternoon. Because we were doing a midterm test on the final day before Christmas break, Mr. Higgins had offered to let us out early after we had completed our test.

About twenty minutes into the exam, my bladder was beginning to tell me that I needed to get to the toilet soon. If I rushed through the rest of the test, I could perhaps make it to the toilet in time and spare myself the indignity of having to let Lisa know about that failure.

But if my rushed answers weren't accurate enough, by the time the grade came around in January, I could be due for a spanking or worse from Mom, depending on exactly how bad the grade was on the test.

I stopped rushing through the test, though I still attempted to answer every question as quickly as I could while making sure I wasn't forgetting anything important in my answers. There was still the chance that I could shave off ten, maybe even fifteen minutes from the class period while still getting an 'A' on the test. But would that be enough?

My bladder was telling me to write faster.

Then I came across a paragraph response question for a topic that I somehow had missed when I was making my review sheets earlier in the week. It was worth enough points that I needed to at least get partial credit or risk a lower grade than Mom wanted from me.

It just wasn't my day. I simply couldn't concentrate on both holding my bladder in and trying to recall what Mr. Higgins had taught us about the topic two weeks ago. Something had to give. And like usual, it was my bladder.

I spent the next twenty minutes answering the question as thoroughly as I could. I didn't think I would get full points on it, but I had done well enough to get an 'A' on the test. My predictions on my grades were rarely wrong.

Lisa, Samantha, and Desi had all finished their tests before me, which was a rarity, so I headed to the nearest restroom on my own before settling in a handicapped stall to change.

There was a massive problem when I opened up my backpack. I was all out of pull-ups.

I checked my phone. I only had twelve minutes to go before I would need to get on the bus.

I frantically texted Lisa to come meet me in the restroom, letting her know which one I was in. Mom would go haywire if she had to come and pick me up from school.

This was my fourth accident of the day, and I was all out of pull-ups. I hadn't considered a scenario where the three pull-ups I had brought with me wouldn't be sufficient to last until I had gotten back home.

I couldn't bring myself to say that I needed pull-ups in the text message to Lisa, but I think I made it clear what type of assistance I needed from her.

The expense of the pull-ups I was purchasing was beginning to weigh on me. I had managed to sell Samantha the Amazon gift card I'd received in the Halloween contest. She thankfully had been willing to pay me an equivalent amount of cash for it. Mom often gave me some cash along with my Christmas presents, but even if that gift came through as expected, I was going to be out of funds to purchase any more pull-ups for myself in several months.

And that was assuming I could go most days with only needing one pull-up. With the new training routine Lisa was following during the day at school, I was lucky if I got away with just one accident.

Each time I had to go to the restroom to change into a fresh pull-up shortened the number of days I had left to get potty trained.

A summer job would fix that problem, but I'd be out of pull-ups well before then, and, besides, I didn't even want to think of a scenario where my incontinence hadn't been solved by then.

It was another one of my problems that I couldn't bring up with my friends. They all assumed Mom was purchasing my pull-ups, and there was no way to explain otherwise without raising further questions.

Lisa arrived in the stall next to mine three minutes later. The restroom was empty except for us, but I kept my voice to a whisper nonetheless.

"I'm out of pull-ups. Do you have an extra I can borrow?"

"Sure, but it needs to be dry when you give it back."

"Haha, very funny. Can you hurry? I need to run to catch the bus."

Lisa handed me a thick, black pull-up from beneath the toilet stall wall. It was a good thing I was wearing a dress.

[CDfm]

Wonderful new chapter.  I just see things continuing to get harder and harder for Sarah.  I don’t see how she can continue to hide this problem from her mom.  In doing so she is only making things worse on herself by continuing the deception.  I have a pretty strong suspicion that mom is going to discover what she has been doing and like has been pointed out many times during the story,  it’s much better if mom finds out from her first.  She will probably be disciplined but it will be worse if she continues to try and hide it. I believe her mom loved her and will do everything she can to help her and protect her. 
I will be looking forward to reading more. 

[Night Rain]

Sometime over Christmas break everything will fall apart.