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

[spark]

12 minutes ago, AdultInnocence said:

If she had rational thought, that comment of my mom is holding me hostage and treating me like a baby would be plausible. She feels though as if she deserves this punishment. I do think Lisa being through some things herself will see through the BS. It isn't a right away thing for intervention though. I only hope the tears Lisa had was in realization her friend is experiencing her own version of what Lisa did.

Are you familiar with Colleen Stan?  She was held in a box and brainwashed for six years.  At one point during the 6 years, she was allowed to visit family but was so afraid to tell them what was going on.  The spell was broken when the kidnapper's wife (who should've gone to prison as well) told her that her husband's secret organization was a lie.

Right up until the first time that Sarah was infantilized by her mother, the mother could defend her action as being a Tiger Mom.  Basically- a case couldn't be brought against Mom for her methods.  Even up to the Black Friday Episode- mom's methods would be questioned, but not necessarily prosecuted.  She would go to jail for this, and there isn't a defense for her actions.   Basically- Sarah was managing her incontinence issues independently, but her mom decided to punish her for lying about something that she would have punished her for.  For that infraction, it was extreme emotional abuse to the effect of forced baby talk and inappropriate food.  Sadly there are far worse cases of child abuse (no cages, no burns, and Sarah is fed), but it's really bad.

 

[Allman90]

8 hours ago, spark said:

Right up until the first time that Sarah was infantilized by her mother, the mother could defend her action as being a Tiger Mom.  Basically- a case couldn't be brought against Mom for her methods.  Even up to the Black Friday Episode- mom's methods would be questioned, but not necessarily prosecuted.  She would go to jail for this, and there isn't a defense for her actions.   Basically- Sarah was managing her incontinence issues independently, but her mom decided to punish her for lying about something that she would have punished her for.  For that infraction, it was extreme emotional abuse to the effect of forced baby talk and inappropriate food.  Sadly there are far worse cases of child abuse (no cages, no burns, and Sarah is fed), but it's really bad.

What case? By who?

 

No one knows what's going on and no one even has any evidence of what is actually happening even if they did know it was happening at all. 

 

Most of what has been done is easily deniable or could be twisted into something else. Currently, only Sarah's own testimony could be held against her mother. Sarah herself doesnt even have it in her to say something to a friend, and not once in the entire story has she thought or mentioned courts or police or social workers. 

And all tgat is assuming we'd be dealing with competence. Do you know how many child abuse cases went on for years because social workers, police, and courts just shrugged and looked away for some reason or another? I dont know the number, but its sadly a lot. 

 

Something drastic needs to happen. I dont know if I'd count on Lisa since its not clear she has any idea what's going on or what it has to do with. 

 

Unfortunately only thing i can think of is it all unravels when she goes back to school and someone might notice something unusual. 

[spark]

18 minutes ago, Allman90 said:

What case? By who?

 

No one knows what's going on and no one even has any evidence of what is actually happening even if they did know it was happening at all. 

I apologize if it wasn't clear that I was basing that speculation on the hypothetical notion that the abuse gets exposed to the public.

[Allman90]

36 minutes ago, spark said:

I apologize if it wasn't clear that I was basing that speculation on the hypothetical notion that the abuse gets exposed to the public.

Oh yeah, oops.

 

You're right, that would probably do it. Nothing like the cell phone camera crowd to expose something like that. Sarah would hate it, but if its the only way....

[MinnesotaWriter]

Chapter 58: Nightmare on Christmas

I always had trouble sleeping the night before Christmas.

In previous years, the anticipation of what might be waiting for me underneath the tree kept me up all night. I'd lay in bed for hours, unable to sleep until after midnight. Then I'd wake up a few hours later, looking eagerly at the alarm clock to find out it was only four in the morning.

In the days leading up to Christmas, when Mom wasn't looking, I would grab each of the presents she had labeled for me, weighing them carefully in my hands while gently shaking them to guess what might be inside. The theories about what those present might be had me eagerly expecting the arrival of morning.

Even if new video games or electronics were waiting for me under the tree this morning, I'd be grounded from playing with them. They would be confiscated and hidden away in Mom's bedroom as soon as I'd finished taking all the wrapping paper off.

If I was lucky, after about a half-hour of tossing and turning in bed, I'd be able to get back to sleep, hopefully until just before it was time to get up and open presents.

Mom had a strict rule on Christmas mornings. We weren't to wake her up until 8 a.m., and we couldn't go to where the presents were waiting under the living room tree until she was ready to do so.

As I lay in the crib this Christmas Eve, with the alarm clock finally showing that it was past midnight, I wasn't close to falling asleep. It wasn't for any of the usual reasons.

Mom had not let my punishment relent in the three days between the shopping trip to the mall and Christmas Eve.

I had never received this severe punishment from Mom before. Sure, I hadn't ever lied to her over such a long period, but even then, couldn't she see she had more than made her point? No matter how poorly my toilet training went after this punishment was over, I had no desire whatsoever to be not entirely truthful with Mom about my progress or lack thereof.

In the meantime, my efforts to work on potty training had fallen entirely by the wayside. I was no longer even attempting to hold my bladder in as long as I could. When the need to pee arrived, I simply went right then and there in my diaper.

Not that I didn't still want to be at least partially toilet trained, but working on it before I was back in pull-ups was simply pointless.

Every day, Mom continued to insinuate that I must either somehow like being a baby or that my problem was that I was simply too lazy to go to the toilet. It took all of my self-control not to argue back and not to demand that punishment end and that I be given a chance to prove her wrong.

But even if that opportunity came, what chance did I have of succeeding?

I rolled over in the crib until my head was in the one corner where I could just barely make out the alarm clock. Twenty-four minutes after midnight. Still, nearly eight hours to go. After more than a week of sleeping in the crib every night, I'd finally found a position that didn't leave me feeling completely aching the following day when Mom finally let me out.

Tonight, I wasn't stuck with only a t-shirt that would barely cover my diaper. The same as every year, Mom had given me a new set of pajamas on Christmas Eve.

Christmas was Mom's day. As soon as it was over, she spent the next 364 days preparing for the next one. That meant certain traditions simply had to be followed.

The first was pajamas. That was the one and only present I was allowed to open on Christmas Eve. Mom always had a matching set of pajamas for her and me. And, when Emilia came along, she also joined that tradition.

Last night was no different. Before getting ready for bed, Mom had my sister and I join her in the living room. She handed each of us a box covered in candy cane wrapping paper and took a nearly identical box for herself. I didn't have to guess to know what was inside.

This year, it was a light blue pajama set with pants and a shirt with snowman designs scattered across them.

The pants must have been ordered before my punishment had begun. They would have been mostly fine had I been wearing regular underwear, even if they were a bit low-rise. Not only did the diaper prevent the pajama pants from going up as high on my waist, but they stuck on well about the waistband of the pants.

The shirt that came with the pajama set had a similar issue. It didn't quite reach my pants, leaving a large gap where the diaper was obviously showing.

Other than that, the pajamas were incredibly comfortable and soft to the touch, so they had that going for them, at least.

I clenched my mouth shut to stifle a yawn. Didn't want to wake Emilia up. Even with my body finally beginning to physically express that it was time for me to shut my eyes and attempt to sleep, I resisted the urge to do so.

I wasn't looking forward to Christmas morning. Barring some sort of Christmas miracle, it appeared that my babying would continue at least through tomorrow. Knowing Mom, it probably was going through the end of Christmas break.

But did I want school to start up again? I'd spent the last three days replaying those brief moments with Lisa at the mall over and over again. Each time, I tried to think of what I could have done differently. Each time, I came away with the conclusion that I had done what was necessary.

I couldn't bear the idea of my friends finding out how deep my incontinence issues went and the punishment I was receiving for covering it up from Mom. I couldn't have Mom knowing about Lisa's incontinence either. I'm sure Mom would view her as a bad influence, someone I wouldn't be allowed to hang out with anymore, especially if she viewed Samantha and Desi as being co-conspirators in the effort to keep my incontinence hidden.

And that was the worst of it. I'd ended up isolated anyway, and Mom had nothing directly to do with it.

I hadn't yet figured out how I would explain everything to my friends when school started back up in a little over a week. I had nothing but time, considering how boring it was to sit around in a diaper and be a baby all day long.

And I very much had been bored out of my mind the past few days. It had actually been a relief when Emilia had finally acted on the big sister authority Mom had given her for my punishment and had demanded that I play house with her.

I hadn't even minded pretending to eat the toy food or doing the silly chores she assigned to me. I was just glad to be doing something, anything different from the routine I'd gotten stuck in.

My mouth opened with a wide but quiet yawn. This time, the reality of sleep felt more tangible, and I drifted off to sleep.

I woke up twice in the middle of the night. Once because I needed to pee and a second time because I'd dreamed that all of my presents had been nothing more than packages of additional diapers.

The next time I woke up, it was nearly time for Christmas morning.

---

Emilia was still sound asleep when I woke up a few minutes before 8 a.m.

She was young enough that Christmas was still an abstract concept. Give it another year or two, and she'd be experiencing the same sleepless nights that I had.

The sound of water running in the sink told me that Mom was already up and getting ready for the morning.

Some specific rules had to be followed when it came time to open presents, aside from needing to wait for Mom to be ready.

The first was that the stockings came before any of the presents. Emilia and I both had one with our name on it. Once we had gone through our stockings and perhaps snacked on some of the candy in them, we were to take turns opening our presents.

That would be followed by breakfast, which was always cinnamon rolls. Then, after the presents, there was a marathon of Christmas movies to watch. In other years, I would slip off to play video games on my computer. That wasn't an option with how I was grounded. I think Mom was more likely to make an exception to my rules to force me to watch a bunch of Hallmark movies with her than allow me to play video games.

The second rule was that we had to take turns opening presents. Emilia would go first, then me, and then Mom, though her pile was much smaller than ours.

I realized belatedly that I had gotten no gifts for Mom or my sister this year. To be fair to myself, there was a lot I had been dealing with the past two months. I had been planning on getting gifts the week leading up to Christmas, plans which had been completely derailed by being forced to live as a baby.

I shielded my eyes with my forearm as Mom opened the bedroom door and flipped on the light. What was a rude awakening for me was entirely ignored by Emilia, who remained sound asleep, buried beneath her covers.

Mom went to get my sister out of bed first.

"Time to go to the potty," Mom said to the still bleary-eyed three-year-old girl. "But stay in the hallway. You can't go to the Christmas tree till we're all ready."

I could feel how soaked my diaper already was as I lay on my back in the crib. My eyes had gradually adjusted to the light, and I no longer needed to cover them with my arm.

My diaper squished beneath me as I rolled onto my back. Why did the idea of being put into a clean, dry diaper have to sound so good?

But a diaper change wasn't in Mom's plans for the first stage of Christmas morning. I knew better than to say that I needed one. Babies didn't get to choose when their diapers were changed.

Instead, the only thing I got from Mom was a pacifier that she placed firmly in my mouth, along with a look that told me she expected the pacifier to remain in until she said otherwise.

Mom opened the gate to the crib, and I followed her out into the hallway. Emilia was squirming in the corner of the hallway. She was technically obeying Mom's instructions not to go around the corner into the living room. Still, she pushed that limit as much as possible. With how squirming she was, I would have thought she was doing a potty dance if not for the fact that Mom had sent her off to use the toilet only a few minutes ago.

Emilia ran ahead eagerly into the living room. Had it been a typical Christmas, I might also have found it hard to show any restraint. Instead, I trailed a few steps behind Mom.

As we entered the living room, A video camera was sitting on a stand in the far corner, pointing directly at the Christmas tree. I made eye contact directly with it, nearly spitting the pacifier out of my mouth.

---

The video camera was one Christmas tradition I had completely forgotten about.

I turned away from the camera, but the damage was already done. For the rest of my life, every time Mom replayed this Christmas tape, there would be stark evidence of this period in my life.

Mom loved to replay her Christmas tapes. She'd get them out at random times of the year to watch in the evening. I didn't understand what she got out of it, but every present I'd ever opened was preserved on camera for posterity.

For my fifteenth Christmas, every video of me opening a present would show off the unmistakable waistband of my diaper. As if seeing those few inches of plastic wouldn't be enough, the pajamas fit tightly against the diaper, exposing the bulky outline around my crotch and bottom, an outline that was even more obvious because of how soaked the diaper was. I also doubted that Mom would let me remove the pacifier, though that was a much lesser indignity than what I had on beneath my pants.

Emilia and I had a stocking with our name sewn on the top. Mine had a snowman on it, while hers had a bunch of reindeer.

Emilia grabbed her stocking and held it upside down, shaking out the contents into a scattered pile on the carpet in front of her.

On a typical Christmas, a stocking would include lots of candy, snacks, socks, lipstick, or other assorted odds and ends.

I gasped in dismay when I saw what had spilled out of my stocking and onto the floor.

A couple of pacifiers, two baby bottles, a sippy cup. Some tins of Playdough, a beanie baby. Large crayons. Some small glass jars of baby food. Rubber safety spoons and forks.

"This year, you are getting presents that are more appropriate for how you have been behaving," Mom said.

My heart sank at that announcement. I glanced over at the presents under the tree that bore my name on them, tears beginning to form in my eyes. What else did Mom have in store for me?

What made that worse was that I would have to open those presents with the camera rolling.

Even my little sister's stocking contents were more mature than mine. I looked over to where Emilia was seated to my right. She unwrapped a chocolate kiss and popped it into her mouth for a pre-Christmas snack. She did it right in front of Mom and didn't even get even a gentle rebuke for it.

Completely unfair. Mom never let me eat any candy before breakfast, even if it was Christmas morning.

My diaper suddenly no longer felt cold. The sudden warmth seemed to invalidate all the complaints running through my mind about how I was being treated this morning. I was a baby who couldn't help peeing herself.

"Let's try out one of your new pacifiers." Mom grabbed a bumble bee pacifier from the pile in front of my empty stocking, pulling it out of its plastic cover. She popped my current pacifier out of my mouth. "Buzz. Buzz." I held my mouth open as she inserted the bumblebee one.

I kept thinking that there wasn't any way that this morning could get worse, but I had a nagging feeling in the back of my head that I would not enjoy what was inside my presents.

---

I had hoped Mom would change my diaper before putting me in the highchair for breakfast, but I should have known better. It was common for her to change me after the first feeding of the morning.

My cinnamon roll had been cut into a bunch of tiny pieces. They were set in a pile on my kiddie plate with white frosting drizzled across. To the side were some banana slices. Mom had taken one of the sippy cups from my stocking and filled it with iced coffee.

I had to admit that it was a much better breakfast than I had gotten this Christmas break. Not an open jar of baby food in sight.

But I was still outfitted with a bib around my neck, and with no utensils, I was forced to eat a messy meal with my fingers again.

Despite my attempts to clean my fingers off on the bib, my hands were incredibly sticky by the time that breakfast was over. Mom wiped my hands with a wet cloth before allowing me to exit the highchair and follow her to the bedroom.

It was about time. Even with how my new pajama pants had a tight fit, my diaper was sagging badly as I walked beside Mom in the hallway.

Mom had sent Emilia on ahead to use the bathroom. I suspected Mom would be extra careful with reminding my younger sister to go to the toilet today, given how many more descriptions there would be for her on Christmas Day.

It would have been quicker if I could have taken my pajama pants off myself before lying down on the bed for the diaper change. But I wasn't allowed to have any part in dressing myself. Rules were rules, and Mom followed the ones she had set for me, even if it meant inconveniencing herself.

It was a rare pacifier-free moment. Mom hadn't given me another one after taking away the bumblebee pacifier before breakfast.

Outside of that one outing to the mall, I hadn't been allowed a single non-baby moment for over a week. Everything Mom said to me was baby talk or a pointed reminder of my babified condition.

Mom struggled for a minute to tug off my pajama pants. They really were a size too small. They didn't fit on a dry diaper, which was even worse with a soaked one.

"These didn't fit you that well anyway," Mom said. She rolled the pajama pants up and tossed them toward my laundry bin. The under thrown pants landed on a heap in front of the basket.

That was fine with me. Could do with an outfit that at least covered my diaper most of the time. I wouldn't be upset if Mom put me in a skirt or a dress.

The cold morning air felt good on my bottom as Mom removed my wet diaper. I didn't shiver as the wet wipes made contact with my bottom. Another aspect of being a baby that I was getting accustomed to.

I tried not to think about what the rest of the morning would be like. I dreaded going back into the living room to open presents in front of the camera.

But did it really matter that much? It wasn't as if Mom didn't already have video of me sucking on a pacifier with the top of the diaper sticking out of my pants. Another few minutes of me being on camera wouldn't change anything.

"Upsie!" Mom said as soon as she had finished taping the clean diaper around my waist. She took hold of my hands and pulled me forward off the bed and onto my feet.

Mom typically dressed me while I was lying down. Sometimes, she would put clothes on me while I was standing. But she had retrieved nothing from my dresser or closet and was headed toward the hallway instead.

I guessed what she had in mind. "But Mom!" The complaint left my lips before I realized I still couldn't talk like a big girl at home.

No sooner had I raised my voice at her than Mom had slapped her hand across my face.

The stinging pain on my face shocked me into silence. Mom firmly grabbed hold of my left hand and tugged me out of the bedroom and into the hallway.

I followed behind her. One hand held firmly in Mom's grip, the other held in front of my diaper in a feeble attempt to cover it up.

Emilia was already sitting eagerly in front of her pile of presents when we entered the living room. I sat on the floor in front of a pile with my name labeled.

In line with tradition, Emilia went first. She started with the biggest of her presents, a box that was nearly as large as she was.

I squirmed as Emilia tore off the wrapping paper. No. Not now. I could feel a churning beginning in my bowels. Mom had made it clear from the start that the toilet being one hundred percent off limit meant it was one hundred percent off limit, so I had messed myself nearly once a day since the punishment started. But if I could just hold off on doing so until we finished opening presents.

Emilia finished opening her first gift. It was a massive playhouse for her miniature plastic dolls.

I reluctantly picked up one of the presents in front of me and sat it on my lap.

"Not yet," Mom said. She leaped up from the couch and went to stand behind the video camera. She readjusted it so that the camera was pointing directly at me.

My hands shook as I slowly undid the wrapping paper on the box. I could have ripped it open much faster, but I wanted to avoid learning what would be inside. I tried to hold the box out in front of me in a way that shielded my diaper from view from the camera, but it was hard to know if that was working.

At last, I had enough of the wrapping paper off to see what was underneath. It was one of the plastic boxes with holes cut for different pieces. A circle, square, triangle, rectangle. Mom hadn't even purchased any new baby toys for me. I recognized this from when Emilia was playing with it to learn her shapes a couple of years ago.

Then I felt another lurch in my bowels. I wasn't able to prevent myself from squirming.

"Tell mommy what you got."

"A puzzle."

"That's right.

Mom opened a present that supposedly was from my sister, though I knew it was just something Mom had picked out for herself. It was a box of new Christmas-themed cookie cutters.

Emilia was back up. And continuing with the theme from earlier, she picked the biggest of her remaining presents.

I tried to focus on watching her open her gift. Still, the discomfort was becoming too great as the squirming continued to increase.

I saw the look on Mom's face from the corner of my eye. She knew. She knew exactly what I was trying to prevent myself from doing. It was all that iced coffee I had with breakfast. I knew how that was likely to cause me to need to poop in the morning.

It wasn't as if the urge to defecate was that immediate. Under any normal circumstances, there wouldn't have been any question whether I could have made it to the toilet in time.

If one aspect of Mom's punishment was the most humiliating, it was this.

I could accept peeing in a diaper because, deep down, I knew I wasn't toilet trained anymore. Even being treated as a baby, with the pacifiers, bibs, bottles, and diaper changes, was a punishment I understood. It was no different from what Emilia had received, and the punishment's scope matched how long I had been deceiving Mom.

But despite all my issues over the past four months, I had never once messed my pants on accident. I'd only done so in a diaper because I'd been given no alternative.

A bit of gas escaped as a loud fart.

Emilia giggled and then placed both hands over her nose. "Eww!"

Far from relieving the pressure in my bowels, the fart appeared to have cleared the way for everything else to come out. The countdown before I would uncontrollably mess myself could likely now be measured in seconds rather than minutes.

I was sitting on my knees. At the last moment, I lifted my butt off of the ground and groaned as I felt shit smear across my bottom as the mess filled my diaper.

"Mommy, Sarah made a poopie!"

I forced myself to look up at Mom. Pleading with my eyes for her to please take me back to the bedroom for a diaper change before resuming with the present opening.

"Your turn to open up a present." Mom reached into my pile and handed me a soft package wrapped in green and red striped wrapping paper. "Let's do this one next."

I wrinkled my nose as Mom returned to the video camera and readjusted it to be pointed directly at me again.

I spread my feet apart so that my bottom wasn't touching anything when I sat back down. I still had four more presents to open, including the one currently in my hands.

I unwrapped this next present much faster than my first one, now that I was feeling a sense of urgency to get my diaper changed. It was another example of re-gifting by Mom. A pair of strap-on butterfly wings, leftover from a fair phase Emilia had been when she was two years old.

"Now you can play dress-up with your sister," Mom said.

I sighed and forced a smile on my face as I held my gift up for the camera. At least it wasn't as bad as the puzzle blocks. I wondered if there were some age-appropriate presents Mom had purchased that I would get later.

"Let's try those on to see if they fit." I obliged and slid my arms through the bands that held the glittery pink wings in place on my back.

"So cute," Mom said. "Stand up and give me a twirl."

I froze in place. I didn't need to look in a mirror to imagine what the backside of my diaper must look like right now.

Mom asked again, in the same cheery voice. But from behind the camera, she was glowering, and I knew right away that if I didn't obey, if I were to mess up her Christmas, the consequences would be severe.

I stood up, looking in the general direction of the camera, but I couldn't bring myself to look directly at it or Mom.

"Do a twirl. Let's see how it looks on you."

I obeyed, spinning in a circle as fast as I could. Knowing full well the camera had captured a clear image of my messy diaper.

Worst Christmas ever.

[BabySofia]

The only thing I can say of this is that mom has given prosecutors a clear cut piece of evidence to lock this psycho witch behind bars where she belongs... Poor girl.

[Night Rain]

Talk about the worst christmas ever indeed. I'm surprised that no such thoughts of running away have ever crossed Sarah's mind. I wonder what sort of weird horrible stuff the mom has planned for Sarah on New Years.

[WehavePi314]

4 hours ago, BabySofia said:

The only thing I can say of this is that mom has given prosecutors a clear cut piece of evidence to lock this psycho witch behind bars where she belongs... Poor girl.

And she doesn’t even have to blink “torture” in Morse code to get the point across.   Though I wouldn’t fault the kid if she did.

[spark]

2 hours ago, WehavePi314 said:

And she doesn’t even have to blink “torture” in Morse code to get the point across.   Though I wouldn’t fault the kid if she did.

Mom has crossed the line from being narcissistic to just outright cruel.   She is a bitch!, and click the link the see just how much I feel about her (the name is different, but you'll get the idea).

 

I've written caregiver characters that utilize similar baby treatment, but they aren't cruel, they are misguided and crazy.   They treat the character no different than you would if they were three.   Mom is treating Sarah like she is three and hates her.  FTR- slapping is a sign that mom isn't controlling her emotions.   You might spank a child out of discipline, but you don't slap them- that is the same thing as punching them.

I believe we've got 5 more chapters, and I can see this ending at any point.  FTR- Christmas didn't push the plot forward anymore.  Mom was bitch before and she is a mega bitch now.  IMO- Mom is pushing Sarah past the point where Sarah decides she has nothing left to lose.

@MinnesotaWriter  I trust that you'll finish this, and the ending won't suck (no pressure, but pressure).   You've done something that nobody has ever done in DD.  FTR- you're stories are very good, but this one is special

[Kahlez]

So we are at the point where Sarah will have enough or totally give up. She already believes that this "punishment" is justified since her mom did it to her sister too. Even if you haven´t written anything about her mother´s past I think her obsession with Christmas must have something to do with her own childhood. So I am a bit scarred for Sarah if she really messed up this for her mother, given how submissive and accepting of this all she is by now.

[erik_hamburg]

@MinnesotaWriter, you have managed to create a very unique piece of art. It is one of the few stories that makes me sad and angry at the same time, that I actually had to pause reading because I was so mad, and still manages to be one of my favourite stories. It is a fantastic piece of work that I hope you will bring to a proper conclusion. Please keep up the good work and I am really looking forward to seeing how it all ends.

[MinnesotaWriter]

19 hours ago, BabySofia said:

The only thing I can say of this is that mom has given prosecutors a clear cut piece of evidence to lock this psycho witch behind bars where she belongs... Poor girl.

We'll have to see what happens with the video.

18 hours ago, Night Rain said:

Talk about the worst christmas ever indeed. I'm surprised that no such thoughts of running away have ever crossed Sarah's mind. I wonder what sort of weird horrible stuff the mom has planned for Sarah on New Years.

I think it is one of those frogs in a slowly boiling pot of water situation for Sarah. Her mom has slowly taken more and more control as Sarah's bladder situation and attempts to hide it have gotten worse. If this treatment by mom had happened immediately after the first accident mom caught Sarah having, her reaction might have been different.

14 hours ago, WehavePi314 said:

And she doesn’t even have to blink “torture” in Morse code to get the point across.   Though I wouldn’t fault the kid if she did.

We'll have to see what comes of the video. 

11 hours ago, spark said:

Mom has crossed the line from being narcissistic to just outright cruel.   She is a bitch!, and click the link the see just how much I feel about her (the name is different, but you'll get the idea).

 

I've written caregiver characters that utilize similar baby treatment, but they aren't cruel, they are misguided and crazy.   They treat the character no different than you would if they were three.   Mom is treating Sarah like she is three and hates her.  FTR- slapping is a sign that mom isn't controlling her emotions.   You might spank a child out of discipline, but you don't slap them- that is the same thing as punching them.

I believe we've got 5 more chapters, and I can see this ending at any point.  FTR- Christmas didn't push the plot forward anymore.  Mom was bitch before and she is a mega bitch now.  IMO- Mom is pushing Sarah past the point where Sarah decides she has nothing left to lose.

@MinnesotaWriter  I trust that you'll finish this, and the ending won't suck (no pressure, but pressure).   You've done something that nobody has ever done in DD.  FTR- you're stories are very good, but this one is special

I'm still very happy with how this story ends. And very eager to get it published. The next chapter should be out on Thursday.

4 hours ago, Kahlez said:

So we are at the point where Sarah will have enough or totally give up. She already believes that this "punishment" is justified since her mom did it to her sister too. Even if you haven´t written anything about her mother´s past I think her obsession with Christmas must have something to do with her own childhood. So I am a bit scarred for Sarah if she really messed up this for her mother, given how submissive and accepting of this all she is by now.

The long-term implications of this for Sarah are something that we will get into before this is all finished.

3 hours ago, erik_hamburg said:

@MinnesotaWriter, you have managed to create a very unique piece of art. It is one of the few stories that makes me sad and angry at the same time, that I actually had to pause reading because I was so mad, and still manages to be one of my favourite stories. It is a fantastic piece of work that I hope you will bring to a proper conclusion. Please keep up the good work and I am really looking forward to seeing how it all ends.

Thanks! I'm glad you are enjoying it. We're building up slowly but surely to the conclusion. 

[kerry]

I just want to echo resoundingly everything said above. What is happening to Sarah is every bit as bad in its own way as what happened to Lisa before she ended up in her current living arrangement, and I certainly hope that her mother receives a severe legal punishment when it comes out. Sarah is totally innocent here despite her mother's gaslighting lunacy. Her home life is so bad that she not only believes herself partially responsible for all of this, but she seems to have utterly forgotten the dramatic cheerleading fall the undoubtedly caused it to happen in the first place. Please don't do anything in the remaining chapters to exonerate or even mitigate her mother's actions. I think many most of us have been waiting since the beginning for her comeuppance, and your inclusion of Lisa in this story serves as a clue that you have been keenly aware from the start that this woman is a demon.

[spark]

17 minutes ago, kerry said:

I just want to echo resoundingly everything said above. What is happening to Sarah is every bit as bad in its own way as what happened to Lisa before she ended up in her current living arrangement, and I certainly hope that her mother receives a severe legal punishment when it comes out. Sarah is totally innocent here despite her mother's gaslighting lunacy. Her home life is so bad that she not only believes herself partially responsible for all of this, but she seems to have utterly forgotten the dramatic cheerleading fall the undoubtedly caused it to happen in the first place. Please don't do anything in the remaining chapters to exonerate or even mitigate her mother's actions. I think many most of us have been waiting since the beginning for her comeuppance, and your inclusion of Lisa in this story serves as a clue that you have been keenly aware from the start that this woman is a demon.

@MinnesotaWriter started this story back in March of 2020.   It was a kind of notorious period in everybody's life, and there wasn't much good that came out of that time.  This story is one of the few good things that came from.   I'll just speak for myself, but I've been waiting since that first chapter for Mom to get her comeuppance.   The mom was cruel to Emilia when she was struggling with potty training, and has been far worse to Sarah.   

[AdultInnocence]

I can echo what a lot have already said but it's been said. One thing that I did think about after the previous chapter that had me thinking, her mom knew exactly what real food would do after all the baby food. now today the iced coffee before opening gifts on camera. Her mom knows exactly what she is doing and is being very meticulous about out. It isn't obvious scenarios where Sarah's mom has set her up to fail, but those are a couple small ones where Sarah was going to have no choice but be humiliated.

[Kahlez]

12 hours ago, AdultInnocence said:

I can echo what a lot have already said but it's been said. One thing that I did think about after the previous chapter that had me thinking, her mom knew exactly what real food would do after all the baby food. now today the iced coffee before opening gifts on camera. Her mom knows exactly what she is doing and is being very meticulous about out. It isn't obvious scenarios where Sarah's mom has set her up to fail, but those are a couple small ones where Sarah was going to have no choice but be humiliated.

True and based on true cases I investigated there is a possibility that her mother is actually not evil as every one believes and could need some professional help herself. Let me explain if Sarah mother like I think also was abused in a similar way maybe even for also having toilet training issues it could fit the profile. Assuming she was treated the same way with similar punishment (where humiliation was part of it), she maybe truly believes she is helping her daughter to get over it. Sadly abuse can turn into a circle and it can easily happen that a abuse victim turns into a abuser without even knowing. Of course regardless Sarah needs help but this could be one of those tragic grey cases where everyone of those involved are just victims in the end. Also her mother could be pure evil without more information it is impossible to say. The most sad thing about that situation for me is if that would be a real case, I would see it as one of the better ones. Given that her mother is not too bad to her compared to things I saw.

[spark]

4 hours ago, Kahlez said:

True and based on true cases I investigated there is a possibility that her mother is actually not evil as every one believes and could need some professional help herself. Let me explain if Sarah mother like I think also was abused in a similar way maybe even for also having toilet training issues it could fit the profile. Assuming she was treated the same way with similar punishment (where humiliation was part of it), she maybe truly believes she is helping her daughter to get over it. Sadly abuse can turn into a circle and it can easily happen that a abuse victim turns into a abuser without even knowing. Of course regardless Sarah needs help but this could be one of those tragic grey cases where everyone of those involved are just victims in the end. Also her mother could be pure evil without more information it is impossible to say. The most sad thing about that situation for me is if that would be a real case, I would see it as one of the better ones. Given that her mother is not too bad to her compared to things I saw.

The portrayal of abuse in this story is awful, but  they are far worse cases of abuse that happen all the time.   The Turpin case is one of the most notorious, but there was a recent case where the parents locked their child up in a dog crate.  There are also cases where parents starve their children as well has horrific abuses.  

I think at the beginning, Sarah knew her mom was strict, but seemed to buy into the idea that it was helping to shape her into a successful person.  When she was spanked for a bad grade, and her lesson was "I need to do better."   At some point it crossed over, and Sarah realized that it is not helping her.  I think that was the first attempts of potty training.

The way that Sarah's monologue is now, she is telling herself that she deserves this, which might be a survival mechanism on her part, because she can't escape it.  I would think Sarah would go hard No-contact with her mother after escaping this.

[Kahlez]

32 minutes ago, spark said:

The way that Sarah's monologue is now, she is telling herself that she deserves this, which might be a survival mechanism on her part, because she can't escape it.  I would think Sarah would go hard No-contact with her mother after escaping this.

I hope because this could also easily turn into Sarah believing her mother is right and covering/defending her. Which could lead to even if someone would want to help they could never get enough evidence. Getting a search warrant can be really hard without the victim coming and telling the full story. Unless you get lucky and you see something in the open, which sadly is rare since long term abuser are usually smart enough to hide everything and teach their victims to hide it also.

[Lost Little Neppy]

On 12/31/2023 at 2:45 PM, BabySofia said:

The only thing I can say of this is that mom has given prosecutors a clear cut piece of evidence to lock this psycho witch behind bars where she belongs... Poor girl.

I was thinking the same thing. This is evidence of her abuse of Sarah, and she's sealed her own doom. Hopefully.

There's still a part of me that thinks Sarah's mom won't face repercussions for this, but I have a feeling Lisa's aunt and uncle will be the saviors of her and Emila.

[MinnesotaWriter]

Chapter 59: New Rules

The pyramid block went into the triangle hole. The cylinder block went into the circle hole. The cube went into the square hole.

Each plastic block landed with a clank in the plastic tin I was depositing them into. With all the blocks having been put through their proper holes, I flipped open the latch on the box and let them all tumble softly onto the carpet.

The repetitive task was mind-numbingly dull, but I would do anything to distract myself from the obnoxious characters in the TV show my little sister was watching. Life lessons thinly disguised behind a bunch of incessant blabbering. And those theme songs. I didn’t know if I’d ever be able to get them out of my head after this. What I would give to have a pair of headphones on right now.

But headphones were off-limits. Same with my phone, computer, and any item that wouldn’t be age appropriate for a baby. Today was New Year’s Eve, and I was still grounded. In this case, that meant literally, as I was no longer allowed to walk anywhere in the house.

I had thrown a bit of a tantrum the day after Christmas. I’d broken character and used my big girl words, asking Mom to let the punishment end. That had been a mistake. I knew better. Asking Mom to relent was only likely to make the punishment last longer.

After a spanking with a paddle on my bare bottom, I was given an additional rule to follow in being a baby. I would now need to crawl around the house.

I had considered myself fortunate that mom hadn’t implemented that as part of my punishment earlier in the week. With a wood floor in the majority of the home, my knees were constantly aching. I had tried to scoot around on my well-padded bottom on one occasion, but Mom had immediately put a stop to that. Something about how I was violating the spirit of her rules.

So this morning, like the past five mornings since Christmas, I had slid to the floor after mom after mom had finished changing my diaper and dressing me in leggings and a t-shirt, only to have to crawl all along the floor in a painful and painfully slow journey to the living room.

With all of my big girl items off limits, that left me to play with all the baby toys Mom had given me for Christmas. She’d repackaged a bunch of things that Emilia had outgrown. It wasn’t enjoyable, but it beat watching my sister’s shows or staring blankly off at the wall. I still didn’t know if any regular presents awaited me when this punishment was over. I hoped so, but, if that were the case, Mom hadn’t given any indication of that being her plan.

I was stuck in the living room. Mom didn’t let me go anywhere where I would be out of sight of either her or Emilia.

The only item I was allowed right now was my pacifier. But by allowed, that meant that Mom wouldn’t allow me to take the pacifier out until she had given me permission to do so. That, sadly, was a rule Emilia was also aware of. I had suffered the consequences of her tattling on me for taking the pacifier out on one occasion, so if there was any time when I would take it out of my mouth for a short break, I had to be sure that she was focused enough on her TV show that she wouldn’t turn around and catch me.

I’d lost track of how many times I’d fit the blocks back into their box. I’d been mindlessly repeating the task since Emilia had sat down to watch TV after breakfast. I wasn’t sure if we were on the third or fourth episode. I could do this in my sleep with my eyes closed. Considering that, it was surprising that these blocks hadn’t appeared in my dreams over the past week.

My dreams had lately become stranger than usual, which was a high bar to cross, considering some of the things my brain could come up with while I was fast asleep.

Most of them centered around me wearing diapers. In one, I watched in horror as Mom took a pair of scissors to all of my panties, chopping them up before tossing them in the trash bin. In another, I had been sitting in class at school, but only, instead of wearing jeans or even a dress as I had taken to lately, all I had on other than my hoodie was a diaper. I was forced to come to the front of the classroom to answer a question, but I had to do so with baby talk as my classmates sat in their seats and laughed.

Playing with the toys had left me with no time to do anything but think. New Year’s Day fell on a Monday. School was supposed to promptly resume on Tuesday. I hadn’t had a chance to finish any of the readings I was supposed to have done over Christmas break. I would have to hope I could wing it on any pop quizzes I might receive if Mom didn’t give me time for homework. But that would mean access to my computer, which I wouldn’t get until Mom determined I wasn’t grounded anymore.

It was New Year’s Eve. That reminded me. I was supposed to hang out at Lisa’s house this evening with Desi and Samantha for another sleepover. We had planned to stay up and watch the ball drop. For us, that meant 10 p.m. to watch the scene in Times Square. Yes, we would stay up to midnight and do our own countdown then, but the TV channels never did anything quite as exciting for our time zone. We talked about staying up till 1 a.m. to see what happened on the West Coast, but that would have to wait another year. I highly doubted that Mom would let me stay up so late tonight.

What would my friends be doing? Were they talking about me? Did they care? Had they moved on? What would happen on Tuesday morning when I stepped onto the bus with Samantha and Desi already in their seats?

The lights on the Christmas tree still flashed in the corner of my eye. The Christmas tree wasn’t coming down until the sixth of January, once the twelve days of Christmas were all over. What day was it anyway, today? Was it seven swans or six geese-a-laying? And who gave stupid presents like that, anyway? That would be even worse than receiving a bunch of second-hand baby toys.

I squirmed slightly in my cross-legged position on the floor. I had been needing to go number two for the past hour. I had held off the initial urge to poop, managing to suppress it for a while. With Mom down in the basement, it would not be easy to get her attention immediately to let her know I needed to be changed.

Asking Emilia to do that for me was a possible solution. Still, I couldn’t bear the thought of hearing her shrill voice from all the way in the basement, yelling at Mom to tell her that I had made a poopie in my diapie.

I would at least need to get to the top of the stairs to get Mom’s attention. I didn’t care for how it felt to crawl with a bunch of shit stuck to my bottom.

I pressed a hand against the front of my diaper, feeling how squishy it had become. Even without messing myself, the diaper was getting close to needing to be changed. I shifted enviously in my position on the floor, trying to find a way to sit down that would allow me to hold off on messing myself for a while longer.

The pounding sound of shoes on wooden stairs told me that Mom was coming up from the basement, where she had been doing a morning load of laundry.

I’d like to think that I could have waited another twenty minutes or so before the need to shit myself became too unbearable to resist. But with a diaper change in sight, I shifted my feet so that I was sitting on my knees. In that position, I was able to lift my butt up slightly. With the urgent need to go, I filled my diaper effortlessly. There was a slight delay before the smell reached my nostrils, which I attempted to wrinkle shut. There was a slightly more significant delay before the smell made it six feet across the room to where Emilia was seated closer to the TV.

My three-year-old sister turned around to look at me. “Diapie check!” She got up from her empty bowl of cereal and walked over to me.

I didn’t do anything to hide what had happened in my diaper. Mom had been extremely clear as to the fact that I should obey Emilia as long as my little sister’s requests weren’t contravening any of Mom’s rules.

I remained in the same position I had been in when I had messed the diaper. Nothing was worse than having to sit down in a messy diaper, so the longer I could keep my bottom off the ground, the better.

Emilia knew from her own experience what a diaper change entailed. She walked behind me and pulled the rear waistband of my diaper back. “Yucky!”

That was as appropriate a description as any for the current contents of my diaper. Emilia ran down the hallway, presumably to Mom’s bedroom, where she was likely folding laundry on her bed.

If there was one upside to being forced to behave like a baby the past two weeks, Mom hadn’t required me to do any of my typical chores. I hadn’t had to do a single load of my own laundry. That also meant no dishes to wash or bedroom to tidy up. At this point, any of those tasks, which I usually hated doing, seemed highly appealing. What I would give to be folding my own laundry rather than playing with these stupid blocks.

Mom arrived in the living room less than a minute after Emilia had run to fetch her. My little sister settled down in front of the TV without another glance in my direction. She had sometimes helped Mom with diaper changes, but never the messy ones.

“Uh oh.” Mom reverted to the sing-song voice she used when talking to me. “Did someone make a messy in her diapie?”

A silly question to ask. As if she couldn’t smell the contents of my diaper from where she was standing a few feet away. Nevertheless, Mom went through the whole song and dance of checking my diaper. First, by patting my bottom. Too firmly, in my opinion, as it caused the mess in my diaper to spread further against my skin.

But that wasn’t enough. She pulled back the rear waistband of my diaper, just like Emilia had done. “Yep, let’s get your stinky bottom all cleaned up.”

When it was just a wet diaper, Mom was willing to change me in the living room, laying the diaper mat on the floor to get me cleaned up. That wasn’t the case with messy diapers. I suspected she wanted to avoid dealing with having that lingering odor in the room.

Had I been a real baby, I, of course, would have been carried off to the bedroom to get changed. Mom had attempted to lift me up on one occasion but hadn’t been able to. That meant I was forced to crawl back to my bedroom. I had hoped to be given a short reprieve from my rules and be allowed to walk. Mom sometimes allowed for that, but I wasn’t granted that option today.

I was only allowed to stand when I got up from the floor and onto my bed. I still considered it my bed, even though Emilia had been sleeping in it for the past two weeks while I had been relegated to her old crib.

The changing pad was already on the bed when I crawled onto it. Wipes, baby powder, and bay lotion were set up to the side, along with a can of FeBreeze, to remove the smell from what was about to happen. Mom didn’t seem to have gotten a fresh diaper for me yet.

Mom pulled down the front of the diaper after untaping it. “Oh yes, someone really did make a big stinky, didn’t she?”

I tried to shut off my brain during diaper changes. Mom always gave detailed commentary about the condition of my diaper and how I was such a baby for going potty in it. My face burned in contrast to the cold wipes Mom was running along my bottom. I tried to steady my breathing. I had burst into tears on more than one occasion when Mom changed one of my messy diapers.

That only resulted in more babying from Mom, as she mock comforted me. I held the tears back this time, if only just barely.

With my bottom thoroughly cleaned, Mom rolled up the dirty diaper and disposed of it in the bin. I waited expectantly on the bed, ready for Mom to slide a clean diaper under my bottom.

“Does someone want to be a big girl again?”

My mouth dropped open, and the pacifier fell out. Mom didn’t reprimand me for that. Clearly, she expected an answer, but the question was so out of the blue that I was too shocked to respond.

“Well, do you want to go potty in the big girl potty rather than your pants?”

This time, I was ready to provide an enthusiastic response. “Wes!”

I couldn’t believe that it was finally happening. Before Christmas break, the thought of opening and wearing pull-ups around Mom had been highly humiliating. Now, it came as a welcome relief. I was perfectly OK with wearing pull-ups, even with all the things that came along with that, the constant checks, the potty alarm, not being able to cover up the pull-up so that Mom could always ascertain whether it was wet or dry.

Even the other rules that came with potty training seemed milder now. Two accidents in one day would mean a return to diapers for the next day, but even the threat of diapers for a day was nothing compared to what I had just gone through.

“The rules are going to be different this time.”

That was a bucket of ice-cold water dumped over my delight. What could that possibly mean?

“You get to go to the toilet every time Emilia chooses to go. If you can show that you are as potty trained as your little sister, I’ll believe you want to be a big girl again.”

[BabySofia]

15 minutes ago, MinnesotaWriter said:

You get to go to the toilet every time Emilia chooses to go. If you can show that you are as potty trained as your little sister, I’ll believe you want to be a big girl again

Thank God for school... that seems to be the only thing to keep her psycho mother in check. I think she realized that her daughter will be expected back...? Unfortunately there is no way for her to live up to that end of the bargain, her only hope is number 2s go in there. I really hope someone figures out how much harm this girl is suffering soon...

[Kahlez]

33 minutes ago, MinnesotaWriter said:

“You get to go to the toilet every time Emilia chooses to go. If you can show that you are as potty trained as your little sister, I’ll believe you want to be a big girl again.”

Yeah no chance and that is probably the reason why this rule even exist. At least she should still be able to hold her poop long enough but something tells me that her "potty training" will end when Sarah keeps peeing in her diapers. 

[spark]

I know that Emilia is still young, but she is old enough to remember what her mom did to her.   Her being such a willing participant to mom's abuse would be hard for Sarah to overlook.   Emilia also needs to be prompted to use the potty occasionally, so that will be interesting.

Every new rule Mom makes is progressively crueler than the other ones.  Crawling on hardwood floors is painful because there is a lot of weight on her knees.   I don't know what forced baby talk for two weeks would do to a person mentally, but it can't be good.  Sarah will need some therapy once this is over.

[kerry]

This girl really needs to report her mother to someone. Maybe Lisa's uncle?

[MinnesotaWriter]

2 hours ago, BabySofia said:

Thank God for school... that seems to be the only thing to keep her psycho mother in check. I think she realized that her daughter will be expected back...? Unfortunately there is no way for her to live up to that end of the bargain, her only hope is number 2s go in there. I really hope someone figures out how much harm this girl is suffering soon...

The mother certainly has an understanding that what she is doing is wrong, or at least wouldn't be accepted by the rest of society. So that does make school an interesting situation. 

2 hours ago, Kahlez said:

Yeah no chance and that is probably the reason why this rule even exist. At least she should still be able to hold her poop long enough but something tells me that her "potty training" will end when Sarah keeps peeing in her diapers. 

I would look at how the mom phrased the new potty-training rules. It's pretty telling for how she views the situation.

27 minutes ago, spark said:

I know that Emilia is still young, but she is old enough to remember what her mom did to her.   Her being such a willing participant to mom's abuse would be hard for Sarah to overlook.   Emilia also needs to be prompted to use the potty occasionally, so that will be interesting.

Every new rule Mom makes is progressively crueler than the other ones.  Crawling on hardwood floors is painful because there is a lot of weight on her knees.   I don't know what forced baby talk for two weeks would do to a person mentally, but it can't be good.  Sarah will need some therapy once this is over.

There is no question that Sarah is going through a lot right now. We will get a good look at how it continues to impact her.

12 minutes ago, kerry said:

This girl really needs to report her mother to someone. Maybe Lisa's uncle?

She should, but without access to a phone or other methods of communication, that would be difficult even if she decided she wanted to.