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

[Guilend]

12 minutes ago, MinnesotaWriter said:

think one way to explain that is how parents will sometime threaten extremely crazy punishments (i.e. like threatening to throw the PS4 away in the trash of they don't finish their homework) and then, shocker, the kid ends up not doing what they were asked to do and the parent has the choice between following through with a punishment they didn't intend to do or actually doing it.

Lol I never did that with my kids. If I made a threat, i followed through. I tossed out a huge back of toys because my son didn't clean his room after asking him once, threatening the second time. Never had to tell him more then once after that lol. I even threw his toy he got from McDonald's that he learned was a whistle out of a moving car because he wouldn't stop blowing it. I told him if he blew on it one more time I'd throw it out the window, poor kid tried soo hard not to, but after like 5 minutes he just couldn't stop himself and it was out the window before he realized he messed up. But my kids always knew if i said I'd do something, i would so once they got older they never called me on it anymore lol

[MinnesotaWriter]

11 minutes ago, Guilend said:

Lol I never did that with my kids. If I made a threat, i followed through. I tossed out a huge back of toys because my son didn't clean his room after asking him once, threatening the second time. Never had to tell him more then once after that lol. I even threw his toy he got from McDonald's that he learned was a whistle out of a moving car because he wouldn't stop blowing it. I told him if he blew on it one more time I'd throw it out the window, poor kid tried soo hard not to, but after like 5 minutes he just couldn't stop himself and it was out the window before he realized he messed up. But my kids always knew if i said I'd do something, i would so once they got older they never called me on it anymore lol

I agree. And I think there are two things that are equally true. Parents should always follow through on discipline, but they also shouldn't ever make outlandish threats of discipline that they would regret having to follow through on. 

Sarah's mom is in the position of having a pretty severe threat (treating a 15-year-old like a baby) that she probably hadn't planned on even needing to do in the first place, so in the initial surprise of needing to put Sarah in a diaper (she had to at least follow through on that part of the discipline) didn't have her go full out with that punishment. 

Mom's reputation, up to this point, is that she doesn't deviate from the rules, so we'll have to see what tomorrow (in the story, I don't think I'll have the next chapter done quite that quick) brings.

[Guilend]

25 minutes ago, MinnesotaWriter said:

I agree. And I think there are two things that are equally true. Parents should always follow through on discipline, but they also shouldn't ever make outlandish threats of discipline that they would regret having to follow through on. 

Sarah's mom is in the position of having a pretty severe threat (treating a 15-year-old like a baby) that she probably hadn't planned on even needing to do in the first place, so in the initial surprise of needing to put Sarah in a diaper (she had to at least follow through on that part of the discipline) didn't have her go full out with that punishment. 

Mom's reputation, up to this point, is that she doesn't deviate from the rules, so we'll have to see what tomorrow (in the story, I don't think I'll have the next chapter done quite that quick) brings.

Yeah, she's a stickler for rules and what happens when you break them. While I think she will follow through with it in hopes it would shock her daughter into using the toilet, I think at some point, like maybe now long after going back to pull ups, she will realize something actually wrong. Because she will probably start paying more attention to her daughter. Or her sister might actually become potty trained and she won't be able to have access to her sisters pull ups and eventually breaks down and tells her mother everything including how it started after the falling incident which should get her mother's full attention at that point. But I'm definitely interested in how it all plays out and I just hope she finally gets to a doctor before too much damage is done.

[Arendeth]

Thanks for the chapter.

[spark]

32 minutes ago, MinnesotaWriter said:

Mom's reputation, up to this point, is that she doesn't deviate from the rules, so we'll have to see what tomorrow (in the story, I don't think I'll have the next chapter done quite that quick) brings.

I expected mom to do that with Sarah, and it's a definite trope that I enjoy.  I enjoy the idea of an older child being treated like a small child, but not in a vengeful manner.   I wouldn't make a character crawl, but keeping a character supervised and not letting them walk off alone because you can't trust them to be by themselves.   Basically- instead of 18 months, closer to a three-year-old (which when I was potty trained).

But I'm glad you didn't go there.   Up to now, you've managed to create a plausible suspension of belief.  In the world you've created, it is completely plausible that her mother would react to the accidents that way, and it's definitely plausible that Sarah wouldn't tell her mom.   I think putting her in that position right now in the story would be jumping the shark.  BTW-that's a reference that all writers should be aware of.

There is a lot of reasons why I think it would be jumping the shark.  Most of all- you just led us on a very dark path, and allowed us to experience that through Sarah's eyes.  You might have hinted at it in the story- but I never saw it coming.    And Sarah just learned that her new friend, somebody who has unique kinship with, tried to kill her mother.   I'm 50-years-old and people have shared some really personal things with me- but that would be hard to hear.   Adding the sheer humiliation of mother treating her 14-year-old daughter like an infant.   It would make me feel Sarah's situation was hopeless and would venture into punishment porn- which I don't think is where you want to go.

On a side note.   I truly believe that mom thinks she is doing right to raise a responsible young women who will strong and moral.   Pretty much that you want from a daughter.   However- and I have a lot experience with this age group, if your 14-year-old daughter develops sudden incontinence and is so uncomfortable that she hides it from her mother (which is plausible in this case), the relationship is F------d.  She is sneaking her little sister's pull ups to hide a fairly serious medical issue (which mom is completely screwing up).  What do you think is going to happen at 16?

[Jennynappy]

4 hours ago, MinnesotaWriter said:

Oops. But on the bright side, with Lisa's backstory now complete, I should be able to do more frequent updates to this story.

Thanks!

I think that is answered already to an extent. Lisa had gotten back to wearing panties before school started and set her back. I think the combination of things like the Kegel exercises and being able to leave a stressful environment played a large role in those improvements. We'll have to see how things go for her as the school year continues.

Sarah is a bit surprised at that as well.

I think one way to explain that is how parents will sometime threaten extremely crazy punishments (i.e. like threatening to throw the PS4 away in the trash of they don't finish their homework) and then, shocker, the kid ends up not doing what they were asked to do and the parent has the choice between following through with a punishment they didn't intend to do or actually doing it.

Remember, up until this point, Sarah's mom has only noticed three of her daughter's many daytime accidents. We'll see how she handles things with Sarah once she has had a night to let the situation process.

Ok thanks.

[MinnesotaWriter]

Chapter 31: Full of It

With the covers tugged off and tossed into a pile near the baseboard of the bed, I adjusted my position so Mom could slide a changing pad beneath me. I pulled my feet in closer so that my toes were rested on the bed rather than dangling off and my knees were pointed upward in the air.

With the resumption of my bedwetting, the alarm clock I had once relied on to wake me up on time — a task it had never failed to do — was now never turned on. Mom was my alarm clock. The gentle nudge of her hand against my shoulder a replacement for that awful, annoying buzzing. And she was just as punctual.

I struggled at that thought of how easily I had adapted to these changes in my life. Waking up to the feeling of a squishy diaper strapped around my waist and stuck beneath my legs. The ease with which I allowed Mom to change me. She had stopped checking to see if my nighttime diaper was wet, getting started with changing me under the assumption that I had failed to retain all the liquid in my bladder over the course of the night. Her assumptions about that were correct. The nighttime situation with my bladder had devolved to the point where I was waking up wet each morning without fail. Almost a week had passed since I had woken in the middle of the night with my bladder urging me to go sit on the toilet.

There are moments when you wake up and realize something is off. You have that leftover feeling of anxiety or nervousness that you were unable to shake off with a full night of sleep. I rubbed my eyes as Mom began removing the four diaper tapes one by one, each coming off with a loud ripping sound. Despite having been put to bed early, I remained groggy, and I couldn’t quite put a finger on what exactly it was that I was supposed to be unhappy about. I knew I would eventually remember. And I knew I would likely be even unhappier when I did.

The diaper was eventually removed, and I readied myself for the pull-up Mom was about to put on me. I wish I was allowed to do that myself. Only, it wasn’t a pull-up Mom was putting on me. It was a diaper, and I instantly remembered the source of my morning angst.

I fought against the urge to resist the diaper change. I wanted to kick Mom’s hands away, grab the diaper, rip it up, and toss it in the corner of the room. That would do me no good. I knew that, too, but thinking about made it easy to get through the diapering procedure.

The second factor that helped me keep restrained was the realization that I bore a decent amount of fault for this situation. No, I wasn’t assigning any internal blame for having wet myself. The randomness of the accidents indicated that they were far outside my control. I did, however, blame myself for a factor that was completely within my control: how I had failed to hide my accidents from Mom.

So, I let the diaper change go by without any attempts to bring it to a halt, lifting my bottom at the right time, even holder the font of the diaper in place so Mom could get the tapes into a better position. It wasjust one day. I could suck it up and deal with it. I’d usually done a good job hiding my accidents and if I could manage to learn from the few mistakes I’ve made in recent weeks, I’d be able to exfiltrate myself from the web of these potty-training rules, especially if this laxative was anything close to the miracle cure I hoped that it will be.

My first mistake had been yesterday morning, when I had wet my pants outside the bathroom door while Mom was taking a bath. I had been wearing panties at the time, because Mom had put those on me after changing me out of the nighttime diaper. I should have been wearing one of Emilia’s pull-ups as a precaution, but I hadn’t managed to change into one of them yet that early in the morning because Emilia was nearly awake in her crib in the bedroom. I needed to keep more of her pull-ups in my backpack so I could have another way to access them and not get stuck wearing panties during an accident.

My second mistake had been much simpler, and I remained rather annoyed at myself for having made it. In my rush to get to Mom’s car while leaving Lisa’s house yesterday evening, I had failed to use the bathroom, despite the fact that I was about to go on a half-hour long car ride. Had I avoided just one of those accidents, I wouldn’t be in the mess I was in right now. Mom would have put a pull-up on me and I could have worked toward another seven consecutive days of hiding my daytime accidents from her.

With the diaper securely fastened, Mom pulled a skirt on me. Skirts were by far one of my least favorite outfits. But with jeans a no go since they wouldn’t fit over the diaper, a skirt was probably the next best option. The idea of wearing leggings over a diaper was unthinkable, and I certainly didn’t want to walk around in an exposed diaper like what Mom made me do while wearing a pull-up.

I let myself relax a bit once the skirt was on. While I hated being made to wear a diaper for the day. I accepted it, knowing both that the situation was at least partially the result of my carelessness and that Mom, in being fair in the application of her rules, would let me be back in pull-ups come tomorrow.

-----

I sat on the couch with Emilia, watching cartoons as Mom prepared breakfast. That was a rarity for her. except Christmas morning, in which she always prepared a breakfast feast more suited to a dozen people than three, Mom never made anything elaborate for breakfast. That was fine with me. I liked my cereal, though the sizzle of bacon in the frying pan was getting me to work up an appetite.

I was grateful I had gotten to the living room first and, as such, had seized control of the remote before Emilia came crawling in with a pacifier in her mouth. Emilia was going through a phase where all she wanted to watch was Caillou. Like, I didn’t hate every little kids’ show. I could sit through an episode or two of My Little Pony without getting too bored. And Sesame Street, at least, wasn’t annoying. But if I had to listen to that bald brat whine or throw a tantrum one more time, I might go crazy.

Still, Mom had imparted to me the importance of not watching anything too grown up when my three-year-old sister was present. I’d found some Scooby-Doo re-runs, that were causing both of us to giggle like crazy as the gang with The Mystery Machine raced around on screen, avoiding the monster. Formulaic, but perfect for mindless Saturday morning entertainment. And mindless entertainment was what I wanted right now. Thinking wasn’t good. Thinking meant coming across thoughts that I may not have wanted to appear. Like thinking about why something between my legs was preventing them from closing all the way. Or thinking about that crinkling sound that came every time I shifted my position on the couch. The less I thought about the diaper, the happier I was going to be, so I tried to keep it off of my mind.

Emilia knew I was wearing a diaper. There hadn’t been any way to avoid that, but she really hadn’t made any mention of it at all, though I supposed the pacifier was some help in that regard. Whenever Mom put Emilia back in diapers, that also resulted in my sister being treated like a baby and not a preschooler. Being made to crawl on the floor and having to use pacifiers, bottles, and sippy cups was the typical extent of how far the babying went. My knees hurt at just the thought of having to crawl across the floor. I certainly wasn’t going to complain that Mom wasn’t handling my diaper that way, but I was nonetheless suspicious of why this had been a point where she was willing to break from her rules.

-----

The breakfast did turn out to be a feast: buttermilk pancakes, crispy strips of bacon, scrambled eggs, and a half a grapefruit with a tiny bit of sugar sprinkled on top. The only item out of place was my drink. This wasn’t even one of those big kid sippy cups, with a straw on top that might have been of little difference from one of my sports bottles if not for the childish patterns on it. This was a full-on toddler sippy cup, identical to the one in front of Emilia’s plate.

“Mom, is this really necessary?” I asked, picking up the sippy cup to examine it. “This is a baby cup.”

“You want to tell me what you are wearing under your skirt right now?” Mom said, letting her voice trail off.

I didn’t want to tell her. I don’t think I could bring myself to say the word aloud even if I wanted to. I accepted defeat and raised the sippy cup to my lips.

Had I been wearing a pull-up or panties, I would have been leery of drinking orange juice. That drink was a bladder accident begging to happen. But I knew I wasn’t going to have to be concerned about that today. Accident or otherwise, anything pee I produced today was going to be ending up in the diaper. I really enjoyed drinking the orange juice as I worked my way through the breakfast, despite the fact that I had been served it in a sippy cup. I couldn’t remember the last time I had been able to drink something without wondering about what the repercussions would be to my bladder.

“I’m heading outside to do some stuff for a bit,” Mom said, grabbing her now-empty plate and walking over to the seat. “You can watch TV until I’m done. We’re going to give the laxative a try after that.”

Stuff to do meant putting the remaining Christmas decorations up outside. For normal, rational, sane people, Christmas begins the day after Thanksgiving. For Mom, Christmas was more of a year-round thing, but the first weekend after Halloween was when it really kicked into high gear. I retreated back to the living room couch, making sure to finish breakfast before Emilia to retain my hold on the remote. The urge to pee came and went as I released a trickle into my bladder. I really shouldn’t have done that. Even without access to a toilet, I ought to be holding my bladder as long as I could to simulate waiting on my turn to go to the bathroom. I tried not to think too much about the laxative. I really should have looked up more info about it. Was it going to make me sick? Was it going to hurt a lot?

Emilia didn’t show any signs of discomfort at her own diapered state, but then again, she almost always had one or two days a week where she was being put back in diapers, so this wasn’t anything out of the ordinary for her. The Scooby-Doo marathon had kept up through breakfast, so we managed to watch another couple of thirty-minute episodes. I caught the sound of the front door opening and Mom coming inside.

“Come on girls, let’s get to the bedroom,” Mom said, in a cheerful voice that sound like she too was optimistic that her days of changing diapers were soon to come to an end.

I’m a bit surprised that Mom hadn’t come across this laxative idea herself. After all, she had tried everything in every potty-training book every written in her attempt to toilet train Emilia.

The changing mat was already spread out on the bed when I walked into the bedroom with Emilia in my arms. seemed a bit early for a change, my diaper was barely wet, and I doubted that the condition of Emilia’s diaper was any different. Mom directed us to lie down on the changing pad, and I obeyed, setting Emilia down onto the bed before laying down next to her.

“I’m going to give you the pills while I get you changed,” Mom said.

That didn’t make much sense at all. Normally, when Mom was going to give me a pill or vitamin capsule to swallow, it would be in the bathroom and she would hand the pill to me with a glass of water. I had mastered an easy trick of getting the pills down by tucking the pills directly behind my bottom row of teeth and then tipping my head back and taking a swift swig of water. It never failed to work.

“How are we supposed to take the pills while laying down?” I asked.

“These aren’t normal pills. I got suppository laxatives. They are supposed to work faster. I figured it would be better to get this over with in an hour rather than have it take all day.

Suppository? That was a word outside of my vocabulary. How on earth would you take a pill if you weren’t going to swallow it?

“What’s a suppitory?” Emilia asked, bungling the word, which was well above her toddler-level phonics.

“It’s a pill that is inserted into your bottom,” Mom said, way more nonchalantly than a statement like that deserved.

I subconsciously tightened my legs together, cutting off access to the part of my body in question.

“You can’t be serious,” I said.

Mom looked directly down at me.

“I’m completely serious. Suppositories get absorbed into your bloodstream much faster than regular pills, so this will be better since it will be over with quicker.”

“But the pill has to go up my butt?”

“Yes, it has to go up your butt. Suppositories are more common for babies, since you can’t trust them to swallow a pill, but they get used for adults in certain circumstances as well.”

The promise of this all being over quickly was enough to soothe my anxieties about this new method of taking medication. Mom removed the wet diapers from both Emilia and I, and then positioned fresh diapers in place, but didn’t tape them up.

We had so far danced around the issue of what the laxative was actually going to cause me to do, which is to poop a lot. Up until the past month or so, my bathroom habits had not ever been a topic of conversation with Mom, especially anything that might result in a direct mention of the process euphemized as going number two.

“This should cause your bowels to empty out completely, a process that will take up to an hour to finish,” Mom said while looking at the back of the small bottle she was holding up to her face.

I thought about how bad Emilia’s diapers or pull-ups would get when she pooped into them. And then I thought about how much worse an adult sized poop in an adult sized diaper would be.

“So, can I sit on the toilet while the laxative is... doing its thing?”

“It wouldn’t be fair to your sister if one of you got to sit on the toilet for this and the other didn’t,” Mom said. “Besides, I can’t have either of you taking up the toilet for an entire hour.”

“I don’t wanna poop in a diaper,” Emilia said, starting to fuss.

Mom reached down to rub Emilia’s head.

“Shush. Shush. You have too much poop in you. All right here.” she said, poking the lower portion of Emilia’s belly, causing my sister to laugh. “This medicine is going to help you get it all out, and then it will be easier for you to go potty on the toilet like a big girl.”

I had a more important concern I needed to raise to Mom’s attention.

“Will the diapers hold it all in?”

“The diaper brand indicated that it was designed for fecal containment as well, so it should hold up without any issues.”

I had no way of knowing what to expect when Mom inserted the pill, but other than a few brief seconds of discomfort, I didn’t initially notice anything. Mom cleaned her finger off with a baby wipe and repeated the process with Emilia, taking a suppository from a different bottle.

I stayed behind in the bedroom as Mom carried Emilia off into the living room. I decided I didn’t want to be in the same room as someone else when laxative started working. I stood up and stretched, noticing that the diaper wasn’t on me as tight as normal. I hoped that wasn’t going to be a problem.

The next few minutes passed slowly as I sat at my computer desk in anxious anticipation of what was going to happen. I hadn’t felt anything yet. Was this pill really going to work?

Those thoughts were interrupted by a burning sensation inside me where Mom had inserted the pill. My hands instinctively reached down to behind my crotch. Not that it would do me any good. It felt as though the pill was melting inside me. Gasping for breath, I wrapped my arms tightly around my chest. I got up from the chair, thinking perhaps to walk to the living room to tell Mom what was happening. Then the cramps began.

I let out a yelp as the pain drove me down to my knees. The pain was a juxtaposition of two competing sensations. I was feeling the most urgent need to poop that I had ever felt in my life. Not even the worst stomach bug I had experienced and the diarrhea that had sent me sprinting to the toilet had felt more urgent than the need to poop right now. Compounding the problem was the fact that I couldn’t poop. I don’t mean that my bowels are blocked, just that there was nothing I could do to make the bowel movement come any faster. I suspected that once it started coming out, there would be nothing I could do to make it stop until my body had emptied out everything that it could.

Both those feelings held steady, neither getting stronger nor going away. The momentum from the laxative was going to take me where it wanted to go, whether I wanted to or not. It began with a loud fart. The noise startled me. Farts just don’t normally happen on their own. And this wasn’t a fart, either.

I’d messed myself. Actually, really, truly messed me self. Despite all my toileting problems this past month, I hadn’t actually failed to go number two in a toilet since my toddler days. I could feel the force of the diaper pressing the feces against me. Sticky. Wet. Warm. Gross. Gross. Gross. I froze in place. Why the heck had I suggested laxatives? That the mess in my diaper had been the intended result of the laxative didn’t in any way reduce the shame in having soiled myself.

I couldn’t remain standing up for long. The cramps and the urge to defecate hadn’t gone away. Sitting down or lying on my back weren’t desirable options either, as that would only result in smearing feces over my bottom.

I crawled onto the bed, careful not to press my bottom onto anything. I managed to lie on my stomach for a couple of minutes, but I found it impossible to remain in that position for any longer than that. The urges coming from my bowels couldn’t be ignored, and the intense pain and cramping forced me to at least be partially upright. I sat on my knees with my legs bent backward behind me. I leaned forward to rest on my elbows, with my face hanging downward, resting on my pillow.

Tears streamed out of my eyes, transferring directly onto the pillow, which began to feel wet against my cheek.

Several minutes of cramping, followed by an explosive burst of shit into the diaper. The process repeated itself over and over and over again, as the diaper began to sag further and further away from me. I had naively thought that laxative would simply cause one extra-large bowel movement and then be done with it. I understood now why Mom hadn’t taped the diaper on as tight as normally. The looseness of the diaper allowed it to expand as my bowels continued to empty.

Eventually, the cramps began to lessen, and the next couple of bowel movements were quieter and not as strong. The smell wasn’t all that bad, but my nose had also gotten all kinds of runny and stuffy from the crying, so perhaps I just wasn’t able to smell it at the moment. I normally would have wanted to grab a tissue from the bathroom to blow my nose to clear out all the mucus that had built up during my crying, but I expected it might be better to put that off until after I had gotten changed out of the diaper.

Had an hour passed already? Time had lost most of its meaning while I was kneeling on the bed and messing myself. With the cramps no longer keeping me upright, I laid down face-first on the bed, my legs spread apart as far as they could to avoid squeezing that mass of poop now deposited in the diaper. I thought the situation couldn’t get any worse. Then I began to pee. I don’t know what had taken all the orange juice so long to come out. Maybe the laxative had put my bladder on pause while it was working on getting the poop out. Either way, this was the longest piss I had taken in quite a while. It came and came as the front of the diaper filed up.

I had never desired a diaper change so badly in my life. That the idea of being put into a fresh diaper could be made to sound appealing was proof of how bad the laxative had been. I inched myself off of the bed, a difficult task to accomplish, as I had to keep my legs spread apart and couldn’t roll over onto my back.

With a wet diaper, the waddle is created because the diaper itself has expanded from soaking up all the urine, making it so you can’t physically place your legs together. With a messy diaper, the waddling isn’t a result of any physical limitations, I could squeeze my legs together if I really desired to, but I didn’t desire to find out what would happen to all the poop that would be displaced if I were to do that.

I had managed a few tentative steps toward the door when I heard the sound of Mom walking toward me. Mom entered the room with Emilia in her arms, but my sister wasn’t cuddled close into Mom’s shoulder. Mom was gripping Emilia under each of her armpits with Emilia facing toward Mom, but held about a foot away from her. Mom’s shoulder, where Emilia had likely been resting her head for the past hour, was soaked. I guess I wasn’t the only one who had spent most of the past hour crying. Apparently, toddler laxatives are as awful as their adult variants.

“Sarah, crack the window open. Now,” Mom said, with a sense of urgency in her voice.

Mom needn’t have bothered with telling me to hurry. The smell coming from Emilia’s diaper was way more nauseating than my own. I took two steps as quickly as I dared to get to the window nearest to the bed while doing my best to ignore the sensation of poop smearing around my bottom. I unlocked the window and then lifted the glass pane up as high as it could go before locking it again in that position. When I turned around, the reason for the odor became clear. Emilia’s diaper had not been up to the task of containing the results of a laxative. Light brown poop was smeared out of the top of her jean and onto her shirt. The way the diaper caused her jeans to bulge outward around her bottom suggested the laxative had been highly effective on her.

I thought perhaps that Mom would want us both on the changing mat together, like she had done before bed last night, but she instead ushered me into the hallway so I wouldn’t be in the way as she got Emilia cleaned up.

Walking with poop on my bottom was difficult. With each step, I could feel the stickiness of it as it came in and out of contact with my bottom. I decided to wait while standing near the bathroom sink until it was time for my diaper change. I didn’t want to have to walk all the way to the living and back in this condition, and it wasn’t like I was going to be sitting down on the couch when I got there either.

As I waited for Mom to change Emilia, the smell from the diaper was finally beginning to get to me in the worst way. The most terrible part about it was that there was nothing I could do and nowhere I could go to avoid the smell.

The door to our bedroom creaked open finally, followed by Emilia’s tiny footsteps as she exited the room. She peaked her head around the bathroom door to look at me. A pacifier that looked a little too small for her was stuck in her mouth.

“Mommy said it’s your turn,” Emilia said, taking the pacifier briefly out of her mouth as she delivered the missive from Mom.

I returned to the bedroom at as fast a pace as I could manage. The room smelled strongly of air freshener when I entered it, an odor that was almost as overwhelming nauseating as a messy diaper, just in a different way. Getting onto the changing pad was the worst part of it. There simply wasn’t a way I could do so without putting weight on my bottom. I set myself onto the bed as slowly as I could manage, but that only served to extenuate the poop being forced to spread further through the diaper.

Mom had taken a wad of either toilet or tissue paper and stuffed it up each of her nostrils, grimacing as she pulled back the front of my diaper.

I understood now what Lisa meant the other day, when she had told me how there were times she had experienced a sense of schadenfreude over making her mother have to clean up a messy diaper. I didn’t have to see my bottom to imagine what it must look like, having changed more than my fair share of Emilia’s messy diapers. It must have taken Mom at least five minutes of thorough wiping to get me cleaned up, and it felt as if she had gone through an entire package of baby wipes in the process.

We didn’t speak at all during the diaper change. Maybe it was because Mom was needing to concentrate so much on getting me cleaned up. Or maybe the total awkwardness of the situation had finally gotten to her. At least I knew I wasn’t going to need to poop at all the rest of the day. I couldn’t imagine possibly having any more left in.

For the remainder of the day, Mom didn’t bother ever asking me or my sister if we needed to get changed. She let several hours pass between each diaper change, at which point there wasn’t any question as to if the diapers were wet. Each time she would direct us to the bedroom without so much as taking a peek at either or our diapers to check their condition. Not that it mattered. Neither of us had the ability to hold on to to our bladder for nearly that long.

I tried to recall if the toilet training articles I had found online made any mention of exactly how long it was supposed to take to get more control of your bladder after going through with the laxatives. Sooner would be better than later, but I wasn’t going to get an actual chance to test it out until tomorrow.

[AdultInnocence]

Why didn't their mom just clean up the excess then finish them off in the tub? One can only wonder. Depending on her mom's interpretation of the plan, there could be a surprise of a repeat the next day or few including the use of diapers. Time will tell.

You did well with the creative license to make it different than the actual program.

Thanks for chapter.

[Sarah Penguin]

[deewet]

Starting to sound like a fairly routine solution to me. I would expect a good cleanout at least once  a week going forward.  Maybe a move toward a weekly or every 3 day enema could be coming as well?

[Arendeth]

Thank for the chapter.

[GQLF]

Great chapter!

[MinnesotaWriter]

On 2/4/2021 at 8:38 PM, AdultInnocence said:

Why didn't their mom just clean up the excess then finish them off in the tub? One can only wonder. Depending on her mom's interpretation of the plan, there could be a surprise of a repeat the next day or few including the use of diapers. Time will tell.

You did well with the creative license to make it different than the actual program.

Thanks for chapter.

Good question, that could have been easier for clean-up, for sure. That said, there might be a chance that that particular scene might be being saved for another time.

On 2/5/2021 at 4:12 AM, Sarah Penguin said:

?

On 2/5/2021 at 6:15 AM, deewet said:

Starting to sound like a fairly routine solution to me. I would expect a good cleanout at least once  a week going forward.  Maybe a move toward a weekly or every 3 day enema could be coming as well?

We'll have to wait and see how the laxative impacts Sarah and Emilia's toileting going forward. Should get those results fairly quick.

On 2/5/2021 at 4:43 PM, Arendeth said:

Thank for the chapter.

You're welcome!

17 hours ago, GQLF said:

Great chapter!

Thanks!

[Arendeth]

Wonder if though results end up good or bad lol.

[AdultInnocence]

Forgot that it was Sunday for them, so wouldn't be plausible for school. Night time would be a possibility. Don't want to take away though for whatever you already have planned. Looking forward to seeing what you have planned for those two, and maybe a sleepover at Lisa's at some point?

Speculation aside, not knowing or being able to guess makes the future chapters that much more fun to read.

[Bonsai]

If JUST Emilia gets better in potty training thanks to the purge treatment, will this be enough to convince mom to make it a regular thing for BOTH sisters?

[AdultInnocence]

22 minutes ago, Bonsai said:

If JUST Emilia gets better in potty training thanks to the purge treatment, will this be enough to convince mom to make it a regular thing for BOTH sisters?

Or the mom might realize something more may be wrong with the older sister.

 

[Bonsai]

44 minutes ago, AdultInnocence said:

Or the mom might realize something more may be wrong with the older sister.

 

Mom is totally blind to whatever does not meet her own paradigms. She already had ample chances to notice that something unusual was happening to her older daughter: she always chose to just go on with her “rules”, why should she become more perceptive only now?

[GQLF]

19 hours ago, Bonsai said:

Mom is totally blind to whatever does not meet her own paradigms. She already had ample chances to notice that something unusual was happening to her older daughter: she always chose to just go on with her “rules”, why should she become more perceptive only now?

I doubt that once Emilia gets better, the unchanging Sarah will be bound by more rules. And Emilia's potty training will definitely lead to Sarah's loss of additional pull ups source. It will be disastrous for her to be unable to hide the accident from her mother!

I think Sarah will try to do something to delay Emilia's potty training to buy time for herself, or her mother will finally find out that Sarah's incontinence is getting worse and worse, and adopt stricter rules or even humiliation. Everything is uncertain, but there is no doubt that Sarah's potty problem has become more and more serious. It is only a matter of time before her mother finally finds out.

[AdultInnocence]

1 hour ago, GQLF said:

I doubt that once Emilia gets better, the unchanging Katie will be bound by more rules. And Emilia's potty training will definitely lead to Katie's loss of additional pull ups source. It will be disastrous for her to be unable to hide the accident from her mother!

I think Katie will try to do something to delay Emilia's potty training to buy time for herself, or her mother will finally find out that Katie's incontinence is getting worse and worse, and adopt stricter rules or even humiliation. Everything is uncertain, but there is no doubt that Katie's potty problem has become more and more serious. It is only a matter of time before her mother finally finds out.

This is very plausible. I can envision stricter rules, maybe without the humiliation. If humiliation did start to play into it, that would lead into the possibility and reason for Lisa's uncle to adopt Katie.

Very good point about Emilia's potty training meaning loss of her incognito pull-up use.

[Bonsai]

2 hours ago, GQLF said:

 And Emilia's potty training will definitely lead to Katie's loss of additional pull ups source.

So far, the name is Sarah, but maybe by the end of the story she will attempt to kill her mother, get adopted by Lisa’s parents and change her name to Katie?

[MinnesotaWriter]

21 minutes ago, Bonsai said:

So far, the name is Sarah, but maybe by the end of the story she will attempt to kill her mother, get adopted by Lisa’s parents and change her name to Katie?

?

Ok, that is probably the funniest comment this story has gotten so far.

I promise there will be no more name changes ?

[GQLF]

7 hours ago, MinnesotaWriter said:

?

Ok, that is probably the funniest comment this story has gotten so far.

I promise there will be no more name changes ?

I'm sorry I'm mixed up with other stories.

[AdultInnocence]

25 minutes ago, GQLF said:

I'm sorry I'm mixed up with other stories.

I have caught myself having to go back a chapter and skim sometimes so I can refresh my memory on which story I am reading, especially if I am reading a couple by the same author.

[diaperboymi]

AWESOME story.  Pleas keep going.  Thanks!!!!