Diapers Never Lie (Epilogue – 01/24/21)

[kerry]

Oh, I can imagine her motivations, and number one on my list is greed.

I just can’t imagine how she (or her lawyer) could possibly believe she’d actually get custody.

?

[MinnesotaWriter]

Chapter 11: Diapers Never Lie
Present time...

A half-dozen Corinthian columns lined the courthouse façade as I walked up the stone steps with my aunt and uncle on either side of me, the building still as imposing as my first visit several months ago. I was no less afraid of entering through the wide, oak doors than I had been before, though for far different reasons. The interior of the courthouse was spacious. From the atrium at the entrance, I could see all the way up to the fourth and highest floor, where the family court proceedings would take place. Paintings of former judges -- their legal garb providing a sense of gravitas – lined the walls. The building was oppressive in its grandeur, instilling a sense of dread as I meandered through the wide hallways.

I was dressed for the occasion in a sleeveless, deep-blue dress that flared out at the waist, disguising the outline of my diaper. Aunt Lydia had helped me with putting my shoulder-length hair into an elaborate braid that hung off the right side of my head. To complete the outfit, I had on a pair of inch-high heels, the first time I had ever worn any in public. Even that small addition to my height felt almost overwhelming, but I had spent almost an hour practicing walking back and forth in them in my bedroom, so I didn't have any difficulty maintaining my balance.

We made our way to the elevators, located to the side of the centuries-old building, a recent drywall addition that was out of place with the original architecture. A sign indicating that the ladies' restroom was around the corner provided a reminder that I really should make a trip to the toilet before the hearing. I tugged at Aunt Lydia's arm, embarrassed to announce in public I needed to go to the restroom. My aunt was thankfully on the same page as me, and she told me that they'd wait for me by the elevator until I was done doing my business. We'd arrived at the courthouse early enough that I didn't have to rush to make sure we would be on time for the hearing.

Three of the five stalls were already occupied. My only options were two stalls that would leave me with someone to either side of me. After taking the remaining stall that was furthest from the restroom's entrance, I double checked that the stall door was securely latched shut. I hitched my dress up and lowered the pair of pink compression shorts I was wearing on top of the diaper before taking a seat on the toilet.

Removing the diaper so that I could have access to the toilet presented a challenge. Yes, the Velcro tapes meant I could remove both the tabs from one side of the diaper to slide it down my legs while being able to put it back on after I was done, but there wasn't any way to quietly undo the tabs. I could rip them off all at once, louder, but it would be over quicker, or slowly ease the tabs slowly off and deal with the extended sound of the Velcro parting.

I have never been comfortable in public restrooms. My earliest memories of them were of when I was still small enough to fit on the baby changing tables, of always turning my head to face the wall so as not to make eye contact with everyone else coming in to use the restroom. I would have been four, maybe five years old at the time. Old enough at least to know that it wasn't normal for me to still be wearing a pull-up or diaper.

Mother would send my younger sister Elaine, who, of course, was already fully toilet trained, into an empty stall before lifting me up onto the hard plastic of the changing table hanging from the wall. I'm certain these changing tables were intended to have a parent place some type of mat or cover on top of it for both comfort and sanitary reasons, but mother never had a changing pad packed with her, leaving me to lie in discomfort on the plastic surface. Then there was a safety strap, which mother always secured on top of me, as if I were a squirmy toddler who couldn't be trusted to hold still for a diaper change.

A solitary woman or girl coming into the restroom during a diaper change wasn't usually an issue. If they paused to gawk at the girl who was clearly big enough to be toilet trained, I at least remained unaware of their lingering gaze. But a group of women, or even worse, a mother and daughter, gave rise to the possibility of them conversing about the strange sight taking place in front of them. Comments that, no matter how discreetly they may have been intended to be, always seemed to carry across the restroom.

Now, as much as I disliked needing to change my own diaper in a bathroom stall – the cramped space provided little room to maneuver while taping on a diaper – using the toilet in a so-called normal way was no less embarrassing. I had never had the chance to get used to performing my bodily functions around others. Hearing the splash of urine into the toilet bowl while someone was in an adjacent stall was enough to make my face turn beet red. A toilet trip that should have only lasted several minutes might take much longer, as I worked up the courage to go.

I waited a couple minutes until my neighbor in the stall to my left flushed her toilet, using that noise to disguise the sound of quickly ripping off the two tapes. I kept the diaper between my knees, making sure not to lower it all the way to the floor, where it might be visible to someone looking underneath the stall. And I waited another couple of minutes for the next toilet to flush, giving me cover to urinate. My bladder emptied easily; I had gotten better at making myself go even when I didn't have an urgent need to do so. Wearing a pull-up would have made this whole process easier, but nothing would be worse than having a leak during the court hearing, so the diaper had been a necessary choice.

---

The courtroom we had been assigned was smaller than I had expected, and the compact nature of the room left me closer to mother than I would have wanted to be. We had entered the room with our attorneys only minutes before the hearing was to begin. Mother was seated by herself in the second row on the left side of the room. She didn't turn around when my uncle pulled open the door to the courtroom and ushered us in. I squeezed ahead of my aunt and immediately walked into the back row on the right side of the room, putting as much space between myself and mother as I possibly could. I kept my eyes focused on the front of the room, a rising wooden podium where the judge would be seated, refusing to make so much as a glance in mother's direction.

The side of the room had a couple of rows of empty benches where a jury could be seated, but, in our case, the judge would be the only person responsible for determining my fate. Seated in the front row, with a sign indicating it was for witnesses, were my therapist, Miss Amanda, and one of the doctors who had worked with me at the hospital, whose name escaped me. Everyone stood as the judge entered the courtroom from a door on the opposite side. She was an older woman, with short, curly silver hair, who was wearing a long black robe, her face carrying a serious expression as she surveyed the courtroom, before smacking her gavel to bring the hearing to a start.

The mundanity of the lawyers' initial arguments belied the seriousness of whatever the outcome would entail, and I struggled to follow all of what they were saying. My thoughts drifted to the last time I had seen mother lying on the floor of the mobile home. I hadn't known the extent of her injuries at the time, but I found out afterward that the gun had been loaded with birdshot, and my wayward shot had only hit her in the shoulder. Mother's inebriated state had been as much to blame for her passing out as her injuries, which, while outwardly messy, had in fact been minor as far as gunshot wounds go. Her immediate recovery had been one of the reasons the judge had been lenient in not considering more serious charges.

I tried to regain my focus on the proceedings as the judge was questioning my mother's attorney.

"Suppose I was to award custody of Annabelle to her mother," the judge said, addressing the attorney for my mother. "Are you telling me that Mrs. Lee feels safe living with her daughter?"

That was a good question. I couldn't picture trying to kill mother again, not because I didn't find myself capable of it, but because I refused to contemplate a scenario in which I ended up living with her.

The attorney paused before providing an answer, appearing as though he was attempting to choose precisely what words he was about to use.

"No, I'm not inferring that my client would feel say living with her daughter."

Good. I was glad to hear that bitch was scared of me, but even more puzzled as to why the custody case was being pursued in the first place. The judge appeared just as puzzled as I was. Her upper lip stiffened, and she leaned forward in her chair.

"If Mrs. Lee doesn't feel safe in caring for her daughter, why is she objecting to the state having awarded custody of Annabelle to her aunt and uncle?"

"Mrs. Lee loves her daughter, and is pursuing custody for Annabelle's own good," the attorney began.

I started to stand up. I wanted to yell something, anything, in objection to the bullshit the attorney was spewing. Aunt Lydia's arm caught me in the waist and forced me back down onto the bench. We briefly exchanged glances and the look she gave me told me I had come perilously close to getting into serious trouble. I had no choice but to sit uneasily and listen to what my mother's attorney had to say.

"The girl is clearly suffering from serious mental issues. Besides attempting to take her mother's life, she has several indicators of anti-social behavior. For one she lacks the mental capacity to properly use the toilet and has always had the need to wear diapers."

The padding between my legs felt extra noticeable after that remark. Everyone in the room already knew about my incontinence, but that didn't mean that it was fair for the attorney to bring it up and use it against me. I slumped down on the bench. It was one thing to know that everyone knew I was wearing a diaper; it was something entirely else for it to be rubbed in my face. But the insults from my mother's attorney didn't end with his remarks about my bladder problems. He claimed I had displayed anti-social behavior during group therapy and that my suicide attempt demonstrated that I wasn't mentally stable.

"That doesn't seem to be a case for why Mrs. Lee would want custody of her daughter," said the judge, interrupting the attorney again.

"Your honor, the girl is clearly troubled, and no doubt the death of her father and sister may have played a role in that too. Her inability to adjust to society and the potential danger she possesses to others would be justification for Mrs. Lee to seek institutional care for her daughter should she regain custody of Annabelle."

That was the last straw for me. He had pulled out the age-old threat mother had always held over my head when she was at her angriest. Mother's plan was clear. She wanted to have her cake and eat it too by getting me locked up while still getting the monthly checks. I stood too fast for Aunt Lydia to stop me.

"That's a lie! She just wants the money!"

The judge smacked her gavel down almost instantaneously as every eye in the courtroom turned to look at me.

"Order, order," the judge said. "Young lady, you need to take a seat."

Properly admonished, I hastily took a seat, though I couldn't help but notice the judge attempting to hold back the slightest of smiles on her face. Aunt Lydia leaned in to whisper in my ear.

"Don't worry, when it's our attorney's turn, they'll have a rebuttal for what was just said."

I took a deep breath and picked aimlessly at my fingernails while the hearing moved on. At last, it was our lawyers' turn to speak. My doctor and therapist were both called as witnesses. The doctor explained, in greater detail than I felt was necessary, that my bladder problems were an entirely physical issue, and didn't reflect one way or another on my mental capacity. Miss Amanda testified that my mother's attorney had misrepresented her therapy notes and that I had been socializing as well as could be expected, given my circumstances.

We were nearly an hour into the hearing. Both sides were supposed to get thirty minutes apiece. And my bladder was aching. This wasn't the typical urge to urinate that makes you want to squirm and cross your legs. The kind where if you laughed too hard or got tickled in the wrong spot your bladder's floodgates might open up. This was painful. The only comparison that felt appropriate would be if my bladder itself was cramping up.

No one would know if I wet the diaper. mean, this is why I had worn a diaper instead of a pull-up in the first place? The risk of a leak was basically non-existent. The diaper was absorbent enough that I could wear it the rest of the day with no leaks happening, not that I would ever do that given how uncomfortable that would be.

Giving in would be so easy. Relax my bladder for fifteen, maybe twenty seconds. The diaper would take care of the rest. The pain would go away. I could live to fight another day.

"Annabelle. Annabelle."

My head jerked upright at the sound of my name. One of our attorneys had walked forward to the waist-high barrier that separated the audience from the remainder of the courtroom. The arguments from both sides had concluded. Now it was time for the judge to determine the outcome.

"The judge would like to talk with you," he said before I could think of a non-embarrassing way to excuse myself to run off to the restroom.

The woman seated up high on the bench was not the same one who had handled my earlier proceedings. I had to lift my chin up to look her in the face. What did she want with me?

"I need to know how you feel about all of this," the judge intoned quietly enough that her voice wouldn't carry back to the audience.

"Does it matter?"

"It often does, but it's a question I always want to make sure to ask before coming to any custody decision."

"I want to stay with my aunt and uncle."

There wasn't any reason for either of us to have expected that answer to be different, but I nonetheless appreciated that I had been asked. But now the pain in my bladder was back. The momentary distraction of being called forward to talk with the judge had temporarily put it off my mind, but now the ache in my insides was back with a vengeance.

"How much longer till the hearing is over?"

"It will be another ten to fifteen minutes. I need to talk with the attorneys for a bit more before I announce my decision."

That was longer than I would be able to wait. I paused. If I didn't ask, I was going to wet myself.

"Can I be excused to go to the restroom," I whispered.

"Of course you can," she said, completely unphased by the request. "Oh, and you can take your time. The hearing needs to stay on schedule, so we'll keep it moving without you. And you don't have anything to worry about. You'll be staying with your aunt and uncle."

I wanted to skip out of the courtroom, but I remembered the attorney's advice about maintaining decorum, and I kept myself to a normal pace, stepping out into the hallway before my aunt and uncle even had a chance to ask me where I was going. Once the door shut behind me, I took a glance in both directions. With no one in sight, I jogged toward the far end of the hallway where the restrooms were located.

I yanked the tapes off of the diaper, indifferent but not oblivious to the fact that others in the restroom would be able to hear it, though hopefully they wouldn't recognize what the sound meant. And even if they did figure out that I had a diaper on, I didn't care. At the moment, achieving the success of making it to the toilet without wetting myself was worth a bit of embarrassment.

Whoever had coined the phrase "relieving yourself" had captured the almost paradisiacal feeling of emptying one's bladder, when all the tension of holding your muscles tighter and tighter against your will finally gives way to relaxation.

It was only after I had relieved myself that I found time to dwell on the judge's decision which had brought a whole different sense of emotional relief. I hadn't anticipated her delivering a different verdict, but the moment hadn't become real until the minute she announced it.

I gave the diaper a careful examination while putting it back on. The interior of the diaper was solid white, with not a single yellow stain in sight. I did it. It was, to be sure, a small victory, a minor battle that I'd won in the course of a much longer war. But for the first time in longer than I could remember, I was filled with a sense of unbridled hope that the war to gain control over my bladder was one I was capable of winning. No matter what needed to be done. No matter how long it took. After all, diapers never lie.

---

Links to all of my stories are available at https://abdlwriter.wordpress.com

[WBDaddy]

I mean, you haven't said it, but this certainly feels like "the end", especially when you finish with the title of the story, but I certainly can't complain about this being "the end", other than I didn't want it to be over.  As an ending, it's a little weird, if for no other reason than the judge literally wouldn't have said that to her.  Though, realistically, an older teen would, in fact, have had far more sway in a custody decision than a younger kid in who had custody of them, and Mom would have had to do a lot better regarding her competence in order to sell a judge otherwise. 

Just in case it isn't actually over, I'm going to shut up now.   

[Bonsai]

Would it be possible to make diapers that “lie”? Like, pull-ups with fake fade-away-when-wet stars, that give the wearer a fake feeling of being able to get all their pee to the potty while in fact they still had peed a little bit on the rush to get there. Something that feels totally dry on touch and looks white even after absorbing a fair amount of yellow liquid.

Those could work well in a story with plot twists.

[MinnesotaWriter]

15 hours ago, WBDaddy said:

I mean, you haven't said it, but this certainly feels like "the end", especially when you finish with the title of the story, but I certainly can't complain about this being "the end", other than I didn't want it to be over.  As an ending, it's a little weird, if for no other reason than the judge literally wouldn't have said that to her.  Though, realistically, an older teen would, in fact, have had far more sway in a custody decision than a younger kid in who had custody of them, and Mom would have had to do a lot better regarding her competence in order to sell a judge otherwise. 

Just in case it isn't actually over, I'm going to shut up now.   

Yeah, I wrote the legal scenes more in the sense of what would make sense story wise than trying to make it super realistic. John Grisham, I am not.

There is an epilogue coming. So the story isn't technically over yet. And while for some stories, an epilogue is like an appendix, where it is nice to have, but not really needed, this one is a more vital organ in terms of framing the story in a proper context. 

8 hours ago, Bonsai said:

Would it be possible to make diapers that “lie”? Like, pull-ups with fake fade-away-when-wet stars, that give the wearer a fake feeling of being able to get all their pee to the potty while in fact they still had peed a little bit on the rush to get there. Something that feels totally dry on touch and looks white even after absorbing a fair amount of yellow liquid.

Those could work well in a story with plot twists.

That would be quite the interesting product. Would make for a good prank, maybe an April Fools story.

[WBDaddy]

4 hours ago, MinnesotaWriter said:

Yeah, I wrote the legal scenes more in the sense of what would make sense story wise than trying to make it super realistic. John Grisham, I am not.

I totally get it.  Sometimes the plot is more important than staging a proper Perry Mason moment.  

[MinnesotaWriter]

Epilogue

“Sorry, we don’t accept credit cards,” said the woman behind the counter at the courthouse clerk’s office.

The portly woman tapped a pudgy finger against the glass barrier that separated the county workers behind the counter from the public, alerting us to a small sign stuck to the glass that did clearly state that credit cards weren’t an acceptable form of payment at the courthouse. Uncle James returned his credit card to his wallet, which he flipped open to check if he had enough cash to cover the sixty-five-dollar fee required to file the form.

“All I’ve got is a twenty,” he said. “Honey, can you check your purse?”

Aunt Lydia lifted her faux leather purse onto the granite countertop before unzipping it. Sixty-five dollars was such a small fee for something so life changing. I really hoped my aunt had enough cash on-hand to cover the remaining forty-five dollars. We lived all the way on the opposite side of the county from the courthouse. I didn’t want to have to come back another day.

My aunt discovered a wad of bills in her purse, sifting through them until she had the right amount. She slid the money to the clerk through a small gap beneath the glass divider. The woman flipped through the bills, counting them out loud as they smacked against the counter. Twenty. Forty. Fifty. Sixty. Sixty-five. With the bills inserted into a cash register, I watched through the finger-print-smeared glass as the clerk went to the back of the room, where gray, metal cabinet files lined the walls. She pulled open a couple of creaky drawers before at last finding the form we were requesting, sliding it underneath the glass to my aunt, who handed the single sheet of cream-colored paper to me.

“A little young to be doing that,” the woman muttered to no one in particular.

I ignored the remark. What does she know, anyways? The title of the form was listed on the top left side of the paper in a blocky typeface: Request for Name Change. I grabbed a pen from the jar on the counter, removed the cap, and filled out the first few spots in blue ink with relative ease, listing today’s date, my address, and my birth name.

I paused and took a deep breath as I reached the end of the form. My fingertips were beginning to get sweaty. Why am I so nervous? This is what I wanted, after all. A clean break. Severing the one remaining public tie I had to mother. I had thought carefully about what I wanted to change my name to. I wanted something shorter and simple, without any obvious negative associations. Annabelle was too long. Too formal. I also didn’t want to use a nickname. I’d made a list and settled on my choice several weeks ago. I had wanted to go to the courthouse right away, but Aunt Lydia insisted that I wait to make sure I wasn’t having any second thoughts about my choice.

Steadying my hand at last, I held the pen above the section where it asked me to fill in my new first name.

I wrote four letters in a neat, printed script: Lisa.

[Bonsai]

Now, that’s an ending that totally caught me by surprise. I’m so curious to read the next chapter of your OTHER story!

[GQLF]

Congratulations on the end!

I wonder if this Lisa is Sarah's friend, so that the story can be connected. Lisa can't control her bladder very well and is adopted by her uncle and aunt. Finally, she meets Sarah, who is also a diaper girl.

[Kaleros]

The epilogue reminds me of how Cute Kitten sometimes drops references to her other works in her stories.  

[thedman]

Wow, I love the tie in to your other story in the epilogue. It should save some time when Lisa tells her story over there too

 

[Arendeth]

Thanks for the story.

[spark]

I enjoyed that story a lot.  

Annabelle/Lisa always seemed to be much older than her stated age.  That why the contested guardianship seemed strange, but it made sense once I saw the legal tactic by her mom's lawyer.   They were basically arguing that Anabelle was so incapacitated and unable to make any decision like that, and the aunt and uncle were a danger to her well-being.

I think that would have been almost impossible to prove, especially given the past evidence.

[Bonsai]

Annabelle from this story and Lisa from the other story do however have slightly different characters. Lisa, while introverted, is also determined and extremely skilled in the fields where she chooses to invest her focus.

Annabelle looks much more laid back. In retrospect, that’s why the epilogue surprised me so much.

[MinnesotaWriter]

On 1/24/2021 at 9:04 PM, Bonsai said:

Now, that’s an ending that totally caught me by surprise. I’m so curious to read the next chapter of your OTHER story!

Oh, yeah, there's a lot that is going to happen in the next couple chapters of All My Mother's Rules.

On 1/25/2021 at 1:41 AM, GQLF said:

Congratulations on the end!

I wonder if this Lisa is Sarah's friend, so that the story can be connected. Lisa can't control her bladder very well and is adopted by her uncle and aunt. Finally, she meets Sarah, who is also a diaper girl.

Thanks. Yes, Annabelle is Lisa from my other story.

On 1/25/2021 at 10:40 AM, Kaleros said:

The epilogue reminds me of how Cute Kitten sometimes drops references to her other works in her stories.  

For sure. As I was writing this, I wasn't sure if I was being too obvious, or not obvious enough. I ended up cutting out a couple things that would have made the tie to my other story more clear. 

20 hours ago, thedman said:

Wow, I love the tie in to your other story in the epilogue. It should save some time when Lisa tells her story over there too

 

Yes, as everything that happened in this story is what is being conveyed to Sarah.

5 hours ago, Arendeth said:

Thanks for the story.

You're welcome!

1 hour ago, spark said:

I enjoyed that story a lot.  

Annabelle/Lisa always seemed to be much older than her stated age.  That why the contested guardianship seemed strange, but it made sense once I saw the legal tactic by her mom's lawyer.   They were basically arguing that Anabelle was so incapacitated and unable to make any decision like that, and the aunt and uncle were a danger to her well-being.

I think that would have been almost impossible to prove, especially given the past evidence.

I think the argument more was Annabelle was a potential dangers to others, not so much that that aunt and uncle weren't dangerous. I went with the ending I had planned out from the beginning. In retrospect, there was a twist that would have been nice to have been included, but since the story was published in a serial format, I couldn't go back to previous chapters to set it up. I think the next time I write something of this length, I may at least get it fully drafted before I begin posting. 

23 minutes ago, Bonsai said:

Annabelle from this story and Lisa from the other story do however have slightly different characters. Lisa, while introverted, is also determined and extremely skilled in the fields where she chooses to invest her focus.

Annabelle looks much more laid back. In retrospect, that’s why the epilogue surprised me so much.

I think part of the difference is writing a character from their own perspective, and from how another character perceives them. That said, the time game from when Diapers Never Lie ends and from Chapter 29 in All My Mother's Rules is roughly five-six months. So it would be safe to assume as well that Lisa has matured in the additional time she has been free from her mother.

I tried to make a lot of the character details between Lisa and Annabelle the same, but it's always hard to judge how much readers may or may not pick up on it. 

[Jennynappy]

I guess this is the end? Great ending.

[spark]

On 1/26/2021 at 12:06 PM, MinnesotaWriter said:

I tried to make a lot of the character details between Lisa and Annabelle the same, but it's always hard to judge how much readers may or may not pick up on it. 

I think you did a great job with that.

All My Mothers Rules is written from the perspective from a teenage girl who is just beginning to assert her independence from her domineering mother.   Overall, I would say Sarah has the appropriate perspective for her age and situation, and will see others around her in that way. 

Annabelle's abuse and trauma was on a whole other level, and it makes sense that her perspective is more mature than her biological age.   She had to process the abuse from her parents before the accident, the deaths of her father and sister, and eventual neglect and emotional abuse by her mother.   She also had to process the fact that she attempted to kill her mother.    She couldn't process that as young child, so she had mature quickly.

While my life experience was nothing like Annabelle's, I lost my mother at 16.   Even though I was 16, I was very much like a young boy.   I literally had just begun puberty.    When I saw her dying, I could only process what happened as an adult- so my mind became an adult.

When we see Lisa in All My Mothers Rules, we see her as a young teen.  Which makes sense, it's being told from that perspective, and Lisa was finally in a caring environment.   Unlike me, she never had any form of childhood, and now gets to act like a normal 14-year-old girl (well as normal as it could be for a girl who has an issue with her bladder).

I'm not sure if you did share where the inspiration for Annabelle's story, but I think I know.   I've read other stories inspired by Redemption and nothing that comes close to this.

[AdultInnocence]

While this may have been inspired by redemption it definitely is its own story! It was dark, well written, with the flashbacks leaving a hook for interest. It leaves possibilities in the other story for Lisa very open, and one story that leads into another that was very well done. I commented on the other, with my speculation.

Had to close and reopen page to comment on this one. Phone keyboard was throwing a tantrum.

[MinnesotaWriter]

On 1/27/2021 at 12:45 AM, Jennynappy said:

I guess this is the end? Great ending.

Yep, that's typically what an epilogue means ?

But, Annabelle/Lisa's story will continue as part of All My Mother's Rules, so it isn't completely at an end. 

16 hours ago, spark said:

I think you did a great job with that.

All My Mothers Rules is written from the perspective from a teenage girl who is just beginning to assert her independence from her domineering mother.   Overall, I would say Sarah has the appropriate perspective for her age and situation, and will see others around her in that way. 

Annabelle's abuse and trauma was on a whole other level, and it makes sense that her perspective is more mature than her biological age.   She had to process the abuse from her parents before the accident, the deaths of her father and sister, and eventual neglect and emotional abuse by her mother.   She also had to process the fact that she attempted to kill her mother.    She couldn't process that as young child, so she had mature quickly.

While my life experience was nothing like Annabelle's, I lost my mother at 16.   Even though I was 16, I was very much like a young boy.   I literally had just begun puberty.    When I saw her dying, I could only process what happened as an adult- so my mind became an adult.

When we see Lisa in All My Mothers Rules, we see her as a young teen.  Which makes sense, it's being told from that perspective, and Lisa was finally in a caring environment.   Unlike me, she never had any form of childhood, and now gets to act like a normal 14-year-old girl (well as normal as it could be for a girl who has an issue with her bladder).

I'm not sure if you did share where the inspiration for Annabelle's story, but I think I know.   I've read other stories inspired by Redemption and nothing that comes close to this.

That analysis does make sense.

And yes Redemption was a major one. Another story that had some influence was Mimi's Struggle. More so for the dynamic of a diapered older sister and a non-diapered younger sister. 

6 hours ago, AdultInnocence said:

While this may have been inspired by redemption it definitely is its own story! It was dark, well written, with the flashbacks leaving a hook for interest. It leaves possibilities in the other story for Lisa very open, and one story that leads into another that was very well done. I commented on the other, with my speculation.

Had to close and reopen page to comment on this one. Phone keyboard was throwing a tantrum.

For sure. I liked the format of alternative between present and the flashbacks. And yeah, Lisa does stand to play an important role in the other story, part of why I was interested in giving her a fuller backstory. 

[diaperboymi]

What a Wonderful story ?  Thank you for writing this ??????