girl How the Scholarship Works *Chapter 11 up*

[StoneRiver76]

How the Scholarship Works:

 

            Chapter1:

            A four foot eight darker tan girl with a round plushy child-like face sat in the passenger seat, her black bangs just long enough to cover her amber eyes from view, and her other black locks falling wildly to each side of her face in a rat’s nest of tangles.  She smelled because she hadn’t bathed in almost three days, and her short blue jean shorts that didn’t quite cover the tops of her panties had a tear in the right legging that exposed her panty bottoms along the back of her thigh.  Her yellow shirt that barely had sleeves was stained and dingy.  She was a typical teenager from the poorest area of coban, a modest sized city in Guatemala.

            Sitting next to her, in the driver’s seat, was a man with yellow balding hair near the top of his head and blue sparkling eyes.  He was nearly six foot three.  Quite the contrast to the short teen, the man was wearing a crisp white clean button down short sleeve shirt and a pair of blue jean trousers that more than modestly covered him.  He smelled more of soap and his hair of the shampoo that he had used not more than a couple of hours earlier.

            The girl was not really ashamed of what she was wearing, how she smelled, or that her panties were practically visible because this was what she had to wear most of her life since she could remember.  All of her clothes were stained, even when she first got them since they were all hand-me-downs that people donated to her poor family.  None of her clothes ever fit her properly, always having holes in the most intimate places, so that she was used to people seeing parts of her panties and she always wore an undershirt because otherwise, they would see her bra, not that even at the age of nineteen, she had a bosom that even required one.

            She did try to clean up a bit in the nearby lake that morning because she was going somewhere important with a man that claimed to have her future in his hands, but the lake could only get you so clean.  In her own home, the water wasn’t working properly again, and so there was no way they could fill the tub with nice warm water for a proper bath.  There was no working shower since she could even remember.

            “Your clothes are not appropriate for our school,” the man had told the young girl back at her aunt and uncle’s house.  “They are too… inappropriate for the college I represent.”

            She could understand what he meant when she saw how nice he looked, even when they were just going to be on the road for the next few days.  She nodded and left all of her clothes at home, not even bringing one change of clothes with her.

            “We’ll, that is the school, will get you some decent clothes,” the man had told the young girl.  “It’s all a part of the scholarship that you’ve won.”

            Breanna was ashamed that she had to rely on the school’s money to get her something decent to wear, but she was also a bit excited to actually get to get some hand-me-downs that might actually look nice for once.  She assumed it would be hand-me-downs.  No one ever gave poor people new stuff after all.  Who could afford to?

            As they drove through the rough country, driving up and down rolling hills that was in the mountains with trees and bushes lining the sides of the one lane a-side-road, sprinkled dots of water started to pepper the windshield of the red and black four door hatchback.  It had the effect that that Breanna could imagine some Central American god was spitting at her, and she understood perfectly why, if that were the case.

            Breanna didn’t deserve any of this.  Ever since she was around ten or eleven years old, she had been told how undeserving of a good home she really was, and that she was just lucky her aunt and uncle knew she was family.

            You see, she came to live with her aunt and uncle when she was almost eleven years of age, and at that time, she was still growing out of some shameful childish habits like wetting the bed, and even in her pants at times.  She didn’t really mean to wet her pants or the bed, but for some reason, she just couldn’t control herself long enough, especially when at school during classes, so she wet herself not only in fifth grade, but also in sixth grade, seventh grade, and sometimes, even in the eighth grade before her daytime wetting had mostly stopped enough that she had no more accidents at school.

            She could still hear her aunt scolding her for that last time in eighth grade when she came to pick her up from school.

            “Breanna!  How old are you?” she had asked her the way she always started a scold when Breanna had wet her pants.  “It’s no wonder your father abandoned you after your mother died of drug overdosing.  You wet your pants like a baby, you eye drugs like it was candy, and you never do anything right, not even your homework!”

            She felt her eyes tear up as she sat there in the car, knowing her aunt was right.  She wondered why the school chose her.  She surely didn’t write that good of an essay, and it likely had so many mistakes in it, that they probably wondered if someone in junior high or younger was trying to play a joke on them, trying to get into their school….

            “What’s wrong?” Mr. Oswald glanced away from the road momentarily so he could see her sitting there, her head staring down at her lap, tears welling in her eyes, her body shaking with a vibration that had nothing to do with the ill-repaired roads that they were driving on.

            Breanna sniffled and pulled her head up, sniffled to try to will her snot and tears to go back into her body to hide away.  She looked over at the man and shook her head.

            “No… nothing,” she whispered, though the raspy mostly air filled response gave away a different story.

            “Honey, you can tell me.  It’s okay.  It’s just the two of us and no one in this car is going to judge you whatever reason you feel like crying, honey.”

            She looked up at him.  “I promise, I’m okay,” she was still having a hard time keeping mostly air out of her responses which made her voice sound strange, somewhere between a whisper and a voiced sound.

            He smiled and turned back on the road.

            “A lot of young people get homesick rather quickly when they realize they are on their way to school that would last four years,” he told her.  “It’s alright to miss your family and to cry because you are scared.”

            She shivered.  “I’m not crying cause I’m scared,” she whimpered.

            “Alright,” he said though his voice was sympathetic, and she wasn’t completely sure he believed her.

            “I… I don’t deserve to win the scholarship,” she told him under her breath.  “I think you guys mixed up the papers or something for the essay.”

            He turned and looked over at her.

            “What would make you say something like that?” he asked her.

            “I just… I know I didn’t write better than anyone else that would be applying.  I don’t even know why I tried to write an essay at all.  I’m such a loser and never do anything right.”

            Tears once again came pouring towards the fronts of her eyes, threatening to spill down her cheeks.

            “Who told you that?” he asked her.

            “It’s true,” she said.  “Just ask me to spell anything you want.  Ask me to write something.  Tell me to do a math problem, or even….” She turned her head away too embarrassed to say anymore.

            “Breanna, we pulled the right paper.  There is nothing wrong with your writing,” he told her.  “You have a lot of typical mistakes that a lot of young people make who have not yet gone to college, but there is nothing to indicate that you write any worse than anyone else.”

            She just looked down at her lap, hearing the words that she had heard all her life since she was ten years old….

            “You are such a loser!  You are lucky your aunt and uncle put up with such a troublesome girl as you.  You can’t do anything right!  Do you still wet the bed?  I bet you do.  You are such a loser!”

            The girl shook in her seat.  She had not wet the bed in a couple of years, and her pants wetting in the day was mostly behind her, though if she did have to wait too long without being able to find somewhere private, she did leak into her panties once in a while.

            The man turned to glance at her again.

            “Sweetheart, you are the winner of our scholarship, and you did it because of your essay and because when I visited your home yesterday to interview you, you impressed me.  You did this on your own, and you are NOT a loser.”

            Breanna kept her head looking down at her lap.

            “Didn’t my aunt tell you why I’m a loser?” she asked him knowing that her aunt had insisted on talking to him privately even without her hearing.

            “Your aunt didn’t use that kind of word about you, baby.”

            “But she told you why I shouldn’t qualify, didn’t she?”

            He chuckled.  “You mean like you just now tried to tell me why you didn’t think you qualified?  Yeah.  I told her that according to our interview, your essay, and what I picked up of samples of your high school work, you did qualify, and she shouldn’t worry about you failing school.”

            Breanna shivered and keep her head down.

            Outside the car, she could hear not only the rain that was picking up speed with the rate it fell from the sky, but she heard some mocking squawking laughing as though from one of those birds that sounding like loud laughing.  The gods were mocking her.

            “Can you pull over for a minute?” she asked the man once he had seemed to fall quiet from trying to convince her that she was not a waste of student space at his school.

            “Honey, I’m afraid there is nowhere to really stop for a little distance.  Why do you want to stop?”

            “I gotta pee,” she whispered and blushed as she looked over at him.

            “I can’t pull over here,” he told her.  “I promised both your aunt and the school I’d look out for you until you get to the school, and that means watching for your safety.”

            “But… there’s no one around.  I’ll just go behind a bush at the side of the road.  Please.  I gotta go.”

            “No,” he said as he continued to drive.  “Just try to hold on a little longer, and when I see a decent place that is safer, I’ll stop then.”

            Breanna put her hand on her stomach and nodded.  She knew there was no point in continuing the conversation.  He was in control of the car, and trying to take control from him would only make matters worse.

            A half an hour later, she felt the first leak slip through her inner body, and spray from her folds into her panties.  She wet her panties some, just like she always did if she didn’t get somewhere private in time.  She hoped that that was going to be the extent of it, and he would find a place soon, but she also knew that there just weren’t that many rest areas on these roads.

            She closed her eyes and put her hands between her bouncing legs, and rubbed her knees together, hoping she could get to a toilet before anymore came out.

            The poor nineteen year old didn’t really know how much time had passed, when she started to stare at the floor, tried to shut off her muscle, and tried to keep from anymore coming out, but quite sometime later, she felt her muscle weaken, and a short stream took advantage, and peed a bit into her panties which then quickly went under her bottom and wet her bottom and she couldn’t help but feel her hand down under her shorts to make sure, but the car seat was barely damp.

            “Please, Mr. Oswald.  I’m going to wet my pants,” she said hoping he didn’t smell her or realize she had already leaked twice now.

            He reached over and patted her arm.  “If you wet, sweetie, you wet.  There’s not much we can do about it until we find a safe place for you to go.”

            Blushing, she nodded and felt herself pee some more into her panties, now knowing the seat was getting wet under her.  Her legs picked up in speed as her leg bounced up and down as though a jackhammer was trying to break a hole in the car floor.

            “Tell me the truth, honey.  Are you already wet?  Did you already go some in your panties, baby?”

            She looked over at him.  She was scared that he had caught her, scared he would yell at her, but even more scared not to tell him the truth now that he probably caught her.

            “You always secretly pee your pants and go around dirty!” she heard a voice in the back of her mind.  “No wonder everyone in town thinks you are a dirty girl!  They must think we are the worst guardians ever, and you need to be spanked to learn not to do that!”

            That was the voice of her uncle, who would then take her thirteen and even fourteen year old self back to the back room, pull her pants and panties down, and then whip her butt until it was red and raw.

            “I’m sorry,” she whimpered up at him.  “I can’t hold it.”

            “I know,” he put another caring hand on her shoulder.  “I’m not mad.  I just want to know whether to stop or not.”

            “What do you mean?”

            “If your shorts are wet, and showing that you are wet, you’re going to be a lot more embarrassed to have everyone see you in wet shorts, that we can’t do anything about until we get where we can buy you some clean clothes, than you are if you just wet all the way in front me, honey.”

            She looked up at him.  Was he inviting her to just finish in her pants?

            “Open your legs, let’s see if your shorts are wet, baby.”

            She was so scared and nervous that her leg continued trying to jackhammer a hole into the floor, but she, shaking, parted her knees and as she did, more pee started to escape into the seat, and a small puddle was revealed in it.

            “Yeah, you’re pretty wet, little girl.  Just finish in your pants, honey.  It’ll be less embarrassing for you than getting out and running to the toilet with those soaked things on, and everyone staring at you as go.”

            Breanna bit her lower lip.  Her uncle had certainly never told her to just wet herself.  Even if he did see a damp spot under her, he would warn her it better not get any bigger unless she wanted to be spanked twice as much when they stopped.

            “It’s okay, I promise,” the man next to her told her with a smile.  “It’s not your fault, and I don’t want you to walk shamefully in front of a bunch of people showing them you wet yourself like a little girl until you have to, honey.  And we both know it’s not your fault.”

            “It’s not?” she asked confused.  How was it not her fault?  It was her body that peed and was still leaking under her despite him telling her she can just wet.

            “No baby.  You told me at least twice you had to go, but I’m not pulling over where I’m not sure it’s safe, and a little girl can only hold it for so long.”

            “But I’m an adult,” she whimpered.

            “So?  Do you think an adult can hold it forever?  If I have to go, I’ll stop on the side of the road, but I don’t have to try to go behind the bushes because I’m a man.  All I have to do, is turn my back to you and the road, and no one can see me pee, but you’d have had to pull your pants down and everyone would see you naked unless you chanced going beyond the road-bush line, where it could be a sudden cliff, and you falling to your death.”

            She frowned.  What he said made sense.  Boys sure had it easy.  She continued to feel her panties getting more and more warm and wet every few minutes because it was just too hard now, to hold it.  Eventually, the flood broke, she saw a lake rise up around her front even wetting the top of her shorts, some of it rolling over her left leg and back around to her bottom from over top before she could stop peeing.  The lake between her legs seemed to take a few moments before it went back down under her wetting all over her butt and then pouring down into the floor.

            “I wet,” she whispered up at him.

            “You did,” he agreed whispering back to her.  “And it’s okay.”

            They continued driving, and now that she was already wet, when he saw a rest area, he just drove past it not thinking she’d want to stop like this, she supposed.

            “How come you're not yelling at me or threatening to turn the car around or spank me or something?” the girl looked up at Mr. Oswald, her face serious and her eyes narrowed at him as though she couldn’t understand his actions.

            “Well, for one, you told me you had to use the bathroom, sweetheart.  You told me not once, but at least three times before you finally just started really going.  For two, it is not my place to spank you for wetting your pants whether you are nineteen years old or a child, and for three, I would never punish someone for causing themselves shame.  You obviously didn’t do it on purpose, and whether you pee your pants or not has nothing to do with you getting the scholarship, honey.”

            She felt her jaw drop at his explanations.  Even at nineteen years old, she was sure that if her uncle or aunt caught her wetting her pants, they would most certainly be punishing her, and likely even spanking her like the little kid she just behaved like.

            “Honey,” he looked over at her.  “It’s not a punishment, but until your shorts dry out enough, I’m not going to stop anywhere for you to go in for anything.  If I stop to get food, I’ll ask you what you want and bring it to you.  If I get gas, I might use the bathroom, but if your shorts are wet, and you gotta go, just go in your shorts, honey.”

            She opened her mouth to argue, but then closed it, and then tried to open it to ask him why he wanted that, but then closed it again.  She understood that he thought he was protecting her, but to wet her pants on purpose because her shorts were wet from her accident?  Was that really reasonable?  But then, she was sure people would stare at an adult that just wet her pants, wouldn’t they?

            “I know,” he seemed to read her mind.  “It’s not going to be easy to just sit there and wet your pants if we are near a toilet, but before we decide anything, we’ll check how wet your shorts are.  If they could pass off as dry, I’ll let you go, but if they are wet, I don’t want you embarrassing yourself any more than you are by wetting in front of me, okay?”

            She nodded with tears in her eyes.

            “It’s not a punishment, but just to make sure you don’t have to deal with more than you already have to, sweetheart.  I know you must be mortified at having wet yourself like a little girl.”

            Breanna nodded.

            He patted her arm a third time and even rubbed his hand up and down it.

            “It’s honestly okay that you didn’t make it, sweetheart.  We were going to have to buy you some other clothes before we crossed the border to the United States anyway.  Our school would have really frowned on both of us if I brought you there with your panties showing out of both the tops of your shorts, and through the left ripped leg.  And that shirt is so stained, that the school would wonder if I was taking care of the people I brought to the school at all if we arrived with you wearing that.”

            Breanna blushed.

            “It’s not your fault.  I know what your Aunt and Uncle’s situation is, so of course you didn’t have anything decent in your drawers, which is why we left all your other clothes at home.  You and I will get you some stuff to wear when we get to Guatemala.”

            Of course, Guatemala City was the capitol named for the country.

            They drove along for quite some time, and when she did have to pee again, he demanded she move over on her hip, and let him see under her, the back of her shorts and the seat, and then he let her sit again.

            “Just wet your pants,” he told her.  “You’re too wet to stop somewhere without anyone seeing, so you’re not getting out of the car until we get to Guatemala City.”

            She frowned.  “For real?”

            “For real, sweetheart.  Feel your hand on your shorts if you don’t believe me that you are too wet to get out.”

            She knew she was wet.  She could feel it on her bottom without having to check with her hand.

            “But if I just wet on purpose, like… like a baby….”

            “Not a baby,” he whispered over at her.  “Like an eleven year old that has already had one accident, and doesn’t have anywhere to go again.  Think of it like what a child would do, if she was trapped and already wet, honey.  Because honestly, you are not going to want to go into a store in an adult mindset the way you are anyway, are you?”

            Breanna looked at him knitting her eyebrows and her mouth forming a small pouty smile.

            “What do you mean?”

            “Well, you are going to end up going into the clothing store with me in those wet clothes, and even if they dry even a little, people are going to notice that you’ve peed, right?”

            Tears threatened her eyes again.  She nodded.

            “You are short enough with an innocent looking enough of a face, you could pull off looking a lot younger.  Wetting as a child is pretty embarrassing, but which would embarrass you more, people thinking a dirty adult woman peed her pants while we are getting your clothes, or a little kid that couldn’t hold it long enough while traveling, had had an accident in the car?”

            She looked down at her wet shorts.  Maybe he was right.  Maybe it was less embarrassing if people thought she was a little kid that wet herself.  But how old did he think she could pull off looking.  If he was thinking fifteen years old, that’s really not that much less of an adult than a nineteen year old.

            “Just pretend to be my little eleven year old daughter.  I’ll explain that we were on the road from Coban, and that you just couldn’t hold it all the way here, and you were scared to pee in public with people passing on the road, so you tried to hold it, but couldn’t.”

            The girl frowned and looked up at him.  “But you were the one that was scared of me going….”

            “Alright, I’ll them everyone I didn’t want you running off of the road to go, and so I wouldn’t pull over for you because you couldn’t promise to pee in front of your daddy.  Most eleven year olds wouldn’t want to pee in front of their daddies, especially with other cars passing by, too, right?”

            She nodded with a sigh.  “So, when we are shopping, you’ll pretend I’m eleven, and I had an accident in my pants because the rest areas were too far apart?”

            “That’s the plan, honey.”

            She nodded.  “So, you spank me when we get to the store, and after I change my pants?”

            “No.  I’m not spanking you, another or real child, or even my own for an accident in your pants, honey.  An accident means you didn’t mean to do it, so there is no reason to punish you for something you just couldn’t control.  You did what you could.  You asked me to pull over, and I didn’t want you to just pull your pants down in the car on purpose… so you were a good girl.”

            She looked up at him again, really trying to understand why he kept saying she was a good girl and that wetting her pants was really okay.  They got just into the capitol city when her bladder gave out, because she really couldn’t get comfortable with going on purpose even if he did tell her to, and she wet herself literally, moments before they pulled into the parking lot for a huge department store.

            “Here we are,” he told her.  “Now, did you do as I told you and wet your pants completely yet?”

            She looked up at him with a frown.

            “Honey, I don’t want you peeing on the floor in the store on purpose, and we can’t take you to the bathroom to change you until we get you some clean clothes, so I want you to be finished wetting before we go in.”

            She signed and looked down at her lap.

            “I think I finished….”

            “Well, make sure.  Push and see if anything comes out, honey.”

            She did, and when she pushed, she surprised herself as she started wetting, and the water literally flooded the seat again and all over her pants.  Come to think of it, she really had not experienced the real flood the second time.  She just thought she had just peed so slowly that it just didn’t come out as a flood this time, but there it was, when made to push to see if she could wet, the flood came, and it kept coming and coming and coming.

            She really had to pee, and before she was done, her seat was a soggy mess and the floor around her was soggy.  She was surprised it didn’t make a lake on the floor.

            “Finished?” he asked her when it looked like the waters had stopped.

            She tried to push again to make sure.  He wanted her to wet, and she didn’t want to make him mad at her, more mad, than he should be that she even already wet herself, twice, in his car.  There was nothing left.  She had completely wet, so she nodded.

            “Good girl,” he leaned over and hugged her a moment with one arm, and then he got out, and she sat there, waiting for him to come to her side of the car, hesitating to get out in the sopping wet shorts she was wearing.

            “Come on, baby,” he opened her door and helped her out getting her to her feet.  “Embarrassed?”

            She looked down at her feet, her shorts just sopping wet.  She nodded.

            “I know, honey.”

            Before she could object, and surprised at his strength, he lifted her up and started to carry her, just as if she really was a child.

            “Um…,” she wanted to object, but drawing too much attention, and people would surely look at her wet butt and know that she was probably in trouble for wetting, and if he was right, that she looked like a child, they would probably assume she was just being a brat because he was trying to get her into the store to get her some clean clothes, so she stopped herself from making a scene.

            “Trust me, baby.  You’ll thank me for carrying you like a child and taking care of you.  No one needs to know you are any older than eleven years old.”

            She nodded and sighed.  Maybe he was right.

            When they got into the store, he put her down next to the shopping carts, and had her get one to start pushing. 

            “Having a shopping cart in front of you will stop people seeing your wet shorts from the front, and ‘daddy’ will walk behind you also with my hands on it, so not so many people will get to see your wet butt, either, okay?”

            She nodded.  Tears slid down her face as she let him push the cart with her, feeling no older than seven years old like this, maybe even younger.

            They pushed the cart, not towards the adult women’s section, but towards the preteen girls’ section.

            Breanna looked up at the towering man and coughed lightly.

            “What is it?” he asked her.

            “We… we’re going to the children’s area,” she thought she was alerting him.

            “I know, honey.  You’ve wet your pants, and we need to get you some clothes, and if anyone sees you wet, they’ll definitely know we are getting a child some clothes by coming this way.”

            She blushed.  “So… um… I have to wear children’s clothes?”

            “Do you want to go to the adult section and admit to everyone that a nineteen year old adult peed herself not once, but even did it a second time because she was asked to?”

            Her face got really hot with embarrassment and she shook her head.

            “Of course you don’t.  So, it’s either kids’ clothes and I explain a little girl couldn’t hold it from Coban or it’s women’s clothes and everyone will assume a young adult just peed herself in the car for little to no reason.”

            She sniffled and but went along with what he was doing, and he took her to the little preteen panty area.  Preteen panties, well, that should just be plain or pastel panties that were more or less, mature looking?  But no… he took her to the colorful panty area with some pictures of cartoon characters on the butts and on the fronts, even.

            “Choose come cute panties, honey, like a child.  Please.”

            She was scared to argue with him.  At least he wasn’t really scolding her or telling the whole store she had peed her pants.  He really was acting like a daddy that was walking behind his wet little girl, trying to keep her accident as little noticed as possible.

            Sighing, she eventually stood in front of the underwear rack looking at princess panties.  She looked up at him.

            “Are these kind of okay?” she asked as she pointed at the panties that were colored yellow, purple, light blue, pink, and so on with Disney princesses on the butts on some and on the fronts of others.

            “Yes, honey.  Now, what size can you comfortably get in to?  Don’t tell me you don’t know, because with your height, I’m betting you’ve had to buy preteen panties before for one reason or another.”

            She blushed.  He was right.  Her aunt had even threatened to buy her preteen panties, was it last year, when she had accidentally wet herself partway, when they had been at church, and she couldn’t get away in time, that her panties had gotten wet.  She didn’t remember how or why her aunt had found out she was wet under her skirt, but they had gone right to a store, and her aunt had drug her to the preteen panties, just like this, actually, and made her point out a pair of the most childish panties she could fit into.  Luckily, her aunt had gotten her all the way to the cashier, before as red faced as Breanna could be, the aunt said that they must have picked up the childish panties by accident, and let her off.

            But he was not letting her off.  It was either fully act like a child right now, or everyone in the store would know what a dirty woman she was.  She couldn’t bare anyone knowing she was nineteen, wearing wet peed in shorts, and walking right next to him as if her daddy was trying to help her get clean clothes.

            He had her pick out three different pairs of panties, one pair of purple with Jasmine on them, one lightblue with Ariel, and one pink with Else, the Snow Queen on it.  Then, he walked her towards the jeans and skirts area for preteens.

            She looked up at him for direction.

            “Get a couple of plain pairs that just look normal,” he told her.  “Even preteen girls sometimes wear just plain jeans.  And then get a pair of cute shorts, one pair of cute jeans and one cute skirt.”

            She did so.  But if she was getting five clean bottoms, why only three pair of panties?  She wasn’t really sure what he was thinking, but she decided it better not think too much about it. 

            Once she had bottoms that he was satisfied with, he took her to get some nice tops.  Again, he allowed her two plain looking tops and then three tops had to be cute.

            After that, some undershirts, and then two pair of pajamas, some nicer shoes than she had on, and then they were back in a panty area, only, these panties looked even more juvenile than preteen panties.

            “Um….”

            “Honey, you need some panties for bed and our long car trip.  These are the best kind if you are trying not to wet yourself, but leak in your panties.”

            “But….”

            He patted her back and whispered in her ear.

            “You are a good little girl,” he told her.  “I know you aren’t wetting on purpose.  But I don’t expect it to get any easier to find toilets on the road until we get past the US border, and honey, that’s still four days away.”

            She nodded.

            “And your aunt told me that you do wet the bed at night.”

            Her face went bright red when he said that.

            “I do not!” she rasped in a whisper.  “My aunt was just trying….”

            “Your aunt showed me your bed mattress with all the stains from you wetting it.”

            She looked down.  No wonder he thought she could wet herself so easily.  Her aunt had betrayed the family secret, though she had not actually wet the bed in at least a year and a half, she wasn’t really sure how to convince him that it was just old stains that he saw.  How was a nineteen year old young woman to convince someone that she just wet until she was around seventeen?  What other seventeen year old wets the bed?

            “If you thought I wet the bed,” she finally gathered some strength to confront it while she looked over the more juvenile panties that definitely had a thicker feel as though they were made for little accidents.  “How come you decided to still pick me for the scholarship?”

            “I already answered that question earlier, baby.  Your scholarship has nothing to do with whether you can keep your pants dry at night or daytime, or anything like that.  It is about your eagerness to better your position in life, and your essay was inspirational.”

            “But my essay was really bad, wasn’t it?  I am bad at writing, always making the wrong word and spelling wrong, and it doesn’t make sense and stuff….”

            “Honey, your essay was really good,” he put a hand on her shoulder and sent a strong feeling through her when he did that he was telling her what he really believed.  “You need to believe in yourself a little more, sweetheart.”

            She nodded.  Of course, her aunt and uncle, and most of the people she had grown up for the last ten years or so would have been telling her the opposite.  Her aunt knew just how immature and how much a loser she really was.

            He helped her pick out five pairs of basically potty training panties, though they were not quite so small and not quite so babyish as that.

            Once he had her clothes for her all ready to go, he made sure she was in position again, the car blocking the front of her shorts and him standing behind her to block the view from behind, and they walked towards the checkout lines.

            Well, it wasn’t completely hidden, and when they were in line, a girl, maybe around the age she was supposed to be, maybe a little younger, tugged at her mom and then pointed at Breanna.

            “Mommy, look.  That poor girl wet her pants.”

            Her mother smiled at Breanna and waved, and then she hugged her own child and whispered to her.

            “It’s not nice to point out other’s little booboos.  Her daddy will take care of her, honey.”

            The child nodded and said “Sorry.”

            Oswald heard everything and he decided it was time to play up what he had told Breanna he would do.

            “Well, what can an eleven year old do?  We were driving all day, from Coban, and well, she’s eleven.  You don’t expect her to go out on the side of the road where everyone can see, right?”

            The woman smiled.

            “And of course, I wouldn’t let her run off into the bushes because some of those places are just freefalls on the otherside of the bushline, so I told her to either squat on the road or get back in the car, and she got back in the car.  I can’t blame her.”

            The woman nodded approvingly.  “You’re a good dad to not be mad at her for that.  My husband would have killed our daughter if she didn’t just pee on the road like you told her to do, but I think it was wrong.”

            “Didn’t you tell him that he shouldn’t force her to pee in front of people like that?”

            “Um….  I…. Well, my kids need to know that you don’t fight about discipline in front of them, so I told my daughter to listen to her dad even though I didn’t like it.”

            Oswald nodded.  “Well, if anyone tells me I’m wrong for understanding my little girl’s need to be modest, they can just go… well, go somewhere they don’t like and live there.  If my little girl wets her pants, that’s really just between me and my own little child, right?”

            The woman nodded.

            Then, she was at the counter and taking care of her things.

            Breanna had blushed when they first started talking, but as they got into it, and the man was calling her modest, which was a good thing, and that whether she wet or not was really no one’s business but her daddy’s and if he wanted to let her be modest, and anyone that didn’t like that, could just die….  She started to feel better about the idea that he had said she was only eleven years old, and the lady bought it.

            They eventually got to the front to pay for their stuff, and then he started to walk her over where the bathrooms were, but he stopped in front of the men’s room.

            “I’m going there,” she pointed at the women’s.

            “Honey, I don’t want you going in there by yourself….”

            As they were deciding, that same woman came by, and noticed their stand off.

            “Your little girl feeling too old to go in the men’s with her daddy, huh?” she asked him.

            “Yeah.  But her mommy isn’t with us anymore, and I really feel nervous letting her go in there alone.”

            “Maybe I could go in with her?”

            “I appreciate it, but no.  You’re still a stranger to me.”

            Breanna crossed her arms.  “Then what am I going to do?” she asked him.

            “You don’t need to pee, do you?”

            “No.  I already did that in the car, remember?”

            “Yes, baby.  I know.  Tell you what, let’s go unload what we have, and then come back into the store for a few more things….”

            “How’s that going to let me change my pants?”

            “You’ll see.  Just trust daddy, okay?” he winked at her.

            “Fine, but I’m not going in a men’s bathroom.”

            “You don’t have to, sweetheart.”

            “And I’m not showing my butt to anyone outside.”

            “No, sweetheart.  That’s why we need some more stuff in the store.  I promise, you’ll have privacy to change, and won’t have to use the public toilets to change your pants.”

            She blushed but went with him to drop off their shopping, and then walked with him back into the store, the same as before, the cart and Oswald trying to block anyone from seeing her wet shorts again.

            Back in the store, Oswald picked up some cushions, a couple of soft matts, some short curtains and rods that seemed rather flexible, and eventually, they got back to the car, where he put a curtain in the back behind the backseat, one on each side window, and then, somehow, he got an adjustable rod to hold a curtain between the front seat and the backseat, so that even he couldn’t see her when she changed.

            “Alright now, we’ll put a changing mat on the backseat,” he told her.  “Stand up in the back until you can get your shorts and panties down, so you don’t get your matt wet, and then when you put on clean clothes, they won’t get wet,” he told her.

            She looked up at him and nodded.  Then she got in the car and he closed the back door, and even though the curtain divided the front from the back, he stayed outside the car while Breanna stripped off her wet things.

            She looked over the childish panties he had gotten her, but decided they were better than wet things, and put the Ariel panties on.  Then she put on some plain jeans, and taking off her dingy shirt, she exchanged it for a pink shirt with a rainbow on it and a Unicorn head coming from under the rainbow.

            Have a Sparkling Day the shirt read under the picture.

            Once she was changed, she opened the car door to let him know she was done.

            He had her twirl for him and then smiled.

            “The front seat is all wet, where you were sitting, so you should sit in the back until it dries,” he told her.  “Anyway, we are going to get something to eat for dinner and then stay the night here.”

            She nodded.  She definitely didn’t want to sit in a pee soaked seat while wearing clean new jeans even if the panties under them were very juvenile.

 

It's been a while since I wrote, and this is the first time to try to write something, well, like this, so I hope it worked.  anyway, try to enjoy it, and I know there is a lot of 'you have to suspend your belief' moments in this one for the story to work.  I'm sure a lot of girls would put up much more of  a fuss and the whole idea is likely just a fantasy.  No way of being real... but anyway....

[Cya]

Honestly, I've read more unrealistic stuff than this and I think this is a very interesting story. Is it straight forward and will she go to college or is he leading her to some kind of baby programming school? Can't wait to see where this goes!

[StoneRiver76]

            Chapter Two:

            Once the little nineteen year old turned eleven was clean and comfortable, and Mr. Oswald was in the front seat again, her in a clean pair of jeans and a very childish pink cartoony shirt comfortably dry in the back seat, he started to look for a nice little restaurant for them to eat at.

            As they started to drive around, to find a good place to eat, Mr. Oswald talked to her.

            “What do you like to eat?”

            “Um… whatever is fine.”  She had come from a poor family, her aunt and uncle not having much more than a roof over their heads, so she really could not afford to be a picky eater.  Maybe before she had turned twelve, she might have fussed about what was given her, she couldn’t remember, but after living with her impoverished aunt and uncle for over seven years, she learned to be grateful for whatever food she was given.

            “Let’s stop there, if that’s okay with you then,” he pointed out a quaint little restaurant that wasn’t so high class you couldn’t take kids in, but was not a fast food place either.

            She nodded when she looked up through the front windshield, scooting the edge of the back seat so she could see.

            “That looks good… Mr. Os….”

            “Honey, call me daddy for now.”

            She blushed.  “But, I’m not even wet,” she started to complain.

            “Look at your clothes honey.  Do you want everyone to think a nineteen year old picked out such a childish shirt?”

            She shook her head no.

            “Call me daddy, sweetheart.  I promise, I’m doing this for you.  If you have more wetting problems while we are on the road, it will be a lot easier to explain accidents done by an eleven year old child than an adult.”

            She nodded.  She hoped she wasn’t going to wet her pants the whole trip, but he had point about there not being that many toilets available on the road, and he had already made it clear he wasn’t just going to pull over on the side of the road for her.

            “Okay, daddy.  It’s just… I’m not used to having a daddy that cares.  My daddy abandoned me when I was about eleven because I think I was doing drugs then, and because I wet myself all the time.”

            Mr. Oswald looked up at her through the rearview mirror.

            “So, if he just abandoned you, how did you end up with your aunt and uncle?” he asked her.

            “I’m not sure how they found me,” she looked down at her new shoes which were really, kind of childish, too.  “I just know that shortly after my daddy disappeared, some people took me to Mexico, and then somehow found my aunt and uncle.”

            “You were in Mexico for a while?”

            “Not really.  They took me to Mexico, but I’m not sure how long I was there before my aunt and uncle were found, and then I was taken on to Guatemala to stay with them.”

            “Are you sure your daddy abandoned you?” he asked her.

            “I… well, he disappeared, and some people that picked me up told me that he left me.  They had picked me up from school, I think because my daddy didn’t come to get me that day.”

            He frowned. 

            “Well, I’m really sorry that happened to you, baby.  But if you trust me to be your daddy while we are on this trip, I will not abandon you whether you are pretending to be eleven or even if you are nineteen years old.”

            “Okay.”

            Mr. Oswald got out of the car once he parked it, and he went to her door, opened it, and helped her out.  He then bent down, hugging her, he also felt the back of her pants.

            “What are you doing, sir?”

            “Just checking my little girl to make sure you weren’t too embarrassed to tell me you accidentally pottied your pants again.”

            Breanna’s face burned a little bit.  Her aunt must have convinced him that she still wets all the time, and doesn’t tell anyone that she’s wet.  Well, she does do little accidents in her panties that she doesn’t think even her aunt knows about, but still, she figured her aunt told him it was worse because she was afraid that Breanna would disappoint them, and get sent back for wetting her pants at school.

            Mr. Oswald helped her tuck her shirt into her jeans, just as if she was a child.

            “It’s not proper to have half your shirt tucked in and the other half sticking out,” he told her showing her where she had not tucked in her shirt in places.  “Just hold still for a minute, okay?”

            He unzipped her jeans, moved his hand all the way around her shirt to force it down into her pants, and then he zipped her back up and buttoned her pants for her.

            “There we are.  All nice and dressed.”

            He had had her twirl for him when they first left the last place though, so she thought she had tucked her shirt all the way in.  She didn’t know how or why her shirt had come out in places, but since all he did was help her get it back in place, she decided to just drop it.  He was just acting like a daddy, probably.

            He then took her by the hand and walked with her up to the building where he let her hand go, and opened the door for her.

            Before she knew it, she was sitting with her ‘daddy’ at a table, and he smiled at her.

            “You know what’s missing?” he asked her.

            “What?” she asked.

            “I haven’t seen you pull out a phone or ipad even once to play around with it.”

            “I’m nineteen years old,” the girl reminded him.

            “Nineteen, eleven, whatever, it’s not natural for a young person to not be on her phone when her daddy or important person isn’t talking to her.  Where is your phone, baby?”

            “I don’t have one.”

            “Well, we’re going to have to fix that.  Even a nineteen year old who is on her own going to college needs a mobile phone for her safety.  We’ll get you one as soon as I can.”

            “But… you never said the school would provide something like that,” she said almost scared of taking such an expensive gift from this guy.

            “The school assumes that all young people have a phone,” he told her.  “It’ll be our little secret if I get you one.”

            “But…, I can’t pay to keep it working,” she told him.  “I’m only going to college because you said the scholarship will pay for everything I need.”

            “And it will,” he reached a hand across the table to take her hands in his.  “And you need a phone, so the school, even if I have to see to it personally, will pay to make sure you have a working phone.  We will have to wait until we get to America to get it, but we will be getting you a phone.”

            She blushed.  She was sure that this had nothing to do with what the school would provide for her.  She wondered what made this guy really care about whether she had one or not, and why he kept wanting her to call him daddy.

            “Trust me, you need a phone for your safety, honey.  Things can happen in the states to young women that are not prepared for danger.”

            “I know,” she said looking down.  “Things happen in Guatemala, too.”

            He smiled.  “Well, as long as I’m looking after you, I will make it as difficult as possible for anything bad to happen to you, sweetheart.”

            “You keep calling me baby and sweetheart,” she looked up at him.  “You’re not… you know, interested in me, are you?”

            He shook his head and frowned.  “Not like that, no, honey.  I’m just treating you like a child so that it’s easier to protect you.  I don’t mean anything by the little expressions of care that I’m using.  If it’s really uncomfortable, I can try to stop doing it.”

            “But you’re saying it to remind me to be eleven years old right now, and to treat me like a kid?” she asked.

            “To protect you, honey.  It’s more than keeping you from being embarrassed as an adult if you have an accident.  It’s also that people are much less to try something if they think you are a child, whose father is right at hand watching you like a hawk.”

            She nodded.  That did make sense.

            “I guess you can call me childish stuff if you want.  It doesn’t really hurt me.  I was just wondering is all.”

            She looked up to see a waiter coming with the food that they had ordered.

            “Daddy?  Can I go potty?” Breanna asked him.

            “Sure honey.  It’s right over there, so you have two minutes, and then I’m going to come looking for you.  Don’t make me come in there looking for you unless you’re in trouble, okay?”

            She nodded and got up and went to the bathroom.  She still didn’t need to pee, to tell the truth because she had just done it not long ago, but she wanted to go look in the mirror.  Her hair was still a little bit wild, and the look clashed horribly with the nice new things she had on, so she tried to train her hair down with some water.  After some time, she got her hair to flatten down, but when she was done, she had gotten her face and shirt a bit wet.  Then, just in case, she did sit on the toilet, but as she suspected, nothing wanted to come out.

            She got up and went to wash her hands, and then on her way out, just as Oswald had promised he would, he had started towards the bathroom door to check on her.

            “There you are, sweetie!  You spend all that time on your hair, honey?”

            She smiled up at him.  “It’s better, right?”

            He smiled back down at her.  “You could have told me that you wanted to fix your hair, baby.”

            She shrugged. 

            “Did you at least sit on the potty and try?”

            She nodded.  “I tried.”

            “Good girl,” and he put a hand on her back and directed her back to the table to eat.

            “Next time, warn me you are wanting to look after your hair or something, baby.  It takes girls a little bit to do things like that.  I was getting a little worried about you.”

            “I’m sorry.  I will, daddy.”

            They started eating.

            He whispered to her.  “Don’t be afraid to get a little on your shirt or of making a mess.  Eleven year olds are not as messy as babies, but they do spill sometimes, okay?”

            Breanna frowned.  Was he hinting that she should dirty her shirt with food somehow?  He seemed to be taking her acting eleven a bit more seriously than she imagined needed to protect her.  Still, he had been in charge of picking up kids for this college, probably for a long time, so he likely knew better than she did, what needed to be done to get her safely to the college.

            She decided the easiest way to get food on herself, was to have an accident, so she accidentally, on purpose, dropped her fork saying oops as the food on it splattered her shirt and her jeans.  She hoped that was good enough, as she picked up her fork again, but he stopped her using it, and called for a waiter.

            “I’m sorry, but my daughter had a little accident.  Can she please get a clean fork?”

            The waiter smiled and nodded.

            Oswald smiled at Breanna.  “You must be really tired from all the driving, baby.”

            She nodded.  She wasn’t sure if he thought it really was an accident, or if he knew she had done it on purpose to get food on her like he told her to do, but it didn’t matter.  She had accomplished what he wanted.

            “We’ll look for a place to rest for the rest of the evening after we are done eating, and then you can take a bath, okay, baby?”

            She nodded.  He really seemed to say honey and baby an awful lot, much more than needed to make people believe he was her daddy.  She started to wonder if he really wanted to be her daddy, and wanted her to be a little kid.  She sort of wouldn’t mind being a little kid and letting him be her full time daddy, somewhere in the back of her mind, but in her more alert half, she knew that that would make everything harder for what she had to do.  He was a nice person as a daddy, never actually criticizing her for little accidents and always being concerned for her.

            They finished eating, and then he went to her side of the table, and picked her up.

            “You were spilling food all over yourself,” he whispered to her.  “You must be really tired, so daddy is going to carry his little one out to the car and help you get tucked in, okay?”

            She only responded by rolling so that she could hug him and hide her face in his shoulder.  She didn’t want people to see her face as she was carried out like a baby, but she didn’t tell him no either.  Truth was, she was tired, and if she was actually eleven years old, she imagined that this would have been a really nice feeling.  Even now, it didn’t feel entirely terrible, but it was embarrassing.

            He helped her into the back seat, laid her down, and then unbuttoned her pants.

            She looked up at him, but before she could ask why, he was already answering her.

            “It’s more comfortable to sleep with your pants not so tight and you’re in the car now, safe from anyone seeing you, so it’s not going to hurt to unbutton or unzip your pants so you can be comfortable as you fall asleep.”

            She nodded and let him undo her pants for her, and then he smiled at her one last time before closing the door for her and then getting in the front to drive, looking for a motel.

            Breanna laid back in the seat, just the way Mr. Oswald had put her, and she closed her eyes.  Despite being stuck in the car for most of the day, and really not having much of anything exciting around her, she was giddy and her energy was on high throughout the trip.  Maybe it was because she was riding with a stranger, going to a strange land.  Maybe it was because she was accepted into college despite all her uncle’s and aunt’s words haunting her day in and day out that she was a waste of space and would never be able to get out on her own.  Maybe it was because she was confused by Mr. Oswald’s expectations.  He certainly had different thoughts about how to protect a young lady than her aunt and uncle did, especially when it came to treating her like an eleven year old.

            She sighed.

            She didn’t know when, but somehow, she had fallen asleep despite the fact that they couldn’t have been looking for a motel for very long.  They were in the capitol city, after all.

            The first moment she realized she had been asleep, and then prodded and lifted out of the seat, was when she was finally in his arms, and he was adjusting her to carry her into the motel room.

            “You were, sleepy, weren’t you baby?” he asked her as he shuffled her into a comfortable position to carry her into the room.

            She smiled up at him and nodded her still droopy eye face.

            “Well, before you sleep, we need to get you into your night panties and your pajamas, okay?”

            “I honestly don’t wet the bed anymore,” she tried to tell him.

            “Well, whether you do or not, can you please do what I ask, at least this once?  If you wake up dry in the morning, I won’t insist on you sleeping in them anymore, but they are still a good idea for you to wear in the car, okay?”

            She nodded.

            He took her right to the bathroom, and he set her down next to the toilet.

            “I can leave the bathroom so you can try to pee,” he said to her.  But her eyes were not only drooping, but her arms barely had any energy, and she just tried to lift her head up to look at him.  She was exhausted.

            “Do you want me to leave the bathroom?” he asked her.

            “No need.  I just wet myself not that long ago, and I don’t think I can go right now, sir.”

            “Daddy,” he reminded her.  “You can call me sir after we get you to the school, okay?”

            She looked down.  “Daddy.  I already wet so I don’t need to for a while.”

            “Alright, then, you need to take off your jeans and your panties so we can put your night panties on.  Do you want to do that yourself?”

            She nodded, but when he gave her the night panties, she just sat on the toilet, the lid down, and rested there, holding her night panties in her hands loosely.

            He had left for a bit, and when he came back to see her almost tipping over, her eyes closed, and her jeans still up, he lightly shook her.

            “Baby?  You’re not dressed for bed yet,” he told her.  “If you’re too tired to dress for bed, I’m not sure what to do.  I don’t want you to wet all over the bed, baby.”

            “I…,” she sighed.  She had already told him she doesn’t wet the bed, but it seemed her aunt was more convincing.  She looked up at him.

            “You can do it,” she gave him permission.  If he was telling the truth about treating her like his eleven year old daughter, then he really wouldn’t do anything but change her, right?  And she was too tired to do it herself.

            Her eyes closed.

            Breanna didn’t stir after that until she felt her shoulder being prodded.  She eventually started to feel the air around her, hear the insistent Mr. Oswald calling her, and to move her legs a bit in the bed… the… the bed?  It… what the?

            She sat up suddenly as her head felt funny.  She couldn’t put her finger on what her brain was trying to tell her, but she had sort of a déjà vu feeling, as though something awful had happened, and she looked at the man crouched down by the head of the bed.

            “There we are,” he said to her.  “Princess Breanna has finally joined the land of the living.”

            She had no time for his childish nickname playing.  Something was amiss, and she had to figure out what it was.  She squirmed her legs, and something was definitely not right in the bed.

            Shivering with anticipated shame, the girl reached her hands down the blankets and towards her pajama bottoms.  She felt the top of her stomach, and then lower and lower until she found her pelvis.  Lower, and then her face blushed red, a heat rising from her ears, and water ran from somewhere inside her head towards her eye sockets. 

            Her hand frantically felt around the bed next to her, willing for this to be just her imagination, but now, a cool dampness in the sheets had confirmed that despite having on the toddler-like panty, she had wet enough to get the bed soaked.  She started to sniffle, expecting him to pull back the blankets and then start scolding her at the very least.

            “What is it,” Mr. Oswald asked her still leaving her blankets covering her as though giving her the option of doing it on her own.

            She turned her red burning face away from him and muttered.  “I peed my pants….”

            “What was that?” she had obviously said it too low for him to make out.

            “I wet the bed,” she tried to say though her whiny voice that was constricting the words of shame so that she sounded raspy.

            “Baby, it’s okay if you had a nightmare,” he had not heard her properly.  “I’m here, and you’re fine now, sweetie.”

            She shivered and knowing she still couldn’t get her voice to work right, she just pulled down the blanket and showed him.

            He saw her body shaking, and her face burning, and her hands tried to cover her wet pants front, but there was no way they could be big enough to keep him seeing the massive lake around her.

            “Don’t tell me you are shaking and scared just because you’ve wet yourself,” he whispered to her.

            She nodded, her finger coming up from her leg and moving towards her mouth, but he stopped her hand when he saw it going towards her face.  He caught her hand, and he helped her sit up and turned her so her legs were dangling over the edge of the bed.

            “Your aunt told me that this happens, sweetheart.  And I told you, it’s okay….”

            “You think I lied….”

            “No, baby, I think you were too embarrassed and hoped you wouldn’t wet because what nineteen year old wants someone to think they still wet the bed, but it’s okay, baby.  Wetting in your sleep isn’t the end of all.”

            “How come you’re not yelling at me and trying to spank me?”

            “For doing something I was already warned you’d likely do?” he asked her.  “Why would I spank you or yell at you when I knew this was going to happen?  It’s not your fault.  You didn’t want to do this, right?”

            She shivered deeply.

            “Of course you didn’t,” he answered for her.  Then he picked her up and carried her towards the bathroom.

            “Until we get to the college, you are going to be treated just like an eleven year old,” he whispered to her.  “That has been the plan all along, whether you pee your pants or not.  You tell everyone who asks you, that you are eleven, sweetie, and there will be no problems.”

            She nodded.

            She thought he’d start yelling and that being eleven, enforced on her would be her punishment for wetting, but he didn’t raise his voice.  He didn’t tell her that she was stupid, and he didn’t tell her that she acted like a baby.  Instead, he just carried her to the bathroom, and put her down next to the toilet.

            “Sit on the toilet, honey.”

            “But, you’re in here….”

            “You don’t have to pull down your pants,” he told her.  “You’re already wet, sweetie.  I’m just going to run you a bath while you try to pee the rest into the toilet.”

            “Through my pajamas?”

            “Your pajamas are already wet, aren’t they?”

            She nodded.

            “Just try to pee for daddy.  No one is going to punish you or scold you just because you have a night time problem, sweetheart.”

            She sighed.  She wanted to tell him that she hadn’t wet in two years, but she knew that at the moment, there was no way to make him believe that.  She had just peed herself in her sleep, and her aunt had convinced him to expect it.  She sat on the toilet like he told her, with her pants still up, and she looked up at him.

            “Just… just pee?” she mumbled at him, her face red and still hot.

            “Please, sweetie.  I want to get you a bath, and get you changed for the day so we can go get some breakfast.”

            She nodded. 

            After a couple of little pushes, she felt her waters spray into her panties before soaking into the already wet pajamas and then she heard a very faint tinkle into the toilet water.  It wasn’t much because she had already done the main event in her sleep.

            When he was done getting the tub full enough, she had already peed, and she looked up at him as he came over to her.

            “Did you pee?”

            “A little bit.  I’m sorry.  I already did most of it in the bed.”

            She more mumbled than anything, but he caught the jest.

            “I know, baby.  I just didn’t want a leak before we even started the day.  I want you to be comfortable and dry when we start out, even if you are going to end up wet later.”

            She nodded.

            “How come you’re not telling me I’m a bad girl?” she asked him as he picked her up from the toilet and set her next to the tub. 

            “Because, you’re not a bad girl,” he told her.  “You’ve been very obedient so far and done everything daddy has told you to do.”

            She looked down.

            “But…, I wet like a baby.”

            “No.  You wet like a little girl that has trouble staying dry at night, and that’s okay.  For one, it makes our story about you being eleven more believable, and for two, if your body had troubles that you can’t control, that doesn’t have anything to do with you trying to behave, sweetheart.”

            She looked up at him.

            “Now, eleven or nineteen, I don’t think you really want me to undress you again for a bath, do you?”

            “Again?” she asked looking up at him.

            “Don’t you remember last night?  You were really tired, and I tried to get you to do it yourself, but you couldn’t, so you gave me permission to change you.  Remember?”

            “Oh,” she blushed.  It was true.  She remembered that when he left her alone, she almost fell asleep on the toilet, and now, she was wearing the babyish made for accident undies, though by the mess she made in the bed, if was obvious they were not made to keep in a full accident.  She also had her pajamas on, and not the shirt or jeans from the night before.

            She nodded.  “I don’t need you to do it,” she said not wanting to talk about the fact she had let him treat her like a child the night before.

            When she was alone enough to take off her clothes, she did notice that he had not taken off her undershirt nor her bra.  He had not taken off anything that he had not asked her about, and she knew he wanted her to wear the thicker panties.  He probably thought she’d just wet a little bit, and then would wake up and run to the potty.  That’s what should have happened, to tell the truth.  She didn’t understand why she had completely wet herself.  This isn’t supposed to happen anymore.

            The little girl put her wet things together, and then got into the tub and relaxed a moment before starting to wash herself.  She looked back over at the wet pajamas as she started to soap up a washcloth, her head returning to when she was around sixteen years old.

            “What in the world, Breana?  Are you a young girl or a dog?” she could hear her uncle saying.  “Are you three years old?” he aunt would ask.  “At least wear a diaper to bed if you’re going to act like a little baby!”

            Then she remembered being in eighth grade again.

            “Damn it, girl!  Are you just trying to buy sympathy or something?  There is no excuse for you to miss doing your homework, and no, wetting your pants is not going to distract me from the idea that your teacher called me!  I don’t care right now about how dirty you want to be!  You are going to sit there, in your peed in chair, and finish this homework!  You must be really stupid if you think you can use your little peeing habits to get me to let you up from that table!  You are a stupid, bad, little brat!”

            “Please, aunty, I’ll be right back,” she thought she had said, but then again, back talking was dangerous, and it is just as likely she had just imagined asking her aunt rather than coming out so boldly, but there she sat, trying to work, and then little by little, peeing in her clothes and making a puddle in her seat.

            “Breanna!” her uncle would scold her.  “Did you just sit there and pee your pants again?”

            “Yes, sir,” she would have to answer meekly or risk even worse trouble.

            “Are you trying to get a spanking today or something?”

            Tears would well in her eyes.

            She sighed and got out of the bath.  Being alone with her thoughts, after having wet the bed, gave her no peace at all.  Her aunt and uncle were just trying to raise her right and prepare her for the world ahead when she would leave, but sometimes, it felt so unfair, the way she was spanked and corrected, when she tried so hard to do what they wanted.  It was like she could never really win.

            The girl dried herself off, and then wrapped a towel around her carefully covering her chest and her privates.

            “Why are you walking through the house or motel naked?” she could imagine her uncle saying.  “You’re lucky I’m your uncle!  Some other men might take that as an invitation….”

            Breanna looked at the bathroom door that led out, where her clothes were, and she looked down at the pile of her wet soiled things.  Was she supposed to put them back on so she could go out there and get some clothes?  Surely, he would scold her or even do something her uncle had warned her against if she went out there in just a towel….

            There was a sudden knock at the door making her jump.

            “Breanna?  Are you okay?” a voice came through the door.

            “Yes sir, but I didn’t bring any clean clothes in with me.  What do I do?”

            “Wait there, honey.  I’ll bring them to you.”

            She nodded.  Though he couldn’t see through the door, or at least she didn’t think he could, he went off to get her stuff, she supposed and came back and knocked again.

            “I’m opening the door to hand you the stuff.  I’m not looking, so you’ll have to take it from my fumbling hands because I don’t want to invade your privacy.”

            She was glad he was so nice about it, and she gladly took the things from him, that he held out as he kept his head turned to the main room where the television was.

            Once back in the bathroom, she looked over the things he had given her.

            Moana’s face on the seat of the ‘toddler’ panties he had given her so that she could pee a little bit, and still be able to go to the toilet without anyone seeing any wetness on her butt, as long as it wasn’t a full on accident.  An undershirt that was teal color, a purple shirt with elmo on the front, and a yellow skirt with folds in it, so that it looked fancy and cute.

            She smiled at the outfit.  She would definitely look like a little kid with this stuff on, but that’s what he wanted her to be.  It was perfect for what he kept telling her was the best way to for her to behave so that he could protect her.

            She got herself dressed, and then came out to the main room, and looked down at the floor.

            “Sir?”

            “Daddy?” he corrected her.

            “Yeah, um, daddy?  Can you fix my hair?”

            He smiled and got up and took her to the bathroom where he wet a comb and then started to work her hair into a manageable medium where he then twisted braids behind each of her ears.  She didn’t know where or when he had picked up the ribbons, but at the bottom of each of the braids, he had tied little blue bows in her hair.  It was adorable, and really completed the look of a child.

            “So, why don’t you sit on the toilet,” he asked her.  “Just in case, and see if anything comes out, and then we’ll go find someplace to go for breakfast?”

            She smiled and nodded.

             

           

1 hour ago, Cya said:

Honestly, I've read more unrealistic stuff than this and I think this is a very interesting story. Is it straight forward and will she go to college or is he leading her to some kind of baby programming school? Can't wait to see where this goes!

Guess you'll just have to wait and see, because I'm going to try really hard not to give away what I planned with the direction of this one.  Thank you for your encouragement.

[Jayme]

This story is remarkable, I'm definitely interested in seeing what you have planned next.

[D503]

Well written!

[StoneRiver76]

Sorry, I have to think about chapter three again.  I think I rushed it and it took a turn that is probably not that good to reveal so early on.  So I'll try to have chapter 3 up after I'm happy with it.

 

[StoneRiver76]

15 hours ago, Jayme said:

This story is remarkable, I'm definitely interested in seeing what you have planned next.

 

4 hours ago, D503 said:

Well written!

thank you both for your kindness and the many other readers who gave this a shot.  As I said, I will be posting chapter three again, soon.  I almost had it up, but I realized it was too early for some reveals, and maybe not quite done to my liking in telling a story, though it had a fantasy splendor to it.  Not all fantasies are meant to be including in a particular story.  ?

 

[WBDaddy]

Your narrative style is reminiscent of someone else who used to post here, ishigreensa.  It's not bad, but it is a bit formal, especially with dialogue.

The story, though, it seems to have taken a very, very dark turn, one that hints that this guy is really just manipulating this girl to be his baby, and by the time they reach the US he will have not only bogus adoption papers, but also bogus guardianship papers that make her his child in perpetuity.  Like the whole "scholarship" thing was just a scam to facilitate him forcibly becoming her "Daddy".  

[StoneRiver76]

13 hours ago, WBDaddy said:

Your narrative style is reminiscent of someone else who used to post here, ishigreensa.  It's not bad, but it is a bit formal, especially with dialogue.

The story, though, it seems to have taken a very, very dark turn, one that hints that this guy is really just manipulating this girl to be his baby, and by the time they reach the US he will have not only bogus adoption papers, but also bogus guardianship papers that make her his child in perpetuity.  Like the whole "scholarship" thing was just a scam to facilitate him forcibly becoming her "Daddy".  

The darkness within.  You have no idea.  You think you know her story?  Is he tricking her to get her over into the US?  Is he trying to become her daddy?  Oh, the squirming and twisting tales.  

How can I make the dialog seem more natural?  You said it seems very formal, and I think in the position they are at the moment, they should be formal, but there is going to be that point, where it should be less formal, and much more... informal.

Thank you for reading!

[Bel George]

15 hours ago, WBDaddy said:

The story, though, it seems to have taken a very, very dark turn, one that hints that this guy is really just manipulating this girl to be his baby, and by the time they reach the US he will have not only bogus adoption papers, but also bogus guardianship papers that make her his child in perpetuity.  Like the whole "scholarship" thing was just a scam to facilitate him forcibly becoming her "Daddy".  

My expectation is that the man turns out to be her real daddy, who found his long-lost daughter and now wants to be back with him. Via a possibly false 'scholarship' he can take her to the US and by regressing her he tries to make up for the lost childhood years.

We will have to wait and see the further course of the story to find out how it really works, and what the intentions of the man are.

[WBDaddy]

1 hour ago, StoneRiver76 said:

How can I make the dialog seem more natural? 

I used to have to practice this, because it requires "hearing" them talk in your head.  

Read it out loud.  Does it sound like a conversation people would have?  

I mean, the dialogue here is okay, especially because in my own head I'm hearing this conversation happening in Spanish, and you're just translating it for us.  It's her internal dialogue that I find a bit formal, possibly even clinical.  Like, she's in her own head, reliving traumatic events, but we're just getting a news broadcast summary of it.  Maybe try going deeper into those memories, give us more detail.  Instead of "getting spanked for wetting", maybe she remembers lying across her uncle's lap, the blows raining down on her backside, and through her tear-fogged eyes she's staring at her wet pants and panties in a heap on the floor below.  Make it more visceral. 

[StoneRiver76]

53 minutes ago, WBDaddy said:

I used to have to practice this, because it requires "hearing" them talk in your head.  

Read it out loud.  Does it sound like a conversation people would have?  

I mean, the dialogue here is okay, especially because in my own head I'm hearing this conversation happening in Spanish, and you're just translating it for us.  It's her internal dialogue that I find a bit formal, possibly even clinical.  Like, she's in her own head, reliving traumatic events, but we're just getting a news broadcast summary of it.  Maybe try going deeper into those memories, give us more detail.  Instead of "getting spanked for wetting", maybe she remembers lying across her uncle's lap, the blows raining down on her backside, and through her tear-fogged eyes she's staring at her wet pants and panties in a heap on the floor below.  Make it more visceral. 

I'm glad you are hearing it in Spanish because that was my intent.

I'll try to work on what you said about her memories, but that does sound a bit more like what I had intended, but had not quite pulled off.  I guess, a part of me was scared to go into detail there, because, well, can graphic descriptions like that get you kicked off this site?

[WBDaddy]

30 minutes ago, StoneRiver76 said:

can graphic descriptions like that get you kicked off this site?

One of my stories contained a graphic description of a murder.  As long as it's not a sexual situation with a minor, it's pretty much okay.  

[StoneRiver76]

Okay.  Thank you.  That will probably free up some of my reservation.  I'm already rewriting chapter three with your advice, and thank you so much.

1 hour ago, WBDaddy said:

One of my stories contained a graphic description of a murder.  As long as it's not a sexual situation with a minor, it's pretty much okay.  

 

[Cya]

Just wanted to say that you're doing a great job! I love the natural progression of this story, but it's also nice that the Nineteen year old is questioning it all. Too many stories would just have "go along with it" instead of actually wondering what's wrong.

[StoneRiver76]

Chapter Three:

            Breanna stood there, her head looking down at the floor, and her smile sort of faded as she waited…. While Mr. Oswald was kind to her so far for everything wrong she had done, she knew it was bad to wet her pants and her bed.  She knew she should be yelled at, and the longer it took for him to pick her up, and put her on the toilet, the more nervous she got.  That’s what she really expected… for him to pick her up and put her on the toilet.

            “How old did you say you were?” she could hear her aunt’s voice.

            “Just tell her to sit on the toilet, maybe keep those wet pants on her while she sits so she can feel the discomfort and the shame,” her uncle called from somewhere.  Even though her uncle was not shy about putting her on the toilet when she was fourteen or even fifteen years old, he would often tell her aunt to do it because it should be as improper and disgraceful for her to let him look at her panties as it was for her to wet herself.

            She fidgeted and shivered, her eyes closed, waiting for the strong hands to either pull her skirt and panties down to put her on the toilet, or to just put her on it, expecting her to eventually wet through her dry clothes.  But the hands were taking a very long time in coming to grab her.

            “Jorge,” she could hear in her mind.  “You know she’s getting too big for me to lift her up by myself,” her Aunt Carmen would say.  “Can I just tell her to sit?”

            “No,” she would hear an extremely loud exhale of a disappointing sigh.  “I’ll be there to put her on the toilet myself.  She needs to learn that acting like a baby will get her treated like one, and if she is getting too heavy for you to put her on the toilet, then I’ll have to do it.”

            The man would then appear at the door, and look down at her sagging wet panties and tisk at her waving a finger.

            “Wet the bed, again, didn’t you, Breanna?”

            She just stared at the floor.

            “You are fourteen years old, aren’t you?”

            She shivered.

            “Well?”

            She nodded, tears rolling down her face.

            “And you peed your pants… like a… like…?”

            “A baby?” she pleaded for sympathy.

            “…Like a baby,” her uncle echoed at her.  “Up you get.”

            And she would feel his iron grasp around her underarms, and then her bottom, still wearing wet panties, sitting on the toilet seat.

            “Don’t get up from there until I came back and get you up,” he would say.

            Breanna opened her eyes, because Mr. Oswald still had not lifted her up onto the toilet with her skirt and panties still on, nor had he started to take her clothes off.  Indeed, she didn’t realize it, but he had left the bathroom while she had her eyes closed.

            She shivered.  Did this mean she had to get on the toilet by herself?  Was she supposed to pull down her panties and skirt?

            The girl peeked out the bathroom door, and saw him sitting on the edge of the bed he had slept in.

            “What is it, honey?” he asked when he saw her head.

            “I… um… you told me to sit on the toilet, but….”

            “But what, sweetheart?  Did you pee yet?”

            She shook her head.

            “Well, do you want to pee?” he asked her.

            She shook her head.

            “Are you sure?”

            She nodded, looking at the floor, hoping it wasn’t a mistake if he wasn’t going to have her sit on the toilet after all.

            He got up and walked over to her, and she opened the bathroom door.

            “If you don’t need to pee, then go pack your clean clothes up and get them ready, okay?  I’m going to use the toilet, and then we’ll go get some breakfast.”

            He wasn’t mad at her at all.  He didn’t have a drawn out sigh that expressed frustration.  He didn’t pull her over towards him swatting her butt as he did so, and his voice was nice and soothing.

            She nodded and quickly marched to her clean clothes bag to get them neatly back in like he said before he snapped.  She was really bad.  She wet the bed, she didn’t sit on the toilet, and she didn’t try to pee yet, but he didn’t make her.

            When he came out, he was carrying her soiled wet clothing.  He smiled at her as he passed, and she saw him take out a bag from his stuff, he pulled some other clothes from out of it, and then he stuffed her wet things in it.

            She then saw him wrap the bag up, and he put it back in his suitcase.  Then he folded the clothes he took out of the bag, and he hung them over his case.

            “Well, are you ready?” he asked her.

            She nodded.

            He led her back to the car, and had her wait while he opened the backseat. 

            The girl looked down knowing that they had had a talk the night before about her being treated like an eleven year old, so she expected he was going to put her in the backseat….

            He put the suitcase in the far back, and then her bag, and then he crawled in and got something out.  It was cushions he had purchased the day before. 

            She let him get out of the way before starting to grab the door, but he squatted down by her and he frowned.

            “You don’t want to sit in the front anymore?” he asked her.

            “I thought you wanted me in the back,” she whispered.

            “Why did you think that?”

            “I’m apposed to be eleven, right?”

            “Yes, sweetie, I mean, yes, I’m treating you like an eleven year old child, but I don’t think isolating a child on a trip is the right thing to do.”

            She looked up at him.

            “I just need to check the front seat, and set this cushion up for you so you don’t get your new skirt all wet with stale pee if the front isn’t dry yet.”

            She nodded and looked down, her face getting really hot with embarrassment.

            “Don’t cry,” he tilted her head up at him.  “I’m glad you peed your pants yesterday, baby.”

            “Why?”

            “Because you didn’t fight me to let you out where it was dangerous.  I don’t care if you are nineteen years old or eleven years old or even seven years old, I’d rather you peed your pants than be in danger.”

            She frowned.  “But I’m an adult.  I can tell if something is dangerous by myself….”

            He shook his head at her.

            “Honey, do you know how many people have gotten hurt because they thought they knew what was dangerous?”

            She frowned and looked up into his serious eyes.

            “How many college girls do you think it happened to, asked to get hurt by some males that were being bad?” he asked her.

            “None?”

            “So, if they were so able to read a dangerous situation, then how did they get in that situation if they didn’t choose it?”

            “They didn’t know?”

            He nodded.

            “You are not going to get in a dangerous situation while I’m watching you, or at least not by your own doing.  If I make a mistake, I’d rather make a mistake about misreading some place as too dangerous, than safe enough.”

            She sighed.

            “Please.  Baby, there are more than college men that are irresponsible and just looking for a good time out here.  There are men that are out here to actually hurt you.  These routes are constantly kept paths that coyotes use to kidnap young girls and take advantage.  You do know what a coyote is, don’t you?”

            “You mean the human kind?  Yeah, I know.”

            “Well, do you want a coyote to get you and force you into a different life than you are hoping to get with some college?”

            She shook her head no.

           “Please trust me, baby.  I’ve gotten lots of students safely to America, and they got there safely because they do what I say.”

            She nodded.  “So I have to wet my pants today, too?”

            He smiled.  “If you need to go on the highway between towns, and I don’t think you should try to hold it, then yes.”

            “What do you mean, YOU don’t think I should hold it?” she asked him.

            “Well, most little women like you would hold it until their little bodies hurt, and they might even experience constipation because of not wanting to humiliate themselves, and I am trying to keep them safe.  After a while, I realized that I had to order the girls to just wet their pants, and while they would fight me at first, as you are likely to do at some point, they learned that it was better to do what I said than to try to wait forever.”

            “So, you are used to making girls wet their pants?”

            “Guilty,” he sighed.  “I’ve made boys do so, too, if the situation warranted it, but yeah, mostly it’s girls because if you go to the side of the road, where people are going to see you pulling your pants down, are you going to pull your pants down?”

            She blushed.  “If I have to… but there are trees….”

            “And as I said yesterday, unsteady areas where one wrong foot, and you’d fall to your death.  It’s not safe to go into the trees, honey.  I’d make you pull them down on the road, where I can actually watch you for your safety.”

            She blushed.  “Then… I… I don’t think I’d want to do that.”

            “No, baby.  You don’t.  You are a decent little woman, and you want people to respect you as a good-mannered person.”

            She nodded.

            “So, wetting your pants as an eleven year old is far more decent, and far easier than holding it for two hours only to end up wet, or getting out and showing everyone passing by on the road, your little girl parts.”

            She nodded.

            “You ask me when you gotta go, though, honey.  I promise, if I know a safe place is coming up, I’ll ask you to hold it.  If not, then I’ll tell you to wet your pants.”

            She sighed.  “Okay.”

            He got her situated in the car, putting a blanket down and then a cushion to protect her nice skirt.  He pulled a seatbelt over her lap, and then he closed her door.

            Once they were pulling out of the motel parking, Mr. Oswald smiled over and down at her.  She wiggled her legs, partly in boredom and partly in excitement at leaving Guatemala on this day.

            “What shall we do for breakfast?” he asked her.

            Breanna shrugged.

            “Honey, why do you do that?”

            She looked up at him.  “What?”

            “Last night, I asked you where you wanted to eat, and you just went along with whatever I wanted.  This morning, I ask you what we shall do, and you just shrug leaving it up to me again.”

            “Well, it’s not like I have money.  You are running the show, so I’m happy with whatever.”

            “That’s not very immature,” he told her as though it was wrong to be mature.  “Eleven year olds don’t really understand where money comes from, and especially if they are in a car with their daddy, if their daddy asks, they plead for their favorite places.”

            “Oh, right.  I’m apposed to be eleven years old,” she muttered more to herself than him.  “I’m sorry.  I’m not used to acting like that.”

            He patted her leg.

            “Well, get used to it, baby.  It’s going to take a while, so you need to get used to treating me like you are eleven, and you are on a road trip with your daddy.”

            She nodded.

            “So, where shall we eat?”

            She looked down.  “I never ate out that often,” she told him.  “I don’t have a favorite place.”

            “Not even a fast food?  Not McDonalds?  Not Taco Bell?”

            She shook her head.  “Aunt Carmen says fast food is bad for your health, and candy treats are cheaper and also allow us to eat healthy at home.”

            He nodded.  “Your Auntie isn’t wrong,” he said.  “Still, I don’t know anyone who died because of McDonalds, and if you eat out sensibly, then it really won’t ruin your health.  The people that get fat and have problems, are the people that eat fast food and bad snacks all the time, baby.”

            She nodded.

            “So, do you want to try a McDonalds?”

            Breanna nodded.  In truth, she had been wanting to try one since she started high school, and her peers talked about it all the time.

            It didn’t take Mr. Oswald much time to find a McDonalds, and after he parked the car, he turned to her, and he got a very serious face.

            She looked at him giving him her full attention because when her uncle did the same, it meant to stop daydreaming and to listen. 

            Once, when her aunt and uncle had taken her to Guatemala City, they had been about to go into the restaurant, and Breanna had not realized he was glaring at her from the front seat as she was continuing to play in the backseat, she had learned what not paying attention to that look could get you.

            “Breanna,” her uncle yelled at her cutting through her attention on her dolls.  She was about twelve or thirteen at the time.  “Did you hear me at all?”

            She looked down and muttered.

            “What was that?”

            “I’m sorry,” she whispered a little louder, but still quietly and meekly.

            “You’re sorry.  Little girl, this is serious!  I don’t know, maybe I should just spank you right now so you know how serious this is!”

            At that, he got out of the car, her aunt just sitting there nodding at what was about to happen, and he yanked her out of the car.

            “Not only are not listening to me, when I’m being serious, but I come to find out you’ve already peed your pants?” he yelled at her.

            “I…,” she yelped thinking that was the main reason he had wanted to yell at her in the first place, at the time.

            “Bad girl!” he said.  Then he pulled her pants down, right there in the parking lot, and he spanked her over her soaking wet panties.  His hand swatted and swatted as though he was trying to drive a nail into a board.  The heavy whacks echoed in her ears as her bottom, but more so, her mid back and legs started to first, feel a dull sensation, then a hurt, and finally, stinging.  “You. Do. Not. Piss. Your. Pants. In. The. Car. And. You. Listen. When. You. Are. Talked. To. By. An. Adult.”

            When he was done telling her what she had done wrong, his spanking also stopped.

            “Jorge,” Her aunt inquired as he pulled up her wet pants and tucked her shirt back in.  “I brought her some spare clothes in the back.”

            “No,” her uncle said.  “Where is she going to change at?  In the restaurant?  I think she can just wear her wet pants to show her how it feels to be wet and embarrassed for a while.  She didn’t seem to care how embarrassed we’d be to take her in there wet, in the first place, did she?”

            Her aunt let it drop.

            So, of course, she was quick to hear Mr. Oswald, especially because he told her that she was an eleven year old and to be treated as such.

            “Are you okay?” Mr. Oswald caught something off about her.

            “Yeah.  Sorry.  I… I’m listening daddy.”

            He sighed.  “Okay, well, what I want to know, is how do you act like an eleven year old while we are in there?”

            “I… I have to listen to you,” she said.

            “Good….”

            “I… I better not pee my pants.”

            He frowned.  Since when was that a rule any parents would make for an eleven year old?

            “I don’t talk unless you ask me a question, and I sit still and don’t say dirty stuff.”

            “Say dirty stuff?” he questioned her wondering when a parent would ever hear an eleven year old say anything he’d consider dirty.

            “You know.  I can’t tell everyone in the restaurant that I have to pee or something like that.”

            Mr. Oswald shook his head.  “It looks like you don’t know what I expect, he told her.  “First of all, I don’t know any eleven year old that keeps her mouth shut when she’s not being addressed.  If you were too quiet, people would either think you are not really a kid, or they’d think you were being abused, and maybe even both.”

            She frowned.

            “You can chatter all you want, but I do want you to listen if I ask you to do something, because mostly, if I want you to do something, it’s for your safety, sweetie.”

            She nodded.

            “Second, you are most certainly allowed to tell me you gotta pee or use the potty.  I don’t want to hear words like shit or crap out of your mouth, but you can tell you gotta go without being vulgar about it, right?”

            She nodded.

            “And I have no such rule as you better not pee your pants, baby.  If you have an accident, that is what it is!  I don’t know any eleven year old or anyone over seven, for that matter, that would just pee themselves for the fun of it.”

            She nodded.

            “If you wet, just tell me you had an accident, and if you are feeling ashamed or scared about it, just try to tell me secretly, baby.  You won’t be punished for an accident, okay?”

            She nodded.

            “My rules are, you listen if I say something important to you.  You don’t leave my side unless I know where you are going and I give you permission.  That is it.”

            “Really?  That’s it?”

            “That’s it, baby.  If you follow those two rules, you will be safe.  I don’t have stupid rules about you going potty or how to do it, or if you go in your pants, and I don’t care if you cry a little bit if you don’t get your way as long as you don’t make a huge scene, okay?”

            She nodded.

            “Alright, let’s get you some breakfast, honey.”

            He got out and went around to get her out, and then holding her hand, he walked with her to the building where he let her hand go, and opened the door for her.

            Once they were in the restaurant, she could smell lots of breakfast foods being made, but somehow, the smells were a little different from at home.

            “Let’s see,” Mr. Oswald looked up at the menu.  “You can read everything up there, can’t you?” he asked her.

            Breanna nodded.  Of course she could.  It was all in Spanish after all, but then, he was treating her like a kid.  Maybe he didn’t think an eleven year old could read that well.  To be honest, she wasn’t sure how well an eleven year old read either.

            “Get something as a main dish,” he told her.  “Get some juice, and if you want, besides that, you can have a sweet.”

            He whispered in her ear.  “Of course you want a sweet, you’re a little girl.”

            She nodded and looked up at him.  “Can I have the pancake thing?”

            “Do you mean the whole meal?” he asked her.

            Breanna nodded.

            “Of course, sweetie.”

            “Okay, pancake thingy meal, orange juice, and ice cream?”

            Mr. Oswald smiled and nodded.  “And I’ll also have a pancake meal and some coffee.”

            “It’ll take a bit, maybe five minutes for your order,” Breanna heard the cashier.  “Do you want to take your daughter and sit down?  We’ll bring it out as soon as it’s ready.”

            He nodded.

            When they got to an empty table, Breanna could see the boys’ and girls’ toilets across the room, but she still didn’t feel like she had to go yet.

            “Why don’t you try to go potty before the food comes?” her pretend daddy asked her.  “I promise, I’ll make sure you get your food if it comes early.”

            She shook her head.  “But I don’t gotta.”

            “Are you sure?”

            She nodded.

            “Alright, but tell daddy if you gotta go, even if it’s really bad and it starts coming out, okay?”

            She nodded.

            The food came, and they started eating.

            “You know what’s missing?” Mr. Oswald asked her.

            “What?” she asked as she took a bite of pancake soaked in syrup.

            “You don’t have anything to play with.  Little kids always play in the car when they are on a long trip, and you don’t have an ipad, no dolls, nothing.”

            She blushed.  “But where would I get that stuff?” she asked.  “We always get stuff from second hand and from gifts from other people, so of course no one throws away working ipads or phones, you know?  Besides, you also gotta pay to keep them working, right?”

            “True…,” he frowned.  “But I still don’t know anyone over the age of eleven that doesn’t have one.  But even if not that, you don’t even have a dolly.”

            Breanna blushed.  Nineteen year old women didn’t need dolls, but he was talking about her being eleven, right?  Did she still play with dolls at eleven years old?  Somehow, her eleven year old self seemed so distant, that she couldn’t really remember life back then.  She wasn’t sure why, but a therapist she was brought to a couple of times said that something tragic had happened around that time, and that’s the only clue she had.

            “Well, we’re going to get you a doll, I think, after breakfast.  You can’t go all the way to America without any toys to play with on the way.  That’s just unnatural.”

            Breanna nodded knowing that being eleven was his pla, that he claimed would keep her from getting hurt, and he had done this countless other times.  He had to know what he was talking about.

            “Don’t be scared or worried if you get syrup on your clothes, sweetheart.  Eleven year olds are not that messy, but they do have little accidents when they eat.”

            She nodded.

            Once she had been filled up with the best restaurant food she thought she had ever tasted, she was asked again if she wanted to use the toilet, and then when she said she didn’t, they were out and in the car again.

            Breanna looked up at him when they were pulling away from the restaurant, and she looked like she had a question on her lips.

            “What is it?” Ralph, the man’s first was Ralph, asked.

            “Daddy?  How come you got me those strange panties for little little kids who sometimes wet?”

            He frowned and shook his head.  “I told you that you’d be wetting your pants, didn’t I?  I mean, when I can’t find a safe place for you.”

            “Yeah, but last night, when I had an accident, those panties didn’t even hold anything.  I don’t understand why you got those if you are thinking I’m going to wet my pants.”

            He nodded.  “You are eleven years old,” he reminded her.  “Did you use to wet your pants at eleven years old?”

            She shrugged.  “I don’t really remember being eleven.”

            “Well, how about when you were twelve?  Did you wet your pants when you were twelve?”

            She shook her head no.  “Well, sometimes at school, I had accidents, but not if I could go potty, I didn’t.”

            “Did you wear diapers when you were twelve, maybe to school or to bed?”

            She shook her head no.  “Uncle Jorge said I’m not a baby, and I shouldn’t have to wear diapers like a baby to stay dry, so I just got in trouble when I wet.”

            He nodded.  “And anyway, I doubt you would have let him diaper you, sweetheart.”

            She nodded.

            “Those are panties,” he told her.  “The idea, is if I can find a safe place soon, but you started leaking, no one will know you had an accident but you and me.”

            She nodded.

            “But if you just wet all the way, it won’t hurt to have little kid panties on, in case somehow, maybe your skirt gets pulled up or something, and everyone will be reminded of a little kid that just had an accident, and not an adult.”

            She nodded. 

            “I want you to feel like a little kid when you wet your pants,” he told her.  “When that happens, if you feel like a little kid, you are more likely to behave like one, and with no hint at your real age, no one will guess, and you don’t have to be ashamed of being wet as an adult.”

            She opened her mouth, but then realized he made sense.  “Okay.”

            “So, that’s why I need toys, so I can just be a child, and when I wet myself, I’ll just keep playing and acting like a child?” she asked him.

            “Exactly, sweetheart.”

            It wasn’t ideal.  What nineteen year old wants to wet herself to begin with, but now, to act even more like a child, and to wear child clothing and to play with child toys… it was a little off putting, but still, something was… not entirely terrible about this.

            Mr. Oswald pulled into the parking, and then he turned to her for another serious talk.

            She waited knowing what was coming.

            “What are the rules for going in a public store?” he asked her.

            “Stay where you can see me, and don’t go anywhere unless you say so.”

            “Good.”

            “Don’t ignore you when you say something to me.”

            “Good.”

            “Um….”

            “That’s all, baby,” he smiled.  “There are no such rules as controlling your going potty or not being able to ask.  There are no such rules as you can’t chatter and be excited and point at stuff.  You are a child.  Be.  A.  Child, sweetheart.”

            Breanna nodded and waited for him to get her out of the car and then take her towards the store.

            It was one of the biggest toy stores in Guatemala.

            “Okay, I think we first need some dolls for our little girl,” he told her.  “I want you to pick out three dolls.”

            Breanna blushed.  Dolls….  If her friends knew that to get to college, she would have to first go back to playing with dolls.  What would they think of that?  What would her uncle think, if he knew she was getting NEW dolls?  Actually, maybe she shouldn’t let him do this. 

            “How am I getting dolls?” she looked up at Mr. Oswald, er, Ralph, er, daddy.

            “What do you mean, how?  I’m getting them for you.”

            “Because you want me to have them?” she asked.  “Or is it part of the college thing?”

            “No, it’s me,” he told her.  “The college doesn’t tell me how to get people to the school safely.  It leaves how I do it up to me for each person.  So the college is not paying for the dolls, I am.”

            “Well, maybe I shouldn’t….”

            “Yes, baby, you should.  It is up to me to decide the safest way.  Do you want people to see a nineteen year old wetting her pants all the time?”

            She shivered.  “No?”

            “No, you don’t sweetie.  You want them to see an eleven year old going potty in her pants, so they will be more sympathetic and less judgmental.  Trust me.”

            She nodded.

            “Now, baby, I decided you were going to be treated like my eleven year old daughter.  What daddy doesn’t make sure his child is content on a long trip?”

            She looked down.  “I don’t know.”

            “A jerk,” he told her.  “No good daddy would force an eleven year old to sit there in the car with nothing to play with.”

            She sighed.

            “Now, will you please get the dolls I asked you to get?  You pick them out, sweetheart.  Try to get some you can at least pretend to get into playing with.”

            She nodded.

            She went right to one doll that was supposed to feel like a real baby.  It was supposed to move its head and arms when you picked it up, and if you flipped a button on its back, it was supposed to crawl.  Besides that, it came with cloth diapers, some mix of sorts, and some bottles to bottle feed it.  She remembered wanting one of those dolls when she was about twelve or thirteen years old, now she thought about it, but all she got was a normal doll that she never played with.

            As she looked at the doll, longing for it and for permission to really be an eleven year old with it, Mr. Oswald picked it up and put it in the cart.

            “I… I didn’t say I wanted that,” Breanna told him.

            “You didn’t have to say it,” he patted her shoulder.  “You were looking at it.”

            She looked down.  “It’s probably really expensive.”

            “Stop that,” he said suddenly short at her, his hand almost to her seat, but not quite swatting her.  “You are an eleven year old.  Don’t talk about the cost of toys.  That’s not what grateful children do when they get a toy.”

            She nodded.  She flinched.  She shivered.  He almost spanked her for real, but he didn’t.  He just showed her that he could.  She realized that he meant it, that she was eleven and she was to act like a child.

            She nodded and looked around the dolls without questioning the prices again.

            After she chose three more dolls rather quietly, by just pointing at them, and then they started to move on to stuffed animals, Mr. Oswald reached down and picked her up, moving the cart with his hips more than his hands as he held her.  He whispered to her.

            “I’m sorry I scared you with that almost swat to your butt,” he said.  “But you are giving yourself away, and people were watching.  I am not sure, but a man in particular was looking at you, and I wanted them to think I was correcting your something really bad, and giving away your real age is really bad, because it puts you in danger, baby.”

            She looked at him with tears in her eyes.  “So you weren’t going to really spank?”

            “Actually, I was, if you continued to argue.  This was serious, and you need to understand, until we get to America, you are an eleven year old, and if you do something I deem dangerous, you will be spanked, baby.”

            She nodded her head.

            “Now, I don’t care when, but before we leave this store, your panties under your skirt needs to get peed in.”

            “What?  Aren’t we in a safe place?”

            “No, baby.  Didn’t you hear me?  A man is watching you, rather carefully because you sounded a little too adult like.  He needs to see you behave like a child so he’ll stop trying to get you alone.”

            “Can… can you point him out?”

            “Not without giving away we are on to him, and that you are not really a little girl, no.  If he is a coyote, then he will suspect I’m also a coyote, and he’ll do anything he can to get you away from me so he can profit off of you, unless he thinks I’m your father, and I’m keeping you closer to me now.”

            She nodded.  “So… I have to wet my pants before we leave this store?  Why not later, outside, or…?”

            “We want to stop him following us to our car or finding a place to try to run us off the road and then take you.”

            She nodded.  “I’ll try to go as soon as I can.”

            She then let him carry her, now, along the toys, and she helped push the cart so he wouldn’t need to put her down.  What was scary, was that when they were choosing stuffed animals, she did see a guy, watching her.  And it looked like he had appeared again when they were in the coloring books area, and once again, when lo and behold, she was given a DS system with three games, that even a nineteen year old could enjoy though the games were easily made to attract little girls, too.

            “I’m wetting,” she eventually told Mr. Oswald as he held her.  She had felt a little bit finally get out as she kept trying to push at herself to wet, but he just kept holding her.

            “You better put me down, daddy, or I’ll get your shirt wet.”

            “I don’t care,” Ralph told her.  “I’m not putting you down until we get to the car.  I don’t know what is going to happen.  Just pee your pants, baby.”

            She nodded and kept trying to push.

            They then walked around the store a bit more, pretending to shop, but she knew it was more to give her time to get enough pee on herself that the man watching them would think she really was a little girl.

            “I’m going to pretend to yell at you when you wet yourself,” Ralph warned her.  “That’s so he will think you are being corrected and he will likely at that point, understand you are a child, and I’m your daddy.”

            She nodded as she continued to try to wet herself.

            It felt like it took two or three hours to get it going, but really, it must have been much shorter, but once she got three squirts out, she started to really pee full force, and the being held with his hands around her bottom and her front pushed against his body, she wet her skirt and his shirt, and the pee ran along her panties butt and drizzled out the back of her panties.

            Once she was completely, wet, Mr. Oswald picked her up by under her arms, and looked into her eyes and he mumbled, so she didn’t even hear what he was meaning to say.

            After a bit, he put her back in his arms, and he rolled the cart to the front of the store where some other people noticed the wet girl in her ‘daddy’s’ arms.

            “Kids,” he sighed at someone in line.

            The man just smiled and nodded.  “Mine did that to me too, just a few days ago.  I thought my ten year old was the only one to do that in public like that.”

            “Well, I guess not.  My kid is eleven.”

            “Oh, she’s in trouble, isn’t she?”

            “Yep.  I’ve told her that I’m putting her DS up until tomorrow because this behavior.  She could have at least told me she had to go, right?”

            The man nodded.

            They got out of the store, and looking around for the man that had followed them in the store, it looked like Ralph’s plan had indeed worked.  No one was following them, that Breanna could see, and she even saw the man that had been following them before.  He had gone off in another direction.

            Mr. Oswald got the little girl in the back seat.

            “Change your pants, sweetheart, and we’ll start towards the border.  You did a good job going along with even the apparent scolding I gave you in there.”

            She smiled and got in the back and put all the curtains up.  Then while Ralph put her new dolls in the front seat and some of the toys in the far back, and eventually kept the DS in his hands until she came back out in a pair of jeans and a pair of training pants under them that was clean, she was given her new toy.

            “Get in the front and sit quietly,” he told her with a smile while he went back and took down the curtains.

            Once he was back in the car, he smiled at her.

            “Good girl wetting your pants when I told you to.  You would have definitely been kidnapped, and me, likely dead, had you fought me on that, honey.”

            “Really?”

            “Yes.  I recognized that man once we were out in the sunlight.  He is a notorious coyote that likes to kidnap college kids that are on their way to America for an education.”

            She shivered. 

 

 

           

           

 

[Jayme]

Coyotes should be made unalive on sight. They are evil and deserve to be removed from the gene pool.

Sorry about that rant but idiots like them don't deserve decent treatment.

I really loved this chapter, I eagerly await what will happen next.

[kerry]

Of course, it seems likely that that man was not really a coyote but rather an innocent bystander in Ralph's game. 

I like the way you flawlessly integrate your flashbacks with the current plot: well done! Also, I noticed that, for the first time, Ralph twice mentioned not caring about potty issues even if she were seven years old, which could be the next step he's heading toward...

[StoneRiver76]

Oh, believe me, I certainly share your views on Coyotes, which makes them the perfect villain in this, because just like goblins used to be in second edition Dungeons and Dragons, they are true monsters that cannot be sympathized with.  There is nothing you can use to make someone feel sorry for a Coyote, well, at least as far as I can think of.  When you choose to hurt children and women for financial gain, and you even abandon children at the border to figure their own way to get in, often leaving them in the desert to die horribly at the hands of dehydration, you are worst than an old image of a goblin!

[StoneRiver76]

9 hours ago, Jayme said:

Coyotes should be made unalive on sight. They are evil and deserve to be removed from the gene pool.

Sorry about that rant but idiots like them don't deserve decent treatment.

I really loved this chapter, I eagerly await what will happen next.

 

3 hours ago, kerry said:

Of course, it seems likely that that man was not really a coyote but rather an innocent bystander in Ralph's game. 

I like the way you flawlessly integrate your flashbacks with the current plot: well done! Also, I noticed that, for the first time, Ralph twice mentioned not caring about potty issues even if she were seven years old, which could be the next step he's heading toward...

Thank you for your encouragement.  

Not saying that one was a real coyote... but, while this could be just Ralph's sick game, there could be and spoiler, is more to this than you can see at the moment.

I was wondering about the flashbacks, and if they might have been done better by a better writer.  I wouldn't consider myself that good at writing flashbacks.

[WBDaddy]

5 minutes ago, StoneRiver76 said:

I was wondering about the flashbacks, and if they might have been done better by a better writer.  I wouldn't consider myself that good at writing flashbacks.

Her recall of her uncle spanking her outside the restaurant was much more alive than her previous reporting on such events.  Good job.  

And don't beat yourself up about your self-perceived skill level with this stuff.  We all learn, we all get better, with practice and feedback. 

[BabySiras]

At the risk of guessing everything early buttttttttttt

Guessing now that there is no scholarship, Ralph is our main girl's actual parent, and he's attempting to smuggle her back into the US.

Even if I'm wrong, I am enjoying this tale! Not many stories I actually comment on.

[WBDaddy]

4 hours ago, BabySiras said:

At the risk of guessing everything early buttttttttttt

Guessing now that there is no scholarship, Ralph is our main girl's actual parent, and he's attempting to smuggle her back into the US.

Even if I'm wrong, I am enjoying this tale! Not many stories I actually comment on.

The fact that her name is Breanna, which is a wildly odd name for a Hispanic girl from Guatemala, made me wonder this.  

The other alternatives in my head are much, much worse. 

[Cya]

I might sound crazy here, but when Ralph mentioned coyotes I immediately thought about Breanna's fate if she was kidnapped by one. She would either become a drug mule or the border patrol get ahold of her and, with no official records of her in America, she ends up being listed as a child. Depending on the situation she either gets sent back to an orphanage in Guatemala as a ten or eleven year old or maybe she somehow gets refugee status and is put up for adoption in America. 

 

Just my crazy mind thinking things through until they reach a dark conclusion. Then again, there are plenty of fates worse than reliving your childhood and then your teen years in America...

[Traycie]

10 hours ago, Cya said:

Depending on the situation she either gets sent back to an orphanage in Guatemala as a ten or eleven year old or maybe she somehow gets refugee status and is put up for adoption in America. 

The way she is going our little protagonist will be a six or seven year old at most and is likely to be wearing full time diapers by the end of the next chapter… Eitherway she is being systematically regressed without her pushing back or resisting thinking that is the route to her salvation when in reality it is only going to speed up her regression to a second toddlerhood. ?