The Life and Humiliations of Lavender Fairchild, or A Tale of Diapers and Doctorates

[BabySerenity]

2 hours ago, Chels in Ribbons said:

Don't give her any ideas! She has enough bad ones of her own.

 

Thank you so much! I'm very proud of what I accomplished even if I didn't hit the 50k goal. Besides, it did what it was supposed to do: get me to write. This is the first time I've written something that wasn't an essay for school in nearly a decade, and it feels great to stretch those creative muscles. Thank you again!

Definitely glad you did stretch those creative muscles looking forward to what’s next with them awesome job excellent story 

[Chels in Ribbons]

Chapter Thirteen

            Weeks passed by and before I knew it the end of the semester was just around the corner.

            Vivian and I continued to see each other every Friday night…and every Saturday morning, for that matter. Despite ample fantasies to the contrary, I kept my pants dry during our time together—during the daytime, anyway. Come Saturday morning, I would always shuffle my way to breakfast in a soaked pull-up. If Vivian ever noticed that I wore my sodden undergarments to breakfast, she never said anything about it. In fact, she said very little about my accidents at all, though she did remind me to wear my pull-up most night, and a few times she had even…politely suggested I use the bathroom.

            Of course, she never phrased it so directly. “Why don’t you go visit the little girls’ room and wash up while I clean up after dinner?” She might suggest; subtle, but enough to make my cheeks a little warm.

            All-in-all, my time with Vivian was a small taste of bliss every week, and barely a day would pass that I didn’t find myself deep in my daydreams fantasizing about Vivian…but mostly about Miss Vivian.

            It was not, however, all sunshine and rainbows. Vivian and I never discussed it, but we both knew our relationship, such as it were, existed under the sword of Damocles. We knew our relationship was wrong, or at least ethically suspect; we knew the trouble we could get in if the director of our department or other administration discovered it. If nothing else, Elyse’s words and warnings lived rent free in my head, but I didn’t care, and Vivian never showed any sign that she did. And after all, was what we were doing so wrong? We were both consenting adults, and I was still doing the work. But the reality was what it was, and nothing Vivian or I could do would change that, so we made sure to keep our relationship under wraps. In public, on campus, we maintained a façade of professionalism in all of our interactions.

            However, that didn’t mean I didn’t catch Elyse glaring at us from across the room on more than a couple of occasions.

            Speaking of Elyse, after our second confrontation regarding the time I was spending with Vivian, she kept her mouth shut on the matter, which was a win at least.

            Outside of my relationship with Vivian, I kept myself busy with my schoolwork. The end of the semester was always a busy time, and this semester was no exception. In fact, I spent the vast majority of the time I wasn’t with Vivian with either my nose stuck in a book or my head stuck in a fantasy about Vivian.

            Oh, and, as for the diapers I bought…well…I was right, they proved much harder to put on in practice than the tutorials I had read and watched made it seem. I ruined the first one I tried to put on by ripping the tapes and plastic from so many attempts at readjusting the thing. At first, I thought I did a better job with the second, but after just a few moments of wearing it, I began to suspect I had done a poorer job than I realized. What was snug and comfy in some places was loose and scratchy in others, and when the padding leaked all over my bed when I first tried to wet it, my suspicions were confirmed.

            Since then, the opened bag of diapers, too large to fit in my chest, had lived in my closet hidden out of sight just next to the chest of secrets. Leaving it out like that made me nervous at first, but I quickly realized that all my security measures were a little on the paranoid side. After all, it wasn’t like Elyse was going to go digging around my closet.

            All-in-all, the last few weeks of the semester passed in a pleasant blur.

            There was, however, one thing about Vivian and mine’s relationship that left me uneasy.

            “Okay, sweetheart,” Vivian whispered in my ear, “we should both probably get ready for bed.”

            I made a sound of weak protest in my throat, “just a few more minutes?”

            “In just a few more minutes, you’ll be fast asleep, and we can’t have that yet, now can we? Come on, sleepy girl, go get ready for bed.”

            “I won’t fall asleep, I promise,” I said even as I shifted around in bed to get in a more comfortable position. We were laying in Vivian’s bed together, both of us naked, having just thoroughly celebrated the end of the semester together. Summer stretched out ahead of us, and with less work for both of us and many of the students, including Elyse, and some of the faculty going out of town for portions of if not the entire summer, we’d have much more time to spend together.

            “You will,” she chided gently and with enough jovialness to know she was being playful, “and you know what will happen if you fall asleep before you…get ready.”

            I pouted, knowing exactly what she meant. “Okay,” I finally agreed, sitting up in bed, “but you have to give me a kiss first.”

            Vivian smiled and complied, “now,” she said as she got out of bed with me, “you go get ready for bed, and I’ll go turn down the bed in the guest room for you.”

            I pouted again, this time behind Vivian’s back. The guest bed. We’d been doing this for quite a few weeks at this point, Vivian and I were having sex, but I was still sleeping in the guest bed? It didn’t seem fair, but I also knew it was likely because Vivian didn’t want to sleep in the same bed with a bedwetter. She said she was fine with it and didn’t think any less of me, but was that really the case? Perhaps more importantly, could I really keep this up if it barred me from a bit of much craved intimacy?

            Later that night, curled up in the guest bed, I pondered this problem further. Of course, I’d never asked Vivian if I could sleep with her, so maybe she just didn’t realize that was something I wanted. But the bedwetting was certainly the more likely answer.

            But…maybe…there was a way to find out…

            Invite her to have dinner at your apartment next week, she’ll have to sleep in bed with you then, and if she won’t stay the night, you’ll know it’s because of your bedwetting.

            I could never, not with Elyse in the apartment.

            Elyse won’t be there, remember?

            That was right, Elyse had left earlier that day to spend the summer with her family—I had the apartment to myself until mid-August.

            And so I resolved to invite Vivian to spend an evening, and hopefully a night, at my apartment. What I didn’t know then was how this seemingly innocuous act would set into motion events that I would only ever have had the nerve to fantasize about.

 

Chapter Fourteen

            “Vivian!” It was my turn to exclaim her name as I opened the front door of my apartment, “I’m so glad you agreed to let me host you tonight!”

            “I’ll admit, I was curious to see where you live,” she replied as she looked around the small apartment.

            “It’s not much,” I explained, “but it’s home, and since my roommate is out of town for the summer, I figured it would be nice to play hostess for once. May I offer you a drink? I’m afraid I don’t have the selection you do, but I have beer and wine and I make a mean rum and coke!” I was already beginning to regret this; there was a reason Vivian hosted aside from privacy. I was secretly hoping Vivian wouldn’t ask for the wine; I was suddenly embarrassed to serve her the cheap wine I had after spending weeks drinking her fancy wine.

            “Well,” she replied with an amused grin, “I suppose I’ll have to try the house specialty, a rum and coke it is.”

            “Great,” I smiled back and headed into the kitchen, “why don’t you take a seat on the couch, and I’ll be right over with drinks.”

            As I set to making us both a rum and coke, Vivian began slowly walking towards the couch, taking in the apartment as she did. “So, you live here with Elyse?” Vivian knew Elyse, of course, but they didn’t work as closely as Vivian and I did—which is to say, their relationship was nothing more than most professor and student relationships. “How is that?”

            “Pretty good,” I replied as I generously poured rum into two glasses, “I mean, you know, I’d rather have a place to myself, I like to have my privacy, but she’s a better roommate than the girl I lived with during my MA program…and a lot better than the roommates I had in undergrad.”

            “Roommates can be…difficult,” Vivian empathized, “and I’m sure especially so when you’re as concerned about…privacy as I imagine you are. Have you had any problems with Elyse and your…privacy?”

            It took me a moment to catch Vivian’s meaning, but I was glad I was looking away from her when I did—my face must have gone bright red.

            Has Elyse discovered your wetting problem?

            “Um, no,” I replied, dropping ice cubes into the glasses, “no problems there.”

            “Good, good,” Vivian said as she finally settled down on the couch. “I have to admit, I worry sometimes, not everyone is as…understanding as I am. I’d hate to find out someone was making you feel bad about it or that you weren’t properly taking care of yourself.”

            I was still blushing as I put the ice cube trays back and began pouring coke into the glasses. It wasn’t like Vivian to talk about my wetting problems so openly; I couldn’t help but wonder where it was coming from. And wanting to make sure I’m properly taking care of myself? What does she mean by that?

            Make sure you wear your protection at night? Make sure you’re using the potty regularly during the day? Not spending too long in your wet padding in the morning? Maybe she’s noticed you come to breakfast in a wet pull-up and worries you do the same around Elyse.

            Yeah, okay, maybe I’ve given her plenty of reasons to worry, but why is she bringing it up now?

            “Well, um,” I said awkwardly as I walked into the living room and handed Vivian her glass, “thank you, I appreciate your concern.”

            “Thank you, dear,” Vivian said as she took the glass from my hand and sipped it. “You were right, you do make a mean rum and coke, it’s very lovely.”

            I beamed at the compliment. It was such a small and silly thing, but any kind of praise from Vivian made my heart flutter.

            “So,” she said, changing the subject, “what’s for dinner?”

            It was, once again, time for me to blush, suddenly feeling very self-conscious about my hosting choices. “Well,” I started nervously, “I spent all week trying to decide what to cook for you, but the truth is…I can’t…really cook, so…I thought we could order take-out? I know a really good Thai place…?”

            Vivian grinned, “that sounds lovely, Lavender.” She took another sip of her drink and chuckled, “although, I suppose I’ll have to teach you to cook. Maybe next week, you can be my little kitchen helper, and I can teach you some cooking skills.”

            Miss Vivian’s little kitchen helper!

            It was all I could do to not show how excited I was about that prospect. “That sounds really lovely,” I said evenly, already fantasizing about trying to be a big girl and helping Miss Vivian in the kitchen.

            Before long, we had ordered dinner. Despite that, as I mentioned multiple times, I was the one hosting her for dinner, Vivian insisted on paying, and all my protests did nothing to dissuade her from her decision. As I was placing the order, Vivian, rum and coke in hand, drifted over to my bookcases and began perusing them.

            “You’ve got quite the collection here,” Vivian said as I finished putting in our order.

            “Well, it’s nowhere near as large as yours,” I replied humbly, “and some of them are Elyse’s.”

            “I’ve had a lot more time to collect them,” she countered, “but the quality of your collection is very good.”

            “Thanks, but…it’s a pretty curated collection,” I admitted with a laugh, “I keep all my impressive academic books out here, and the trashy fantasy books in my room.”

            Vivian turned and smiled at me, “may I?”

            You can’t let her in your room, what if you left something out?

            For a moment, panic built in my chest; had I left out any stuff that would hint at my proclivities? Had I left a pacifier out on my nightstand? Were all my onesies and other little clothes properly hidden? However, the panic dissipated almost as quickly as it formed. After all, I had been planning on Vivian spending the night in my bedroom; I had triple-checked to make sure everything was in order.

            “Um, sure, this way,” still, I was nervous as I led Vivian into my bedroom. After all, I could make sure all my pull-ups, pacifiers, onesies, and other incriminating items were put away, but my bedroom still very much looked like that of a young adult still clinging to their childhood. Fairy lights and other purple string lights were my bedroom’s primary source of light, my desk was littered with small toys and Legos that I fidgeted with while I was working, and there were stuffed animals almost everywhere.

            “Aww, and who is this?” Vivian asked as she immediately went to my bed and scooped up the plush otter that was waiting for me on my pillow. She managed to ask in a tone not dissimilar to the one you would use to ask a toddler about their stuffies without sounding like she was mocking me or being condescending.

            “That’s Penelope,” I replied with a blush, gently taking her from Vivian—I didn’t like other people holding Penelope.

            “She’s adorable,” Vivian handed her over to me with a smile before gently stroking my cheek, “just like you. Do you sleep with Penelope?”

            I nodded but said nothing, suddenly uncomfortable with how Vivian’s words and demeanor were making me slip down into little space. I suppressed the urge to tell Vivian all about my stuffed animals and instead set Penelope back on the bed, “um, my bookshelves are just right there,” I re-directed.

            “Sorry,” Vivian said as she sauntered over to the bookcases, “your bedroom is just so adorable, I couldn’t help it.”

            “Oh, you’re fine, it’s just…” 

            It’s just that talking to you like that makes your brain go into toddler mode.

            True, but I couldn’t say that.

            “…well, thank you,” I said, unable to finish the thought I had started. “I’m glad you like it. I know it’s not quite what you’re used to, but I hope you’ll be comfortable sleeping in here,” I hadn’t been planning on addressing that matter just yet, but the opportunity seemed to be presenting itself.

            “Oh,” Vivian said simply as she looked over the books on my shelf, “I took a Lyft here so I could just do the same home, no worries, darling.”

            “Oh,” it was my turn to say, though mine was quite a bit more dejected than hers. She wasn’t willing to sleep with a bedwetter after all. I sat down heavily on the edge of my bed.

            “But,” Vivian continued, clearly picking up on my crestfallen expression, “I can see that’s not quite what you were imagining.” Vivian sat down next to me and took one of my hands in both of hers. “Were you hoping I would stay with you?”

            I nodded.

            “Mm, I see,” Vivian said softly. “And you were hoping I’d sleep in here with you?”

            I nodded again, trying not to indulge the tears I felt forming behind my eyes.

            “Darling,” she said, pushing some stray hairs behind my ears, “why didn’t you just say so?”

            I laughed weakly, feeling stupid, “this was me trying to say something,” I explained, “but I guess you don’t want to spend the night in the same bed as me.” Vivian opened her mouth to say something, but I plowed forward without giving her a chance, “I always sleep in the guest bed at your house, but I figured if we had dinner here, you’d have to sleep in the same bed as me, but I guess you just don’t want to spend the night in the same bed as me because of…the…you know…” I trailed off, still holding back my tears. I felt so dumb; I had ruined everything just because I couldn’t come clean and tell her I wasn’t a bedwetter when I still had a chance.

            “Darling, sweetheart, my little Lavender,” Vivian said softly, lovingly, as she began rubbing my back when my little tirade was over, “that’s not the case at all. I want you to spend the night with me, too, I was just trying to…respect your privacy, that’s all.”

            “Wait, really?”

            “Yes, really!” Vivian laughed softly, “Really, truly. I’m sorry, Lavender, I shouldn’t have just assumed, but I did; I assumed you would be too embarrassed about your…well, your you know…”

            I threw my arms around Vivian just as I felt a tear finally escape and roll down my cheek. “Spend the night with me?” I asked, “Spend the night in this bed with me? Please?”

            “Of course, my little Lavender, I’d love to.”

[thedman]

Well geez, my heart just broke a little bit for a minute there

[YourFNF]

These two could have such a sweet relationship but they need to have a honest conversation with both themselves and the university. And it's probably going to need a lawyer unfortunately for contract mediation and negotiation and union rep involvement if applicable. The main issue I can see is that they would need to find a replacement to sit on Lavender's thesis evaluation to avoid conflict of interest.

[Chels in Ribbons]

4 hours ago, YourFNF said:

These two could have such a sweet relationship but they need to have a honest conversation with both themselves and the university.

It's almost like open and honest communication is the foundation to a healthy relationship! Who could've guessed? ?

[aldl4811]

Your story is absolutely incredible, I just read the entire thing straight. Keep it up, please!

[Chels in Ribbons]

On 12/7/2022 at 10:11 AM, aldl4811 said:

Your story is absolutely incredible, I just read the entire thing straight. Keep it up, please!

Thank you so much! I'm so glad you're enjoying the story!

Just one chapter today but it's another long one! Thank you all again for reading along!

Chapter Fifteen

            Dinner soon arrived, and Vivian and I ate sitting around my tiny dining table. In truth, I usually ate at my desk in my bedroom or in the living room, as did Elyse; this was the first time our dining room table had been used for actual dining in quite some time. Possibly ever.

            “So,” Vivian said, segueing away from a conversation we had been having about the final papers I had written for my courses this semester, “what are your plans for the summer? Any summer jobs lined up? Vacations?

            I shook my head, “not really,” the truth was, I couldn’t afford to go anywhere. “Luckily, my fellowship includes summer funding, so I figured I’d spend my summer enjoying the peace and quiet of having the apartment to myself and work on research for my dissertation.”

            “A very responsible use of your summer,” Vivian replied with a grin. “Still, you must have some kind of fun, you deserve it after working so hard during the school year. If all you do is work, you’ll burn yourself out before you can finish your doctorate.”

            “I guess so,” and there was more than a little bit of wisdom in her words. Of course, what Vivian didn’t know was the there was a lot of fun to be had in enjoying the peace and quiet of my empty apartment; I had plenty of plans that included getting to relax in little space. That, to me, was vacation enough.

            “What about family? You’re not going on any family vacations this year?” Vivian asked, and I shook my head.

            “We don’t really do family vacations,” I explained, which wasn’t entirely true, but I had grown up poor and vacations were rare and usually just included visiting distant family. “Besides,” I continued, “I don’t exactly…get along with my family.”

            “I’m sorry to hear that,” Vivian frowned and reached across the table to take my hand.

            “Don’t be,” I forced a smile, “they just…aren’t…they didn’t take it well when I…well, they are a little on the conservative side, let’s just say that.” I squeezed her hand back, looked into her eyes, and found a genuine smile on my face. “But that just means I’ll be in town all summer and get to see you more, right?”

            “Right,” Vivian confirmed. “But perhaps you won’t be in town all summer after all.”

            “What do you mean?” I asked.

            “Well,” Vivian smiled slyly, “if you have no other plans, perhaps we’ll have to plan our own little vacation.”

            “Really?” I was suddenly giddy at the prospect.

            “Of course, dear,” she replied with a light laugh, “a week at a beach would be nice,” she said, clearly thinking out loud, “but a lake house might offer more…privacy. Or perhaps something in the mountains to get away from the heat a bit?”

            I smiled and blushed, “sounds like you’re thinking about a…” I wanted to say romantic getaway but was too embarrassed by how forward that was to say it. “Well,” I continued after a pause, “sounds like you’re thinking about a vacation with a lot of…alone time.”

            “You don’t seem to bothered by that prospect,” she teased.

            I bit my lip and shook my head.

            “So, how about it? Will you go on vacation with me, Lavender?”

            I nodded, perhaps a little too eagerly, “I’d really love that, Vivian.”

            “Then which sounds best to you? Or do you have any other ideas?”

            “A lake house sounds really nice,” I replied, already dreaming about it.

            “Then it’s settled,” Vivian said firmly, “I’ll start looking for houses to rent tomorrow.”

            From there, conversation drifted to all the things we could do with our week together—that is, the non-lewd things we would do, though I think we both knew there would be plenty of that.

            It should go without saying that, throughout our conversations, I kept pouring rum and cokes. By the time I cleaned up dinner as Vivian drifted back to the couch, we were both a bit past tipsy. Even Vivian was visibly intoxicated, a state I’m not sure I had yet seen her in; just how intoxicated was driven home for me as she paused halfway to the couch to take her heels off. It was weird, but weirdly intimate—with the exception of our Saturday mornings together, I had never seen Vivian without her heels.

            “Perhaps, my dear Lavender,” Vivian said with a giggle as she sat heavily on the couch, “you should make my drink a little weaker.”

            I hate to admit that I briefly considered ignoring her request; there was a part of me that wanted to see what Vivian was like when she was well and truly drunk. However, my conscience won out, and I poured a mere half of shot of rum into Vivian’s glass before pouring enough in my glass to make up for it.

            The pouring liquid triggered something in me, and I shifted and fidgeted as I made the drinks, rubbing my thighs together as I became suddenly aware of just how badly I needed to pee. Squeezing my thighs together and biting my lip, I clenched my all my muscles as a wave of desperation passed over me as the coke poured freely into the glasses. Finally, drinks made, I made my way over to Vivian with small, shuffling steps.

            “Everything okay?” Vivian said as I handed her the drink, clearly picking up on some peculiarities in my body language.

            Blushing and biting my lip, I stood in front of her as my alcohol-fogged brain churned through the situation.

            Go to the bathroom, you stupid little girl.

            But…I didn’t want to…

            That’s so stupid! You’re moments away from having an accident. Do you really want to have another accident in front of Vivian?!

            Maybe I did. Maybe that was exactly what I wanted.

            Fine, then do it; piss your pants right now.

            Maybe…but…oh god, it’s such a bad idea, I should just go to the bathroom.

            But wouldn’t it feel so good? And having Vivian see you have another accident would be so hot; she might even put you in pull-ups.

            “Lavender?” Vivian broke me out of my own head, “are you okay?”

            “Yes,” I smiled weakly, “sorry, I think I’m a little drunk.” I laughed nervously as I sat down next to Vivian.

            If you don’t make a choice soon, the choice is going to be made for you.

            But I knew that, of course, and maybe that’s why I wasn’t making a choice. Maybe…I wanted the choice to be made for me.

            Isn’t that the same as making the choice to have an accident?

            Maybe…but…

            I felt like my mind was chasing its own tail. Between the haze of alcohol and the pain in my bladder, I felt like I couldn’t think straight. I wasn’t thinking straight. I took another small sip of my drink and set it on the coffee table.

            As soon as I had set the drink down, Vivian leaned in, placing her hand on the back of my head and bringing me to meet her halfway. Our lips met and fireworks went off in my head.

            This is just like last time, and it’s going to end the same way.

            But the voice was too distant, too drowned out by Vivian’s lips, her hand on the back of my head and the other gently creeping up my side towards my breasts. I moaned against Vivian’s lips as her hand finally found my breast, then broke away from the kiss with a sharp gasp as she lightly pinched my nipple through my bra.

            Vivian was smiling coyly as I looked at her with surprise. Still fondling my chest with one hand, Vivian took her other away from the back of my head and placed it firmly on my chest, pushing me until I was leaning back against the arm of the couch.

            It wasn’t like Vivian and I had never had sex before, but she had never been this…forward, this aggressive. I’d never seen such hunger in her eyes before. My heart rate picked up and my breaths became slow and deep; I’d never seen Vivian like this before, but gods was it doing it for me.

            “Tell me you want me to touch you, Lavender,” she commanded, simply.

            “I want…” but I trailed off and bit my lip, suddenly too shy to say it.

            “What do you want, my precious little Lavender?” She had taken her hand away from my breast and instead lightly ran her fingers up and down my ribs, almost but not quite tickling. Her other hand was resting on my leg, tracing circles with her finger tips against the inside of my thighs. “Use your words, darling.”

            I made a sound that was part way between a whimper and a moan. My bladder was still pounding, pulsing even, and I wasn’t sure if my panties were wet from leaking or from arousal…or both. “I want,” I tried again, “I want…you to…”

            “Yes, go on,” Vivian coached me, “tell me what you want, little Lavender.”

            I bit my lip hard. Vivian couldn’t possibly know how much it drove me wild hearing her call me ‘little’ Lavender. “To, um…touch me…” I finally managed to get out.

            “And where, exactly, do you want me to touch you?” She was grinning evilly now, knowing exactly how much she was torturing me.

            “Um,” I grabbed the hand that was running up and down my ribs and placed it on my breast, “here.”

            “I said to use your words, my precious girl,” Vivian teased, but didn’t remove her hand, “but I guess that’s close enough for your first try, so good girl.”

            My body shuddered at a surge of electricity that passed through me, and I smiled proudly. I was a good girl.

            Vivian lifted herself off the couch to lean over me as she locked our lips together. “Tell me,” she said in between kisses, “is there,” kiss, “anywhere else,” kiss, “you’d like me,” kiss, “to touch you?” Kiss.

            Sharp pains pierced my lower stomach, but I pushed them away as best as I could. I nodded my head.

            “And where is that?”

            I strained my neck upward to kiss her again as I grabbed the hand on my thigh and slowly moved it higher.

            “Ah ah, what did I say, little Lavender?” Vivian broke off from our kiss and pulled her hand out of mine.

            I whimpered.

            “Lavender,” she said in a faux scolding, “what did I tell you to do?”

            “Tell you where I want to be touched,” I said meekly.

            “Yes, darling, but how did I tell you to tell me?”

            I bit my lip and looked away, “you said to, um, use my big girl words.”

            Vivian raised her eyebrows and for a moment she looked surprised, but then a big grin spread across her face. I registered the look of surprise, but my brain was too full of other things to even begin to parse where it had come from. “That’s right, little girl.”

            I made a small whimpering sound in my throat.

            Little girl.

            “Now,” Vivian said as she began to shift around on the couch until she was straddling my hips, “are you going to use your big girl words and tell me where you want me to touch you?”

            Once she was straddling me, Vivian lowered herself until she was sitting on me, which was just about the worst thing she could do.

            Her weight against my lower stomach pushed down on my bladder, and I gasped as the pressure forcefully emptied a portion of my bladder into my pants, the wetness in my crotch now undisputedly piss.

            Told you the choice would be made for you.

            “Vivian, I…” I struggled to simultaneously speak and fight with my bladder, which was threatening to empty itself completely and soaked both my jeans and the couch. Small spurts were coming out in irregular intervals as I desperately tried to get the words out.

            “Lavender? What’s wrong?” Concern filled Vivian’s voice and she lifted herself off of me and sat back down on the couch, recognizing that my mood had suddenly shifted.

            Unexpectedly, the release of the pressure from her body weight cause me to momentarily lose my fight, and a long stream of pee trickled into my panties, soaking my crotch and dribbling down my ass. No longer being held down, I scrambled off the couch. There was no way I could make it to the bathroom, but I could at least avoid soaking the couch.

            “Oh, Lavender,” Vivian said sympathetically as she realized what was going on.

            Vainly, I pressed my hands against my crotch, but I had already lost the battle. The crotch of my light blue jeans turned dark as the pee spread through the denim and began cascading down my legs. Humiliation burned through me, but I also couldn’t help but bit my lip and relish the sensation. The truth was, the humiliation was a distant sensation to my inebriated brain, but the tactile pleasure of the pee running over my most sensitive parts and down my leg was front and center in my thoughts. Even Vivian’s presence faded from the thoughts for the moment.

            And then it was over. I heard a drop of pee fall from my jeans and splash in the puddle that had formed on the hardwood floor beneath me.

            “Oh, Lavender,” Vivian repeated, breaking the silence, “I’m so sorry, darling.” She reached out and put a comforting hand on my arm.

            I just stood there, trying to process the deluge of emotions swirling through my brain. The truth was, what I wanted more than anything right then was to keep kissing Vivian, to have her touch me through my piss-soaked jeans. For Vivian, the mood might have been broken, but, for me, the mood was very much still there, perhaps even stronger for my accident.

            Not exactly an accident.

            Not exactly, but not exactly on purpose either.

            But closer to one than the other.

            “Vivian,” I finally spoke, “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened,” I lied.

            “Shh, it’s okay, it’s okay,” Vivian said reassuringly. “You were trying to tell me you had to go, weren’t you?”

            I nodded.

            “I’m sorry, Lavender, if only I had understood…”

            “It’s not your fault,” I replied quickly. It was definitely not her fault, but I couldn’t explain just how not her fault it was. I looked up at her, making eye contact for the first time in the past few moments, and was filled with the urge to jump on her and keep making out.

            Gods, I wanted her to fuck me.

            There’s no way she’s going to fuck you after watching you piss your pants. Not tonight anyway.

            “I should…take a bath…”

            “That sounds like a good idea,” Vivian stood up and took my hand, either oblivious to or unconcerned about the fact that I had just been pressing my hands against the pee-soaked denim. “Why don’t you show me to your bathroom?”

            I nodded and took Vivian to the bathroom that was conjoined to my bedroom. Immediately, Vivian let go of my hand and went to the tub to start the water. I stood there awkwardly in my peed in clothes as I watched Vivian adjust the temperature before plugging the tub.

            “Now,” she said as she turned her attention back to me, “let’s get you out of these yucky clothes, okay?” I nodded as Vivian grabbed the hem of my shirt and pulled it up over my head. “You’re gonna feel so much better after we get you all cleaned up,” she reassured as she reached behind me to unclasp my bra.

            For my part, I just stood there, relishing in how Vivian undressed me like a child.

            Next, Vivian unbuttoned by pants and peeled both them and my panties off me at once, instructing me to step out of them.

            “Lavender,” Vivian spoke as she gathered up my discarded clothes, seemingly unbothered by touching the pee-soaked clothes, “I don’t want to embarrass you, but…has this been happening a lot lately?”

            My face burned, “um, mostly just when I’m drinking,” I replied, mostly honestly. After all, the times it had happened lately when I wasn’t drinking had all been firmly on purpose.

            “Mmm, I see,” she said neutrally, and left it at that before asking for the whereabouts of our washing machine.

            After unsuccessfully attempting to dissuade Vivian from doing my laundry, I acquiesced and told her where our washer and dryer was, then finally climbed into the bathtub when I was finally alone.

            Putting my hair up to keep it dry, I leaned back in the tub and let the hot water wash over me, slowly inching its way up my body as the tubbed filled.

            As my mind played back the events of the last few minutes, I felt a little regret over bringing our…activities to a halt. I shuddered as I remembered her telling me to use my words, as I remembered her calling me ‘little girl.’ But what regret I felt was drowned out by how my mind buzzed over the humiliation of my accident. My hand dipped below the water and nestled itself between my legs as I replayed the moment in my head.

            “Has this been happening a lot lately?” Vivian’s question burned bright in my head as my imagination reached that point in the evening’s events.

            I imagined myself nodding meekly, “yes, Miss Vivian,” I whispered the words out loud as my imagination deviated from the real events.

            “I see,” Vivian would reply, disappointment clear in her voice, “I guess I was wrong when I thought you were ready for big girl panties, isn’t that right?”

            “Yes, Miss Vivian,” I would repeat then add, “I’m sorry, Miss Vivian.”

            “Oh, it’s not your fault,” she would smile condescendingly at me, “you’re just a little girl, after all. It’s my fault for expecting you to be big enough to use the potty. I guess we’re just going to have to go back to pull-ups, my little Lavender.”

            “Yes, Miss Vivian,” I would say for a third time.

            I gasped, suddenly jerked out of my daydream by a light tapping on the door.

            “Come in,” I called, trying to compose myself a little.

            The door opened and Vivian stepped in carrying a bundle of clothes she must have gotten from my closet. And something else. It took me a moment to recognize it, but my heart stopped when I did. On top of the pile of clothing in Vivian’s hands was one of my diapers.

[thedman]

I knew those diapers were gonna make their way out of hiding sooner or later.  Now the question is how far does Lavender go down the rabbit hole? There will be some questions to come and she may just find that her diapered fantasy comes true very quickly

[YourFNF]

I think Vivian knows more than she's letting on....

[Chels in Ribbons]

23 hours ago, thedman said:

I knew those diapers were gonna make their way out of hiding sooner or later.

It's the magic of foreshadowing ?

5 hours ago, YourFNF said:

I think Vivian knows more than she's letting on....

?hmm, you think so? Vivian is pretty smart...

[Guilend]

I bet Vivian knows a lot more, or at least she hopes she does, but doesn’t want to come out and say it either because it might ruin the fantasy or because she might be wrong. Or both. 

[Chels in Ribbons]

Chapter Sixteen

            Maybe if you don’t move, she can’t see you.

            I doubted it, but I couldn’t have moved if I wanted to. I was the proverbial deer, Vivian the car bearing down on me, and the diaper the headlights. Not just headlights: this was some inconsiderate jerk in the oncoming traffic lane with his brights still on.

            Worse, Vivian was just standing there, just inside the doorway, holding the stack of clothes with the diaper on top. It was a solid black diaper, a medical brand rather than the abdl boutique diapers I had debated on buying. I’d settled on the all black diapers because I figured they would be less incriminating should anyone ever discover them. At the time, I had thought I was taking an overabundance of caution, but apparently not.

            We stayed frozen like that, me in the tub and Vivian standing in front of the door, for roughly a lifetime before Vivian finally broke the deafening silence.

            “I, um, thought I’d get some clothes together for you,” she said in a rather subdued voice. This was one of the rare times I had seen Vivian’s cool confidence falter; she seemed to be a little embarrassed about the absorbent garment herself. A flickering candle next to the all-consuming bonfire of mortification raging in my body. “I was looking for your pull-ups…I mean…I assumed you had some for bed…I thought it would be for the best, since you’ve been drinking, so we don’t have any more…incidents?”

            Say something. Do something. Stop just staring at her!

            But what could I do? What could I say?

            She’s waiting for you to say something!

            What do you want me to say? Oh, yeah, those are my diapers? I don’t wear them though because I can’t put them on myself!

            Maybe she’ll—

            Don’t finish that thought.

            “Well,” Vivian continued awkwardly when the silence had stretched on for too long for her to bear, “I couldn’t find your pull-ups, but I found your…um…these.” She tapped the diaper, crinkling it slightly, just in case I thought she was talking about something else.

            “Um,” I said finally. I meant to say more, but I wasn’t quite sure what, and nothing was coming to mind or to my lips.

            “I can see I’ve embarrassed you,” Vivian said, understating her effect by a large margin. “I’m sorry, Lavender, I didn’t mean to snoop.”

            “It’s okay,” I choked out because that was what I was supposed to say and not because I felt that anything at all was okay in that moment.

            She’s going to find out all about your fetish. She probably saw the chest; she had to have, it was right next to the diapers. Did you remember to lock it? Oh gods, if she saw inside, we’re done.

            No, no, there’s no way she saw inside; if she had, she would have found the pull-ups after all.

            It was a particularly sound bit of logic in my otherwise panicked state.

            “It’s not,” Vivian replied, “I’m sorry if I invaded your privacy, Lavender, I was truly just trying to help, but I should have just asked.”

            Okay, okay, think, how are you going to get out of this mess?

            I’m not sure there is a way out.

            Then you have to go through.

            What the fuck does that mean in this situation?

            “I’m sorry,” Vivian repeated when I didn’t reply, “should…do you want me to leave?”

            “No!” I blurted out before I could even think about the question. “No,” I repeated more calmly, “of course not; I…I want you to stay.”

            “Are you sure?” Vivian set the pile of clothes and the diaper on the bathroom counter before walking over to the tub and kneeling down. “I can see how upset you are.”

            I took a deep breath. I had to go through. The panic was starting to abate and the gears in my head were groaning back to life as rational thought began to resume.

            “I’m just…mortified,” I replied in complete honesty. “I didn’t want you to see those.”

            “Lavender, I already told you, I don’t think any less of you because of your…problem,” she placed a comforting hand on my cheek as she spoke, “and that includes not judging you for how you choose to handle it.”

            It’s fine, it’s okay, she doesn’t suspect a thing, she just thinks you have them for your bedwetting. Lean into it.

            “I just…” I began even while the gears were still turning.

            Sometimes the pull-ups leak; you wanted to try something else.

            “Well,” I started over, “it’s just that…sometimes…not often, but sometimes the pull-ups, um…leak?”

            “Mmm,” Vivian made an understanding noise in her throat, “so you thought you’d try something with more…protection?” She finished for me.

            “Yeah, exactly,” I nodded in agreement.

            If you play your cards right now, Vivian might put that diaper on for you. This is your chance.

            But dare I take it? Was that what I wanted?

            Of course, it’s what you want, you dolt! You literally fantasize about it!

            That was true…but…

            “Do they…help?” Vivian practically prompted me.

            “Actually, I…don’t know,” I surprised myself with a burst of genuine laughter, “I couldn’t get them on right.”

            Vivian smiled, “I bet it is hard.”

            “I do have pull-ups though,” I added quickly, suddenly nervous about the direction I had taken the conversation.

            “I must have missed them; do you want me to get you one? I know it’s not bedtime yet, but, well, you said this has been happening lately when you drink, and…” Vivian trailed off.

            “No,” I said perhaps a little too emphatically, “no,” I repeated more softly, “but thank you.” The last thing I needed was Vivian retrieving pull-ups from my chest of secrets.

            “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to embarrass you or make you feel bad, I just thought…”

            I forced a reassuring smile, “Vivian, it’s okay, I really appreciate you and how kind and understanding and just…just wonderful you are about all of this. You’re right, I should wear one for the rest of the evening, I just don’t want to put you out.”

            “Darling, it’s no trouble at all! Why don’t you get out of the tub and all dried off, and I’ll get your clothes all ready for you, okay?”

            I leaned over the edge of the tub and planted a kiss right on Vivian’s lips. “How about,” I suggested, “you go make us more drinks, and I’ll be out there in just a minute, okay?”

            Vivian grinned, “that sounds lovely.” She kissed me again and left the bathroom. I let out a long, deep sigh; I felt like I’d been holding my breath since Vivian had first entered and could finally breathe freely.

That was…not quite a disaster.

            But pretty close.

            Not wanting to keep Vivian waiting, I quickly got out of the tub, dried off, grabbed the clothing Vivian had picked out for me, and headed to my closet. After making sure my closet door was locked, I placed the diaper back in its bag the best I could and put the combination in to open my chest.

            You could have had Vivian put you in a diaper.

            The thought thrilled me and terrified me. I could have, and that was both scary and exhilarating.

            But you chickened out.

            And I wasn’t sure I regretted it, but I already knew I’d be playing the alternative ending to that scenario on repeat in my head for weeks.

            I slipped a pull-up on and then got dressed in the clothes Vivian had picked out, feeling a rush of toddler-like giddiness over having my clothes picked out for me, then made my way out to the living room to finish my evening with Vivian, the pull-up rustling the whole way.

 

Chapter Seventeen

            The rest of our evening was relatively uneventful. My accident seemed to have sufficiently killed the mood we had going on beforehand, and we spent the rest of the evening just cuddling on the couch while we drank a few more rum and cokes and watched a horror movie. The occasional rustle of my pull-up went uncommented on by Vivian but was constantly exhilarating to me. It was just so…deliciously naughty to be brazenly wearing the garments that had brought me so much pleasure but also so much shame out in the open with Vivian. Naughty, yes, but also just…comforting.

            That night, I laid in bed with Vivian spooning me, her hand on my hip and her slow, gentle breaths in my ear. I laid there feeling more content than I could ever remember feeling and slowly wet my pull-up, making sure I’d be soggy when we woke up in the morning. I sighed and snuggled deeper into Vivian’s embrace.

            Do you think Vivian will make you wear diapers to bed at her house from now on since you told her the pull-ups sometimes leak?

            The thought came unbidden from the blue. It was, however, a good question; would she?

            If your pull-up leaks tonight, she definitely will.

            Maybe, but my bladder was empty.

            They only hold one wetting, if you wake up in the middle of the night needing to pee…

            I rarely do and, besides, if I did I would…well…Vivian is right next to me, I’d pee all over her too.

            Just more reason for her to put you in diapers at night now that you’re sharing a bed with her.

            I wondered briefly if tonight did in fact mean I would no longer be sleeping in the guest bed at Vivian’s house, but the thought was too secondary to everything else swirling through my head for me to focus on for long.

            The truth was, wetting myself in front of Vivian—

            For the second time!

            —had been mortifying but, yes, admittedly also incredibly hot. I had thought about that first incident with a vibrator pressed against my pull-up numerous times since that fateful day, and I knew tonight’s incident would just be fuel for that fire. In fact, I knew exactly what I would have been doing right that moment if Vivian hadn’t been asleep beside me. But sitting around with Vivian while I was casually wearing a pull-up? Knowing that Vivian knew I was wearing a pull-up and having that just be a casual, unremarked upon fact? The normalization of needing—or being perceived as needing—pull-ups because I had accidents? All of that was embarrassing in its own way, of course, but it was also…

            It makes you feel warm and comforted.

            Yes, exactly. But more than that, it was…

            Intoxicating.

            Yes, intoxicating, and I wanted more. Ever since this had all started, I had been fantasizing about a life with Vivian in which diapers and pull-ups and slightly more than occasional accidents all had a prominent role. Of course, it had always felt like a pipe dream, but that night was the first time I began to truly wonder if it was something I could have after all. The first time I began to truly think it was possible. It would be a commitment, no doubt, it would mean maintaining the charade as a lifestyle—it would mean lying to Vivian for as long as we were together.

            But is it really such an awful lie?

            It sure didn’t feel like it; it felt like a pretty harmless lie, all told, but a lie nonetheless.

            A lie Vivian seems willing to believe and accept; a lie that doesn’t hurt her in any way but that brings you a lot of happiness.

            But…could I really go through with it?

            You can; you’re just scared to.

            And that was the real truth. Vivian seemed ready and willing to accept the reality of being involved with someone who had to wear pull-ups and maybe even diapers, but was I ready and willing to live that life as more than just a fantasy?

            I stayed awake long after Vivian had fallen asleep with these questions burning bright in my mind. Eventually, though, the drinks and the comfort of my bed combined with Vivian’s embrace won over, and I drifted off to sleep, no closer to resolving my conundrum than I was when I first laid down.

            The next morning, however, things seemed much clearer.

            I awoke to an empty bed, which wasn’t too surprising. From the mornings I had spent at Vivian’s house, I knew her to be an early riser. I had made sure to show Vivian where we kept our coffee the night before for that exact reason, and as I laid in bed trying to shake off the last vestiges of sleep, I merely assumed she had already gotten up and helped herself to some coffee. My bladder was aching and no small part of me was tempted to flood my pull-up, but I knew I’d end up soaking the bed too.

            Do it. You told Vivian the pull-ups leak sometimes.

            But, of course, Vivian had already woken up and found the bed dry, and I couldn’t help but think it might be suspicious if I leaked now.

            If you’d asked Vivian to help you with your diapers last night, you could be laying here soaking your diaper right now.

            My cheeks warmed at the idea, but in the light of morning and with my thoughts no longer clouded by alcohol, I was relieved I hadn’t taken it that far. As it was, I was already feeling shame and no small amount of mortification for how far I had taken it.

            You pissed yourself like a toddler in front of her again.

            I groaned internally. I had. All because I was being stupid and chasing a pipe dream.

            That’s it, no more of this; you have got to stop this ridiculousness. No more accidents, day or night. You can just pass it off as a temporary problem caused by the stress of the end of the semester.

            I knew that was what I had to do, and I resolved to do just that. I sat up in bed, rubbing my face with my hands, my pull-up squishing beneath me, and promised myself that I would put an end to all of this silliness.

            And then Vivian walked in.

            “Morning, my darling Lavender,” she said brightly as she approached the bed with a steaming mug in her hand. “I made you some coffee, and I ordered us breakfast. Nothing special, just some waffles and fresh fruit from a nearby brunch place. It will be here shortly."

            I smiled groggily as I took the mug from Vivian, “thank you, sweetheart.”

            “My pleasure,” Vivian stroked my cheek gently, then ran her hand through my hair. “No…problems last night?” She asked suddenly.

            “Problems?” I asked as if I wasn’t sure what she was talking about, but my cheeks were warm.

            “No…leaks?”

            That time I blushed hard. She could have been asking whether or not I’d stayed dried, but instead she was asking if I had leaked; the fact that I was wet was apparently a foregone conclusion. I tried to hide my blush with a sip of my coffee, but there was no way she didn’t notice. “No,” I said quietly, “no leaks.”

            “Good,” she smiled at me in a way that seemed almost…proud? “Come on then,” she grabbed my hand and gently pulled me to my feet, “why don’t you go get yourself all cleaned up before breakfast gets here, okay?”

            But as I began to walk away, Vivian gave my butt two quick pats, pressing the sodden pull-up against me as she did. I was happy I was facing away from her; she could see neither the crimson of my cheeks nor the goofy smile spreading across my face.

            Okay, maybe you’re not quite done with this silliness after all.

            I definitely was not.

[YourFNF]

Lavender no! Bad girl! *gets the rolled up newspaper and the spray bottle*

[Chels in Ribbons]

Y'all ever write a story that you're really proud of and that you're posting online and getting really positive feedback on bu then, after posting seventeen chapters, you notice...there's a fucking typo in your goddamn title? Because I have, and I hate it XD

I'm probably bringing attention to something most people haven't even noticed, but the title is supposed to be The Life and Humiliations of Lavender Fairchild, or A Tale of DiaperS and Doctorates, not "or A Tale of Diaper and Doctorates." ?‍♀️ Funnily enough, of the three sites I'm posting this on, the only one I didn't make this typo on is the one that lets me edit the title XD

I don't know if this will be interesting to anyone, but the title is meant to be a nod to two titling conventions that were popular in older literature. The main title, The Life and Humiliations of Lavender Fairchild, is a nod to titling conventions popular in 18th century British novels, such as The Life and Adventures of Robin Crusoe or The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy. Whereas the subtitle, or A Tale of Diapers and Doctorates, is a nod to, well, subtitles, such as Frankenstein, or A Modern Prometheus or Twelfth Night, or What You Will. Mostly, I just wanted a really pretentious sounding title because I felt it was appropriate for a story about a literature doctoral student XD

And now that I've made you listen to me prattle on about the title, I present to you the next chapter of The Life and Humiliations of Lavender Fairchild, or A Tale of Diapers and Doctorates:

Chapter Eighteen

            “I’ll see you on Friday?” Vivian asked as she broke off from our kiss.

            I made a short whining sound, “Friday? I thought I’d get to see you more often now that the semester is over.”

            “You will,” Vivian replied, “but while the semester is over for you, I still having grading to do. But after this week, you’ll see a lot more of me, okay?”

            I pouted, and Vivian laughed. “Don’t be like that,” she gently booped my nose with her finger, “I’ll make it up to you, I promise, okay?”

            “Okaaayyy,” I dragged out the word while I clung to Vivian, “I’ll hold you to that.”

            Vivian chuckled and hugged me, squeezing tightly. “Just one week, my little Lavender, and then we’ll have all summer together, okay?”

            “Okay,” I replied, my voice muffled as I pressed my face to her chest.

            “How about,” she spoke as she stroked my hair and held me close, “Friday you come over like usual, but instead of you going home on Saturday, we’ll leave bright and early Saturday morning for a week at a lake house, just you and me. Does that sound nice?”

            I nodded my head vigorously and grinned, “that sounds really nice, Vivian.”

            “Then it’s settled,” Vivian grabbed my shoulders and gently peeled me off of her, “but I have to go get work done so I can get all my grading finished this week, okay?”

            “Okay,” I leaned forward and gave her a quick peck on the lips, “good luck.”

            She let out a short laugh then sighed, “I’ll need it, it’s all the undergrad work I still have to grade.” Her sentence was punctuated by her phone chirping; she grabbed it from her purse and checked the notification, “my Lyft is here,” she explained, “but you,” she booped my noise again, “be good, okay? And I’ll see you on Friday for our vacation.”

            We said our farewells and then I was closing the door behind Vivian.

            A week without Vivian, and then a whole week with her.

            A whole week to have accidents; a whole week to get her to put a diaper on you.

            My cheeks flushed as I thought about having to pack pull-ups and diapers to take on our vacation. Would I pack diapers? It seemed like a bold choice.

            You wouldn’t want to leak all over the beds at the rental house, now would you?

            I definitely did not want to do that, but I was also capable of making sure I didn’t.

            Not as far as Vivian knows; maybe she’ll want you to wear them.

            I bit my lip. Would she?

            There are ways you could make sure she does.

            If I was brave enough for that…

            You’ve been brave enough to piss your pants in front of her.

            Brave wasn’t quite the word for that. I was drunk both times, and, besides, I never made the conscious choice to wet myself, I just…let nature take its course. But there’d be lots of opportunities for nature to take its course in a week.

            I wandered into my room and into my closet, kneeling in front of my chest of secrets. I had a whole week before I had to worry about what I’d wear during my vacation with Vivian. But that was a whole week I had to myself—no Vivian, sadly, and no Elyse, thankfully. Not that I truly disliked Elyse, things were just a little awkward between us now that she knew Vivian and I were involved. But, of course, the real reason I was thankful for her absence is that it meant I had absolute privacy.

            Opening my chest, I slid a pull-up out of its bag before pausing, looking longingly at the diapers. I regretted not trying to get Vivian to put me in one last night. Admittedly, it might have been a horrible idea, and I wasn’t sure I would have done anything differently given the chance, but I really, really wanted to give them an honest try. For a long moment, I sat on my heels in the middle of my closet debating between putting on a pull-up, a familiar and reliable choice, or making another attempt at diapering myself, a thrilling prospect but one that might go horribly wrong.

            If you learn to do it yourself, you can wear them to bed at Vivian’s without having to convince her to put them on you.

            I bit my lip; that was a good point. It wasn’t that I didn’t want Vivian to put them on me—no, I certainly wanted that—but I didn’t think I could ever work up the courage to ask her. Even just thinking about it made my whole body blush.

            What if she offers?

            Well, if she offers, then maybe that would be an entirely different matter. Maybe.

            You’d let her.

            Probably. Almost definitely.

            Absolutely.

            It didn’t matter whether I would or not because I was sure Vivian never would.

            You were pretty sure Vivian wasn’t into you too. And a few months ago you would have said you were pretty sure you’d never wet yourself in front of Vivian.

            Yeah, I get the point.

            “Okay,” I said out loud, “no time like the present, I guess.” I stuffed the pull-up back in its bag and grabbed one of the diapers instead. Third time was the charm, right?

            As I ran one of my hands along the plastic shell of the diaper, I couldn’t help but bite my lip in excitement and anticipation. And, yes, a little bit of arousal. The black plastic was softer than I thought it would be, but it crinkled deliciously. Reluctantly, I set the diaper aside and went back to my chest. Digging through the items inside, I selected one of my favorite onesies—a short-sleeved one with otters printed all over it—and a matching pacifier—decorated with beads and rhinestones with a little plastic otter in the center and the words “otterly adorable” spelled out on the handle—and a plain black pacifier clip. I considered grabbing my shortalls or tulle skirt to complete the ensemble, but decided just the onesie would do perfectly.

            Selections in hand, I made my way back to my bedroom, pointedly not putting away my secrets simply because I didn’t have to. I set everything down on the bed and quickly shed my pajamas. My heart was in my throat and my hands were shaky with excitement.

            You’ll get it right this time. This will be your second experience with diapers—your first real experience—and you’re going to get it right this time.

            Picking up the diaper, I debated whether to try putting it on while laying down or standing up. I had seen tutorials for both and laying down had seemed easier, but that was what I had tried my first attempt and it hadn’t worked out very well. It made sense to try it standing up this time. I unfolded the diaper, relishing every crinkle it made, and fluffed it like so many tutorials had told me to do—apparently it made it softer and thicker and, perhaps most importantly, better able to absorb wetness. Then, after finding a good spot with an bit of empty wall for me to lean against, I lined the diaper up with my body and pressed my butt and back to the wall, holding it in place.

            As soon as I pulled the rest of the diaper up and between my legs, I felt a wave of euphoria wash over me. The bulk of the diaper between my legs and the softness of the padding against my sensitive bits were all I could think of, and for a moment I just stood there appreciating these new sensations. They weren’t entirely new, of course; they were familiar from wearing pull-ups, but the diapers turned those sensations up to new intensities.

            Finally, I took a deep breath and went to work.

            Holding the front of the diaper to me with one hand, I grabbed the bottom left tab with the other and pulled the wing tightly around my hips, pressing the tape against the smooth plastic landing zone. Satisfied with the progress so far, I repeated the process with the bottom right tab.

            Half-way there.

            I took a moment to adjust the diaper to make sure it was placed properly, then went back to the left side, grabbing the top tape this time and drawing it tight across my lower stomach. Then the right side.

            And done!

            I stepped away from the wall and wiggled my hips and butt around. Remembering the advice from the countless tutorials I had read, I reached down and checked the guards around my leg—everything seemed good. In fact, everything seemed good. The diaper hugged my hips and butt perfectly, encasing me in crinkling softness. It did, however, feel a little loose, like it was sagging down a bit. I pulled it up so it fit me tightly and redid the top tapes one at a time, pulling them tight to keep the diaper in place.

            Perfect.

            And it was.

            I reached down and gently rubbed the padding between my legs, pressing it against me and making it crinkle. A contented smile spread across my face; this was everything I had hoped it would be.

            It wasn’t that the first time was awful, it had merely been disappointing. I had been dreaming about diapers for so long, and the poor job I had done on my first attempt simply didn’t line up with what my imagination had told me it would be. It had been ill-fitting and scratchy; it had felt loose and didn’t quite hug my body the way it did in my imagination—the way it did now.

            I walked across my room, getting a feel for the diapers. They forced my legs apart and made me waddle in an unfamiliar but definitely not unpleasant way. Every step, every slight movement, caused crinkles to resonant through the silent room, and even that sound was wonderful to my ears.

            After walking the length of my room a few times, I came back to my bed and picked up my onesie. I slipped it over my head and pulled it down my body. Snapping the buttons in the crotch together was a bit of a challenge at the best of times, but the added bulk of the diaper made for an extra challenge. Eventually, however, I managed to get them all snapped, and the stretchy fabric settled around my torso and the diaper. It pulled the diaper close to my body, pressing the padding into my skin, somehow enhancing an experience I wouldn’t have thought could be enhanced. I attached the pacifier clip to my pacifier, clipped it to the collar of my onesie, and popped the paci in my mouth, sucking softly almost on instinct alone. Finally, I grabbed Penelope off my bed, hugging her tight to my chest, and headed back into my closet to check myself out in the full-length mirror on the back of the door.

            I almost squealed in happiness.

            Gods, you look adorable.

            I’d seen myself in onesies plenty of time. I’d seen myself sucking on pacifiers and hugging stuffies to my chest. But what I’d never seen—what I neglected to do my first time trying diapers—was me in a onesie with a paci in my mouth, a stuffie hugged to my chest, and the puffy bulge of a diaper around my waist. Sure, my pull-ups made the crotch of my onesies puff out a little bit, but it was nothing compared to the very obvious bulge of the diaper. I turned and twisted around so I could see my padded butt, the very edges of my black diaper peeking out of the legbands and giggled again.

            It’s too bad you didn’t get Vivian to put you in one of these last night; even she’d be forced to admit how stunningly adorable you look.

            I took one last long look at myself in the mirror and then went back to my chest and pulled out a pink sippy cup decorated with Disney princesses. I rarely got to use my sippy cups—I was afraid to use them lest I get caught cleaning them in the shared kitchen, but there was no way I was going to pass up the opportunity.

            It was weird stepping out of my bedroom and into the common spaces of the apartment. Even though I knew I was alone, I felt a pang of anxiety as I crossed the threshold. But Elyse was still gone, I reminded myself, and would be for months.

            Crinkling the whole way, I walked to the kitchen and filled my sippy cup with juice before making my way to the living room and plopping down on the couch. Before long, I was curled up on the couch with Penelope in my arms and watching cartoons, feeling absolutely blissed out. Every once in a while, I’d squirm around just a little or poke at my diaper, just to hear the crinkle—it made me grin every time.

            I was absolutely, perfectly content; in that moment, all was right with the world.

            More importantly, I knew then without a doubt that I would be packing diapers for Vivian and mine’s vacation.

[Hugues]

 So cute.With they hugging and the adult ’s fantasy ,this chapter satisfies my hunger for the romantic relationship between professor and the student.

[BabySerenity]

I hope she packs a few of her baby stuff as well!! 

Aside from the diapers that is!! 

[YourFNF]

I know that feeling of struggling to get the fit right all too well. I still can't do it after like 5 years although a lot of that is probably sizing being off TBH ??‍♀️

[Chels in Ribbons]

7 hours ago, YourFNF said:

I know that feeling of struggling to get the fit right all too well. I still can't do it after like 5 years although a lot of that is probably sizing being off TBH ??‍♀️

Fun fact: Lavender's experience here is strongly based on my own: the first time I got diapers, I did such a bad job putting it on and it was so uncomfortable that for a while I thought I just didn't actually like wearing diapers and it took me weeks to be willing to try again. It's hard!

[Cya]

I noticed the title error the first day I saw it, but I didn't mention it because that's the kind of thing that can drive away a new writer. The good news is it can be fixed. Go to the very first post of this story and click "edit" which will allow you to change the title. 

 

3 hours ago, Chels in Ribbons said:

Fun fact: Lavender's experience here is strongly based on my own: the first time I got diapers, I did such a bad job putting it on and it was so uncomfortable that for a while I thought I just didn't actually like wearing diapers and it took me weeks to be willing to try again. It's hard!

This is why I was actually grateful for Depends Maximum Protection briefs when I was first starting out at the age of 18. It didn't matter how many I went through trying to get it right because they were like twelve bucks a pack; that's nothing compared to the forty or more a pack of ten designer diapers cost these days...

[YourFNF]

Yeah even when I get cheap ones I always tend to hoard them and use them extremely sporadically, mainly cause I'm never sure when I'm going to be able to buy them ??‍♀️

[Chels in Ribbons]

16 hours ago, Cya said:

The good news is it can be fixed. Go to the very first post of this story and click "edit" which will allow you to change the title.

Ah! Thanks so much! It wouldn't have scared me off, but it absolutely was going to annoy me forever XD

16 hours ago, Cya said:

Depends Maximum Protection briefs

I'm pretty sure the fact that these were my first as well did not help with how uncomfortable they felt!

I can now officially say that The Life and Humiliations of Lavender Fairchild, or A Tale of Diapers and Doctorates is complete! In fact, if you're eager to see how this all ends and/or just want to support ya girl, the entire novel is now available for purchase on kindle! Don't worry though, I will continue to post the story here, so if you don't want to buy it, you'll see be able to see how things end.

I will say, I had a lot of fun writing this, and it definitely won't be the last we hear from these characters! I've actually already begun thinking about what adventures might await these two!

And with that, here's another chapter!

Chapter Nineteen

            The week that followed was an…interesting one, to be sure.

            By Sunday, the vague sense of trepidation I had over openly wearing my little clothes and padding or using my pacifiers and sippy cups in the common areas of the apartment was gone without a trace. I spent the entirety of my Saturday dressed in a onesie and a diaper and sitting on my couch binge-watching a show I had been wanting to check out for months but had been too busy for. I drank exclusively from my sippy cup, and my pacifier was always clipped to the collar of my onesie. Granted, I also spent the day with the low but constant hum of my anxiety telling me Elyse would burst through the front door at any moment, thus discovering my shame and forcing me to run away and start a new life elsewhere. But it never happened, and the hum quickly faded. I even napped on the couch on Sunday afternoon, my diaper on full display, without a second thought.

            By Monday, Vivian was texting me pictures of the house we’d be staying in. It was an absolutely gorgeous Victorian-style house with a wrap-around porch right on the edge of a huge lake that glistened in all the photos. The house had a covered patio in the back that led right up to the edge of the water with a portion of the patio jutting out into the lake to serve as a private little dock. I spent no small amount of time that week simply fantasizing about lounging on that dock with Vivian. A little bit of sunshine and water and relaxation was exactly what I needed to recuperate from the busy semester I had just finished, and getting to see Vivian in what I imagined would be a sexy but sophisticated swimsuit was the icing on the cake.

            By Tuesday, I’d order a new swimsuit for myself. It was a simple, black two-piece with a skirted bottom. Perhaps more importantly, I’d also ordered more diapers: another pack of the all black diapers to bring on vacation and another pack of very babyish pastel diapers adorned with bunnies for at home. I’d winced more than a little at the cost of shipping to make sure I received them before I left for vacation with Vivian but had ultimately decided it was worth it. Or maybe I was just eager and rationalizing my decision. I also stocked up on pull-ups to make sure I’d have plenty for the trip—I was assuming there would be plenty of drinks, and I’d set myself enough of a precedent of having accidents while drinking that Vivian would probably be expecting me to wear pull-ups. Besides, the last thing I wanted to do was ruin the carpet in a rental house, right? Right.

            By Wednesday, it had been five days since I’d worn panties. I’d spent the vast majority of that time in diapers—though I was quickly running out—but some of it in pull-ups. Perhaps it was the novel excitement of diapers, perhaps it was the elation of having the privacy to wear whenever I wanted, and perhaps it was a little of both. Or, perhaps it was because in the back of my mind I was still wondering if I was truly ready and willing to take this farce to the point where I was wearing some kind of padding, whether that be diapers or pull-ups, full time. Gods knew I fantasized about it often enough, and Wednesday marked not only five days in padding but also five days of dwelling on that exact fantasy. But I knew the reality of wearing padding at all times was different than the fantasy, but every day I went without panties I was that much closer to not only feeling like it was something I could do but also like it was something I very much wanted to do. That said, it was one thing to wear them around my apartment for so many consecutive days, and quite another to have to wear them outside my apartment.

            By Thursday, I was determined to take my little experiment further. That afternoon, I changed out of a completely soaked diaper and into a pull-up. I did my make-up—nothing too fancy, just a little eyeshadow, some tame eyeliner, and red lipstick—and got dressed in clothes appropriate for being out in public—another first for that week. To say I was nervous would be an understatement, and I spent a long time in front of my full-length mirror making sure the pull-up wasn’t visible under my clothes. Once I was sure it was undetectable, I proceeded to hem and haw and find ways to procrastinate for another hour. Finally, though, I ran out of ways to delay, braced myself, and left my apartment. It was the first time I had ever ventured outside of my apartment while wearing padding—not counting Vivian’s house, of course—and I was equal parts terrified and thrilled. I got some lunch and did some grocery shopping, feeling increasingly more comfortable as my outing proceeded without incident. Of course, I knew one outing was only a small taste of what it would be like to wearing pull-ups all the time, but it was nonetheless encouraging. Needless to say, by the time I got home I was ready for some one-on-one time with my vibrator.

            By Thursday evening, I was packed and ready for a weeklong vacation with Vivian. Nestled in my suitcase was a full pack of my black diapers for nighttime and a pack and a half of pull-ups for daytime. I wasn’t planning on wearing the entire vacation, but I was certainly entertaining fantasies of doing so.

            And then it was Friday. My excitement over getting to spend a whole week with Vivian had kept me up most of the night before, like a child too excited to sleep on Christmas Eve, and I was up and getting ready for the day bright and early. Of course, I was already packed, and it was too early to get dressed and do my make-up to see Vivian, so I spent most of Friday morning double and triple checking my suitcases to make sure I had packed everything.

            I watched the clock impatiently as the day slowly ticked by and morning slid into afternoon.

            When my phone started to ring in the early afternoon and I saw Vivian’s name appear on the screen, I scrambled to answer as quickly as I could.

            “Hey sweetheart,” I said into the phone, trying not to let my eagerness into my voice, “what’s up?”

            “I was just calling to make sure you’re ready for our trip,” Vivian replied. It was so good to hear her voice. “All packed and such?”

            “All packed!” I repeated back. “I can’t wait.”

            “Neither can I; I’ve been looking forward to this all week. I only just finished my grading yesterday, and I am ready to relax.”

            “You deserve it!”

            “We both deserve some rest,” Vivian replied, “but, if I’m being honest, I’m much more excited to see you.”

            I blushed hard, “yeah?”

            “Of course, darling,” Vivian’s voice was more than a little sultry, “I simply can’t wait to have you all to myself for a whole week. If I’m being honest, the thought has kept me more than a little…distracted over the past week.”

            “I know what you mean,” I admitted with a small laugh, “I’ve been thinking a lot about it too.”

            Probably not about the same exact things as Vivian, though.

            That was probably true.

            “I’m so glad to hear that,” Vivian replied—and by her tone of voice, I could easily imagine the mischievous grin that was on her face as she did.

            “Listen,” Vivian said after a short pause, her voice suddenly much more serious, “there was something I wanted to talk to you about before tonight.”

            “Oh?” My anxiety suddenly spiked at her variation of ‘we need to talk’ and my monosyllabic response was about all I could muster.

            “It’s nothing bad,” Vivian added quickly, clearly picking up on the nerves in my voice, “it’s just…well…Lavender, I really don’t want to embarrass you, but…”

            My mind was racing trying to figure out where this was going, but there was one thing I knew for certain: it was definitely about my accidents.

            “I’ve been thinking over the past week, and I think it might be best if you bring some of your, ah…diapers for nighttime, just considering the bed at the lake house probably might not have a mattress protector.”

            My heart skipped several beats.

            She told you to bring diapers.

            My cheeks were burning, but I also had butterflies in my stomach.

            She wants you to wear diapers to bed.

            I had to stop myself from replying with a soft ‘yes, Miss Vivian.’

            “I’m sorry, Lavender,” Vivian said when I didn’t reply for a long moment, “the last thing I want to do is embarrass you, I just thought it might be for the best, but ultimately it is your decision.”

            “No, I…it’s okay,” I replied at last, “you’re…probably right, after all. I’ll make sure to bring them.”

            “Thank you for understanding, Lavender,” there was more than a hint of relief in her voice, but I wasn’t sure if it was relief that I agreed or relief that I wasn’t upset by the request. “And, ah, I also think that…well, in consideration of the fact that I’m sure we’ll be having quite a few drinks over the course of our vacation…”

            She wants you to bring pull-ups too.

            My heart was thumping in my throat. Was this really happening?

            “…perhaps you should bring some of your pull-ups, too?” Vivian finished hesitantly.

            I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

            Looks like it’s a good thing you bought more.

            “Yes,” I replied, trying to keep my voice level and not give away how excited or how nervous I was, “I think that’s a good idea.”

            “Good girl,” Vivian said, and my whole body blushed.

[YourFNF]

Whelp she is well past the point of being in way too deep.... Oh honey.... *shakes head*

 

[Kahlez]

6 minutes ago, YourFNF said:

Whelp she is well past the point of being in way too deep.... Oh honey.... *shakes head*

 

That is for sure but i am still not sure about Vivian is she just a supporting GF or maybe hopes for a bit more like a GF/Mommy situation. I think the answers to that question want take too long anymore with the speed things develop. Not that our "good little girl" would mind having a GF/Mommy 

[Chels in Ribbons]

Chapter Twenty

            “No, no, darling, hold the knife like this,” Vivian corrected gently as she stood behind me and watched over me as I diced a section of onion for tonight’s dinner. As she spoke, she reached around and adjusted my grip on the knife, “and hold the onion like this,” she continued as she corrected my grip there. “And elbow out and up, there you go! Try now.”

            “This feels so awkward though,” I whined as I tried to hold the onion steady with my fingers curled under my hand.

            Vivian chuckled, “I know, darling, but its for your own safety. You wouldn’t want to cut yourself, would you?”

            “No,” I conceded with a pout, but it quickly dissipated into a grin. I couldn’t help it; Vivian was being so nice as she was teaching me to cook. It made me feel a little giddy and filled my belly with butterflies.

            “Is it too uncomfortable? Maybe you’re not quite ready, would you like me to do it?” Vivian offered without a hint of condescension or judgement in her voice.

            The thing was, I was familiar with Vivian as an educator. Sure, teaching doctoral level literary theory classes was a bit different from teaching basic cooking skills, but I was still surprised to see this was a whole new side of Vivian. Well, not entirely new; her confidence and grace were still very much intact, after all. But as a professor she was very cool and witty—more so, she was brilliant in a way that was sometimes intimidating but always made you want to aspire to her level. Professor Vivian Devereux constantly challenged you to grow and learn as a student, not because she was mean but because she wanted you to be the best you could be. It was, in no small part, what attracted me to her in the first place.

            But this Vivian, the Vivian who gently placed my fingers in the right places on the knife, was warm and patient. She was, dare I say, almost motherly. She was encouraging but let me set the pace. She was content to let me learn little by little, never pushing me out of my comfort zone. Maybe the difference was that you couldn’t chop off a finger while studying literary theory—though I had certainly received more than my fair share of paper cuts—but in this setting, Vivian was more the type to hold your hand (literally and figuratively) and force you to keep a slow pace.

            I had fallen for Vivian the brilliant professor, but I adored this side of Vivian just as much. She made me feel…like I was being taken care of. She made me feel safe; as uncomfortable as it was to hold the knife and potato like she had shown me, I trusted that Vivian would never let me hurt myself.

            Gee, it’s a real mystery why you like this side of Vivian so much.

            Shush.

            “Nu uh, I got this,” I shook my head and focused on the knife and the onion.

            “Okay, darling, just remember how to cut, all right? Back and forth, just like that, good!”

            Vivian continued to cheer me on as I slowly diced the onion. It wasn’t like this was the first time I’d ever diced a vegetable, but it was the first time I had done so with the ‘proper’ grip, which felt so unnatural to me that it may as well have been my first time cutting anything at all. I grinned and blushed at Vivian’s encouragement, but kept my focus, oblivious to the way I was biting my lip in concentration. I held the flat of the knife against my knuckles like Vivian had told me, despite how counter-intuitive that had seemed to me, and slowly worked my way down the length of the section of onion.

            “There!” I exclaimed as I got to the end. “I did it!”

            “Good job, darling!” Vivian laughed as she lightly applauded me. I couldn’t help but grin; I felt genuinely proud of myself. “Why don’t you take a break and let me finish the rest of the onions?”           

            “Okay!” I agreed and handed the knife to Vivian—handle first, just like she had taught me earlier that evening. “Thank you for teaching me to cook,” I said as I took a seat on one of the stools around the kitchen island.

            “Oh, darling, you’re quite welcome; I’m having a blast doing it. You seem like you’re having fun, too?” She half-said/half-asked.

            “I am,” I confirmed. “I’ve always meant to try learning to cook, but…well, you know, grad school has kept me pretty busy.”

            “I understand that perfectly,” Vivian empathized as she chopped the onions. Her hands moved confidently and swiftly—I absolutely would have chopped a finger off if I had tried to chop them as quickly and efficiently as she was. “I’m surprised your mother didn’t teach you when you were younger though.”

            I shrugged and took a sip of my water—Vivian had said absolutely no alcohol until I was done handling knives. “To be honest, my mom wasn’t much of a cook either,” I said, kicking my legs back and forth as they dangled off the stool. “We ate a lot of frozen food…and fast food…and stuff that came out of boxes…”

            “Sadly, being able to have homecooked meal is quite a privilege,” Vivian said. “I like to say that everyone should know at least the basics of how to cook, but the truth is that many people simply don’t have the time or means to learn. And then the reality of life is that cooking truly is an investment of time and energy that many families simply can’t afford these days.” She said, then looked back over her shoulder at me with an apologetic smile, “but I’m rambling. Sorry, I think I went into professorial mode for a second there.”

            “You’re cute when you get all professorial,” I’d seen Vivian blush a few times, but I always felt a little accomplished when I managed to bring red to her cheeks. “And you’re right,” I added before taking a long drink from my water.

            “Why don’t,” she began speaking as she wiped her hands on her black apron, “you go make yourself a glass of wine while I pop into the restroom for a moment?”

            “Are we done cutting things?”

            “No,” Vivian replied, “but I think you’ve learned enough for one night, I can finish up while you watch. Sound nice?”

            I nodded, “but I’m not in the mood for wine tonight.”

            “No wine?” Vivian’s heels clicked on the tile as she walked over to me and stroked my cheek with a single finger, “well, what are you in the mood for, poppet? I have a full liquor cabinet if you want something harder and some soda and juices if you’d prefer something softer.”

            “Something harder, for sure,” I said with a breathy laugh.

            “Harder?” Vivian laughed, “all right, my dear, what will it be then?”

            I grabbed her apron and pulled her down and into a long kiss. “Surprise me?” I said quietly when I finally broke the kiss off. “But something strong.”

            “Certainly,” Vivian said, “how could I say no to such a strong request?” Vivian grinned, then turned and left the room, her heels clicking the whole way.

            Her ass looks great in the skirt.

            It really does. It’s making me feel self-conscious, to be honest.

            Up until tonight, I had always gotten dressed up for Vivian and mine’s nights together, but I had dressed much more casually tonight. I figured we were at that point in our relationship, especially since we were about to spend a full week together and it wasn’t like I was going to be dressed up the whole time. In fact, I was pretty sure I would look like a hot mess some of that time. And so I had shown up in a plain black t-shirt under a pair of denim shortalls with a pair of high top sneakers. Vivian, meanwhile, had answered the door in a black pencil skirt, low cut blouse, sheer pantyhouse, and black heels.

            Maybe that is casual for her.

            And the thing was, I would believe it.

            I untied the apron Vivian had given me—like hers, it was black, but unlike hers, it was lined with a pink ruffle—and hung it back up. Then I chugged the rest of my glass of water and went to the fridge to refill it.

            Still going through with this?

            Yes. I think so. Definitely. Probably.

            My stomach flipped.

            After my phone call earlier that day with Vivian, I had sat down at my desk and spent a long time lost in thought. There was a lot to think about: things that, to be truthful, I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about for weeks, but had never come to a conclusion on despite that. But after that phone call, I knew it was time to do just that. I had to once and for all decide how far I was going to take this whole charade I had gotten myself tied up in. I sat at my desk for hours and agonized over it, weighing the options, predicting how Vivian would react to certain scenarios, and considering what my life would be like in those scenarios.

            The thing was, I knew I should call it off entirely. Anything else was dishonest. But the truth was, I simply couldn’t. I had come too far, and now that I’d had a taste of my fantasy, I couldn’t give it up. Continuing the charade might have been dishonest, but ending it felt like giving up on something that I had been coveting for years and made me happy.

            And it’s not like the lie hurts Vivian, right?

            Right.

            So, the decision came down not to whether or not I would end the charade, but to what my endgame was. I could stop having accidents during the day entirely and just stay a bedwetter, or I could keep having the occasional accident whenever I had a few too many drinks. Either option would have made me happy. But I could also up the ante and start having accidents more frequently during the day. I could make Vivian think I needed to be in pull-ups all the time—that is, of course, except at night when I would be in diapers. Finally, and speaking of, I could go even further and…

            Absolutely not.

            Right. That option was quickly dismissed as being hot but impractical.

            Truthfully, I don’t think I would have made the decision I did if I hadn’t spent almost the entire week prior in pull-ups and diapers, but I did, and it had been glorious. So I chose to take it as far as I dared, which meant I had come to Vivian’s that night prepared to once again humiliate myself.

[Chels in Ribbons]

Chapter Twenty-One

            “A dirty martini for the lady,” Vivian declared as she handed me a large martini glass filled almost to the brim with a cloudy, green-tinted drink garnished with two olives speared on a glass pick. “You said you want something strong.”

            “I did, thank you,” I sipped the drink. It was salty and delicious, but I would have preferred it dirtier; the small splash of olive brine in the drink did little to cut the taste of the vodka. But at least it went down smooth. And it was definitely a strong drink.

            Don’t get too drunk.

            I won’t, I just need some liquid courage.

            I had come to Vivian’s prepared to wet myself again, but I didn’t want to wait until I was drunk this time. When I had an accident tonight, I didn’t want it to be able to be brushed off as a consequence of drinking too much. In fact, I had arrived with my bladder already starting to feel full to make sure I could do it before we had many drinks; Vivian’s mandate that I not drink until I was done handling a knife had been a convenient way to make sure that happened. But now my bladder was starting to truly ache. Faced with the prospect of having to pee my pants, my nerves were threatening to chicken out, so a little liquid courage was exactly what I needed.

            This is going to set the tone for the whole week.

            Good.

            So, you’re sure about this?

            Yes.

            I wasn’t, not entirely, but I was going to do it anyway.

            “So,” Vivian said as she walked over to the cutting board and got back to work on dinner, “what are you looking forward to the most this week?”

            Getting to wear diapers and pull-ups most of the week; maybe getting put in a diaper by Vivian…

            I made a thoughtful sound and took a sip of my drink to give myself time to think of things that didn’t involve diapers and wetting myself, “honestly? I think just getting to spend a lot of time with you,” I replied finally. “Oh, and the lake looks really nice, I’m looking forward to relaxing on the dock and maybe doing some swimming.”

            “The lake might still be a bit cold this early in the spring,” Vivian replied, “but maybe we’ll get lucky.”

            “Well, what are you looking forward to?” I asked.

            She smirked and looked back at me, “the spending a lot of time with you thing sounded pretty good.” Her tone of voice brought a blush to my face. “The woman I’m renting the house from said there’s a lot of nice antique shops in the town nearby, I thought it might be fun to check those out, if that sounds interesting to you?”

            “That could be fun,” I replied, “antiquing is basically just fancy and expensive thrifting, and I love going thrifting.”

            Vivian laughed, “you’re not wrong, darling.” Vivian started adding the vegetables she had been chopping into a pan. She narrated what she was doing as she did, breaking the cooking process down into simple steps, but I was having trouble following along.

            This is going to happen soon, are you sure about this?

            Is this a really bad idea?

            Maybe? But…

            I mean, what’s the worst-case scenario?

            Worst case scenario? She sees your ‘accidents’ aren’t confined to just when you’ve had too much drink and decides that’s more than she’s willing to handle and kicks you to the curb. That’s the worst-case scenario.

            No, the worst-case scenario is she some how intuits that I peed myself on purpose and realizes this whole thing has been a farce and outs me to everyone and I get kicked out of my program and blacklisted from academia.

            …okay, yeah, that’s the worst-case scenario, but that doesn’t seem particularly likely.

            But not entirely impossible.

            You’re supposed to be the voice of reason, you know that, right?

            Nothing about this is reasonable!

            So, does that mean you’re backing out?

            I was sitting on one of the stools at the kitchen island, my legs tightly crossed and my bladder starting to truly ache. I was absently taking alternating sips of my water and my martini, chewing on my lip in between. Vivian was talking, explaining how to make spaghetti sauce, but between how badly I had to pee and how loudly I was internally panicking over what I was about to do, I wasn’t paying attention at all.

            I want to do it; I want Vivian to think I have accidents.

            You could just start wearing pull-ups and tell her that, you don’t have to be so dramatic about it.

            I know, but…

            But this way is hotter, and you want her to suggest you wear pull-ups. You want her to be Miss Vivian.

            It sounds bad when you put it like that…

            She doesn’t seem unwilling though. She suggested you wear pull-ups to bed in the first place.

            She assumed I already wore them.

            But she bought you a pack and then suggested it was a good idea when you told her you didn’t wear them.

            And she suggest I wear them when drinking.

            And told you to bring diapers for nighttime.

            So far, she’s seemed willing to play…that role…

            Miss Vivian?

            Maybe she’s even—

            Don’t go there; only pain and disappointment lay that way.

            “You must be thirsty,” Vivian said, snapping me back into reality as she picked up my now empty glass of water and carried it over to the fridge. “You look distracted, darling; is everything okay?”

            “Yeah, sorry,” I replied, giving a weak smile. My bladder was practically throbbing. “Hey, um…” I started, but trailed off.

            “Yes?” Vivian prompted as she returned with my glass of water. “Would you like another martini?” She nodded at my empty glass.

            When did that happen?

            “No, uh yes…maybe,” I shook my head as if to clear my thoughts manually, “what I mean is, or…what I was going to say was, uh, are you…” I bit my lip and looked away, blushing hard.

            “Darling?” Vivian asked, her tone of voice mixed, as if she couldn’t decide whether to be concerned or amused. “What is it?”

            Are you sure you’re okay with me having accidents and wearing pull-ups?

            That’s what I was going to ask, but I knew I couldn’t ask that. It was dumb to even think of asking that.

            Plus, if you asked, she’d probably be suspicious when you pee your pants in a few minutes.

            What do I say instead? Quick!

            “Darling?” Vivian repeated, sounding like she was leaning towards concern.

            Pee your pants!

            Yes, that was it!

            “Uhm, sorry,” I gave a forced laugh as I bore down on my bladder, willing my body to release its content, “what I was saying was,” I continued, stalling for time, my body proving reluctant, “um, are you…”

            It’s no good.

            And it wasn’t. I had too much of a mental block; despite how badly I had to pee, I couldn’t force it out.

            “Are you…going to do any writing while we’re on vacation?” I blurted out, a sudden burst of inspiration hitting me.

            Vivian gave me a quizzical look, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

            “Yes, sorry,” I forced another weak laugh, “just, um, you know, my train of thought just…completely derailed,” it was such a feeble excuse, and Vivian seemed to know it.

            “Mmm,” she gave me an appraising look, as if she were trying to decide whether to believe me or not—or perhaps whether she was going to push the matter or not. “If you say so,” she said at last, albeit a little uncertainly.

            “I’m fine, really,” I said, feeling a bit more composed and a bit more like I was selling the lie.

            “Okay,” her reply had a hint of skepticism to it, but she seemed to be content to let the matter drop.

            “So, are you?” I asked, eager to move the conversation along. “Planning to write, that is?”

            “As a matter of fact,” Vivian smiled at me before turning back to the stove to stir her sauce, “I was, indeed, thinking of trying to get some writing done. Of course, that’s only if you won’t begrudge me terribly for taking some alone time?”

            “Not at all,” I said cheerfully, “maybe I’ll try to get some writing done too.” It might be nice to get to sit out by the lake while I worked.

            “Oh? Not working on your dissertation, I hope.”

            “And why not?”

            “Because, my little Lavender,” there was a playful sternness to her voice as she turned away from the stove and pointed the wooden spoon she had been stirring the sauce with at me, “you are on vacation. You have to give that brilliant little brain time to relax.”

            I pouted playfully, “but you’re going to be writing.”

            “Yes,” she smiled, clearly amused by my pouting, “but…it’s different…”

            “How is it different?” I asked.

            “Because it’s…” Vivian gestured vaguely in the air with the spoon, seemingly at a loss for how to justify the double standard. “Because mine is recreational writing,” she explained at last.

            “What does that mean?” I prodded.

            “It means, you know, writing that I do just for fun, that isn’t for a book or an essay or anything like that, just…for me, for my enjoyment.” She explained, seeming inexplicably self-conscious or embarrassed about writing for someone who was an award-winning author.

            “Oh,” I said plainly, thrown off by how awkward she seemed to feel and, as a result, uncertain of how to respond. “Well, I think that’s really nice!” That seemed safe enough.

            Vivian gave me a relieved smile, “thank you, Lavender. Sometimes, it’s just nice to indulge my hobby—because I do still consider writing a hobby—without having to worry about what anyone else will think of it, does that make sense?”

            I nodded my head, suddenly understanding why Vivian had seemed so awkward; this was something deeply personal she was sharing.        “Yeah, that make sense,” I said.

            “Thank you, Lavender,” she smiled. “You know,” she suddenly gave a short but genuine laugh, “it’s funny, actually…do you know how I got started writing?”

            “No,” I said, absolutely riveted now. My bladder was still aching, but it was not yet so urgent that I couldn’t push it to the back of my head. “How?”

            “I used to write these…silly, stupid little stories and post them on these story forums on the internet,” she explained, wistful nostalgia filling her voice. “Other people would post their stories, and we’d all comment on each other’s stories. Well, I’d hate to be forced to read one of my stories from those days today; I’m sure it would be atrocious. Back then, however, the point wasn’t for it to be good, it was to have fun.”

            “Yeah,” I said, nodding enthusiastically, “that’s…kind of cute, honestly.”

            “You think so?” Vivian laughed. “Those stories may have been terrible,” she continued, “but I kept doing it because I loved it, and, eventually, I got better.” She shrugged, “I hope so, anyway,” she added with a self-deprecating smile.

            “I think you’re a wonderful writer,” I gushed without thinking, then immediately blushed, embarrassed by how fan-girly it sounded. “I mean,” I scrambled to maintain some dignity, “I really respect your work.”

            Totally nailed it.

            Shut up.

            Vivian smiled warmly, “Thank you, Lavender. I really respect your work as well.”

            I blushed and bit my lip, “Thank you, Vivian.”

            A long silence followed, but not an awkward one. Those words felt more momentous than their meanings would suggest, and they rested heavily but comfortably on the room. Vivian and I looked at each other, locking eyes for a moment, then simultaneously looked away. I was blushing, and I was certain she was too.

            You’re going to ruin this really nice moment by pissing yourself.

            I know, I know, I shouldn’t do it, right?

            But you’ve come so far, do you really want to give up now?

            “So, um,” I tentatively broke the silence, looking to distract myself from my predicament, “may…may I ask…what kinds of things you write?” I asked cautiously. “Like, when you write just for yourself?”

            Vivian smiled and shrugged, “they’re stories…stories like the ones I used to write back then. Some are total fantasy…like, wish-fulfillment level of fantasy, you know? Some are more reality-based; some are even based on real events, albeit always embellished. Then there are others that are just silly little stories that pop in my head.”

            “That sounds lovely,” I smiled, unsure what else to say.

            “The sad part of this whole story,” Vivian continued unprompted, “is that these days no one else gets to see those stories. I used to love sharing them with the other people on those forums, but these days it all feels too…personal, you know? Especially since I’m Vivian Devereux, award-winning author,” she smiled a little sadly. “I don’t mean to complain, it’s just that these stories can’t just be silly little stories, people expect…Literature.”

            I nodded empathetically, “that sounds really frustrating, but I’m glad you still write them for yourself.”

            She smiled at me, “one day, Lavender, I hope I can find someone to share them with.” Vivian set the wooden spoon she was still holding down on the counter and walked over to me. She cupped my face with one gentle hand and gazed into my eyes.

            “Yeah?” I asked meekly, swallowing hard.

            “Yeah,” Vivian smirked, then bent down and kissed me hard.

            Oh please, you can’t piss yourself while making out a third time.

            But Vivian broke the kiss off after only a few seconds. “If I’m being entirely honest,” she said playfully as she walked back to the stove, “I think I may have found someone to share them with, but we’ll have to see.”

            I grinned, but internally I was starting to panic again. Brief though the kiss had been, it had startled me…and turned me on…and both things were making this more…difficult.

            “Thank you for listening to me, Lavender,” Vivian said, oblivious to my plight. “It’s really nice to be able to share these kinds of things with you.”

            “I really appreciate that you’re comfortable sharing them with me,” I replied earnestly. “And I’m really glad that you do.”

            Vivian stirred the sauce, then lifted the spoon to her lips. “This sauce is really good, would you like to try some?” She held the spoon out in my direction.

            “Sure!” But as soon as I shifted in my seat to start getting up, I knew I had a problem.