The Potty Draining Chart (The Final Day, Sep 24)

[PeculiarChangeling]

If you'd like to read this story in ebook form, you can download a free copy of the ebook here:

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The Potty Draining Chart 

Cover art by FlashyFlesh

Day 0

 

The Potty Draining Chart - Day 0

“And just…like…that!” Vanessa announced, turning on the lamp by the couch, “We are, officially, moved in!” The bulb shed off slightly pink-tinged light, though at the push of a button, the whole room could be changed in tone to any hue on the rainbow.

“That’s great, V,” Nicole said, turning to stretch her back. “Really appreciate you plugging in the lamps while I moved the furniture.”

Vanessa put a hand to her chest, feigning offense. “Excuse me! Good interior design is what makes a house into a home. Sure, maybe you did more heavy lifting, but I provided that je ne sais quoi that we needed.”

Truth be told, Nicole agreed–now that everything was done, with the last easy chair moved in and all of Vanessa’s decorations complete, their shared rental house did feel like a place where they belonged. The move in process had been a drag, starting a couple weeks earlier with mattresses flopped on the floor, working evenings and weekends to drive over what they could in Vanessa’s tiny car and trading beer for use of a friend’s truck on weekends for the big stuff.

But now they were done. They could relax, and take the night off.

Except…

“One more thing,” Nicole said, sipping wine out of her favorite cup–an old novelty mug that read, ‘Don’t Worry, Pea Happy’ with a trio of cartoon peas in a pod printed on it. “The junk box.”

“Right, right.” Vanessa rolled her eyes. While moving in, they’d been left with little bits of random crap–stuff that they didn’t quite want to throw away, but nor did they need it around. Christmas decorations that’d been stored under the bathroom sink, old cables and adapters that probably didn’t go to anything, a box of home movies from the previous tenant that Nicole felt bad getting rid of. They had set aside a cardboard box, slowly filling it with crap until it was full to bursting. “We can stick it in the attic for now.”

Stepping up to her, Nicole poked a finger into Vanessa’s chest. “You can set it in the attic for now. I’m done lifting boxes for the day–heck, I’m just about ready for bed.”

“Fiiine,” Vanessa groaned, more in play than in serious discomfort. Sidestepping the couch, she crouched, hefted the box, and carried it from the living room down the back hall–on the right of the hall was her room, on the left Nicole’s, and at the end, their bathroom. Above, though, dangled a rope for attic access.

Fumbling with the box, propping it up on her knee so she wouldn’t have to set it down, Vanessa half-hopped to grab the string and pulled it down. She stepped back as a wooden staircase flopped towards her, snapping into place so fast it almost bonked her head.

“Jeez,” she said. “Okay, note to self, springs on this are broken.”

Scooting up the creaky stairs one step at a time, she made her way into the crawlspace, an area just high enough for her to stand if she was right in the middle and stooped just a touch. She set down the box, glancing around.

Half a dozen cases were already up here. They hadn’t needed any attic storage yet, so this was all from the last resident–a lot of junk, probably, but still, a trove of things to dig through.

“Huh. More stuff up here than I expected,” she said. “Hey Nicole! Someone left a bunch of garbage up here!”

“Sounds like a problem for tomorrow!” Nicole yelled back. “I’m done moving boxes!”

“Sure, sure,” Vanessa said, setting down the jumbled junk she’d carried up.

Curiosity overtook her, and she opened up the first box she saw, digging through it. It looked like stuff from someone’s kid–at the top, a highschool yearbook, but as she pulled it out, she saw beneath it journals, and then a diary with a heart shaped lock, and then a handmade scrapbook. Digging further, she found an old dry-erase potty training chart.

This box held the history of someone’s life, which could be interesting, but the potty training chart was what spread a smirk across Vanessa’s face.

It had two weeks listed on it, one over the other, with three columns for each calendar day. One row had a bed, another had a clock face, and one with a star symbol next to it. The first two, for tracking nighttime and daytime accidents, were pretty obvious. The third, though, Vanessa couldn’t guess the purpose, beyond maybe just special rewards.

That’s when they caught her eye–the markers stuck to the side of the board by a magnet. Smirking mischievously, Vanessa took the chart with her when she left the attic, hopping down the old fold-out stairs and closing it up behind her.

She glanced down the hall–Nicole was on the couch, not paying attention, so Vanessa uncapped the black marker and wrote in the name box at the top, in big, flowy letters, surrounded by sparkles and hearts.

Nicole

Then, with an artistic, cutesy flourish, she doodled a rain cloud in the top column for Monday, the one for tracking any accidents from the previous night’s sleep. A wet bed indicator if ever there was one.

Finally, using the adhesive strip on the back of the chart, she stuck it to Nicole’s bedroom door.

“Oh, Nicole,” she said in her sing-songiest voice. “I added one more decoration!”

Nicole looked up, curious and prepared for a dumb joke. Getting up, she walked over, glancing at the chart on her door. “What’s that?”

“A potty training chart, so you can stop having accidents!” Vanessa snickered. “I found it upstairs and thought it’d help you!”

Nicole rolled her eyes. “I don’t have accidents.”

“Are you sure? The chart says you wet the bed,” Vanessa said, pointing to the rain cloud.

“Yeah, it says that for tonight, which hasn’t even happened yet!” Nicole shook her head.

Snickering, Vanessa quipped, “Well then, maybe take an umbrella to bed, because the forecast is for a wet one!”

“Very funny, Vanessa.” Nicole opened her door, and though her expression was deadpan, Vanessa knew she didn’t mind the joke. “I’m going to bed, I’ve got work in the morning.”

“Don’t let the bed bugs drown,” Vanessa replied.

Nicole shut the door in her face, and before long, Vanessa went to be too.

The next morning, though, Vanessa woke up to a shout from her across-the-hall neighbor. Nicole, screaming, “What the f**k?”

 

...

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[D503]

Nice start.

[keith60]

i hope there is going to be more to this story 

[aldl4811]

Wow, fun start!

[PeculiarChangeling]

6 hours ago, D503 said:

Nice start.

 

3 hours ago, aldl4811 said:

Wow, fun start!

Thank you! 

6 hours ago, keith60 said:

i hope there is going to be more to this story 

There will be! The whole story is going to be posted over the next month or so ^^

[diaperedcoach]

Good start…. Enjoyed… hope to see more 

[PeculiarChangeling]

Day 1

 

“What the fuck?”

Shock and fury battled for control of Nicole’s mind. First, she felt only a startled sense of confusion: (How?) And then the dawning, horrified realization: (Oh, that’s how.) And finally, anger at the betrayal: (How could she think this was funny?)

Nicole had wet the bed, for the first time she could remember. There was no denying it–she’d soaked her pajama pants, her covers, her sheets, and she could even feel the soggy squelch coming up from her mattress. She simply wasn’t a bedwetter, but she also knew this was no fluke, no coincidence or bit of bad luck.

This had to be her fault.

Vanessa was a prankster sometimes, sure, but this was beyond the pale.

So, she rushed across her room, stormed into the hall, and pounded a fist on her roommate/hall neighbor’s door. “V, what is wrong with you?”

It took five seconds of furious knocking before she heard a confused, “I’m coming, Nicky, just gimme a sec…”

Standing there, Nicole let her anger simmer until Vanessa opened the door, wearing only a T-shirt, rubbing at her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

Launching into her tirade, Nicole chewed her best friend out with all the fervor she could muster. “Vanessa, this is way too far. Pranks are one thing, but–”

She hesitated, catching Vanessa’s confused expression. V was looking down at the wet crotch of Nicole’s pajama pants, and she seemed uncertain. “Did you piss yourself?”

“Of course I did, you did it!” Nicole snapped.

“Sorry, I–” Vanessa hesitated, rubbing her eyes. “I’m still waking up here, Nicole. What are you talking about?”

“You made me wet the bed,” Nicole explained, exasperated that she even needed to say it out loud. “What, did you sneak into my room and dip my hand in a bowl of water? Jesus, did you drug me with something?”

Vanessa’s eyes widened, finally understanding the accusation being thrown at her. “Come on, I wouldn’t do that. Why would you think that?”

“Because,” Nicole snapped, turning to rip the potty training off her door from where it’d been stuck with an adhesive strip. “Of this!”

Tilting her head, Vanessa looked at the chart. It had the rain cloud doodle she’d made on the nighttime row, but she couldn’t remember making the sunny sky doodle in the daytime row, or the loose doodle of Nicole with a cartoony red ‘angry’ face in the star row on the bottom. “Uh…Nicole, I genuinely don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Those words stung Nicole more than the betrayal. Vanessa hadn’t just hit her with a humiliating and frustrating prank, now she was trying to lie about it.

“Fuck you,” Nicole snapped, getting up in Vanessa’s face. “This isn’t funny, and if you’re not even going to apologize–”

“Easy, there,” Vanessa said, taking a step back, until her back bumped into her own door. “I’d apologize, if I had done anything wrong, but I’m telling you: This wasn’t something I did. Maybe you were just tired from the move and it’s a weird freak coincidence?”

“I don’t wet the bed, not when I’m tired, not ever,” Nicole glowered, fuming. “I need to get ready for work.”

She turned and stormed towards the bathroom at the end of the hall, and once inside, tossed the chart into the trash bin by the sink. Vanessa watched her go, confused, trying not to take the accusations personally.

“You’re doing my laundry,” Nicole shot, before slamming the door.

...

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[Eagle0769]

Interesting very interesting.

[PeculiarChangeling]

Day 2 

 

Tuesday morning brought the death of a friendship.

Nicole could almost not process the sheer hurt and betrayal she felt, waking up to another wet bed. Yesterday’s prank by her once-friend had been too far, an incredible breach of trust, but something she could move past.

But the fact that Vanessa had gone and done it twice, after being called out for it? If Vanessa thought this was funny, Nicole could not fathom what was going on in her ex-friend’s brain, and if it wasn’t intended as a joke…

Getting up, Nicole peeled out of her wet pajama pants and stripped off her sheets. The wet stain on her bed had two rings now, one where last night’s accident had left a subtle watermark, another much more obvious one from the urine still actively soaking her mattress today. Nicole wouldn’t be demanding any cleanup or laundry from Vanessa this time. Their relationship no longer had room for asking anything of each other.

She took a shower, allowing the hot water to bring her rage down to a simmer, so that she wouldn’t simply scream at Vanessa the moment she saw her. An absence of rage didn’t mean forgiveness, though. She couldn’t forgive this.

Vanessa had drugged her, twice, or done something else to the same effect. Vanessa had overtly ignored Nicole’s requests, even knowing how upset it made her yesterday.

With a bathrobe on and a towel on her hair, she walked back to her room, finally noticing that the potty training chart was back on her door. Yesterday’s doodles were still there, and today, new ones–another raincloud in the bedtime, identical to yesterday’s, and this time, a sort of, ‘partly cloudy’ design, with a sun half-hidden by clouds in the daytime. And, in the special column at the bottom, a doodle of Nicole, sitting on the ground, having a sobbing tantrum. Nicole immediately clocked it as Vanessa’s handiwork–she recognized her friend’s cutesy, chibi-style doodles.

(She has the gall to do this to me, then label me the crybaby?) Nicole thought.

She was about to walk to the kitchen, when Vanessa’s door opened. She stretched, yawned, looking utterly unconcerned. “Morning, Nicole–how did you sleep?”

“Seriously?” Nicole snapped, wheeling on her. “Fucking seriously?”

“Woah.” Vanessa put up her hands by her sides and took a step back. “Someone’s pissy.”

(Was that a pun? Is she really behaving like this?)

“Fuck you,” Nicole said. “You dug the chart out of the trash and–whatever, drugged me, made me wet the bed somehow, again, and you don’t even have anything to say for yourself?”

Eyes widening, Vanessa shook her head. “I didn’t–Nicole, I genuinely have no idea what you’re talking about. I didn’t do any of that.”

“Then how did the chart get back on my stupid door, huh?” Nicole demanded, jabbing a finger at it. Her eyes were hot, her cheeks wet–none of this made sense, she just couldn’t understand how her best friend would do this to her. A wet bed by itself, that didn’t mean much, but the betrayal ate away at her.

Vanessa looked at the chart, utterly confused. “Nicole, I…I didn’t put that there.”

“Well then who did?” Nicole demanded. “Huh?”

Stammering, Vanessa had no response. Nicole ripped the chart off the wall, then shoved past her, walking to the kitchen. “That’s what I thought.”

Vanessa didn’t follow her–even if she had, it’s not like she could argue against the obvious.

No third try, no repetition this time. Nicole kept the chart on hand, and took it with her when she left for work, jamming it into her purse as best she could–it stuck out, some, but just looked like a whiteboard at a glance. Getting off the bus a couple blocks from her office, she found a dumpster and tossed it in, wishing good riddance to the object that had started this all.

She had texts waiting for her when she got to the office and finally checked her phone while she rode the elevator up. She had messages from Vanessa.

‘I’m so sorry, Nic–I really don’t know what’s going on. This wasn’t me.’

‘I want to know what happened as much as you do.’

‘Please just text me back so we can talk.’

Nicole almost gave in and replied, but before she could, she felt a sudden pressure in her bladder. Shockingly fast, and entirely out of the blue, she desperately needed to pee. With a choice between soaking her jeans or rushing, she chose to rush, lunging out of the elevator as soon as the doors opened, blowing past the janitor waiting to get on.

She got a few surprised glances from her coworkers, but made it to the bathroom. Fumbling with her jeans, she got the button undone, but felt a little spurt of pee escape her before she could pull them down, staining a tiny dark splotch on her white cotton panties. She clamped down on that, sat down on the toilet, and let loose.

It took her only a few moments to be done. She hadn’t needed to pee a lot, she just needed to pee badly, and that was the final nail in the coffin. Whatever drugs or crap Vanessa had done to her, it hadn’t just made Nicole wet the bed, it’d screwed with her bladder. It had done serious, genuine harm to her body, harm that almost humiliated her in front of her coworkers.

She ignored Vanessa’s text and muted the number. Vanessa didn’t deserve a response from her.

The rest of her day was punctuated by similar flights to the restroom. Twice that morning, she had to stop in the middle of things to rush off to the potty. Worse, just before lunch, she couldn’t end a phone call in time and very nearly didn’t make it at all–her jeans were dropped around her ankles, but her panties were up when the flood gates opened, and she could only sit down and fight back sobs as she ruined the underwear for good.

How could her best friend have done this to her? Vanessa, who rarely had the attention span to stick to a hobby for more than a couple days, had gone through all this effort to…what, prank her? Make Nicole feel like crap? It genuinely made no sense. and the more she thought about it, the more it hurt.

Wadded up toilet paper helped dry them out, and an additional folded layer stuffed into the front drank up dribbles throughout the rest of the day, but every time she had to replace the pee-soaked toilet paper with a new wad, she felt another sting.

Even the best toilet paper protection didn’t help her completely. By the end of the day, enough urine had soaked through even with her constant rushed to the toilet that a dark, damp spot was visible just below the zipper of her jeans.

In most lights, it could be mistaken for a weird shadow, but Nicole knew.

...

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[eliminster]

loving the story, hope that Nicole figures out that the potty chart is magically doing it first and cant erase her name so out of anger puts Vanessa's name on it also so they both go through de potty training

[DAQ]

@PeculiarChangelingFirst of all, love the name of the story and been enjoying the premise and story so far. Looking forward to more.

[PeculiarChangeling]

On 8/31/2023 at 4:36 PM, eliminster said:

loving the story, hope that Nicole figures out that the potty chart is magically doing it first and cant erase her name so out of anger puts Vanessa's name on it also so they both go through de potty training

Oooh, that'd be pretty cruel revenge! 

22 hours ago, DAQ said:

@PeculiarChangelingFirst of all, love the name of the story and been enjoying the premise and story so far. Looking forward to more.

I can't take credit for the premise, that was all Salwatore's idea! But I'm very proud of my execution.  

Day 3

 

Nicole wouldn’t be tricked a third time. The only food she ate was takeout, she drank water from a reusable bottle she filled at work, and she locked her bedroom door. Vanessa wouldn’t have another shot at ‘pranking’ her, even if it meant painstaking vigilance until Nicole could find a new roommate and move out.

And, in the morning, she felt a surge of triumph when it paid off. Upon waking, she reached down immediately, half paranoid, and felt dry blankets, dry sheets. No wet bed for her, she’d–

Squish.

Sitting up, she felt the dampness around her crotch, something warm and wet squelching over her privates, between her thighs. She yanked back the covers in alarm, shocked.

She still had her pajama bottoms on, but beneath them, the waistband poking out clearly, was something she decidedly hadn’t dressed herself in when she went to bed. She pulled her bottoms down to be sure, and revealed, unmistakably, a diaper.

Worse, she’d soaked it through, leaving only a fuzzy blue line down the middle, distorted by pale yellow pee.

She stumbled out of bed, the weight of her abused diaper making it sag heavily against her thighs, almost putting her off balance.

“H-how?” she blurted. It made no sense–Vanessa simply could not have done this. Even if she’d somehow picked Nicole’s lock and snuck inside, Nicole could not fathom a world in which she had her clothes removed, replaced with a diaper, and was redressed without waking up for even a moment.

Waddling to leave her room, she almost tripped over the open package of diapers on her floor, kicking the plastic package and sending more of the garments across the room. Diapers scattered over her rug, eleven of them, all pillow thick and puffy, plain white save for a set of yellow wetness indicator stripes.

Fumbling, she unlocked her door, threw it open, and yelped, “V!”

Vanessa didn’t reply immediately. Nicole had to cross the hall and knock on her door, needing some kind of answer.

“Vanessa!” she pleaded, pounding her fist repeatedly against the flimsy wood. “Come on, I need to talk to you!”

The door flew open. Vanessa, in her own PJs, looked acutely cranky. “What? What did I ‘do to you’ now, Nicole? Do you have something else you want to blame me–is that a diaper?”

“I didn’t put it on when I went to bed,” Nicole said, desperate for something to make sense.

“Well I sure as shit didn’t,” Vanessa said. “So if you even think about blaming me–”

“I don’t blame you,” Nicole said quickly. “I’m sorry, I–this doesn’t make sense. I think I’m losing my mind, and…V? What are you looking at?”

Vanessa stared past Nicole, confusion plastered on her face. “Nic…why did you put that back up?”

Nicole spun. Her potty training chart was back on the door, with rain clouds at night, half-clouds at day, and a loose sketch of herself in a puffy, safety-pinned diaper, like something out of an old Loony Tune.

“I didn’t,” Nicole said. “I threw it away in a dumpster by work.”

“Well I didn’t put it back,” Vanessa said. “I don’t even know how I could have.”

They looked at each other, utterly perplexed.

“Do you think…this could be like…a ghost?” Nicole asked. “A haunting or something?”

“Ghosts aren’t real,” Vanessa said, though she only sounded half-convinced by her own argument. “Maybe this is some fucked up trick by the old tennant or the landlord or something. I…I don’t know.”

Nicole took down the chart, staring at it with a mix of uncertainty and terror. “I…yesterday, I started dribbling and almost had accidents at work. I thought it was because you’d drugged me or something, I was so mad, but…”

“We’ll figure something out,” Vanessa replied. “Here. Give me the chart.”

Nicole passed it over, and Vanessa broke it in half, snapping the plastic board into two pieces in her hands. She then broke those into quarters, and eighths. “There, it’s broken. No way someone’s putting that back as is. And…let’s set up a camera in your room so nobody can sneak in, okay?”

Nicole nodded, wiping her nose. She’d started sniffling. “Okay.”

Fully in problem-solving mode now, Vanessa continued rattling off ideas. “If this doesn’t work, I’ll…one of my exes was pretty spooky, she might be able to do some sort of exorcism or whatever.”

“I thought you said it wasn’t ghosts?” Nicole asked.

“Well I don’t know!” Vanessa threw up her hands. “I’m covering all my bases here. And…I know you use tampons, but I’ve got some pads you can have. For any leaking today.”

“Ugh,” Nicole said, shaking her head. “I hate pads, they just feel like I’m wearing a diaper.”

Vanessa looked down at the sagging, sodden garment drooping between Nicole’s legs. “Really? Because that seems a little more intrusive to me.”

Nicole blushed, and they made eye contact, before bursting out into shared giggles.

“I’ll use the pads,” Nicole said. “And…thanks, V. I really appreciate it.”

She didn’t need to add the, ‘I’m sorry I blamed you.’ It came implied. Vanessa just smiled in response. “Of course, Nicky. That’s what friends are for. I’m sure you’ll figure this out and we can get everything back to normal, okay?”

Nicole didn’t know if she believed her, if she believed that ‘normal’ could be achieved when everything made so little sense. Her friend’s confidence made her want to believe, though, and she smiled, sniffled a little more, and nodded.

“Okay.”

 

...

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[DAQ]

@PeculiarChangeling

[Eagle0769]

OMG this is so cool. That is a magic chart if ever I heard of one.

Maybe she should take her door down. LOL

Great story now I wait for another chapter. 🙂

[YourFNF]

16 hours ago, PeculiarChangeling said:

. “If this doesn’t work, I’ll…one of my exes was pretty spooky, she might be able to do some sort of exorcism or whatever.”

Yeah I would try salting and burning it first but it's altering local reality and physically manifesting objects you might need a full ritual. Personally I'm writing an enochian banishing sigil and sealing with a blood crest...

Although could breaking the effect be as simple as drawing suns for all the remaining days? 🤔

Also glad to see the girls have made up and are working together

[PeculiarChangeling]

40 minutes ago, YourFNF said:

Yeah I would try salting and burning it first but it's altering local reality and physically manifesting objects you might need a full ritual. Personally I'm writing an enochian banishing sigil and sealing with a blood crest...

Although could breaking the effect be as simple as drawing suns for all the remaining days? 🤔

Also glad to see the girls have made up and are working together

Heck, that would have been a good idea  

4 hours ago, Eagle0769 said:

OMG this is so cool. That is a magic chart if ever I heard of one.

Maybe she should take her door down. LOL

Great story now I wait for another chapter. 🙂

Nicole: Takes her door down

The next day: The chart is stuck to the wall

🤭

13 hours ago, DAQ said:

@PeculiarChangeling

Happy to oblige!

 

 

Day 4

 

Nicole knew better than to hope that the chart would stay gone. When she woke up, her diaper–(No, it’s not my diaper, it’s just a diaper)–was well used and swollen. She waddled to her door, anxious about what she might find, and her heart sank.

The chart had returned, and the rainclouds now marked out both night and daytime. The doodle in the final column this time showed a stack of diapers lined up neatly inside a dresser–in her dresser.

She had to get to work, though, so she gathered up work clothes, ripped the tapes off her sodden diaper, and went to take a shower.

She washed, dressed for the workday, and put one of Vanessa’s pads for protection. When she got done, she found V in the hall, inspecting the chart.

“This doesn’t look good,” Vanessa said, glancing up at her. “Are you sure you want to go to work like that?”

“What do you mean?” Nicole asked, frowning. “I’m using a pad.”

“Sure, but…that’s not meant to hold back the flood gates, if you get my meaning,” Vanessa replied. “I hate to suggest this, but…do you think you should wear one of your diapers?”

Nicole glowered and shook her head. “No, no way. It hasn’t gotten that bad.”

V blushed, glancing away. “Um.”

“What?” Nicole demanded.

“You’re–” Vanessa said. “You’re leaking.”

Looking down, Nicole’s eyes widened as she saw the truth–urine was running down her jeans, away from the overwhelmed pad. Quickly, she stepped back into the bathroom, rushing to get at least some of it into the toilet, but all she could really manage was sitting down on the toilet seat and flooding her jeans the rest of the way from there.

Humiliated, but unwilling to admit defeat, she stripped out of the wet jeans and went to get a fresh pair. “I’m not wearing a diaper to work,” she told V, bending to go through her dresser to find new panties. “I’m just not.”

…

Nicole didn’t have any more major leak-throughs, but only due to sheer discipline and persistence. Every thirty minutes or so, she took a break to hit the bathroom, emptying what little was in her bladder–though, even with such consistent stops, she still had to replace a pad almost every time.

Deep in her heart, she knew this wasn’t sustainable, but the alternative seemed worse. The diapers that’d appeared in her dresser were absurd; bulky pillowy things that’d render all her jeans unwearable for all the poof. She’d make the pads work, no matter how inconvenient the constant restroom trips were.

That is, until The Meeting. She had to hustle into the conference room late, blushing as she gave a mumbled, “Bathroom,” as her excuse for missing the opening minute or so of her boss’s presentation.

She didn’t feel any pressure in her bladder building, which was the worst part. There was no warning, no indicator of when she might have another accident, just an apprehension of trickling liquid overwhelming the pad in her panties. She watched the clock on the wall–twenty minutes passed, then twenty five, then thirty.

(They know I just went,) she thought, anxiously weighing her options. (If I get up to use the bathroom now, they’ll wonder what I ‘really’ needed to go for.)

More minutes slipped past, and her fear built, knowing she’d leak through any minute. She couldn’t feel a thing, and stealing glances down only told her she hadn’t begun to dribble through her jeans yet. How soon the dam would begin to crack, though, she couldn’t say.

The meeting lasted fifty minutes. It would have been barely an inconvenience to her last week, but with her new potty control it felt like a miracle. Relieved, she waited until the conference room was almost empty–just in case–then stood.

Sag.

The sensation of her underwear weighing down inside her jeans didn’t feel right, and she looked down, puzzled. She could see her jeans straining, slightly, puffed up. (Did the pad really absorb that much?) she thought, scurrying off to the bathroom.

Entering one of the two stalls in the women’s room, she locked it, set her purse on the toilet tank, double checked the lock, and finally slipped down her jeans. The answer she got wasn’t the one she wanted; her pad hadn’t absorbed anything at all. Rather, it’d vanished along with her panties, replaced with a puffy, pink, baby-print diaper.

It was worse than if she’d worn one from home–at least the diapers at home had been plain white, medical looking. These were downright cute, or at least they would be if the teddy bears and building blocks hadn’t made her blush from head to toe and send a shock of mortification through her.

She couldn’t be seen in this, but she had no real way to cover it up. She had, at least, thought to bring spare panties, along with her extra stack of pads. Opening up her purse…

“No,” she whispered. “No, no, no–”

Her panties were gone, and her pads. She found only a diaper and a tube of baby powder. All she found aside from those two objects was an implied message.

(I don’t get to wear panties anymore.)

There was no getting around it, no fighting the magic or curse or whatever that had done this to her. She could go out and buy panties, maybe, but in her gut she doubted that would work.

Her choices were diapers, or ruined jeans, and she’d already flooded her current diaper to capacity.

Triple checking the lock, she undid the tapes on her diaper and got to work changing herself. She’d just have to hope that the one fresh diaper she’d been given would last the rest of the day…and that nobody in the office would guess that the diaper buried deep in the restroom trash can came from her.

 

...

Things aren't looking good for our poor baby-to-be, but maybe she can get out of this with a little dignity intact! 

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[Babyjames5]

Can I have some more please?

[Eagle0769]

This story is just to good.

That's why the last owners left it in the attic.

Mmmmm maybe "V" will become her new Mommy. 🙂

[CDfm]

This was a fantastic story.

Something about these supernatural stories really appeals to me.  Then add in how well it is written and I only want to see more. 
 

 

[PeculiarChangeling]

On 9/4/2023 at 9:32 AM, Babyjames5 said:

Can I have some more please?

Happy to oblige!

On 9/4/2023 at 9:49 AM, Eagle0769 said:

This story is just to good.

That's why the last owners left it in the attic.

Mmmmm maybe "V" will become her new Mommy. 🙂

Did they put it in the attic to get rid of it?

Or did it appear in the attic, waiting for its next victim? 

13 hours ago, CDfm said:

This was a fantastic story.

Something about these supernatural stories really appeals to me.  Then add in how well it is written and I only want to see more. 
 

 

Thank you - I've had a lot of fun playing with tropes I consider to be 'classic' in the ABDL sphere, and then trying to execute them as well as possible within my own style! 

...

Day 5

 

The mornings brought Nicole no anticipation of a new day, no restfulness, only anxiety about what would be taken next.

She shouldn’t have been surprised. She barely had knowledge of when she peed anymore–there was little of her bladder control left to take. No amount of wet beds or new diapers in her dresser could shock her at this point.

So, she’d known it was coming, but even still she dreaded the change. Half the night she tossed and turned. Even still, when her alarm blared at her to wake up so she wouldn’t be late to work, she thought maybe–just maybe–her fears wouldn’t come true.

She sat up in bed. Her diaper squelched, no news there, but she also felt a a distinctly new, different sensation–a muddy squish, and when she sniffed at the air…

There was no denying it. She’d pooped her diaper in her sleep, robbing another bit of dignity away from her.

Setting her jaw, Nicole got to her feet. Her room had a diaper pail in it now–of course it did. Picking the bin up, she carried it with her to the bathroom, so she could strip out of her diaper and step right into the shower. On her way into the hall, though, she bumped into Vanessa.

“V,” she said, face turning pink in spite of herself. She knew that the curse wasn’t her fault, she couldn’t be blamed for the magic, and yet…

Vanessa sniffed the air, nose wrinkling automatically. “Oh…jeez, Nicky, I’m so sorry.”

Nicole wanted to ignore it, but she couldn’t help but steal a glance at her chart. Thunderclouds everywhere for the day, and the bottom square, the one she hated most, had a doodle of her with green stink lines wafting off her. The indication was clear.

“I know like, a…I guess like a feng shui person who might be able to help?” Vanessa offered weakly. “I’ll call. Just hang on till the weekend.”

“Just one more day,” Nicole agreed. “Right, we can solve this.”

She almost–almost–believed it when she said it.

Her shower took longer than usual–more muck to clean up–and her mood that morning was almost as foul as her nighttime diaper. She begrudgingly wore a long purple skirt, an attempt to hide the diaper she couldn’t choose not to wear, and hated the fact that she couldn’t just put on pants without leaving an obvious, humiliating bulge.

(Just one more day,) she repeated to herself.

…

Vanessa hated feeling helpless. Her friend was in need, and Vanessa had arguably contributed to that need, but her usual brand of help just didn’t do much good here. V was the encourager, the lifter of spirits, the nice words and positive vibes friend–Nicole had always been the fixer, the problem solver in their relationship. There wasn’t much she could do beyond offer words of support and do a bit of research online.

The camera idea hadn’t done much–pointing a cheap camcorder at Nicole’s door had only proven that nobody went in or out her door in the night. It confirmed that something paranormal was going on, but little else. She’d see if Nicole would be okay recording her sleeping that night, but doubted they’d learn much more from that.

Aside from that, the feng shui person she’d found didn’t seem like that good of a lead, but it was better than nothing. They’d promised to disperse ‘bad energies’, and this was as bad an energy as Vanessa could imagine.

At their request, Vanessa walked out into the hall to photograph the chart. Maybe there was some detail she hadn’t noticed that they would, a clue, or…

“Hmm,” she said, frowning as she noticed something.

The doodle of Nicole for the day–the one with stink lines radiating off her–pictured a white top and a purple skirt. Specifically, a very clear depiction of the purple skirt Nicole had left for work in.

She looked back at the clouds–today had two thunderclouds, one for nighttime, one for day. The little lightning bolt coming off each marked the doodles as distinct from the previous days, which had only rain clouds. (A thunder boom-boom,) she realized.

But a mark in the day meant it wasn’t just Nicole’s bedtime diaper that would end up smelly, and…

“Oh no,” she said, raising her phone to text Nicole a warning.

…

Nicole’s phone buzzed in her pocket, but she couldn’t answer it. Not while she sat under her boss’s cool stare. Jean didn’t look upset, per say, but her expressions were typically unreadable.

“We need to talk about your performance these past few days,” Jean said, simply. “I wouldn’t bring this up if it’d only been a single day, but you’ve been distracted and your reports have been sub-par.”

“I’m sorry,” Nicole said, feeling intensely small under her boss’s unflappable stare. “I don’t–I can get back to normal, I promise.” Her phone buzzed again, the vibration just loud enough that Jean could hear.

“If you’ve got problems at home, something that requires your attention, you’re welcome to take a few personal days,” Jean continued. “But slipping off to the bathroom every twenty minutes to check your phone isn’t an acceptable compromise.”

Nicole felt a cold shock of embarrassment as she realized her ‘discreet’ trips to the potty had been noticed, though at least the purpose had been misunderstood. Jean thought she was being lazy, not realizing that Nicole had been taking proactive steps to avoid pissing her pants.

Blushing, she said, “I promise I’m not just checking my cell–”

Her phone started to ring, cutting through her words like a razor. She felt a weight settle in the pit of her stomach, a realization that this meeting wasn’t going well.

Jean raised an eyebrow. “Do you need to get that?”

Shaking her head, Nicole reached down, tapping the off button on her phone to silence the ringer. “I’m sorry I’ve been unfocused these past couple days,” she said, simply. “But I promise, my full attention is going to be back on my work starting today. Everything is settled, and… eh…”

The sinking feeling in her belly grew lower, and she realized with a horrified start that it wasn’t an emotion, but rather, her body taking over control of yet another function. Her blush spreading up her face, she couldn’t even form words as she felt the inevitable push, and the spread of muck forming in the seat of her diaper.

Jean noticed her expression. “I don’t want to be a hardass here, but we need all hands on deck for the deadlines coming up. You’re sure you’re back with us?”

“Yes ma’am,” Nicole said, nodding quickly. A little sniff told her that the accident would be extremely noticeable any second now, and that she had to get out of the office as soon as possible. “May–may I be excused? I need to go use the bathroom.”

Jean raised an eyebrow, as if to ask, ‘Really?’, but she nodded her head. “Go ahead, Nicole.”

“Thanks,” she blurted, getting to her feet and waddling hurriedly to the door. She could feel her diaper sag beneath her skirt and tried to keep her legs wide so she wouldn’t squelch the mushy mass weighing it down, though a bit of squeezing was impossible if she didn’t want her awkward walk to be noticed.

Toddling into the bathroom, she locked the door behind her, eyes watering from humiliation. She couldn’t–accidents like this at work were too far, and–

Mind racing for a source of stability, she finally checked her messages. All were from Vanessa.

‘Nicole, you need to go to the bathroom.’

‘The chart says you’re going to poop your pants again today.’

‘Call in sick or something. Get out of there!’

Too late to do anything about it now, she sheepishly responded, ‘Thanks for the warning.’

Ensuring the door was locked, and the fan was on, she dug the baby wipes from her purse. Or, really, her diaper bag.

She had to get changed so she could get back to work.

...

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[Eagle0769]

Quot "Did they put it in the attic to get rid of it?"

Or did it appear in the attic, waiting for its next victim? 

That's a very good question. Mmmmmmm

[CDfm]

Another great addition. Nicole should have talked the offered few days off to figure out what’s going on and how to best deal with it. This entity seems to be supplying the basics such as diapers and wipes but powder and plastic panties will help conceal the odor of a messy diaper too. Taking the time off would at least allow her to be better prepared for the inevitable. 
you continue to do an awesome job with the story and I will be looking forward to seeing more. 

[PeculiarChangeling]

23 hours ago, CDfm said:

Another great addition. Nicole should have talked the offered few days off to figure out what’s going on and how to best deal with it. This entity seems to be supplying the basics such as diapers and wipes but powder and plastic panties will help conceal the odor of a messy diaper too. Taking the time off would at least allow her to be better prepared for the inevitable. 
you continue to do an awesome job with the story and I will be looking forward to seeing more. 

At least the weekend is coming up - two days should be plenty to solve this, right?

 

Day 6

 

Vanessa stared at the chart, trying to decipher what the latest stickers referred to. She wanted to be there for Nicole, to at least be able to warn her what was coming with no more surprise humiliations.

At least Nicole had the day off, she wouldn’t be risking humiliation at work. That would be better than nothing, not that it really solved any of the issues.

The storm clouds for day and night seemed unfortunately clear, if the pattern could be trusted. Nicole’s potty training was all but gone–maybe she’d get a little warning, but based on the stickers, she’d regularly be making thunder boom-booms inside her diaper going forward. But the doodle on the bottom was more opaque, resisting Vanessa’s attempts to decipher it.

The cartoon depiction showed Nicole, with a little speech bubble over her head. The word didn’t give Vanessa anything–it just said ‘Hello’–but instead of being written in simple letters, it’d been spelled out with alphabet blocks.

(Huh…) Vanessa wondered.

The door opened, and Nicole stood in front of her, arms crossed sheepishly over her chest. The smell wafting from Nicole’s bedroom was unmistakable, and even if it hadn’t been obvious from that alone, Nicole’s blush told all. She’d had another poopy accident overnight.

“I gotta…” Nicole mumbled sleepily, nodding towards the bathroom. “Um. Gotta shower.”

“Okay,” Vanessa said. “I’ve got someone coming in a couple hours to help figure this out. Okay?”

Nicole nodded wordlessly, waddling to the bathroom to get freshened up.

Vanessa frowned at the chart one last time, then waved it off and walked to the kitchen, making pancakes from premade mix and frying them up on the stove. By the time Nicole was cleaned up and waddled into the kitchen, freshly diapered and dressed for the day, she had a stack of fluffy pancakes ready to go, butter melting on the top of the pile, and a mug of coffee in Nicole’s lucky mug.

“Tanks,” Nicole said, pulling up a seat in the kitchen. She smiled when she saw the cartoon pea pod decorating the mug, holding up the brown elixir that was strong, straight coffee. “‘Pweciate it.”

Vanessa blinked. “I’m sorry, what did you just say?”

“I ‘pweciate the pancakes,'' Nicole repeated. Now that Vanessa was listening for it, she easily picked up on the distinctly juvenile cadence–letters falling over one another in a verbal jumble. Nicole didn’t seem to notice, though, and just cut into the pancakes with her fork.

“Nicole…” Vanessa said. “You’re lisping.”

Nicole looked up at her, eyes widening. “Nuh-uh.”

“Yes, you are,” Vanessa repeated. “Or, not just lisping, but it’s like…your words aren’t fully formed. Like you’re learning to talk.”

Brow furrowing, Nicole focused for a moment before she said, “I sound o-tay to me.”

“You just said, ‘Oh tay’,” Vanessa pointed out.

Nicole’s eyes widened. “Nuh… I din’ hear that at all. I said o-tay, not ‘Oh tay’.”

Vanessa stared at her, and Nicole blushed.

“I said it again, din’ I?” she asked. Vanessa nodded. “Well…fudge.”

“Well… Don’t worry. With any luck, maybe the feng shui guy who’s coming over won’t be…”

…

“...a complete waste of time,” Vanessa groaned, sinking into the sofa. “I’m so sorry, I thought he’d at least have any idea.”

“You could’n’a known,” Nicole replied, pulling up her legs to her chest at the other edge of the couch. “Is… is otay.”

“It’s not okay.” Vanessa shook her head. “It’s–I need to be doing more, and I’m not. Even my ideas aren’t helping–the guy, the camera, it’s just proven that we don’t know what’s happening. This isn’t normally my thing, but like–that’s not an excuse. You need help, it’s on me to step up.”

Nicole hesitated. She wanted to be the supportive friend, the one who solved all the problems, but Vanessa was right–Nicole was struggling to try and be proactive while her body betrayed her left and right.

“I still appweciate the help,” Nicole said.

“I feel stupid about the box, though,” Vanessa said. “I hadn’t even thought to check the attic, it didn’t occur to me that the box I found the chart in would just be totally empty. It’s like it just vanished!”

That had been a troubling realization, even if all it really confirmed was that something strange and paranormal was happening beyond their understanding.

A long moment passed. Nicole felt very small, with her knees tucked against her chest and her arms wrapped around her legs. Thoughts blurred in her mind, fears and anxieties about the future. “Vanessa…promise me somethin’?”

“Anything,” Vanessa said.

“Dere’s…there’s…more dan a week left on da chart,” Nicole said. “And I dunno what’s gonna happen. I’m scared. I tout… I thought it was just gonna be potty stuff…but now I can’ tawk right, an I dunno if it’s gonna keep getting worse too. So…promise, if I keep getting worse, you won’t weave me?”

Vanessa’s eyes widened, and she scooched across the couch, wrapping her arm around Nicole’s shoulder. “Oh, Nicole–I’m not going anywhere. Not for anything. You’re my best friend, and I don’t care how long it takes to figure this out, I’m here. We’re in this together. Okay?”

Nicole sniffed, but didn’t start to cry. “Oh… okay. Tanks you, V.”

Pulling her into a tight hug, Vanessa nodded. “Of course.”

 

...

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https://peculiarchangeling.gumroad.com/

[CDfm]

Thanks again for the story and the regular updates.  It’s awesome to keep seeing new updates coming. 
Seems like they are quickly running out of options or ideas.  Nicole is fading pretty fast.  Each day brings her one or two more steps towards becoming a baby.  At this point I am wondering how long it’s going to be before she is unable to eat adult foods or drink anything other than formula. 
I will be looking for the next update. 

[Wannatripbaby]

Somebody needs to call in that ex girlfriend, and fast!