The Girl Who Wanted to Wear Diapers (Ch. 24 - 4/24/24)

[Authentically_Honest]

Well, color me impressed—and it takes a lot to do that. Amidst the sea of mediocrity, where the waves of boredom crash against the shores of the unremarkable, this gem sparkles with the rare brilliance of a disco ball in a dimly lit room. The craftsmanship here is so exquisite, it's like the creator whispered sweet nothings to each word, coaxing them into a dance so graceful, it would put swans to shame. The plot twists and turns in ways that would make a pretzel look straight, each chapter leaving you more hooked than a coffee aficionado on their third espresso shot. It's a rollercoaster of emotions where the highs are euphoric, and the lows are still better than most of what passes for "entertainment" on this site. To say it was a pleasure to read is an understatement; it was akin to finding an oasis in a desert of drudgery. Encore, please.

[fyunch]

Very well written.  Excellent pacing. Creating an alliance between the sisters is a nice touch.  And the foreshadowing of the revelation Grace’s own use of pull-ups is very well done.

[MinnesotaWriter]

Chapter 9: Running Dry

Mom’s eyes went back and forth between the sleeping bag on the floor and the uncovered mattress still covered in baking soda.

Like yesterday, I had slept in much longer than intended because of how late I had finally fallen asleep after cleaning up after the fake bedwetting incident. Unlike yesterday, Mom had come to investigate why I hadn’t gotten out of bed at a reasonable time.

I had woken up to the sight of her standing over me at the foot of the sleeping bag. The second night of waking up on the floor was less disorientating than the first. I knew right away both where I was and why I was there. I had intentionally peed on the bed, and Grace had helped me clean up.

I stretched my mouth open in a wide yawn and rubbed my eyes.

This was not how I had intended for my mom to find out about the bedwetting. I would have preferred a discreet conversation once I was fully awake rather than be wakened to her witnessing the aftermath of it. I had less control of my secrets than I thought I did.

“What happened?” Mom asked.

The question irked me. The answer seemed rather obvious. Why else would I be in a sleeping bag? And why else would all the sheets and blankets have been taken off of the mattress? Why was Mom insisting that I spell it out for her?

I didn’t bother describing the elaborate dream I had made up for Grace last night. “Um,” I said, my gaze fixed on Mom’s slippers rather than her face. “It happened again.”

Mom sighed. “I did tell you that you shouldn’t have had so much to drink last night.”

That was true. Mom had caught me in the middle of drinking one more glass of water before going to bed. I had worried that it would have caused problems with being able to pee on the bed, but I still had been hydrated enough to do so.

The last thing I needed was for Mom to be fixated on how much liquids I was drinking.

“I was thirsty. And it’s not like that’s caused problems before.”

“And it’s not like you’ve ever wet the bed before, much less two times in a row,” Mom said. “I think it would be good if you drank a little bit less in the evening.”

There wasn’t anything I could say to argue back against that. From Mom’s perspective, it was a completely reasonable request. From what I could recall, Grace had been under similar restrictions back when she was a bedwetter. I would just need to be more discreet when getting extra water to drink today.

There were footsteps in the hallway. Then Grace walked by, passing my open bedroom door on the way to her own bedroom. Mom turned around just in time to briefly make eye contact with Grace before my older sister scurried off.

Great. Now, Mom and Grace both knew that each other knew about my bedwetting.

Mom rushed over to close the door. “I’m sorry,” Mom said. “I’ll talk with your sister and make sure she respects your privacy. I should have closed the door behind me when I came to get you up.”

“It’s fine. She found out last night. She helped me get it cleaned.”

“Oh,” Mom said. “That was nice of her.”

“Yeah,” I said. Best to get the full truth out. “She knows that I know about her past bedwetting as well.”

“I see,” Mom said. “Still, I’ll have a talk with her later this morning. Did you start the washing machine last night?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, no one else has started on any laundry this morning, so it’s still in there. Please move it over to the dryer before you get in the shower.”

Mom left the bedroom without giving me any further instructions.

It was Sunday morning. That sucked cause it meant the weekend was already halfway over. The only good thing was that I only had one more week left of school before summer break. That also meant that our soccer tournament was continuing this afternoon. We had a game scheduled for right after lunch, and there would be another one early in the evening if we won. All that exercise would at least give me plenty of excuses to drink more water.

I rolled up my sleeping bag and tucked it back in the closet. I stood and stretched for a couple of minutes before heading downstairs to move the bedding over to the dryer. I wasn’t super sore from having slept on the floor, but I was beginning to notice the effects of having done so for two nights in a row.

<><><> 

Getting hydrated was a lot more difficult when everyone was monitoring how much I was drinking.

My problems with getting enough to drink started as soon as I got home from the soccer match. I had gone through two bottles of Gatorade while I had been playing, but with how hot it had been during the game, I was sure I had practically sweated it all out.

We’d lost three to zero in the sweltering heat, and the score would have been even more lopsided if not for some heroic saves by Angie, who was the team’s goalie.

And that was the end of soccer – at least playing competitively on a team – until it was time to try out for the middle school team in the fall.

There were some summers when I had played in a summer league with Angie and Emma, but with the lengthy vacation my parents had planned to celebrate my sister’s high school graduation, that wasn’t an option this year. That had been disappointing, but Mom and Dad had made it up to me by signing me up for a week-long, overnight soccer camp instead.

After having taken a quick shower, I thought I had the kitchen to myself as I retrieved a plastic cup from the cupboard and grabbed the filtered water from the fridge. Still, it wouldn’t do to dawdle.

I needed to drink the water quickly. I lifted the cup to my lips and tilted my head back as I began to chug down the water as fast as possible. It wasn’t fast enough.

I had gotten halfway through the cup of water when I heard my sister’s voice behind me.

“Not sure that’s a good idea.”

The shock of hearing Grace’s voice, especially when I had been so certain that she had been tucked away in her bedroom, caused my hand to slip. Instead of continuing to pour the water into my mouth, I splashed a large amount onto my chin and T-shirt.

I turned to face my sister. “Seriously, don’t sneak up on me like that.”

Graced eyed the wet spots on my shirt as I wiped my chin dry on my sleeve. My face burned. It brought me back to how she had looked at me in the hallway last night when it had been my pajama pants rather than my T-shirt that had been wet.

Grace grimaced a little, as if she wasn’t entirely comfortable with what she was about to say.

“Look, I know from experience that, um, drinking as much water as you’re drinking right now isn’t always a good idea.” She looked around as if she was making sure no one was eavesdropping on the conversation and then leaned in closer to me. “Probably best to limit your liquids until bed unless you like waking up to change your sheets in the middle of the night.”

My chest froze at that last whispered sentence from Grace. What, why would she think that I – or anyone – would like waking up to a wet bed?

“What? I don’t like it.”

Grace rolled her eyes. “I know you don’t like it. It’s just a figure of speech.”

“But I can’t, like, not drink anything at all,” I protested.

“I’m not saying that you shouldn’t drink anything,” Grace said. “But, like, chugging a sixteen-ounce cup of water isn’t exactly going to make things easier on your bladder tonight.”

It wasn’t as if I could very well argue with her about that point. My older sister was the expert on bedwetting, after all. I emptied the remainder of the water from the glass into the sink. I would need to find other opportunities to stay hydrated. That proved to be difficult.

<><><> 

Grace had helped Mom and Dad set the table for dinner. We always sat in the same spot around the table. Our parents sat on one end together, with Jackson next to Mom, so she could keep him in line. Grace sat next to Dad, and I was sandwiched between my two siblings.

The glass of water in front of my plate was technically full, but Grace had also filled it to the brim with ice, so there was only about half as much water in it as normal.

Not that I could say anything about it at the moment. The last thing I needed was for Jackson to find out about the bedwetting as well. He would not handle it as discretely as I had with Grace when I was his age.

I desperately wanted to excuse myself from the table to refill my glass of water, but I had a sinking feeling that Mom and Dad would definitely say something about it. They wouldn’t outright tell me that I should drink less to avoid wetting the bed – not in front of Jackson – but I suspected they would encourage me to drink less, and I didn’t want to deal with that embarrassing conversation.

I stared at the glass of ice as I took another bite of spaghetti, as if I could mentally make the ice cubes begin to melt a little bit faster.

By the time I was finished eating my spaghetti, enough ice had melted to allow me to have one more small sip before it was time to take the dishes to the kitchen for Grace to get them washed.

The rest of the evening didn’t go any better. It seemed like every time I got up to walk past the kitchen, Mom, Dad, or Grace were in sight. That was a problem. I needed them to think I was wetting the bed naturally, like whatever genetics had caused Grace to be a bedwetter was now doing it for me.

If my parents thought that the bedwetting was only due to how much water I was drinking, I worried they might focus on that rather than purchase pull-ups.

I managed to sneak in a few sips of water here and there, but it wasn’t nearly as much as I’d had to drink the other night. I also put off going to the bathroom. The last time I had peed had been shortly before dinner. Even without as much to drink, if I went from then until midnight, surely I’d need to pee badly enough at that point that wetting the bed wouldn’t be difficult.

<><><> 

It was a school night, so I was sent to bed a bit earlier. I was in the middle of brushing my teeth when Mom peeked into the bathroom.

“Madelyn,” Mom said.

I took the toothbrush out of my mouth so that I could reply. “Yes?”

“Make sure you use the toilet before you go to bed, OK?”

“I will,” I replied, trying to keep the annoyance out of my voice. I didn’t want to be treated like a baby who had to be reminded to go to the toilet, even if Mom did think I’d had two actually bedwetting accidents so far this weekend.

I brushed my teeth for another ten seconds and then shut the bathroom door behind me. Was Mom still out in the hallway? I couldn’t tell if her footsteps had carried her all the way to the stairs or if she had just gone to her bedroom. There also hadn’t been a sound of any doors closing.

That was a problem. The bathroom wasn’t very soundproof. Mom might be able to notice if I didn’t pee at all, as should would be able to hear me if I did go like she had asked. I didn’t need to pee all that badly at this point, but I did need to go enough that I shouldn’t have trouble peeing as long as I was sitting on a toilet rather than in my bed.

I lifted the lid to the toilet seat, let my pajamas fall to my feet, and sat down.

I had to find a way to convince Mom and Dad that none of their other methods of getting me to stop wetting the bed – limiting fluids and making me use the toilet right before going to sleep – were working. I needed to reach the point where they would give up trying to stop the bedwetting and switch their focus to limiting the damage from it by getting me pull-ups to wear.

That meant that I needed to convince them that I was doing my best to avoid wetting the bed, so I would have to use the toilet now and try to figure out a way to still wet the bed later tonight.

I didn’t have any difficulty in getting my bladder to release. The sound of the urine streaming into the toilet was proof that I had done exactly what Mom had asked me to.

I had hoped that I’d perhaps be able to stop the stream mid-pee, giving myself a better chance to wet the bed later, but that wasn’t successful. Once my bladder started to empty, there was no stopping it until every last drop was out.

I took a peek in my parents’ bedroom after leaving the bathroom. Mom was lying in bed on top of the sheets, reading a book. That was a problem. There would be no sneaking any more drinks of water tonight, not even the yucky tap water from the bathroom sink.

The next two hours passed slowly. My eyes were sore from staring at my phone by the time I was certain that everyone was asleep. There had to be a better way of faking the bedwetting, but every alternative I’d considered so far had presented some sort of complication, something that would risk Mom and Dad – and now Grace as well – discovering that something was off about my bedwetting.

I had to stick to faking the bedwetting in a way that looked perfectly natural. There couldn’t be any doubt in my parents’ minds that it was real.

With the clock now past midnight, I still didn’t feel like I needed to pee at all, but I was determined to try either way.

I sat on my knees on the bed for about ten minutes until I could barely keep my eyes open. It was the same routine I had followed the past two nights. I strained as hard as I could, trying to conjure pictures of water and rivers and streams in my head.

It was no use. I couldn’t get anything to come out. My bladder was still too empty.

I nearly lay down in bed in resignation, but another plan to fake my bedwetting suddenly sprang to mind.

 

---

Links to all my stories can be found at https://abdlwriter.wordpress.com/ 

[JustaFoxGirl]

I can only imagine what her plan is, but it's nice to see the family being so supportive for what they think is a real issue.

[spark]

21 hours ago, JustaFoxGirl said:

I can only imagine what her plan is, but it's nice to see the family being so supportive for what they think is a real issue.

I think she might give away her plan if she does it every night, but she is going to need to learn how to pee on command

[MinnesotaWriter]

On 3/8/2024 at 12:22 PM, JustaFoxGirl said:

Well, now the cat is out of the bag for both of them. Since Grace is a former bedwetter herself, I wonder if anything Maddy does will tip her off that she's faking it?

We'll see. Certainly something that Maddy will need to be aware of.

On 3/8/2024 at 8:42 PM, Authentically_Honest said:

Well, color me impressed—and it takes a lot to do that. Amidst the sea of mediocrity, where the waves of boredom crash against the shores of the unremarkable, this gem sparkles with the rare brilliance of a disco ball in a dimly lit room. The craftsmanship here is so exquisite, it's like the creator whispered sweet nothings to each word, coaxing them into a dance so graceful, it would put swans to shame. The plot twists and turns in ways that would make a pretzel look straight, each chapter leaving you more hooked than a coffee aficionado on their third espresso shot. It's a rollercoaster of emotions where the highs are euphoric, and the lows are still better than most of what passes for "entertainment" on this site. To say it was a pleasure to read is an understatement; it was akin to finding an oasis in a desert of drudgery. Encore, please.

I mean, I think the story is good, but I'm not quite sure it's that good, but thanks!

On 3/10/2024 at 7:22 AM, fyunch said:

Very well written.  Excellent pacing. Creating an alliance between the sisters is a nice touch.  And the foreshadowing of the revelation Grace’s own use of pull-ups is very well done.

Thanks!

On 3/10/2024 at 9:17 PM, JustaFoxGirl said:

I can only imagine what her plan is, but it's nice to see the family being so supportive for what they think is a real issue.

Yep, it is fun writing a family from that perspective, especially in this scenario where their support may be making it more difficult for Maddy to get what she wants.

On 3/11/2024 at 6:29 PM, spark said:

I think she might give away her plan if she does it every night, but she is going to need to learn how to pee on command

Yep, but that will come with practice. For now, she's only able to do it if she is needing to go pretty badly (which creates a problem when she isn't able to hydrate enough or is forced to use the toilet right before going to bed)

[MinnesotaWriter]

Chapter 10: Change of Plans

I fell asleep last night without pretending to wet the bed. But that was OK. I’d come to the conclusion that I was going to need to adjust my approach to bedwetting if I wanted to convince my family that the bedwetting was real and not going away anytime soon.

I was supposed to set an alarm on my phone before going to bed on a school night so that I would get up in time to get on the bus, but I rarely remembered to do so. That meant that instead of a buzzing sound from my phone, I was rudely awakened by Mom knocking on the bedroom door.

“Madelyn, I’m not going to say it again. You need to start getting ready for school right away.”

There were a couple more knocks on the door, followed by a longer pause.

I opened my eyes long enough to take a look at the digital clock in the room. It was fifteen minutes past when I should have gotten up to get in the shower.

For the first time in three mornings, I had woken up in my bed rather than in a sleeping bag on the floor. I closed my eyes again. I was too exhausted to even want to sit up in bed.

There was a reason Mom and Dad never let me stay up past midnight on a school night. These late nights were absolutely killing me.

The door creaked open and then clicked shut. I heard Mom’s footsteps as she approached the bed, but I kept my eyes closed. Just let me have a few more seconds of rest. Pretty please.

Mom sighed and rubbed her hand against my shoulder. “You really need to get up now, Maddy, or you’re not going to have time to eat breakfast before catching the bus.”

That would have been fine with me. I didn’t care to eat breakfast most mornings now if I could avoid doing so. But Mom and Dad usually insisted that I get something to eat before going to school. Sometimes, when I was running late, they’d just hand me an orange or a banana, which would often get passed off to one of my friends.

Mom rubbed my shoulder again. I opened my eyes. There was no use putting it off any longer. I glanced up at Mom.

“Looks like someone slept a lot better last night,” she said.

I didn’t agree. I opened my mouth in a wide yawn. “But I’m so tired.”

“But your bed stayed dry, right?” Mom asked in a whisper that was unnecessary with the door closed.

Oh, that’s what she was referring to. I rolled my eyes, attempting to be the perfect caricature of a soon-to-be teenager, annoyed that her mother would even dare ask that kind of question. “Of course it did.”

“That’s good,” Mom said, though she did take one more glance down at my midsection as she said so. “I think as long as you don’t drink too much and remember to use the toilet before bed, we shouldn’t have any repeats.”

I nodded in agreement. I could let her think she had won, for now.

With Mom now convinced that I was awake, she left the bedroom, leaving me to hurry through my morning routine. I tossed the covers off and went to select an outfit for the day to have something to change into in the bathroom once I was done showering. I grabbed a pair of black leggings and a light-blue T-shirt that had three ducks in a row on it – two yellow ones and one gray one.

I was much more awake the moment I stepped into the shower.

My change of plans had been the result of several realizations, ones that were even clearer after having a night to sleep on it.

The first realization was that I couldn’t just keep doing the same bedwetting routine night after night. It was fine to try to do the most normal type of bedwetting for the first couple of nights of faking the bedwetting, but I was going to need to risk mixing things up. Wetting the bed in the same way at the same time, night after night, would eventually appear unusual if I were to be following an exact pattern.

The second realization was that it was OK to have a few random nights where I didn’t wet the bed at all. I seemed to recall from the conversation three years ago with my bedwetting cousins that they hadn’t wet the bed every night, either. I didn’t know how things had been for Grace, but perhaps her experience had been similar.

The third realization was that I was going to need to follow all of my parents’ rules about limiting my liquids and using the toilet before bed. It was becoming apparent that pull-ups would likely be a measure of last resort, so I had to make it appear as though every other attempt at stopping the bedwetting was unsuccessful. If they were to catch me drinking too much water, they would blame it on that rather than considering other solutions.

I decided that, at least for this last night, I would let Mom, Dad, and Grace think that they’d won, that their efforts to curtail my liquids and ensure that I used the toilet before bed had been enough to bring this recent spate of bedwetting to a halt.

I would prove them wrong tonight. It would involve a little more risk, but I didn’t have any other choice.

There were several knocks on the bathroom door, followed by the sound of Dad’s voice, which was barely noticeable with the shower still running. “Maddy, you already were up late. You don’t have time for a long shower.”

That snapped me out of daydreaming about my new plans for faking bedwetting tonight. I rushed to finish cleaning myself up.

By the time I had finished showering and dressing, the bus was set to arrive in less than five minutes. Jackson had already gotten on his bus for elementary school, and Grace was driving to school, so she was still lazily picking through her breakfast while staring at her phone.

If the high school hadn’t been in the opposite direction from our house as the middle school, my parents might have had Grace drop me off on her way to high school, but even though I hated how long the bus ride was – and needing to get up extra early for it – the one nice thing was that it gave me time to spend with Emma and Angie before classes began.

And besides, the school year was nearly over. Just one more week. Just a bunch of final exams and standardized tests to wade through, and then I’d be free for the whole summer.

And there wouldn’t be any actual tests this morning. Monday was prep day, which meant teachers in each of our classes were doing final reviews before it would be time to take our final exams and other end-of-year tests.

Not that it mattered much. Even if, by some miracle, I were to ace all of my tests, it wouldn’t bring my grades up to where my parents wanted them to be.

That was the downside of having a really smart older sister. Grace had just had to go first and set a bunch of academic expectations that I wasn’t capable of meeting.

“Sleep well last night?” Grace asked as I sipped on a glass of orange juice that Mom had hastily poured for me.

This time, I caught on to the fact that my sister was really asking about the bedwetting, not whether or not I had gotten a good night’s worth of sleep.

“Yeah,” I replied, avoiding eye contact with her.

“Maddy,” Mom called out from the front room. “Your bus is at the other end of the street.”

I picked up my backpack and rushed to the front door. Mom placed a banana in my hand, which I knew right away was going to be given to Emma.

<><><> 

Both Emma and Angie had already turned thirteen during the school year. I was a late bloomer. I wasn’t going to officially be a teenager for a couple of weeks.

My two friends didn’t hold their status as official teenagers over me. Well, at least not that much.

Emma accepted the banana from me as I took a seat next to her on the bus. That was good because I wasn’t all that hungry, and it would have been wasteful to just toss it out.

I spent the first portion of the bus ride describing the soccer camp my parents had signed me up for in great detail.

“Yes, yes, we get it. You’re going to have a fun time without us,” Angie said, after I had been rambling on the topic for about ten minutes.

I shut up at the realization that I had indeed been talking nonstop since I had sat down next to Angie and Emma.

“If you can stop being a chatterbox for a few seconds, we can start making some other plans for the summer,” Emma said.

The conversation turned to getting together for a sleepover. That was dangerous territory. I needed to get my hands on pull-ups before then so that Mom would feel comfortable sending me on the sleepover. I, of course, wouldn’t even take them out of my backpack, but Mom wouldn’t need to be aware of that.

The one good thing was that Angie’s parents were taking her on a road trip for a week right after school was let out. That would push off the first sleepover long enough that my parents should be getting me pull-ups after having run out of other ideas to treat the bedwetting.

“We could do the sleepover on your birthday,” Emma suggested. She turned to Angie. “You’ll be back by then, right?”

Angie took a look at a calendar on her phone. “Yep, we get back the day before.”

“I was thinking,” Emma said. “That we should do something special for it. How about pulling an all nighter?”

“No way, I’d be out of it by 2 a.m. at the latest,” Angie said.

Emma looked over at me. “Well, birthday girl?”

That was perfect. Even if I didn’t have pull-ups by then, I could convince Mom I’d be fine until after my friends left to go sleep things off for the rest of the day at home.

“That sounds like fun,” I said. “I can do it as long as I can have enough caffeine.”

“OK,” Angie said, giving me a look. “Now I really know that it is a bad idea. No way should you be allowed to have that much caffeine.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said.

Emma joined with Angie in staring incredulously at me.

“Let’s see,” Emma said. “There was that time in second grade when you had pop during the pizza party at school. Do I need to remind you what happened afterward?”

I blushed. I was very grateful that Emma hadn’t spelled out what had happened in that embarrassing incident. “That was ages ago,” I protested. “Besides, our teacher should have known that my parents didn’t let me have any caffeinated drinks when I was that young.”

“Well, what about that time Allen tricked you into drinking that energy drink last year?”

I groaned loudly. “That wasn’t my fault, either. How was I supposed to know that Starbucks’ lemonade was caffeinated?”

“I’m not saying it was your fault, just that maybe caffeine and you don’t mix very well,” Angie said. “You practically had the shakes, and you literally couldn’t shut up for hours. Mr. Gainwell had to send you to the nurse’s office until you could calm down.”

“That’s still different,” I protested. “I’ll be thirteen. I’ll be fine as long as I pace myself and no one surprises me with drinks secretly spiked with caffeine.”

“Fine, but we’re doing the sleepover at your house then,” Angie said. “Your parents can deal with you if you get too hyper.”

I agreed that this was a fair deal, though it might take some convincing for my parents to go along with it.

<><><> 

I followed all my parents’ rules about limiting my liquids to the letter after I got home from school. I made sure to not drink too much, and I made sure that they could see that I was only filling my cup halfway up the few times I did have something to drink this afternoon and evening.

I didn’t get any further comments about limiting my liquids. I didn’t think that was because my parents weren’t paying attention, but because I’d given them no opportunity to complain, as I was following the directions without needing to be given any reminders.

Mom did end up reminding me to go and use the toilet before getting into bed, but I would have done so even if she hadn’t said anything to me.

The hardest part tonight was having to wait until I was certain that everyone was asleep. As the clock again passed midnight, I once again found that I had no need to pee at the moment, which wasn’t a surprise for tonight. But that didn’t matter.

The situation tonight was perfect. I’d done everything my parents had wanted me to do in order to avoid wetting the bed, so when I would trick them into thinking I had wet the bed anyway, despite all of those precautions, they would have no choice but to look for other solutions.

The plan tonight was simple, and there was only a tiny risk of being caught at the wrong time, so I figured I could pull it off.

I would do what I had considered doing the night before, but only this time, I would do it without wetting my bed in the first place.

I eased myself out of bed, turning on the lamp on the nightstand to let me see what I was doing.

I removed all the bedding into a pile on the floor. It was a lot to carry all at once, but it would be a lot less risky if I did it all in one trip. I went to open my bedroom door first, as I’d not be able to easily grab the handle with my hands full.

The only point where things could go wrong would be right now. I’d only be in the hallway for a couple of seconds, but if Grace were to come out of her bedroom and notice that none of the bedding I was holding was wet, that would out my plan then and there.

But it only took a few seconds to walk down the hallway, even while trying to do so quietly with a massive bundle of laundry in my arms. Soon, I was on the stairs and out of sight, letting me slow down lest I trip over Chester in the dark.

I deposited the bedding in the washing machine, added some detergent for good measure, and got the washing cycle started. There wouldn’t be any way to tell that I hadn’t actually peed the bed. It would just look like I had been responsible for taking care of the cleanup myself without waking Mom and Dad.

And there wouldn’t even be any need to say something to Mom directly. She would be sure to come across the full washing machine at some point after I had left for school.

I remembered to sprinkle baking soda on the bed before getting tucked into the sleeping bag on the floor.

My only regret as I was drifting off to sleep was how much it was going to suck having to take a bunch of tests tomorrow while being extra tired.

---

Links to all my stories can be found at https://abdlwriter.wordpress.com/ 

[thedman]

Hmmmm, no pj's in the wash, no wet pair in her room, no midnight shower and not smelling like pee in the morning.....   I feel like there may be a few questions if anyone is suspicious

[dl.spark1978]

Incorporating a bit of clandestine strategy by maintaining a discreetly placed water bottle within her personal space, one that she cleverly tops off at some juncture during the day, could very well spare her the need for a great deal of sneaky maneuvers. It's quite the humorous thought when you consider it, the lengths one might go to just to ensure there's always a sip of water within arm's reach, without drawing too much attention. This simple yet ingenious approach could be a game-changer, turning her daily hydration quest into an undercover operation that's both effective and amusing.

[fyunch]

Clever.  Very clever.

[MinnesotaWriter]

8 hours ago, thedman said:

Hmmmm, no pj's in the wash, no wet pair in her room, no midnight shower and not smelling like pee in the morning.....   I feel like there may be a few questions if anyone is suspicious

There certainly could be. Will have to see if Maddy realizes that before anyone else does.

8 hours ago, dl.spark1978 said:

Incorporating a bit of clandestine strategy by maintaining a discreetly placed water bottle within her personal space, one that she cleverly tops off at some juncture during the day, could very well spare her the need for a great deal of sneaky maneuvers. It's quite the humorous thought when you consider it, the lengths one might go to just to ensure there's always a sip of water within arm's reach, without drawing too much attention. This simple yet ingenious approach could be a game-changer, turning her daily hydration quest into an undercover operation that's both effective and amusing.

I'm sure that is something Maddy has considered as well, especially since she has decided to have more variety with her fake bedwetting accidents.

6 hours ago, fyunch said:

Clever.  Very clever.

Thanks!

[Lost Little Neppy]

I have to say it, and it's not a criticism of your writing at all. I cannot stand Maddy.

I honestly am wondering if she has something going on. It's one thing to be spacey and daydream-y when you're twelve. But she's not seeming to understand verbal cues unless it's something direct. She has a one-track mind that is straight on pull-ups, to the point of not being able to concentrate on literally anything else, and it makes me wonder if she's somewhere on the spectrum, or if she has ADD or something similar. If that is the case, I can forgive her for these moments of not thinking and doing dumb things.

Also the immediate family being all redheads makes me think they're Weasleys, and you will never change my mind about that, haha.

[MinnesotaWriter]

9 hours ago, Lost Little Neppy said:

I have to say it, and it's not a criticism of your writing at all. I cannot stand Maddy.

I honestly am wondering if she has something going on. It's one thing to be spacey and daydream-y when you're twelve. But she's not seeming to understand verbal cues unless it's something direct. She has a one-track mind that is straight on pull-ups, to the point of not being able to concentrate on literally anything else, and it makes me wonder if she's somewhere on the spectrum, or if she has ADD or something similar. If that is the case, I can forgive her for these moments of not thinking and doing dumb things.

Also the immediate family being all redheads makes me think they're Weasleys, and you will never change my mind about that, haha.

I've been very intentional about including those scenes for Maddy and just the general way she's been written as well. She certainly isn't intended to be neurotypical. There are a number of reasons for that, but that's for later in the story.

And yes, I imagine there might be a Harry Potter reference or two in the story at some point.

[Allman90]

9 hours ago, Lost Little Neppy said:

wonder if she's somewhere on the spectrum, or if she has ADD or something similar. If that is the case, I can forgive her for these moments of not thinking and doing dumb things.

I don't see why she needs to have a medical condition for you to forgive her such behavior.

 

It's not like there haven't been countless daydreamers throughout all of history. i doubt even 'normies' would say much if the object of her daydreams was art or books or music, as those are widely accepted

i mean even other kids her age start setting goals, working toward future desires hers are just diapers. Whys she have to have autism or something for that to be okay?

 

any way good so far. I like the pacing too many stories go straight to the diapers

While that's fun too i do like to see more time spent on how they get there (or if they do)

And actually kinda ties in to what I was sauing before. Maddy has goals, which isn't common in diaper stores cause most times diapers just kinda happen to the MC. 

 

[MinnesotaWriter]

Chapter 11: My Sister’s Room

Three years earlier

I had never liked road trips. That much time spent cramped in a tiny space was too much. My body would tell me that I needed to move, and then I couldn’t. But what made the drive home from the funeral take even longer was this new idea that I had become obsessed with. I needed more than anything to wear a pull-up again. All I could think of as the miles passed by were schemes about how I could manage to get my hands on one.

“Mommy, I need to pee.”

Ahead of me in the front row, my three-year-old brother was squirming desperately in his car seat. Grace and I had retreated to the back row of the van for the return journey home, mostly to give us some space from our annoying younger brother.

“Mommy,” Jackson whined again, his voice reaching a painfully high pitch.

Grace and I exchanged a glance. This scene with my brother had been a frequent occurrence on this road trip.

“The next rest stop is in five miles,” Mom replied. 

As if that made any sense to a three-year-old. How was Jackson supposed to know how long that was going to take?

“But Mommy,” he whined as the squirming continued.

It was hard to know how serious of an alert it was from him. Despite all the whining for potty breaks on this road trip, my younger brother hadn’t wet his pants at all. He had been potty trained for a little over a year now. 

Mom and Dad had gotten to work on it right away after his second birthday. My parents had tossed out all of Jackson’s diapers and made him run around naked outside for a couple of days that summer. I didn’t understand how that was supposed to help with toilet training, but it had worked, even if the process had grossed out Grace and me a bit.

That Jackson was fully potty trained was unfortunate. If Jackson hadn’t been potty trained yet, or had perhaps been a bedwetter like his cousins, that would have been another potential source of pull-ups.

I couldn’t recall what methods my parents had used to potty train me. But I hoped that was not how it had gone.

“Should have made him wear a pull-up for the trip,” Grace muttered softly next to me, making sure her voice wasn’t loud enough for Jackson to notice.

Wouldn’t that have been nice? That would have solved my issue of getting a pullup.

I tried my best to ignore my brother’s whining for the next five minutes. Having a now-potty-trained three-year-old on a road trip at least meant that we were making a bunch of stops. I’d get a chance to run around at the next rest area. Perhaps it would even have a half-way-decent playground to explore.

Like previously, we made it to the rest area without Jackson wetting his pants. As soon as Dad shifted the gear into park, Mom hurried to get Jackson unbuckled and out of his car seat. The rest of us followed behind at a much more leisurely pace as Dad then took Jackson off to the men’s restroom.

Mom would insist that Grace and I make a stop at the restroom as well, even if I protested that I didn’t need to go at all. I did manage to pee a little, but only just a little, before heading out behind the rest stop building to check out the playground.

The play area was a bit sad, designed more for toddlers than kids my age. The top of the lone slide was only slightly taller than me. The only good thing was that it had a two-person swing set. I pushed off to get myself started as my thoughts drifted back to my plans to acquire a pull-up.

Even though Mom and Dad had previously assured me that Grace’s bedwetting days were long past over – otherwise, I don’t think I previously would have agreed to share a bed with her at a hotel – I had nevertheless attempted to ascertain whether she was perhaps secretly wearing pull-ups under her pajamas. 

I hadn’t dared try to check while she was asleep, but when we were getting out of bed, I laid on my side to watch my fifteen-year-old sister slide off of the mattress onto the floor. The brief glimpse under her short nightgown told me that she was wearing regular, big-girl underwear. 

A disappointing result, but not all that surprising. 

The question that lingered the most in the back of my head was whether my sister had worn pull-ups during her years as a bedwetter.

Grace obviously hadn’t been wearing a pull-up that night. I had stumbled across the aftermath of her wetting the bed. But I couldn’t take that as proof that she had never worn a pull-up before.

Could Mom’s annoyance at her that night have been because she hadn’t been wearing one when she should have been? 

“You want me to give you a push?” Grace asked as she joined me out on the playground.

“Sure.”

She took hold of me and pulled me back super far. I hung on for dear life as I swung forward, my back nearly parallel to the ground. Grace took a seat on the swing next to me and pushed herself off as well, though she didn’t go quite as high in the air as me.

Mom tended to hang on to all of our old clothes. In the back and upper shelves of the two closets in my bedroom were boxes and stacks of old clothing. Perhaps Mom had been saving them for if Jackson had turned out to be a girl, and she had never had the time to toss them out afterward. Or perhaps there was still the possibility of another baby joining the family. 

There were a number of options I had thought about for getting a pull-up. But one of them stood out above all the rest.

I was going to search my sister’s bedroom at the next possible opportunity.

<><><> 

A couple of weeks passed before the perfect opportunity came up.

It was Friday evening in the summer, and Grace was having a sleepover with some of her friends.

Normally, that would have been a perfect opportunity to have Angie and Emma over, but their families had other plans this weekend, so I was left all to myself. Usually, that would have sucked. But this night, I planned to make the most of the opportunity.

My parents had hurried me off to bed a little earlier than normal. There was a TV show they wanted to watch, and apparently, I wasn’t old enough to be allowed to watch it yet. 

I had gone through all the motions of getting ready for bed except brushing my teeth. I didn’t like brushing my teeth. And tonight, Mom and Dad were too busy with their show to check on me as I hurriedly got ready for bed.

Now, I was in my pajamas, standing at the end of the hallway in front of Grace’s bedroom door.

Jackson was sound asleep. My parents’ TV show had begun a few minutes ago; I had crept halfway down the stairs to make sure I could hear it playing in the distance. Grace was out of the house. 

There would be no one to bother me as I explored my older sister’s bedroom.

Grace didn’t have the stereotypical “keep out” sign on her door. But it wasn’t necessary. Her room had always been off limits to me and Jackson. In fairness, the same rule applied to Grace for my bedroom, not that my older sister had any interest in entering it.

I reached my hand out tentatively to touch the handle, turning the doorknob and pushing in the door.

I took two cautious steps into her bedroom and shut the door behind me. I was standing on forbidden ground.

Our bedrooms couldn’t be more unalike. Grace had posters of bands and other artwork on the walls. In the corner was a fancy desktop computer, the kind with a glass side that lets you see all the components.

If Grace had worn pull-ups, and they hadn’t been thrown away, where would they be?

I opened each of her dresser drawers, sifting through them carefully. No pull-ups, only regular underwear.

But that made sense; the pull-ups wouldn’t have stayed in the dresser. Why would she want to see a reminder of her bedwetting every time she went to get dressed?

If the pull-ups were in her bedroom, they would be where Mom had tucked away the rest of my sister’s old things.

I slid open one of the closet doors. There were a bunch of boxes on the top shelf, but they were completely out of reach for me. I grabbed the chair in front of Grace’s computer desk and dragged it over to the closet. Even standing up on it barely allowed me to reach up and touch the boxes on the top shelf.

I pulled a cardboard box down and set it on Grace’s bed. 

I didn’t find any pull-ups inside the box once I undid the cardboard flaps on top. But I did get a glimpse of some of the hand-me-downs that might be coming my way in a couple of years. 

There were a bunch of old shirts and sweaters in the box that I remembered my sister wearing a couple of years ago. That meant they would be mine – if I wanted them – in a couple of years. Every year or so, Mom would bring some of Grace’s old clothes to my bedroom and have me sort through which ones I wanted to have for myself. 

Mom didn’t make me keep anything I didn’t like, which was a relief, as our styles could be quite different at times.

But there were no pull-ups in this box. But that was OK. There were still six more boxes to check in this closet and then a whole other closet to look through afterward. I checked the time on the digital clock next to my sister’s bed. I still had another thirty minutes to go before I needed to be back in bed, in case my parents came upstairs immediately after their show was over.

The searches of the next five boxes proved to be as fruitless as the first. Not a single pull-up in sight.

I returned all the boxes to the closet. Time to check the next one.

Another ten minutes passed by, and my disappointment grew as the mundane contents of each box were revealed. That was followed by a cursory search of my sister’s nightstand drawers and some drawers at her desk, but that, too, was fruitless. 

It wasn’t fair. I had gotten my hopes up so much over the last few weeks. I was so sure that I’d find some pull-ups. I was so eager to see what the girl’s version of them would look like.

There was, of course, always the chance to search my brother’s bedroom as well. But, to the best of my knowledge, my parents had never once bought pull-ups for him. He had gone straight from diapers to superhero-themed underwear. 

Fitting into his pull-ups might have been a stretch. I couldn’t imagine a baby diaper fitting me. But I would still try to find a way to search his bedroom at some point, even if it was a disappointing plan “B.”

With my plan defeated, I walked over to Grace’s queen-sized bed. I still had another ten minutes to spare before I needed to be out of her room.

I sat down on Grace’s bed next to a few of the boxes I hadn’t yet put back onto the closet shelves. My bottom didn’t sink into the mattress like it did when I sat down in my own bed, and the motion of sitting on the bed was accompanied by some loud crinkles.

That was really strange. I patted my hand firmly on the sheets. Definitely firmer than my own bed. And it was still making that weird crinkling sound. I laid back on the bed. Not comfortable at all. How did my sister manage to fall asleep on this every night?

I got up from the uncomfortable bed. I wouldn’t have wanted to lie down on it for any longer than necessary. I admitted defeat in my search for pull-ups. May as well get back to my bedroom early. I nearly dropped the last box as I put it back into place on the closet shelf. 

After doing one last check to make sure I had put everything back into place, I left Grace’s bedroom and headed to my own bed, sad that I hadn’t found any pull-ups, but happy that I had a much nicer mattress to sleep on than my sister.

I was going to have to get used to disappointment.

 

---

Links to all my stories can be found at https://abdlwriter.wordpress.com/ 

 

[spark]

Maddy is gutsy.  She has a good thing going with Grace, but snooping around her room is a good way to find your persona non-grata with her older sister.  I'm wondering if she will work up the courage to tell somebody.  I never did, so I don't think.  But I never faked wetting the bed either, although I admit I considered doing it.

I didn't notice the ADD/Autism tendencies in Grace.  She seems a bit aloof and obsessed with getting Pull-ups, but that's not unusual for me to see in students.   But, my students are with me for a reason.   She strikes me more on the ADD level, especially girls.   FTR- and this is not true with every case, girls with ADD don't tend to be rambunctious, but they literally can not shut up.  They talk all the time, usually very fast, about whatever is in their brain.  I've noticed this is especially true when kids are nearing puberty.  Maddy also seems to be immature for her age.   I call it being a 12-year-old in fifteen-year-old body.  Maddy seems to be like a nine-year-old in a 12-year-old body.

[fyunch]

The plot thickens.  What is making her sister’s bed so strange?  Could it be a protective sheet?  Is there more going on than Maddy realizes?

I can’t wait for the next episode!

[DiaperStoryReader]

If her mother is better than the one in "All My Mother's Rules" could Madelyn end up with one of those bed wetting alarms to wake her up at night instead the diapers she wants?

[MinnesotaWriter]

On 3/16/2024 at 9:39 AM, Allman90 said:

I don't see why she needs to have a medical condition for you to forgive her such behavior.

 

It's not like there haven't been countless daydreamers throughout all of history. i doubt even 'normies' would say much if the object of her daydreams was art or books or music, as those are widely accepted

i mean even other kids her age start setting goals, working toward future desires hers are just diapers. Whys she have to have autism or something for that to be okay?

 

any way good so far. I like the pacing too many stories go straight to the diapers

While that's fun too i do like to see more time spent on how they get there (or if they do)

And actually kinda ties in to what I was sauing before. Maddy has goals, which isn't common in diaper stores cause most times diapers just kinda happen to the MC. 

 

Daydreaming is normal, but obsessive, compulsive, excessive daydreaming, which distracts from and gets in the way of real-world responsibilities, isn't normal, and can be a sign of ADHD or other neurodivergence. Obviously, that in and of itself wouldn't be enough for a diagnosis. A therapist would want to see a lot of other behavior patterns.
 

On 3/16/2024 at 6:04 PM, spark said:

Maddy is gutsy.  She has a good thing going with Grace, but snooping around her room is a good way to find your persona non-grata with her older sister.  I'm wondering if she will work up the courage to tell somebody.  I never did, so I don't think.  But I never faked wetting the bed either, although I admit I considered doing it.

I didn't notice the ADD/Autism tendencies in Grace.  She seems a bit aloof and obsessed with getting Pull-ups, but that's not unusual for me to see in students.   But, my students are with me for a reason.   She strikes me more on the ADD level, especially girls.   FTR- and this is not true with every case, girls with ADD don't tend to be rambunctious, but they literally can not shut up.  They talk all the time, usually very fast, about whatever is in their brain.  I've noticed this is especially true when kids are nearing puberty.  Maddy also seems to be immature for her age.   I call it being a 12-year-old in fifteen-year-old body.  Maddy seems to be like a nine-year-old in a 12-year-old body.

Well, at least with this last chapter, Maddy is 9 years old since it is a flashback from three years ago. 

I think Maddy is aware enough that her interest in diapers isn't normal and wouldn't be considered acceptable that she is going to keep it to herself.

11 hours ago, fyunch said:

The plot thickens.  What is making her sister’s bed so strange?  Could it be a protective sheet?  Is there more going on than Maddy realizes?

I can’t wait for the next episode!

Yep, but remember as well that this was how Grace's bed was three years ago, when Grace was 15 and Maddy was 9.

Just now, DiaperStoryReader said:

If her mother is better than the one in "All My Mother's Rules" could Madelyn end up with one of those bed wetting alarms to wake her up at night instead the diapers she wants?

Oh, there shouldn't be any question that she is better at this point. It wouldn't be out of the question for the mom to have a few things to try before pull-ups and diapers come into consideration.

[Lost Little Neppy]

On 3/16/2024 at 9:39 AM, Allman90 said:

I don't see why she needs to have a medical condition for you to forgive her such behavior.

 

It's not like there haven't been countless daydreamers throughout all of history. i doubt even 'normies' would say much if the object of her daydreams was art or books or music, as those are widely accepted

i mean even other kids her age start setting goals, working toward future desires hers are just diapers. Whys she have to have autism or something for that to be okay?

 

Because I don't think twelve-year-olds shouldn't be criticized for their actions, and I say this as someone who used to be twelve, daydream-y, and wanted to wear diapers at that age.

It isn't just that she's spacey--she legit loses herself so much in these thoughts that she can't see what's going on around her. She smacked into someone walking, didn't take the hint that "this needs done, that means you do it" and doesn't think about the consequences of her actions (granted, that last part isn't uncommon with a lot pre-teens or even teenagers, so whatever).

[MinnesotaWriter]

Chapter 12: A New Solution

I woke up with a bunch of fur in my face.

I let out a loud sneeze as I shoved our orange cat off of me. Chester trotted halfway to my now open bedroom door – he must have snuck in while I was sleeping – and then looked back and made a chirpy meow at me. Yes, yes, I get it, cat. You’re hungry.

There was no choice but to get up and feed him. Not unless I wanted him bothering me until it was time to get up and get ready for school. My digital clock still said there was an hour-and-a-half left until it was time to get up for the day. I could probably even squeeze in another ten minute of sleep if I waited until Mom came to wake me up.

I looked down at my pajamas as I got out of the sleeping bag. There was a clear and obvious problem. These were the same ones I had worn to bed last night. I had forgotten to toss them in the laundry with my bedding last night.

I took a deep breath. That was a close call. If Mom had caught me in these pajamas, it would have raised questions I’d be unable to provide a satisfactory answer for.

I changed into a new pair of pajamas and headed downstairs with my old ones. There wasn’t a need for the flashlight app on my phone as the first rays of sunlight were coming through the windows. I walked as quietly as I could. Chester trotted alongside me, chirping noisily. At least I’d have a good excuse for being up if anyone was awake when I was returning to my bedroom.

I filled up Chester’s food and water bowls in the laundry room. They hadn’t even been fully empty. The stupid cat couldn’t be satisfied with eating out of a bowl that was only half-way full.

Now I needed to deal with my pajamas. I turned on the faucet in the sink next to the washing machine and held my pajamas under the water until they were soaked. I twisted them in my hands to wring out all the excess water and then stuffed the pajamas in with the still very damp bedding in the washing machine.

There, now, when Mom moved the laundry over to the dryer, nothing would seem out of place.

<><><> 

A yawn escaped me at the start of math class. Mr. Thompson was going around handing back our final homework assignment of the year before we got started on our final exam.

It had taken me about an hour to fall back to sleep after putting my pajamas in the washing machine. At that point, I’d only gotten another thirty minutes of sleep before Mom woke me up for school. From the look on her face, this most recent fake bedwetting incident had completely caught her by surprise. I suppose she had thought all the preventative measures she’d made me take would have been enough to bring the bedwetting to an end.

Mom had taken care of vacuuming up the baking soda on the mattress and moving the laundry from the washing machine to the dryer. As far as I was able to tell, she hadn’t caught on to the fact that I had faked the bedwetting accident simply by tossing my bedding and pajamas in the washing machine.

Mr. Thompson handed the algebra homework paper to me as he passed by my desk. I stared at it in disbelief. The letter “C” was circled in red at the top right corner. I skimmed through the questions. Several of them had been marked as incorrect with red dashes through them.

That was a complete betrayal. It was totally unfair. I had held up to my end of the bargain in keeping Grace’s secret, and she hadn’t even bothered to deliver me a good grade. There was no way these questions had been too difficult for my older sister.

I tucked the assignment angrily into my backpack. I was going to have a word with Grace after school.

The next set of papers our teacher handed out was even less fun than the first. Our final exam for the math class was fifty questions long and would account for twenty-five percent of the grade for the year.

It was hard enough to do math when I was fully awake, but I was exhausted from the lack of sleep over the past several days. All the numbers and symbols seemed to dance around in front of me as I tried to work my way through each question. It didn’t help that I’d already had to sit through five different tests today, with each one seeming to go worse than the one preceding it.

It was no use. I gave up about halfway through, beginning to fill in the little multiple-choice circles with my pencils with my best guess after reading through the question once. At least if I finished earlier, I could find somewhere to sit and rest outside in the hallway.

<><><> 

I struggled to pretend that the way my parents were limiting my liquids didn’t annoy me.

But it wasn’t fair. Mom had made fresh-squeezed lemonade to go with our dinner of hotdogs fresh off of the backyard grill, and I had been given a much smaller portion of lemonade than I would have preferred. Even Jackson had as much as me, and Mom was as careful with monitoring his sugar intake as she had been when I was his age.

But the amount I had to drink tonight was irrelevant. I intended to instead wet the bed closer to when I was about to get up in the morning, so long as I could figure out a way to be awake at least a decent time before needing to get up for school. No amount of restrictions on how much I was allowed to drink would change the fact that I would need to pee when I woke up in the morning. I wasn’t sure of all the specifics of the plan. I would simply need to improvise when the time came.

I watched as Grace quickly finished her meal, excusing herself from the table and heading off toward her bedroom. I hadn’t managed to corner her yet. She still owed me an explanation for the poor grade she had gotten me on the Algebra homework.

I finished my hotdog in a large final bite and washed it down with the remainder of my pitiful serving of lemonade. It was time to confront my sister.

I retrieved the mangled homework paper from my backpack in my bedroom, straightening it out before walking up to my sister’s bedroom door.

I knocked on Grace’s door. No response. I knocked again, a bit louder.

“I’m coming,” Grace said. “Yes, I know I need to still do the dishes.”

A few seconds later, her bedroom door cracked open a few inches.

“Oh, it’s you?” Grace said. “I’m busy.”

I shoved the homework paper in her face before she could shut the door on me. Grace nudged it aside with her hand.

“What are you so upset about?” Grace asked nonchalantly.

“I got a ‘C’ on the assignment. You were supposed to help me get all the questions correct.”

Grace rolled her eyes.

“Let me let you in on a secret of cheating on homework. Never get a score that would make your teacher suspicious. If you had turned in an assignment that had every single answer correct, that would raise a lot of questions. I doubt you’ve gotten an ‘A’ on any assignment in the class this year, and to do so on an especially difficult one would make it look really obvious that you didn’t do the work yourself.”

“Oh.” I hadn’t considered that at all.

“If I hadn’t helped, you probably would have gotten a zero on it,” Grace said. “So, you still came out well ahead. Now, if you don’t mind, I have things to do.”

Grace stepped back and shut the door in my face. I was left to wonder how she was so knowledgeable about cheating on homework.

<><><> 

“Maddy, your dad and I need to talk with you about something.”

I could feel my heart begin to speed up. That phrase was never the harbinger of good news.

I looked up at Mom from where I was sitting on the couch with my phone. She was standing near the entrance to the living room. There was a serious look on her face, but it differed from the more annoyed expression that she wore when I was in trouble for something.

Jackson was oblivious to Mom’s request. He was sprawled out on the carpet in front of the couch, playing Minecraft on a tablet. Thankfully, Grace was nowhere to be seen. She was secluded upstairs again in her bedroom after having come down briefly to wash dishes in the kitchen.

What could I have possibly done wrong? The list of options was longer than I would have liked.

It had to be something more than just forgetting my chores. I would just be sent off to do them right away if that were the case.

The one thing that didn’t worry me was my end-of-year grades. They weren’t looking to be that good, but Mom and Dad wouldn’t be getting hold of them for at least a week or more. That could be dealt with later.

But there was the Algebra quiz. Had Mr. Thompson decided something was off after all and told my parents about it? Or had one of my friends blabbed about how Grace had left us on our own at the mall? Either of those would have me spending a sizable amount of time grounded at the start of summer break.

But as bad as either of those two outcomes might be, there were even worse possibilities to consider. What if they’d caught on to how I had been faking the bedwetting? If they questioned me about whether it was real, would I be able to lie effectively, or would I crumble under the pressure of that interrogation?

“Maddy, come on,” Mom said, giving her head a slight shake in the direction of the hallway.

I stepped carefully over my brother as I walked in a straight line toward the hallway. Regardless of what I was going to be disciplined for, I had a pretty good idea of how it was going to go down.

Unlike either of my friends, I had never been on the receiving end of a spanking. That didn’t mean that my parents’ disciplinary methods were ever enjoyable. In fact, there were a number of times when I think I would have rather endured a spanking than be forced to be grounded from electronics for a week.

As I followed Mom down the hallway, I was mentally bracing myself for the long lecture I was about to get, followed by being grounded from whatever my parents thought would best convince me to behave better in the future.

There wasn’t a specific location in the house where these conversations normally took place; it was always somewhere away from my siblings, so they couldn’t eavesdrop on the conversation.

I followed Mom to the entrance room, where Dad was already sitting on the right side of a small couch.

Dad patted the middle of the couch. “Why don’t you have a seat, Maddy.”

That was different from normal. Aside from the fact that these lectures usually began before being given a chance to sit down, there was the realization that neither of my parents had used my full name. That made me even more confused. So, I wasn’t in trouble?

I took a seat next to Dad, and then Mom squeezed in beside me to my left. There was barely enough room for us on the couch, which was probably only meant for two occupants.

I kept my mouth shut. Better to wait and see what exactly my parents were up to than guess and be wrong.

“We need to have a talk about what’s been happening at night,” Mom said. “About how we’re going to need to handle the bedwetting.”

There it was. I tried to get myself into the right mindset for this conversation. I had to talk as though the bedwetting was surprising and upsetting, that I wanted nothing more than for it to come to an end. And, if possible, I needed to find a way to discreetly steer the conversation toward the possibility of getting pull-ups without revealing how badly I wanted those specific undergarments.

“It is kind of our fault, in a way,” Dad said.

“And mine,” Mom added.

I looked back and forth between my parents. How in the world could it be their fault that I was wetting the bed?

“I read that if both parents had a history of wetting the bed as kids, then it meant their own kids have a three-in-four chance of being bedwetters themselves,” Dad explained.

Fractions always gave me a hard time. I tried to picture it in my head the way that my elementary math teacher had explained long ago. Leave it to Dad to turn bedwetting into a math problem.

“What that means,” Mom said, “is that since your father and I both were bedwetters when we were kids, that means that it was very likely that our own kids would have issues with that as well. We thought we’d dodged a bullet with you and Jackson, but I guess not.”

Wait. What? I conjured images of Mom and Dad as kids, drawing on old family photo albums I had gone through before. The idea of either of them waking up in the middle of the night to wet sheets was too much. I started to laugh. “No way.”

I looked back and forth at Mom and Dad again. Sitting sandwiched between them was making this conversation more difficult than necessary. “For real?”

“I think I wet the bed nearly every night until I was nine or so,” Mom said. “I remember I wasn’t allowed to go on any sleepovers until I stopped. It lasted a bit longer for you, honey?”

“Yes,” Dad muttered.

I’d never seen him look so flustered.

“Bedwetting didn’t stop for me until I turned fourteen. My siblings weren’t as, um, understanding about it as they should have been.”

“The point we’re trying to say, Maddy,” Mom said, “is that bedwetting isn’t a big deal. It isn’t your fault or anything you need to be embarrassed about. It’s something that lots of other kids have to deal with. I don’t think this bedwetting phase should last all that long, but we’ll be with you to help you get through it, no matter how long it takes.”

“And if you have any questions or anything you want to tell us,” Dad said. “I promise we won’t judge you for it. We went through the same things as you.”

If only I was bold enough to take Dad up on that offer. There was a question I wanted to ask really badly. Had either of my parents worn diapers or pull-ups to bed? Had there even bed ones available in their size that long ago?

But I had to work to hold myself back from asking about it. No kid my age was going to proactively seek out information about diapers. I had to remember that I was supposed to be feeling embarrassed and concerned about the situation.

“I just don’t get why it started all of a sudden.”

“I don’t know either,” Mom said. “We’ll worry about that if it keeps up. For now, I think we’re just going to focus on making things a bit easier to clean up if the bedwetting happens again. We are going to need to do something to make sure that your mattress doesn’t get ruined. Cleaning it up afterward is OK for the occasional accident, but not if you are peeing on it almost every night.”

I focused all my thoughts on keeping a straight face. This was it. This was when they would tell me that they had purchased the pull-ups so that the mattress wouldn’t be getting wet every night. I could hardly believe my luck. I would be getting pull-ups after wetting the bed only three times in four days.

“We’re going to switch your mattress for the one that Grace has on her bed,” Dad said. “It has a waterproof covering, which makes it a lot easier to clean up after bedwetting accidents.”

That was not what I wanted. There was no hiding the look of disappointment on my face. But it improved my subterfuge, as Mom and Dad took it to be a sign that I was embarrassed by needing a special mattress.

Mom began to rub my back. “I’m sure this bedwetting phase will run its course quickly enough, but until then, won’t it be a lot nice to not have to worry about cleaning the mattress in the middle of the night? You could swap the bedding out and go back to sleeping in bed rather than on the floor in a sleeping bag.”

“I guess.” Mom had a solid point. It would be nice not to have to spray cleaning solutions and then dry off the mattress with paper towels and sprinkle baking soda all over it. Faking the bedwetting would take a lot less work on my part.

“We better get that done before it’s time for bed. Why don’t we get that taken care of now?” Dad said.

I followed my parents up the stairs and to my bedroom. My room was a bit of a mess. I had some dirty clothes tossed on the floor that should have been put in the laundry hamper, there was a pile of unfolded laundry on my bed that I had been supposed to get put away before dinner, and then there was the fact that I hadn’t made the bed either like I was supposed to. I had just tossed the clean sheets and covers haphazardly across the mattress.

Mom examined the scene with a sigh. “We’ll talk about the state of your bedroom later. Why don’t you get everything off of the mattress and set it to the side while we talk with your sister about the mattress swap?”

They left me to it, shutting the door behind them as they walked over to my sister’s bedroom.

I picked up the dirty laundry and tossed it into the hamper in the closet, then went to tackle the mess that was my bed. After tossing everything unceremoniously on the floor, I heard some raised voices from out in the hallway. I tiptoed over to my door and placed my ear right up against it.

“You’ve been asking for a new mattress for a long time,” Dad said.

“Yeah, and you always told me that you weren’t quite ready to trust me with one yet,” Grace said.

Did that mean what I thought it meant? Grace had supposedly stopped wetting the bed when she was twelve.

“Seriously, it was only like once or twice a year at that point. Besides, it hasn’t happened for like two years now.”

That probably wasn’t without any close calls, though. The time Grace had caught me in the hallway a few nights ago, she had been in quite the hurry to go use the toilet herself.

“Exactly,” Mom said. “So now is the perfect time to do the swap because of how your sister has been wetting the bed a lot the past few days.”

“That’s gross, Mom. I don’t want Maddy’s mattress. Not after she’s peed all over it.”

“Hey,” Mom said. “It got cleaned up right away each time. There aren’t any visible stains, and it doesn’t even smell funny at all. Besides, it’s not like the mattress you are giving her hasn’t been peed on several hundred times.”

“Yeah, but it has a plastic cover. It cleans off without a trace.”

“Look, we’re doing the mattress swap. I’m sure Maddy will be done with the bedwetting soon. When that happens. She’ll have her old mattress back, and we’ll buy a new one for you.”

“Ugh, fine,” Grace said. “I’ll get the sheets off.”

I heard my sister’s bedroom door shut rather loudly. I retreated to standing back near my bed lest my parents returned to my bedroom to catch me eavesdropping.

Mom opened my bedroom door a few seconds later. “Are you all set, Maddy?”

“Yeah.”

“Good; why don’t you help me get your mattress off of the bed frame?”

The mattress wasn’t as heavy as I had expected it to be, but it was still a bit of work to lift it up and set it against the wall. Dad and Grace entered the bedroom a minute later, carrying a strange mattress.

It wasn’t a normal looking white mattress, like mine, and it also didn’t have a fabric exterior. It instead had a light blue vinyl exterior. It looked more like something that would be seen in a hospital than a bedroom. The new mattress fit onto the bedframe perfectly, which was the benefit of us both having queen-sized beds.

From how Grace was looking at my mattress, I could tell that she was trying to determine if there were any visible urine stains on it. I didn’t know why Grace had thrown such a fuss in the hallway. It seemed that she was getting the better deal out of this. She finally had a normal, comfortable mattress to sleep on.

“Well, that’s set,” Mom said. “Why don’t you get your bed made, Maddy, we’ll leave you to it.”

Dad and Grace grabbed my mattress while Mom went ahead and held the door open all the way so they could maneuver it out into the hallway and toward Grace’s bedroom.

Mom shut the door behind her, leaving me by myself. Once all the sheets and covers were back on, my bed didn’t look any different. At first glance, there wouldn’t be any way to tell that something was off.

The changed the moment I laid down on it, as it crinkled loudly, reminiscent of that time three years ago when I had snooped through my sister’s bedroom. Even shifting my weight ever so slightly caused more plastic crinkling sounds.

There was no question that it was a downgrade from my other mattress. It likely was going to take a while to get used to sleeping in it. Still, it couldn’t be argued that this was going to beat sleeping on the floor.

I tried to lie as still as I could, just to get a moment of silence. It wasn’t the pull-ups I had been hoping for. It was progress. Mom and Dad were now taking the bedwetting seriously, but was it progress in the right direction?

Had this been their sole solution for my sister’s bedwetting? What if they had never once purchased pull-ups for her? What if my parents didn’t care that my sheets and bedding got soaked with urine every night so long as the mattress was protected?

Could that be the reason I had never noticed Grace wearing a pull-up before bed? Was this why I hadn’t been able to find any evidence of pull-ups since that time I had searched her bedroom? Had my parents deliberately decided not to get her pull-ups, or perhaps had they not even realized that it was an option?

My sister had been potty trained around the same age as me, meaning she would have been about two when she was dry during the day. She didn’t stop regularly wetting the bed until she was twelve. Had she really gone through ten straight years of waking up to wet pajamas every night? Ten straight years of needing to change sheets and bedding in the dark, first with her parents’ help and then on her own? That sounded absolutely awful.

And that still left the question about what had happened on that vacation to my grandparents’ place six years ago. Grace had wet the bed that first night. And there had been no further evidence of accidents after that. Had six-year-old me simply not been all that observant? Or had something else been going on at the time?

I hadn’t even considered the possibility of different types of mattresses. I realized that there was still a lot about bedwetting that I didn’t know.

I checked my phone. It was about time to get ready for bed again. I went to brush my teeth and use the toilet.

There was nothing to do but keep pressing forward with my plan. My parents still seemed to think that the bedwetting would end soon. Perhaps if it didn’t, they might start to look at solutions other than the waterproof mattress. I set the alarm on my phone for forty-five minutes before I was supposed to be up for school. It wouldn’t do any good to have it wake anyone else in the house. But I had the perfect solution in mind.

As I laid back down on my now super crinkly bed, I plugged a pair of headphones into my phone. I tucked one of them into my right ear, making sure to lay down in a way that wouldn’t cause me to dislodge the headphones while I was asleep.

I would pee in the bed when I woke up early and allow Mom to discover me sleeping in a wet bed when she came to get me up for school. I needed to make the bedwetting as inconvenient as possible. I had to get to a point where my parents would realize that pull-ups would make managing it so much easier.

 

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Links to all my stories can be found at https://abdlwriter.wordpress.com/ 

[AnythingWillDo]

There are so many ways and ideas I have where you could be taking this. Yet I’m also sure none of them are right ha! Loving the whole slow-burn on this story, and I’m sure it won’t just end the second she actually gets pull ups. 3 things I think may happen:

- She gets a pull up/diaper for a night from someone else but not her parents (a tease for what’s to come)

- the parents bedwetting is key to how they handled Grace and how much they will delay pull ups

- there will be a twist once she actually gets protection that she won’t necessarily enjoy at first. (My guess is she is treated more like a baby)

 

really love all your works and will continue to eagerly await each update. You have inspired me to get back into writing as well so thank you for your efforts!

[seanwill25]

Predicting it now, she is not getting pullups.  Her parents being bedwetter's themselves probably believe pullups/diapers are traumatizing.  The only way she will be able to get pullups then will be to have daytime "accidents" when her summer break starts.

[Allman90]

13 hours ago, seanwill25 said:

Predicting it now, she is not getting pullups.  Her parents being bedwetter's themselves probably believe pullups/diapers are traumatizing.  The only way she will be able to get pullups then will be to have daytime "accidents" when her summer break starts.

Yeah, I've my suspicions it could go like this. Or perhaps even her needing to admit what she wants, at least to somebody. 

 

 

I take note of the title being "The girl who wanted to wear diapers" not "the girl who wore diapers."

I do hope MW isn't that mean. lol

[MinnesotaWriter]

On 3/19/2024 at 7:13 PM, AnythingWillDo said:

There are so many ways and ideas I have where you could be taking this. Yet I’m also sure none of them are right ha! Loving the whole slow-burn on this story, and I’m sure it won’t just end the second she actually gets pull ups. 3 things I think may happen:

- She gets a pull up/diaper for a night from someone else but not her parents (a tease for what’s to come)

- the parents bedwetting is key to how they handled Grace and how much they will delay pull ups

- there will be a twist once she actually gets protection that she won’t necessarily enjoy at first. (My guess is she is treated more like a baby)

 

really love all your works and will continue to eagerly await each update. You have inspired me to get back into writing as well so thank you for your efforts!

Thanks, like seeing the theories, though I'll need to stay mum on how those may go.

On 3/19/2024 at 9:07 PM, seanwill25 said:

Predicting it now, she is not getting pullups.  Her parents being bedwetter's themselves probably believe pullups/diapers are traumatizing.  The only way she will be able to get pullups then will be to have daytime "accidents" when her summer break starts.

That is an interesting theory. We will definitely be learning more about her parent's experiences with bedwetting and how that impacts their decision making (along with more info about how Grace's bedwetting was handled).

On 3/20/2024 at 10:43 AM, Allman90 said:

Yeah, I've my suspicions it could go like this. Or perhaps even her needing to admit what she wants, at least to somebody. 

I take note of the title being "The girl who wanted to wear diapers" not "the girl who wore diapers."

I do hope MW isn't that mean. lol

Maddy's parents are making it easy for her to get pull-ups, that's for sure. But it would be hard for her to confess that she has any interest in them. 

As for the title, we'll just have to see how things play out. There's a long way to go with the story. It's been 12 chapters so far and we've only covered a Friday afternoon to a Tuesday evening.