The Girl Who Wanted to Wear Diapers (Ch. 31 - 5/15/24)

[spark]

I wish my 12/13 year self had as much guts as Maddy.  It took me until I was nearly 20 before I peed my pants, and I still don't like to pee my pants.  The pee running down my legs.  I don't know what my parents would have done had I suddenly started to wet the bed and have during the day at 12 years. I know my mom kept me diapers longer than normal for the early 70's (potty trained about 4 years old), but after 8 years of no toileting issues- I think she would act similarly to Maddy's parents.

She is so over analyzing stuff, and kind of missing the big picture.  She wants her parents to think she has an issue controlling her bladder, but only having accidents in convenient places will probably give it away.  

PS- Maddy needs some advice when it comes to purposely wetting yourself.  Waiting until your bladder is bursting is a rookie mistake.   It is far better to pee every 20 minutes until it becomes second nature.

[MinnesotaWriter]

Chapter 27: Moment of Truth

Any trace that I had wet myself in the laundry room was long gone by the time the doorbell rang several hours later.

I had put off the rest of my chores until the last minute and had only just stepped back into the kitchen after taking the garbage out to the bin in the garage when Grace arrived home.

Dad was the next to arrive home about five minutes later, followed by Mom, who had Jackson in tow.

My stomach grumbled loudly. Usually, when Grace was home in the afternoon, she would often help with getting a few things prepped for dinner so that it would be easier for our parents to finish quickly once they were home from work.

That wasn't the case with me. I had been expressly forbidden from touching the oven or the stove while they were away, and Dad didn't even feel comfortable with me chopping vegetables with his extra-sharp kitchen knives, even when he was around to supervise in the kitchen. It didn't seem likely that dinner prep was a responsibility I would be given anytime soon, not that it was something I was eager to add to my already more than long enough list of chores.

I hid away in my bedroom until dinner, partly to read Harry Potter without any judgmental glances from my parents, but mostly so that I could continue to sneak glances at the package of pull-ups in my dresser. It felt like bedtime was still way too far away. There were so many questions that needed answering. Would this generic brand live up to the lofty expectations I had built up over the past three years?

Dinner was spaghetti, steamed zucchini, and toasted garlic bread. I arrived at my spot at the table to a surprise. Unlike the past week, my glass was once again filled the same way as everyone else's.

That was a welcome, although unexpected, concession from my parents, who had been diligent in limiting my fluid intake at and after dinner. It made sense. If I was going to wet the bed regardless of how much I had to drink, it didn't make all that much sense to have me stay thirsty all night long.

Still, as much as I preferred having nice, filtered water to drink, I wasn't going to push my luck and go for a refill while still eating dinner. Jackson was too young and self-absorbed – rather like myself at his age – to even notice that something was different with my glass of water. On the other hand, I could see from the look on Grace's face as I took a large sip of water that she seemed to think this wasn't going to bode well for me come bedtime.

That did raise another concern. Under no circumstances did I want Grace to find out that I was wearing pull-ups to bed. It was enough for her to know that I had been wetting the bed. With any luck, once she noticed that I was no longer doing any laundry in the morning, she would simply think that my short-lived bedwetting phase must have come to an end.

I hadn't directly asked my parents to withhold that information from my older sister, but with how hush-hush they had been with all the bedwetting issues between us, not saying anything unless it was necessary to do so, I felt confident that my privacy would get respected in that matter.

Wouldn't she be surprised when the next few days passed without me doing any extra laundry? I wondered if it wasn't too late to get my old bed back. Surely, I wouldn't need that now that I had pull-ups to keep my sheets dry.

The rest of the evening ticked by all too slowly. Instead of hiding in her bedroom, as was her usual routine after dinner, Grace was in the living room with me and our parents.

I would have preferred that she wasn't around for the request I had for Dad, but I figured that it probably wouldn't make any difference. I needed something, anything, to pass the time. And I figured now was as good a time as ever to see if Dad would unblock that website Hannah had mentioned to me over the weekend so that I could access the supposed treasure trove of Harry Potter stories on it.

Dad frowned slightly as I named the website that I wanted to be able to visit. I made sure not to mention why I was specifically interested in it, as I suspected that it wouldn't help my cause.

"And who mentioned this site to you?" he asked.

"Um, Hannah?"

"And Hannah is?"

"Emma's cousin. She was visiting over the weekend."

"I see," Dad said. He pulled out his phone and began to tap on it. I assumed that he must be checking out the website.

I crossed my legs as I waited anxiously for his answer. I didn't see what was taking so long. There couldn't be any way that Hannah would have told me about visiting a site that was anything bad.

"Probably best if you didn't go reading stories on there," Dad said.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Grace sitting on the couch. She appeared to be biting her lip.

"But Hannah did, and she's my age..." I nearly mentioned the fact that Hannah was autistic, but I also wasn't sure that would help my case, either.

Dad set his phone down. "Just because her parents let her doesn't mean that it's a good idea. If you need more books to read, I'm sure Grace could run you over to the library."

"No, I'm fine."

Grace seemed relieved with that answer.

<><><> 

I didn't bother hiding the Harry Potter book I was reading when Mom called my name after knocking on the bedroom door.

"Yes, you can come in."

Instead of just cracking the door open a couple of inches, like she usually did when she had something to tell me, Mom stepped inside the bedroom and closed the door behind her before walking up to my bed.

"Are you still wanting to try that, um, new underwear I got for you tonight?" Mom asked in a hushed tone.

New underwear, now, that was certainly one way to refer to the pull-ups.

I nodded. It seemed rather unnecessary for Mom to come up here like that to ask that question.

"OK, we'll see how they work then," Mom said. "It's getting late enough, so you should get ready for bed, and don't forget to use the toilet after you brush your teeth."

I did make sure to brush my teeth, but only for about twenty seconds, rather than the full two minutes that Mom and Dad always insisted that I did.

And then I was alone again in the bedroom, staring down at the package of pull-ups in my dresser drawer.

There was a dotted line on the side of the package that seemed to indicate that this was where I was supposed to tear it open. That seemed as good a way as any to get it open, better than risking cutting too much with scissors.

I ripped open the package all the way and removed a single pull-up from the package.

As I held the pull-up in my hands, it appeared as though this pull-up was decidedly inferior in every imaginable way to the one of Hannah's that I had worn just the other day.

The first issue was with how the pull-up looked. It wouldn't technically be correct to call these pull-ups ugly. Boring and plain were more apt descriptors. The pull-up was mostly white, with some gray patterns down the middle of the front and back. I couldn't really tell what they were supposed to be designs of.

I emptied the remaining ten pull-ups from the package into my underwear drawer, trying to see if there were any others with better designs on them. Nope. They all had the exact same boring pattern, unlike the pull-up brand I had wanted, which came with two separate designs.

But that was far from the only difference that I noticed. As I held the pull-up in my hands, I practiced spreading out its stretchy sides. They didn't seem as malleable as the Hannah's pull-ups had been. They were a little rougher to the touch and not as stretchy. Still, as I held them stretched out against my waist, it seemed as though I wouldn't have any difficulty fitting into them.

At the sound of footsteps in the hallway, I hastily dropped the pull-up back into the drawer and slammed it shut. I waited until the steps had passed my room, and I heard what I assumed to be Grace's bedroom door open and close.

With the hallway once again silent, it was time for the first test. I undressed and once again opened the top drawer of my dresser. My hands weren't shaking anywhere, nearly as bad as when I had put a pull-up.

I once again stretched the pull-up open, slipping in one leg and then another through the leg gatherings before pulling it up to my waist.

That was when I noticed the last two differences with this pull-up. The way that it fit around my waist didn't feel the same, and the sides of the pull-up were just a little scratchy. The other sensation that was different was the padding between my legs. It felt stiffer and not as soft as the two previous pull-ups I had worn.

I tried to remind myself that it didn't matter what the pull-up looked like – no one else was going to see it except me. All that mattered was that it did what it was supposed to do, keep my bed dry when I wet it later tonight.

Wetting it wasn't going to be that much of a challenge. Yes, I used the toilet when I went to brush my teeth. I knew better than to disobey Mom's request that I do so. But with my parents not having restricted my liquids tonight, along with still having had a few sips from my secret water bottle, I estimated that I would be feeling the urge to pee again in about another hour.

That didn't stop me from once again removing the water bottle from its hiding place and taking a few last gulps.

I stood in front of my dresser for a moment with nothing but the pull-up and a t-shirt. My annoyance at not getting the exact product I had dreamt of began to fade away. This was it. After all those long years of waiting. I finally had pull-ups of my own.

I thought back to everything I had gone through to get to this point since that fateful moment with my cousins three years back. The inability to find pull-ups in the house, the slow process of learning more about diapers and pull-ups through all the ads I would sneak looks at. The time I had attempted – and failed quite badly – at creating a makeshift diaper for myself. The way I had kept my eyes and ears peeled for any news or glimpse of diapers while in public. The times I had chickened out of taking diapers from friends of my parents who had kids who weren't potty trained. All the times when I had considered going through with becoming a bedwetter, only to back out at the last minute.

Getting to this moment had been my constant, single obsession. I wasn't going to let anything ruin it.

I thought, for a moment, about what I should wear to bed. I considered putting on some pajama shorts, but decided against them. I didn't want anything preventing me from feeling and seeing the pull-up once I was in bed.

I knew I couldn't linger long in front of the dresser. Yes, Jackson was supposed to be in bed, but I didn't even want to think about how I would have to explain things if he or anyone else were to spot me in this state of undress.

I tiptoed speedily across the room to turn off the light switch, suddenly conscious of how noisily the pull-up crinkled as I moved. I was extremely grateful I was only going to have to pretend to Mom that I wore it during upcoming sleepovers this summer.

I hurried to get all the lights off, and then I slipped under the covers of my bed. The crinkling sound of the pull-up soon became lost in the crinkling of my waterproof mattress.

The next hour passed by way too slowly. I tried to find ways to distract myself as I waited for my bladder to fill, but I couldn't keep my mind – or my hands – off of the pull-up for long.

I kept reaching down to feel the outside of the pull-up, reassuring myself that, yes, it was actually real and I was actually wearing it. I found that I enjoyed the sensation of having all the padding between my legs as much as I had before, though I suspected it would take a while to get used to falling asleep like this.

It was almost hard to believe that this crazy scheme had worked. Mom and Dad fully believed I was an actual bedwetter. Even Grace did as well, even if I would have preferred that she have remained completely ignorant of what was happening.

I stared at my phone in annoyance. Why had Dad made such a big deal about me wanting to visit that website? I couldn't see how it could be a big deal if even Hannah was allowed to use it. And nothing she had said about the Harry Potter fanfiction stories had made it seem like they would be anything my parents would consider inappropriate for me.

That would have been a perfect way to pass the time tonight. It might have even been enough to temporarily distract me from the pull-up I was wearing.

Instead, I used the flashlight on my phone to continue reading the Harry Potter book I had started earlier this afternoon. I made sure to do so from under my covers. Even with the door shut, my parents would be able to tell if I had the lights on yet. Yes, I had a later bedtime during summer break, but that didn't mean that there still wasn't the expectation that I would need to go to bed at some point.

Unlike previous nights, I didn't bother with waiting until my parents were asleep and in bed. It wasn't as though I was going to need privacy to go down to the laundry room and put wet bedding in the laundry machine. I figured I would just fall asleep in the wet pull-up and deal with cleaning up in the morning.

With my bladder finally telling me it was ready to go, I set my phone and book aside and rolled over beneath the covers. I laid on my stomach like I had done previously when forcing myself to wet the bed. After more than a week of practice, I had become comfortable letting my bladder go from that position as long as I had a reasonably strong need to pee.

I was squirming, both out of the need to pee and in anticipation of what I was finally about to do. I took one final deep breath and let everything go.

For a moment, it was everything I could have dreamed that it was going to be. It was warm. Oh so warm, and it was all contained in one spot. I hadn't really thought much about how it would feel specifically to wet a pull-up, what did catch me by surprise was how it felt as though the absorbent material in the pull-up was greatly expanding into a squishy mass between my legs.

Then everything went wrong.

I felt something wet in a spot that should have been dry.

I slid my hand around the outside of the pull-up. My bare thighs were undeniably wet, and there was a smallish wet spot that had expanded directly on the sheets around my waist.

There was no mistaking what had happened. Disaster had struck. The pull-up had leaked.

 

---

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

 

[warpiper]

And now we realize that if you buy garbage products you get leaks. 

Looks like we need to switch to adult diapers, and she should wear them all the time. Mmhmm. Yup. 

[LGGrace]

I relate to Maddy's disappointment in her first pull-ups/diapers. The first pull-ups I bought my freshman year of college were goodnites X/XL 65-125lbs, and weighing a little over 130, they did not fit good and leaked too easily. With me now weighing a little over 135, the new XL size fits me perfectly.

[LittleAcorn]

I love the last couple updates. Including the detail how she doesn’t like her socks getting wet is a great detail. 

I'm slightly confused about their laundry room drain though. Does the washing machine drain onto the floor? It is in a basement, and I suppose I’ve never had a basement, but every washing machine I’ve had has had a dedicated drain line. Oh well, I’m probably overthinking this. I’m just glad the evidence was washed away. 
 

I wonder how Grace is getting around parental controls - unless hers are less strict since she’s older. It seems like she knows what types of stuff you can find on fanfic sites. And based on earlier behavior may be contributing fan art too. 

[Bonsai]

It must be tough to have a father that is an IT expert and is afraid to have his precious daughters exposed to internet perils too soon. 

The first result is that both daughters learn to conceal very well their dirty secrets not only from parents, but also one from the other and from the rest of the world. They both learn that open communication is not the best way to get what they want.

Grace apparently knows very well how to deal with this in a balanced way: respect all rules while under parents' roof, but meanwhile get an income and get ready to move out as soon as possible.

Maddy seems equally determined to acheive her secret goals, but unable to see the broader picture and less apt at deception than her sister.

[fyunch]

What IS on that fanfic website and will we find out?  And will it figure any more deeply in Maddy’s tale?  Inquiring minds want to know …

[MinnesotaWriter]

On 4/30/2024 at 9:46 PM, spark said:

She is so over analyzing stuff, and kind of missing the big picture.  She wants her parents to think she has an issue controlling her bladder, but only having accidents in convenient places will probably give it away.  

PS- Maddy needs some advice when it comes to purposely wetting yourself.  Waiting until your bladder is bursting is a rookie mistake.   It is far better to pee every 20 minutes until it becomes second nature.

I mean, I think there are lots of kids who have bedwetting issues but are completely good during the day, so I don't think that bedwetting without any daytime accidents would arouse any suspicion from her parents.

Going every twenty minutes might be good if she wanted to weaken her control and have actual accidents, but that isn't what Maddy is going for. It was more the experience of having a large accident as a one time thing.

12 hours ago, warpiper said:

And now we realize that if you buy garbage products you get leaks. 

Looks like we need to switch to adult diapers, and she should wear them all the time. Mmhmm. Yup. 

I wouldn't say it is for sure a result of the product being bad. Overhydrating can cause a pull-up/diaper to leak when it would have otherwise been fine with a regular-sized wetting. And even with the best level of protection, leaks can still be a thing on occasions (especially at night when you may not always be sleeping in an ideal position).

11 hours ago, LGGrace said:

I relate to Maddy's disappointment in her first pull-ups/diapers. The first pull-ups I bought my freshman year of college were goodnites X/XL 65-125lbs, and weighing a little over 130, they did not fit good and leaked too easily. With me now weighing a little over 135, the new XL size fits me perfectly.

That was my experience as well, though it was with Goodnites I managed to procure in high school. At least I didn't wet them in bed though. But yes, it was quite dissapointing.

9 hours ago, LittleAcorn said:

I love the last couple updates. Including the detail how she doesn’t like her socks getting wet is a great detail. 

I'm slightly confused about their laundry room drain though. Does the washing machine drain onto the floor? It is in a basement, and I suppose I’ve never had a basement, but every washing machine I’ve had has had a dedicated drain line. Oh well, I’m probably overthinking this. I’m just glad the evidence was washed away. 
 

I wonder how Grace is getting around parental controls - unless hers are less strict since she’s older. It seems like she knows what types of stuff you can find on fanfic sites. And based on earlier behavior may be contributing fan art too. 

The laundry room description is very much an auto-biographical detail on my part, came with growing up in an older house. From what I recall, there was a hose/line from the washing machine that dropped off close to where the drain was located. It didn't really get a large area of the floor wet, but for Maddy's purposes, it wasn't a bad location if she wanted to wet herself and have an easier cleanup.

Grace certainly has her secrets, but we'll have to let them stay secrets, at least for now. And as she is 18, she likely has a bit more freedom in what she is able to explore online.

3 hours ago, Bonsai said:

It must be tough to have a father that is an IT expert and is afraid to have his precious daughters exposed to internet perils too soon. 

The first result is that both daughters learn to conceal very well their dirty secrets not only from parents, but also one from the other and from the rest of the world. They both learn that open communication is not the best way to get what they want.

Grace apparently knows very well how to deal with this in a balanced way: respect all rules while under parents' roof, but meanwhile get an income and get ready to move out as soon as possible.

Maddy seems equally determined to acheive her secret goals, but unable to see the broader picture and less apt at deception than her sister.

I would say that setting reasonable limits on internet access (especially for a kid that technically isn't a teenager yet, is fairly reasonable, there are plenty of things that a kid that age doesn't need to be exposed to, obviously that changes with someone that is older like Grace)

2 hours ago, fyunch said:

What IS on that fanfic website and will we find out?  And will it figure any more deeply in Maddy’s tale?  Inquiring minds want to know …

We'll find out at some point later on in the story. Probably not immediately though, as Maddy doesn't have any means of accessing it at the moment.

[AbyMatt]

I can see Maddy's mom getting the generic pull-up because the design is less infantile which Mom expects will be easier for Maddy to accept. Now that Maddy is showing that she will overload the pullups, I wonder how long Mom will let that go on. On the one hand, Mom was reluctant to even get pullups, so she was okay with the sheets being washed every day. On the other hand, she is trying to help Maddy find something that will work for a sleepover, and pullups won't cut it. I wonder if Maddy is going to get more than she bargained for.

[PamperedPrince]

This story was me.  But instead of the Girl Who Wanted to Wear Diapers, I was the Boy who Wanted to Wear Diapers.  The only difference was that I was 13 years old when I bought some cheap Depends at the pharmacy.  I too was very disappointed.  It also unfortunately led to me sneaking one of my friend's baby's diapers and then my my then baby cousin in the early 2000's when I was in high school.  Yup, I was just like Maddy alright... 😅

[DiaperStoryReader]

Thinking of Harry Potter stories with diapers  made me think of the incomplete story Matters Of Magic and Dealing With Diapers in which Hermione has to wear diapers to attend Hogwarts as all Witches are required to wear diapers until 21.

[MinnesotaWriter]

Chapter 28: Unprotected

This was a complete and total disaster.

I removed my wet hand from underneath the pull-up and wiped it dry on my sheets. There was no denying what had just happened during my first attempt at peeing in a pull-up; it had completely and utterly failed to do what it was supposed to do.

I pressed my face deep into my pillow and let out a heavily muffled scream. I had waited for too long and had worked far too hard to arrive at this moment, only to have it fail like this. Of all the obstacles I had thought I might encounter, having the pull-up leak on me actually hadn't been something I had considered. I had figured that as long as it fit me, there wouldn't be any issue with holding at least one wetting. That it would leak like this wasn't something I had ever imagined.

What was I supposed to do now?

The immediate problem was the wet sheets. They needed to be placed in the washing machine. But there wasn't anything I could do with them at the moment. Mom and Dad weren't in bed yet. I was highly skeptical that I would be able to successfully sneak downstairs and put my bedding in the laundry room without them noticing. And who knew if Grace was asleep? She, at least, should be already, as she had to be up early in the morning for her summer job, but that was far from guaranteed.

There was no choice but to try to stay up late enough that I could get a head start on my laundry once the rest of the family was asleep.

There was too much to worry about, and I couldn't even manage to relax and enjoy the aftermath of wetting the bed like I had all of those other nights. There wasn't any comfort to be found in the warmth and squishiness beneath me, not with the implication of the leak hanging over my head.

There were far bigger problems to contend with than what to do with my bedding.

If my parents didn't think that these pull-ups were able to keep my bed dry, what was to stop them from not purchasing any more for me and going back to the plan of just changing bedding every night?

That was, by far, the worst-case scenario. It was also completely believable that my parents could end up choosing to go that route, especially with how reluctant Mom had been to even consider pull-ups as an option when confronted with that idea during the appointment with Dr. Mathorn.

The only good thing was that there were still another eleven pull-ups in my dresser drawer, which meant eleven more chances to demonstrate to my parents that these pull-ups were useful enough that they should buy more for me when they ran out.

But there was a faster deadline approaching. My birthday was this Saturday, meaning that in order to convince my parents to allow the sleepover to succeed – avoiding any awkward conversations with my friends about why it might need to be canceled – I would only have four more nights to prove to them that wearing protection was a viable option to allow me to have a discreet sleepover. Obviously, there wasn't any way I would actually be wearing a pull-up around my friends that night, let alone pee in one, but that wasn't something for my parents to know.

There was no choice but to find a way to wet these pull-ups without causing a leak. There needing to be evidence on hand that this new choice was working.

But that required knowing what went wrong. Was it as simple as just having peed far more than the pull-up was intended to handle? Was it because Mom had purchased an inferior product? Had I perhaps drunk far too much water before going to bed? Or was there some other factor at play that I wasn't aware of?

What exactly happened when someone wet the bed for real? Did they have a big accident all at once, like how I had just peed myself, or did it come out slowly in little dribbles in a way that would be much less likely to leak out of a pull-up?

In any of those cases, the immediate solution to the problem wouldn't be all that difficult. If I cut down a little on how much I was drinking and avoided getting extra hydration from my secret water bottle, perhaps I could wet the pull-ups without a repeat of what happened tonight. In a worst-case scenario, I could just pour some water in the pull-up before throwing it away, and that would be enough to make it look as though it had been used.

Something else began to make a lot more sense. I remembered the diapers I had seen in Hannah's suitcase, which Emma had strongly implied that her cousin wore to bed every night. The amount of absorbent padding in those diapers had been many times more than what was in the pull-ups.

I wondered if I would have experienced a leak like this had I been wearing one of those diapers instead.

But why would pull-ups get sold for nighttime use if they weren't effective for actual bedwetters? The product had to work for most people. I mean, it certainly seemed enough for Hannah during the day, including that one time it appeared as though she had wet herself while we were headed back from the park.

I let out a big yawn as I attempted to settle into a comfortable position in bed.

I realized that it was much less fun to be lying in a puddle of pee when it was completely unexpected. That said, I did like how the wet pull-up felt, both with how it was extra warm and the way it squished beneath me. If only it had been enough to completely handle the wetting, then I could have laid like this comfortably all night long.

Another ten minutes passed before I began to hear the telltale signs coming from the bathroom that my parents were both beginning to get ready to head in for the night.

I yawned again. I was so tired, especially after all the nights of having my sleep schedule interrupted by either staying up too late or getting up extra early.

I closed my eyes once more, telling myself it would just be for a few seconds before I re-opened them to begin to get ready to take my bedding down to the laundry room. That turned out to be a lie.

<><><> 

I must have tossed and turned a lot in my sleep because when I woke up, I was no longer lying on my stomach in the middle of the bed. I had moved over to the side of the bed, having nearly slipped out from underneath all of my sheets.

There was enough sunlight coming in through the window that I knew it wasn't super early in the morning. Still, I didn't really feel like opening my eyes. I shifted over to my side, trying to get comfortable. For some reason, I was having a harder time closing my legs than I normally would have. There was something that had happened last night that I should have remembered, but it wasn't coming back to me.

There was a faint voice calling my name in the distance. "Maddy, it's time to get up."

My first reaction was that I didn't want to get up and go to school. Then I remembered that it was the second day of summer break, and once my family was off for the day, I'd have the entire house to myself.

I tossed off the covers as I prepared to swing out of bed. That was a mistake. A big mistake.

Because no sooner had the sheets come fully off that I really both what I was and wasn't wearing.

I was wearing a pull-up, which was the reason for the foreign sensation of bulkiness between my legs. And part of the reason that it was feeling so bulky was because of my attempt to wet it before I fell asleep last night.

But that was exacerbated by the problem of what I was wearing, as I had failed to put on any pajamas over the pull-up.

I pulled the sheets back over myself as soon as I realized what I had done, but it was far too late.

The result of all that was that Mom got a full view of everything that had occurred last night. The front of the pull-up had turned from white to a muted, faded yellow, and while I had rolled away from the wet spot in my sleep, the way I had tugged on my sheets and cover while starting to get up had also revealed the now-dry urine stain in the middle of the bed.

I raised the sheets over my head. I was so embarrassed. I had already come to accept the fact that my parents would be aware that I was peeing in the pull-ups, but that was far different from providing my mom with visual evidence of what I had done.

I heard some footsteps as Mom approached the bed and then took a seat next to me on the edge of the mattress. She patted my shoulder with her hand.

"It's OK, Maddy. I'll give you some privacy to get cleaned up in a little bit. Grace and your father are already off for the day. I'm getting ready to head out with Jackson. Just because it is summer break, it doesn't mean that you should be sleeping in till lunchtime. You can stay in bed until I leave, but I do expect you to get out of bed and get cleaned up right away once I'm gone."

"Fine," I said from beneath the sheets.

Mom paused, as though she was considering what to say next. "You don't have to wear your new underwear tomorrow night if you don't want to. I can see if I can still return them."

That wouldn't do. Not at all.

I slid the sheets off of my face so that I could see Mom, even if I didn't look up directly at her to respond to that offer.

"But I want to be able to have the sleepover," I said. "I'll try them again tonight. I might have had too much to drink."

"That could have been an issue," Mom said. "But it's OK if it still doesn't work. I'm sure that once the test results come back next week, Dr. Mathorn will have some good ideas about other ways to help you. Even if it feels like it, it wouldn't be the end of the world to skip one sleepover."

I wasn't going to let my parents give up on the idea of wearing protection to bed that easily. And there was no way I was going to miss the sleepover. Still, I nodded along, though I wondered what was going to happen when the results came back, showing that there wasn't anything wrong with my body at all.

"I left you a banana on the counter. You need to at least eat that for breakfast, even if you don't have any cereal or yogurt."

With that, Mom stood up from the edge of the bed and walked over to the window, which she cracked open. "When you get up, please make sure to take all your garbage out to the garage. That will help with making sure you room stays fresh."

I waited to get out of bed until I heard the sound of Mom's van pulling out of the driveway.

Now, it was time to examine the pull-up.

I got out of bed for real this time. The pull-up was less uncomfortable after sleeping it in all night long than I would have expected.

The stretchy sides appeared to have a spot in the middle where the pull-up could be torn to be easily removed, but I instead took the pull-up off the same way I would have with my regular underwear.

The pull-up was much heavier than when I had put it on the night before, though it still remained snug around my waist. It sagged noticeably as I slid it down my legs.

With the pull-up off, I noticed that my skin felt a bit gross. I would need to get washed thoroughly after spending a whole night wearing a wet diaper.

The last thing I noticed was that there was a faint smell of urine, similar to what I had smelled when I snuck into Emma's bedroom to get a glimpse of her cousins' pull-ups and diapers.

The inside of the pull-up had turned from white to yellow. The entire front of the pull-up was soaked, though the back and some of the middle on the inside appeared to have remained completely dry. That made sense, given that I had been laying on my stomach when I peed, which hadn't made efficient use of the absorbent padding.

A few ideas to solve the problem of leaks popped into my head. Perhaps I would get far better result if I were to wet the pull-up in a different position, such as standing, sitting, or laying on my back.

That gave me another idea. I needed to pee again, and the as my bedding already needed to be washed, there wasn't any harm if another leak happened. Besides, from the way the pull-up looked, I probably had only ended up wetting a third of it before it leaked last night.

Rather than toss the pull-up in the trash, I instead put it back on.

I thought about the best way to wet it again. I could pee while standing up, but I wanted to make the most use out of the remaining padding, that wasn't the most optimal position to go for.

I instead returned to bed, though I opted for laying on my back, with my head propped up on a pillow.

This was yet another new experiment for me, as I hadn't attempted to pee myself in that position before. It took a minute of straining, but I needed to go badly enough that I was able to work past the difficulty of getting my bladder to release from that position.

This sensation was much different from any of the previous times I had wet myself, as I could feel the urine running down between my legs before soaking into the pull-up beneath me.

At first, it felt as though the pull-up was just warming and expanding, and I began to hope that I would be successful in avoiding leaks this time around, but just like last night, it again reached its limit, with the pee first pooling inside of the pull-up beneath my bottom and then leaking out to form another puddle on the bed.

Perhaps if I had started this second experiment with a completely dry pull-up, it might have worked. But I had my doubts.

I had two options, neither of which was one that I liked.

I could be extra careful with how I wet the pull-up over the next few nights, being sure to do so in an optimal position and without having had too much to drink beforehand. That would convince my parents to continue buying the pull-ups and allow me to have all the sleepovers I wanted. But I would be stuck with pull-ups that fell far short of what I actually wanted. That wouldn't do, not with all the embarrassment and humiliation I had endured over the past two weeks to get them. I deserved a far better prize for my efforts.

However, the other option had its own pitfalls as well. I could continue to allow the pull-ups to leak and then try to get my parents to purchase a better product for me. The downsides to that were obvious. The first was the problem of finding something that worked before the sleepover, but the bigger issue was the concern that this might cause my parents to give up on the idea of diapers for good.

It was a lot to consider, but as I was once again being left to my own devices for the day, I would have plenty of time to come up with a solution.

 

---

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

 

[Zylo1893]

Damn you this is so good.

[MinnesotaWriter]

On 5/4/2024 at 9:59 AM, AbyMatt said:

I can see Maddy's mom getting the generic pull-up because the design is less infantile which Mom expects will be easier for Maddy to accept. Now that Maddy is showing that she will overload the pullups, I wonder how long Mom will let that go on. On the one hand, Mom was reluctant to even get pullups, so she was okay with the sheets being washed every day. On the other hand, she is trying to help Maddy find something that will work for a sleepover, and pullups won't cut it. I wonder if Maddy is going to get more than she bargained for.

The answer to that question (as hinted at in the story description) is most certainly. The real question is how and when. And for that there will be no spoilers.

On 5/4/2024 at 6:59 PM, PamperedPrince said:

This story was me.  But instead of the Girl Who Wanted to Wear Diapers, I was the Boy who Wanted to Wear Diapers.  The only difference was that I was 13 years old when I bought some cheap Depends at the pharmacy.  I too was very disappointed.  It also unfortunately led to me sneaking one of my friend's baby's diapers and then my my then baby cousin in the early 2000's when I was in high school.  Yup, I was just like Maddy alright... 😅

I think that a lot of people getting into ABDL have had similar experiences, while maybe not to the extreme of what Maddy is doing.

On 5/5/2024 at 8:40 AM, DiaperStoryReader said:

Thinking of Harry Potter stories with diapers  made me think of the incomplete story Matters Of Magic and Dealing With Diapers in which Hermione has to wear diapers to attend Hogwarts as all Witches are required to wear diapers until 21.

Interesting. A shame that isn't around, because I'd be curious about reading it.

On 5/7/2024 at 5:13 PM, Zylo1893 said:

Damn you this is so good.

Thanks!

[warpiper]

Waaaa! Waiting for the update!

[MinnesotaWriter]

Chapter 29: Goldilocks

It was barely time for lunch, and I was already bored out of my mind.

I shoved Chester off of my lap as I stood up from the couch. The orange cat gave me an angry meow before sprinting down the hallway and out of sight. I set the book I had been reading down on the couch without bothering to mark my place. I’d have no trouble finding the correct spot to resume later on from memory.

My stomach rumbled as I walked down the hallway.

I hadn’t eaten the banana that Mom had left for me in the kitchen for breakfast. Didn’t she know that it was basically my least favorite fruit? There was something about its mushy texture that I simply couldn’t stomach. Instead, the banana had gone into the trash bag along with the completely soaked pull-up, which hadn’t had a single dry spot remaining on it after I had wet it a second time.

In retrospect, that second attempt at peeing in the pull-up – done while laying on my back in bed – probably would have been best reserved for trying with a dry pull-up. However, it hadn’t leaked nearly as bad as when I had peed while lying on my stomach, so perhaps there was hope for attempting a wetting in that position sometime again.

The issue I was facing was I had too many experiments I needed to do with the pull-ups and too little time – and too few opportunities – to pull them off. There were two big questions I needed answers to: Were there positions in which I could wet a pull-up that had fewer chances of leaking? And how much could I get away with drinking without risking a leak like last night?

Mom was aware of how many pull-ups were in the package she had purchased for me. Even if she wasn’t keeping a close eye on them day-to-day now that they were tucked away in my dresser, if I were to use a bunch of them during the day, it would be very obvious that something was off when I went to ask her to buy me some more a week earlier.

That meant that I was stuck to an allotment of one pull-up per day. It didn’t feel like close to enough.

I had gotten what I had wanted, but it hadn’t turned out to be like what I had hoped for.

I was finally being given the freedom to stay home alone by myself for this summer break, but that freedom had come with its own costs. I couldn’t leave the house. I couldn’t have my friends over. I couldn’t even make myself a grilled cheese sandwich on the stove to deal with my growling stomach.

That last restriction was a major pain. I had texted Mom an hour ago, asking her what I was supposed to do for lunch for myself. She responded that there was bread and everything I needed to make a sandwich in the refrigerator.

The sight of bland lunchmeat as I opened the fridge door was enough to temper my appetite for the moment. Was that what I had to look forward to all summer long?

It wasn’t what I had pictured when I had dreamed of being given the freedom to stay home alone, and in a way, it was almost worse than prior years when I would be stuck home at times with my older sister. At least she usually left me home alone, especially when my friends came over to hang out, which they had actually been allowed to do then. And Grace, of course, had been considered responsible enough to handle kitchen appliances without burning the house down.

My parents had said they would be willing to re-evaluate things, but I didn’t know how long it would take for them to reach that decision.

Instead of returning to my book on the couch, I left the kitchen and trudged upstairs to my bedroom. 

In the past, having privacy like this might have led me to get out all the old advertisements of pull-ups and diapers I had saved over the years. Now, I couldn’t even bring myself to think of them or risk again feeling disappointment over what I had in my dresser drawer instead.

Instead, I pulled open the top drawer of the dresser and shuffled through the pull-ups with my hands. Part of me wanted to wear one right now and wet it, even with the risk that Mom might later notice the count was off. But the other part of me feared what might come of it. It wasn’t so much that I was worried about Mom catching me than the worry of how I would feel if I were to have the pull-ups fail on me yet again.

Unlike every night for nearly the past two weeks, I was dreading going to bed rather than looking forward to it. Any excitement over getting to wear a pull-up to bed again was overshadowed by doubts about the product’s effectiveness and my concerns about how well my fake bedwetting plan would hold up in light of last night’s failures.

That left me stuck in limbo. I wanted this afternoon to end, but didn’t want this evening to come.

I left the pull-ups behind in the dresser and returned downstairs. Tonight was going to answer a lot of questions, but I wasn’t sure I was ready for the answers.

<><><> 

My water restrictions were back in full effect during dinner. My glass of water was a little less full than everyone else’s at the dinner table, and I didn’t even bother asking for a refill, which I surely would have been denied.

I obeyed my parents’ unspoken limits without complaint, knowing that it would be necessary for what I planned to do tonight. While I limited how much I had to drink, I completely scarfed down the hot dish that was a Frankenstein combination of pizza and spaghetti, my ravenous hunger a result of skipping lunch in favor of snacking on a few handfuls of salted crackers.

It was a delicate balancing act that I needed to play out. I needed to be hydrated enough that I would be able to pee in the pull-up, but not so hydrated that I would cause it to leak out disastrously like last night. I was like Goldilocks; it had to be just right. 

That wasn’t to say I still didn’t steal a couple of sips from my hidden water bottle – after an extremely careful trip to refill it while Grace was downstairs washing dishes. But I made sure that it didn’t extend to anything beyond that.

I attempted to avoid any awkward conversation with my parents about my new nighttime underwear by voluntarily heading to bed at what they – and not me – considered to be an appropriate time for the summer.

Unlike yesterday, I hadn’t bothered to wet myself again while I was home alone for the afternoon. That was a mere substitute for what I really wanted, which was to be able to completely let my bladder loose into a pull-up, a quest that was currently delayed until I got my hands on something more absorbent than what Mom had initially purchased for me.

This time, while getting dressed for bed, I didn’t make the mistake of not having anything on to cover the pull-up. Granted, the pull-up – with its bland gray designs – wasn’t much to look at. 

I ended up being overdressed for the weather, with an extra-long T-shirt and poofy pajama pants that would have been better suited for bitterly cold January nights. But it guaranteed the pull-up would be fully covered.

I took a few steps across the room. The pull-up may have been hidden from sight, but I could still tell it was there. I wondered if the way I walked with the additional padding between my legs looked as awkward as it felt. I wondered if someone else would be able to hear the crinkling sound as I walked and, like I did with Hannah, come to the conclusion that there was a disposable undergarment beneath my pajamas.

There was a knock at the door. I knew it was Mom without needing to wait for her to say anything.

I looked over my pajamas. All discreet. “Come in.”

Mom opened the door and stepped halfway into the bedroom. “Are you all dressed for bed?” 

I stared at her blankly. “Duh.”

“Madelyn, don’t take that tone with me. You know what I meant.”

I actually didn’t have a clue what she meant. A second later, I realized that Mom wasn’t looking directly at me, but rather behind me. I twisted my head to get a look. My underwear drawer – with both my regular and new underwear – was still pulled all the way open, leaving its contents completely exposed. I reached out to push it shut with one hand. But I wasn’t successful. The dresser drawer got jammed on a pull-up that was sticking part of the way out.

Mom’s momentary frown relaxed into a gentle smile. I got it then.

I looked down at Mom’s feet. “Yeah, I’m all dressed for bed.”

“And are your teeth brushed?”

I nodded because saying “yes” would have been a lie, but I didn’t want to leave the bedroom because of how I was dressed.

“And if I check your toothbrush, is it going to be wet?”

“Mom,” I protested.

“Madelyn.”

I shuffled my feet. “No,” I muttered.

“Then you need to brush your teeth right away now. And use the toilet afterward.”                                                                                             

Mom stepped to the side and held the door open for me. Right now, meant right now.

I slowly stepped past her, cringing internally at what I was sure was the incredibly loud and obvious sound of the crinkling coming from the pull-up. 

No sooner had I started to brush my teeth than Grace joined me in the bathroom, taking the adjacent sink.

I stood completely still as I worked the toothbrush to all the places the dentist said it needed to go. 

If Mom or Dad – or even Jackson, for that matter – were around, I would typically brush for the two minutes that I was supposed to spend cleaning my teeth. That wasn’t always the case with Grace, who wasn’t as judgmental about that as my parents, and, unlike my brother, wasn’t one to go and tattle on me, either.

That wasn’t the case tonight. There was no chance I was going to leave the bathroom before my sister did. She may have never worn a pull-up to bed herself, but I still thought that there would be too great of a chance for her to notice that something was off about me.

I tried to keep count of how long I had been brushing my teeth, but I lost track after about forty or fifty seconds when my mind began to wander.

The only thing going for me was that Grace – while being more diligent in taking care of her teeth than me – wasn’t nearly as fastidious as either of my parents. Outlasting her wasn’t the most impossible of challenges.

Still, the minty taste of the sudsy toothpaste in my mouth began to be too much to bear. I spat it out in the sink before rinsing off my toothbrush and swishing some water in my mouth to get rid of the awful aftertaste of the toothpaste.

Grace had finished brushing her teeth before me and was now busy flossing. I absolutely hated flossing. But I needed an excuse to not leave the bathroom, so I was left with no other choice but to grab a disposable flossing stick from the drawer and begin to slowly work it in between my teeth.

I caught sight of Grace looking at me a bit incredulously, as if she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing, but I held firm, managing to floss most of my teeth by the time she had left for her bedroom.

<><><> 

I considered my options as I sat in bed with the covers off and only a thin sheet on top of me. I wasn’t too warm to fall asleep later, but the way I was dressed was less than ideal. It was my only option, though. I wasn’t going to go through a repeat of this morning when Mom got a glimpse of my wet pull-up. I didn’t even want to imagine how embarrassing that would have been if that had been anyone else in the family who had seen me in that state. 

Since I had leaked both times while lying down, perhaps it was best to wet the pull-up in that position tonight.

Standing up in my room wasn’t a good option. Leaking onto the carpet would be a disaster. I could stand on top of my bed, but even then, a leak would be impossible to hide from Mom. Going all the way down to the basement was also ruled out. That might have worked when I had the excuse of taking laundry downstairs, but it would be harder to explain if I was caught doing that otherwise.

That is how I found myself sitting in the safest position to pee into a pull-up – on the toilet.

It was what I had done that one time I had attempted to put together a makeshift diaper. That time, the decision to sit on the toilet had been because of the difficulties I had had in trying to pee myself, though that had proved to be a good decision considering how poorly the makeshift diaper had performed.

The walk from my bedroom to the bathroom, even though it was just the tiniest of strolls down the hallway, had nonetheless been nerve-wracking. I remembered all too well how Grace had caught me in wet pajamas in the hallway that one night when I had been certain that everyone else would be asleep. Still, as it was now after midnight, I felt confident that no one would be able to tell that I had gotten up.

There wasn’t any way for me to lose in this scenario. If the pull-up didn’t leak, I could go back to bed and wear it the rest of the night.

On the other hand, if it did end up leaking, there would be no evidence for Mom to find. I would likely need to toss the pull-up in the trash, but if Mom were to notice, I could always say that I had woken up early in the morning after an accident and tossed the pull-up to be more comfortable.

Wetting the pull-up while sitting on the toilet required little effort on my part, which was good because the need to pee wasn’t all that urgent. Bladders weren’t particularly smart that way. My bottom was seated on the toilet, so the fact that I still had a pull-up around my waist was inconsequential. 

I found myself peeing the moment I decided that I wanted to.

This time, I counted the seconds out in my head as I began to feel a familiar warmth against my body.

One Mississippi. Two Mississippi.

For the first time after wetting the pull-up, I got to watch as it soaked up all the urine. 

The pull-up did nothing to hide the fact that I was wetting, aside from how it began to swell up all around the epicenter. The white backing in the pull-up didn’t exactly stay white for long. It was one thing to feel it happening as I was lying in bed; it was something entirely else to watch the process take place.

I had to resist the urge to press against the pull-up and keep it firmly in place against my body in an attempt to stop any leaks from happening. If I was going to avoid any leaks, it was going to need to happen naturally.

It felt so incredibly good, and this time there wasn’t the rude interruption of wet sheets to interrupt my enjoyment of this wonderful sensation.

Nine Mississippi. Ten Mississippi.

Then I was all done. It was hardly the massive wetting like I had done yesterday afternoon in the basement or even close to as much as I had peed into the pull-up either of the two times I had wet it.

I listened carefully as I remained as still as I could on the toilet, waiting nervously for the sound of any urine leaking from the pull-up and dripping down into the toilet. All I heard was silence. I ran my hands down the inside of my thighs. Both stayed completely dry. 

I released a large sigh of relief. I had done it. The third time was the charm. I had actually managed to pee in a pull-up successfully.

I didn’t get up from the toilet immediately. I was too comfortable to want to move. I gave the front of the pull-up a gently squeeze, feeling how much it had expanded. I estimated that the pull-up was perhaps only halfway full.

Without the need to stress over how to handle a leak, I was finally able to relax and take in the sensation of wearing a wet pull-up. 

For several minutes, I allowed myself to empty my head of anything but the thoughts of how good I was feeling, but then it was time to return to bed.

That left me with a difficult choice. I really didn’t want to take the pull-up off, but I also was slightly worried that it might leak once I laid down on it in bed. Despite the risks, I couldn’t bring myself to remove the pull-up before I crawled back into bed.

I reflexively ran my hand under my waist just to double check that nothing had leaked out when I had pressed the pull-up between myself and the bed, but my sheets remained dry.

The effectiveness of the nighttime pull-ups began to make more sense now. Assuming that kids who wet the bed didn’t chug down lots of liquids before going to sleep, it did seem as though these pull-ups could live up to their claim of being able to provide enough protection to keep bedding and pajamas dry overnight.

I told myself that I could make this work. Having a pull-up I could pee in a little was far better than not having one to pee into at all.

It wasn’t everything that I wanted, but it would need to be enough for now. I had a sleepover to host this weekend.

 

---

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

[LittleAcorn]

I love the how you've conveyed her mix of excitement and disappointment at her situation throughout this chapter.  She has what she's wanted, but it's just not quite right.  And making sure to keep track of the number of diapers left is totally something I would have done.

Edited Monday at 12:08 PM by LittleAcorn
spelling

[MinnesotaWriter]

On 5/10/2024 at 12:36 PM, LittleAcorn said:

I love the how you've convened her mix of excitement and disappointment at her situation throughout this chapter.  She has what she's wanted, but it's just not quite right.  And making sure to keep track of the number of diapers left is totally something I would have done.

Part of it is that, at least from Maddy's perspective, her plans appear very thorough and certain, but it shows that there are a lot of potential obstacles that she might not be able to foresee... not that those setbacks seem likely to dissuade her in the slightest.

[Night Rain]

Question is during the sleepover will it be a normal one or will disaster strike?

[spark]

5 minutes ago, Night Rain said:

Question is during the sleepover will it be a normal one or will disaster strike?

It's gotten progressively easier for her to pee while sleeping.  If MW followed stereotypical diaper tropes, Maddy would wet the bed unconsciously, but I'm not sure if that would happen yet.

[MinnesotaWriter]

Chapter 30: Different

My efforts with the pull-ups over the next two days were a complete success. 

On Wednesday and Thursday nights, like I first had on Tuesday, I had gotten up after everyone else was asleep and had made my way to the bathroom toilet to safely wet the pull-up with just the right amount of pee.

Even though I had been drinking less water, sitting on the toilet still made it easy for me to relax and allow my bladder to empty into the pull-up. The pull-ups Mom had purchased for me were far from perfect, but through these several days of experiments I had at least confirmed that the pull-ups consistently did what they were supposed to do under the right conditions.

Three nights in a row of wet pull-ups without wet bedding or pajamas had been enough for Mom to tentatively agree to not call off the sleepover I had pre-planned with my friends for my birthday tomorrow on Saturday, though that meant I would still be needing to follow my strict regimen of not having too much to drink after dinner.

That didn’t mean that the sleepover was a go for sure. I still had tonight to pass. Mom made it clear that any leaks would mean that the sleepover portion of my birthday celebration would need to be canceled.

I wasn’t worried about the sleepover. There was absolutely no way I was going to be wearing the pull-up around my friends, let alone actually wet it. I would just pretend to my parents that I had been lucky enough to avoid a bedwetting incident that evening.

The pull-up wouldn’t be a problem at all. The actual problem might be with following my parents’ rules about how much I could have to drink without letting Angie and Emma catch on to anything being off. Mom would be keen to make sure the pull-up didn’t leak at night when my friends were over, and since she believed that keeping me from being too hydrated was the key to that, I suspected she would be watching what I was drinking like a hawk tomorrow night.

<><><> 

Tonight, like nearly every Friday night, had been pizza night. Sadly, we had devoured all the pizza without leaving any leftovers for tomorrow.

But that didn’t matter much, since tomorrow was my birthday, I was allowed to choose whatever I wanted to eat for dinner when my two friends were over for the party. And yes, I had chosen pizza from my favorite local pizza place.

I had hung out with Emma a couple of evenings this week, and we had finalized some of our plans for the sleepover – with help from the occasional text from Angie, who wasn’t getting back home until late Friday evening.

There wouldn’t be an all-nighter, but that didn’t mean we weren’t going to be up late. My friends and I usually slept in sleeping bags in the living room when they spent the night. That way we could at least be a little noisy without waking everyone else up.

The sleepover was going to be such a relief after this first excruciatingly boring week of summer. I had gotten all the free time that I had coveted and had suddenly discovered how difficult it was to fill all of these hours I now had under my control.

But I knew better than to complain to Mom and Dad. If I said I was bored, they would likely take it upon themselves to find other ways for me to fill my time, and it was far from certain that I would be happy with the choices they might make.

Even finally succeeding in getting pull-ups for myself wasn’t making matters any better. It wasn’t like I could do anything with them in the day except look at them, and that only made the wait until bedtime feel even more excruciatingly long. 

And all that waiting would culminate in spending ten, maybe fifteen seconds of peeing into the pull-ups. That experience was still as enjoyable as the first time I had done so, but it was such a small payoff for how long I had to wait and think about it every day.

Like each night before, I had gone back to bed, still wearing the wet pull-up. One of the best parts about peeing in it rather than in the bed was that the warmth from the accident would stick around a lot longer. I often found myself falling asleep before the interior of the pull-up had gone cold.

I had attempted to supplement that feeling by wetting myself a few more times while home alone for the day, but the satisfaction from that was always short-lived as I struggled to fight off thoughts about how weird and wrong it was to be doing it.

“Maddy, Maddy.”

I looked up from where I was sitting on the couch to see Mom trying to get my attention. I had again been lost in thoughts of what it was going to be like to be wearing the pull-up to bed in an hour or so.

Mom sent me to the kitchen to put the bowl of ice cream that I had finished in the sink. Luckily for Grace, she had done dishes prior to dessert, so this bowl would be for Mom or Dad to get washed before they went to bed.

Grace was upstairs, doing whatever it was that she liked to do on her bedroom computer. Jackson was in his room playing with Legos. He tended to sometimes avoid our parents when he knew it was getting close to bedtime, as if being out of their sight might cause them to forget that it was time to tell him to get ready for bed. 

I returned to the living room to come across an unusual sight. Dad had left his recliner which he rarely did in the evening, and had instead taken a seat next to Mom on the couch. However, instead of sitting right next to each other, he had left an empty cushion right between them.

“Maddy, why don’t you have a seat?” Dad asked as he patted a spot on the couch between him and Mom. “There is something we need to talk with you about.”

My heart sank. This was worse than being in regular trouble. Regular trouble usually meant being referred to by my whole first name rather than Maddy, perhaps with my middle name also getting invoked if it was a little more serious.

This was worse. Way worse.

It was the conflict that caused the most consternation. I was never called Maddy when I was in trouble. But I was also never asked to sit down for something to talk about between my parents unless it was for a serious conversation about some misbehavior on my part.

My first worry was that they had found out about how Grace had helped me cheat on the math homework, but that would have involved a double scolding, and Grace was nowhere to be found. Besides, as I tried to re-assure myself, Grace’s efforts had only gotten me a “C” on the assignment, part of her strategy to make sure the result didn’t look suspicious.

No, it had to be something worse. Had they realized that something was off about the bedwetting? Had Dr. Mathorn caught on after the test results showed that nothing was wrong with my body? But surely that wouldn’t be the case. They hadn’t given the slightest inclination at all this week that they harbored any doubts about my bedwetting.

“It’s OK, Maddy, you aren’t in any trouble,” Mom said.

OK. That did it, then. I was so in trouble. 

It didn’t take long to walk from where I was standing at the entrance of the room to the couch, but it felt like an eternity.

Nothing else was said until I eased myself down between my parents. 

“We got your grades back from school,” Dad said

He grabbed his laptop from the table next to his side of the couch. It was already on the website where parents could check their kids’ grades. He set it down on his lap at an angle where I could see what was shown on the screen.

I’d heard stories about the old days when kids would be sent home with only a paper copy of their report card to show to their parents. That was a lot better because at least you’d have a warning about what it entailed rather than being surprised by them. I’d also heard stories about kids who had attempted – some successfully, some not – to alter those report cards so the grades didn’t look quite so bad when presented to their parents.

How I wished I would have been able to pull that off.

I scanned through my grades for my seventh-grade year, dismay building up in me with each additional result.

I had never done particularly well in school, much to my parents’ consternation. It didn’t help that I had an older sister who had always maintained pretty much perfect grades all the way through high school. Grace’s level of success wasn’t a bar that I was ever going to meet.

A good grade for me was typically a “B.” I usually got one – maybe two – of those in a semester if I was lucky. The rest of my grades usually fell in the range of a “C,” though often closer to a “C-” than a “C+.” 

The results this year were far worse than in years past.

This second year of middle school had been tough, but I hadn’t realized how poorly it had gone on until now. I still had one “B” on my report card for PE, which didn’t come as much of a surprise. Everywhere else wasn’t looking good. I only managed one “C” in my other subjects, having earned that grade in my American History class. 

“D.”

That was the letter marking every other line of the report card. Well, almost every other line. There was one letter even worse than that, listed as the grade I had earned for my math class.

I looked away from the laptop screen for a second before looking at it again. Nothing had changed. Those grades hadn’t been my imagination. There wasn’t anything I could say to improve the situation, so I sat between both of my parents in silence.

I hadn’t really paid all that much attention to the grades I had gotten back on assignments throughout the school year. Had it really been that bad? Had I perhaps performed more poorly than expected during final exams, dragging my low grades even lower?

“Maddy,” Dad said, breaking the silence. “Your mother and I are concerned about how you did at school this year. This isn’t what we were expecting to see when we got your grades back. What happened?”

I started picking at the skin around my fingernails, wincing as I peeled away at my skin enough to cause it to start bleeding. How was I… how could I explain what he was seeing on the report card?

“I… Um… Um…”

“We got your grades back from your standardized tests as well,” Mom said. “Those didn’t turn out any better.”

I stared down at my lap, unable to think of anything to say. 

“And we talked with some of your teachers,” Dad said. “They said you seemed to be having a difficult time behaving and paying attention in class.”

It was all too much to take in at once. “I’m not stupid,” I blurted out.

“Maddy, no one is saying that you’re stupid,” Dad said. “Some kids learn differently than others, that’s all.”

Different. There was one mental image that displayed more prominently than any other. A picture of Hannah popped right into my head. The stupid way she talked by prattling on and on. Her stupid watch, telling her to go potty every time she forgot. How her parents wanted her to go to a special school cause she was too stupid to attend a regular one.

I wasn’t stupid like her. I wasn’t.

“I’m not, though,” I muttered, almost as if to myself.

Despite my best efforts at keeping a straight face, tears began forming in the corners of my eyes. I tried to blink them away, but it was no use.

I wasn’t actually sad. It was just something that happened whenever I got flustered or upset or angry. I would start crying, and there wasn’t anything I could do to stop it. I hated it so much. It was hard to argue with my parents or be taken seriously when tears were streaming down my face.

I felt Dad’s firm hand begin to rub my back as Mom placed a gentle hand on my lap.

Everything my parents were saying felt like it was going in one ear and out of the other as their conversation continued. It was a blur that I couldn’t bring myself to focus on, let alone comprehend. There was something about how they had talked with some of my teachers about how I was doing in class. Then, the dreaded phrase – summer school. What steps might need to be taken to avoid needing to repeat seventh grade. And then there was something about how they were going to have me go see a therapist next week and get tested for some attention disorder thing.

This couldn’t be happening. It all felt so wrong. It was summer break. I shouldn’t have had to worry about school for another three months.

The tears were getting worse now, and I was starting to sniffle, first a little and then rather loudly. Mom scooted closer to me until she was right up against me on the couch. 

“It’s only middle school,” Mom said. “Grades don’t really start counting until you start high school, anyway. There’s plenty of time for you to get back on track next year.”

“But…” I said before being interrupted by another loud sniffle. I couldn’t find the right words to express how I was feeling.

Mom put her hand around my shoulder, and then pulled me closer to her so that my head was resting against her with my face buried in her shoulder.

“Everything is going to be alright,” Mom said. Her hand was now resting on my head with her fingers sifting through my hair. “We’ll get you all the help that you need to make sure you do well in school next year.”

That promise sounded more ominous than comforting at the moment.

---

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

[Bonsai]

The sessions with the therapist are going to be interesting.

[spark]

There a significant jump in the rigor between 6th and 7th grade, especially if the middle school model is just 7th and 8th.  A lot of work in K-5 is what I call red dot work (connect the red dot to blue dot with much complexity to what the student is doing.  Suddenly you're doing complex work that isn't just doing what you are told.  FTR- going from 8th to 9th grade (high school) is a massive jump, and a lot of kids really struggle with their grades.   Ironically, I've had couple of students do good in 9th grade, but then bomb in 10th grade (I did). 

Maddy is emotionally immature, which makes those transitions even harder.  Sometimes kids who have learning issue will hold back effort wise.  They try, but not necessarily their best.   The worst thing that can happen is try your best and still fail.  Interestingly, by the time kids are in high school, students see the evaluation process as a good.    They know they are having a hard time, and just having the disability identified is cathartic.

Assuming that this story is set in the present time, Maddy's parents shouldn't be surprised with her final days.  In the old days, kids could keep things from their parents unless teachers called home (which is a PITA).   Now parents have access to everything through out and they can tell see the grades all the time, they can see if assignments are missing.  They know if you cut a class because they can see the attendance (I think live time).  Kid's can't get away with anything like that anymore.

[Brown Owl]

This girl has internalized ableism coming out the wazoo, I hope you do something about that. I'm really surprised she hasn't been identified before now as well

[MinnesotaWriter]

On 5/11/2024 at 6:31 PM, Night Rain said:

Question is during the sleepover will it be a normal one or will disaster strike?

That is good question. Maddy seems confident, but I'm sure there are plenty of things that could potentially go wrong.

On 5/11/2024 at 6:40 PM, spark said:

It's gotten progressively easier for her to pee while sleeping.  If MW followed stereotypical diaper tropes, Maddy would wet the bed unconsciously, but I'm not sure if that would happen yet.

I think that would be a bit of a stretch at this point in the story. It's one thing to get the body to pee in a lying down position while awake; night training is something that takes even highly dedicated ABDLs a really long time to accomplish.

5 hours ago, Bonsai said:

The sessions with the therapist are going to be interesting.

Depends on whether you are using the Minnesotan definition of that word.

3 hours ago, spark said:

There a significant jump in the rigor between 6th and 7th grade, especially if the middle school model is just 7th and 8th.  A lot of work in K-5 is what I call red dot work (connect the red dot to blue dot with much complexity to what the student is doing.  Suddenly you're doing complex work that isn't just doing what you are told.  FTR- going from 8th to 9th grade (high school) is a massive jump, and a lot of kids really struggle with their grades.   Ironically, I've had couple of students do good in 9th grade, but then bomb in 10th grade (I did). 

Maddy is emotionally immature, which makes those transitions even harder.  Sometimes kids who have learning issue will hold back effort wise.  They try, but not necessarily their best.   The worst thing that can happen is try your best and still fail.  Interestingly, by the time kids are in high school, students see the evaluation process as a good.    They know they are having a hard time, and just having the disability identified is cathartic.

Assuming that this story is set in the present time, Maddy's parents shouldn't be surprised with her final days.  In the old days, kids could keep things from their parents unless teachers called home (which is a PITA).   Now parents have access to everything through out and they can tell see the grades all the time, they can see if assignments are missing.  They know if you cut a class because they can see the attendance (I think live time).  Kid's can't get away with anything like that anymore.

That's a good point of parents being aware about grades. I can think of a number of explanations, probably depends on how quickly teachers are grading assignments, along with the fact that Maddy likely performed even more poorly than usual on her finals (doing the whole stay up past midnight to fake-wet the bed thing during that time of the school year likely didn't help her academic struggles improve any).

Either way, for the sake of the plot, it's safe to assume Maddy's parents were unaware of exactly how bad things were up until now.

2 hours ago, Brown Owl said:

This girl has internalized ableism coming out the wazoo, I hope you do something about that. I'm really surprised she hasn't been identified before now as well

It most certainly will be addressed later in the story, there are some key points we're slowly building up to.

As far as not being identified, from what I understand, it is much more common for girls to be less likely to be identified as neurodivergent (whether ADHD/autism) than for boys and for that diagnosis to take place a little later on.