Amy sat in her last period class, watching the clock move so slowly it seemed
that the day would never end. All she knew was that she really needed it to
end so that she could go to the bathroom. The substitute teacher had flatly
refused to let her go, even though she had pleaded that her situation was
urgent. Amy looked up at the old witch as the clock continued to sit
dormant. She crossed her legs to ward off the pressure.
Finally, the period was over. Amy had just enough time to dash into the one
close washroom before her bus would leave. She raced down the hall to the
door, and was nearly knocked to the floor by her own force as she ran into
it; it was locked. A sign on the wall nearby read, "Rest Room Out of Order."
Amy shot a glance at the clock in the hall; there was no way that she would
ever make it to the other girls' room in time. She would just have to hold
it until she got home.
On the way home, Amy sat in her seat on the bus squirming, trying not to
think about the pressure that was constantly on her mind (and in her
bladder). Only a little bit more to go, and she would be home. Just a few
minutes longer, just after this next--
The bus slowed down suddenly in a place it did not usually stop. It came to
a rest, still miles from her door, and Amy looked out at the line of stopped
cars ahead of her, knowing instantly that she was in big trouble. The
accident had stalled traffic for a mile, and the bus, along with all of the
other vehicles, had to crawl past it in a single lane. Amy crossed her legs
and pressed them together, praying that there would only be one accident on
this road this afternoon.
By the time she got to her stop, Amy was indeed in desperate condition. She
knew as soon as she got up and uncrossed her legs that it would be a miracle
if she made it home. She flew out the door and began to run as fast as she
could toward her house, feeling the pressure build with every step. About
half way to the door, she lost control and wet herself completely.
Amy stopped running, devastated by what had happened. She had not wet
herself since she was a small child, and now, in the eighth grade, she stood
in the street near her home in a soaking wet pair of pants. Her bladder
deflated itself completely, and Amy slowly finished her sodden trip to her
When she got into the house, she found her mother in an awful mood. She had
been fighting with Amy's little sister, Julie, the entire day. Julie was
four and had been slow to toilet train, and her mother had apparently been
cleaning up puddles all over the house. When she saw Amy walk in with wet
pants, there was no reasoning with her.
"I don't believe this!" she screamed. "It isn't bad enough that I have to
clean up one baby; now I have to deal with two!"
Amy tried to explain, but her mother would have none of it.
"Get to your room right now, young lady, and take off those wet things. I
just put your sister back in diapers for wetting herself, and the same thing
is going to happen to you."
Her mother slammed the door as she walked away, leaving Amy alone at the foot
of the stairs. Stunned, she turned and climbed to her room.
When Amy had taken off her wet clothes and thrown them into the hamper, her
mother walked in. She was carrying several thick cloth diapers and a pair of
Julie's plastic panties. Amy protested, but her mother was determined. With
skilled hands, she pinned the diapers onto her oldest daughter and pulled up
the panties. Julie wore a very large size and Amy was pretty small; the
panties fit her well.
"You will wear these for the evening as punishment for wetting your pants,"
her mother said. "And don't you dare touch them. If I think you have tried
to take them off, you will wear them to school tomorrow with a very short
skirt so everyone will know."
Amy was left alone in her diapers. They felt odd to her, both foreign and
somehow familiar, uncomfortable yet oddly comforting. She was not sure she
liked the feeling, but she wss not sure she hated it either. But she did
know that she was not going to wet them.
After a couple of hours, though, Amy was jumping up and down trying not to
go. Finally, she gave in to the inevitable and sat down to wet the diapers.
Amy stood in front of her mirror, looking at the figure before her: a child
with a face like hers, but clearly much younger, a little girl in obviously
wet diapers. Slowly she focused on the dark area in the crotch where the
wetness was. When she concentrated, she found she did not dislike the
feeling; it was warm and satisfying. She reached her hand down to touch the
wet spot, and felt a pleasant sensation she had never felt before. Slowly,
she began to rub herself there, and the feeling became even more pleasurable.
Soon she was experiencing the first orgasm of her young life.
Later, as she lay in the dark of her room, her mother came in carrying more
diapers. She must have figured that Amy would be wet, and she spoke to her
as if she were a little baby.
"Does mommy's little girl need changing?" she asked as she turned on the
light. "We don't want to get a diaper rash, do we?"
She slipped her hand into the crotch of the panties. Finding them wet, she
slipped them off, cooing at her daughter in a babyish tone. She unpinned the
diapers and dropped them onto the floor. Lifting Amy's legs, she slid
another bunch of diapers beneath her and pinned them on.
"Good night, sweetheart," she said as she left the room with the wet diapers
and turned out the lights.
Amy lay on her bed, and realized that she missed the feeling of the warm, wet
diapers between her legs. After thinking about it for only a moment, she
strained just a bit and soaked the new ones as she had done earlier. Then
she rolled over and went to sleep.
In the morning, as promised, Amy's mother let her out of the diapers. But
Amy had enjoyed the feeling. And her mother found that, at the age of
thirteen, her daughter was suddenly developing control problems. Once or
twice a week, she would have another "accident." Each time, her mother would
punish her with diapers. At times, Amy would find herself diapered for
several days--or even weeks--at a time.
As she grew older, however, her mother tired of the routine. Julie had long
since been out of diapers, and Amy's mother decided that she didn't want to
do them any more. Amy found herself more and more responsible for her own
changes and cleaning. That and the teasing of her little sister finally
convinced her that she should give up on this silly game once and for all.
It was when Amy was away at college that diapers re-entered her life. She
started dating a guy who, it turned out, was a bedwetter. When she
discovered that he wore diapers to bed, all of her old feelings were renewed.
She dropped a few hints, and soon found herself sharing an apartment with
him: two big babies living in the same space.
Every once in a while, Amy visits her mother. She hasn't ever told her that
she still wears diapers. Julie knows; she comes over at times to babysit for
her sister and brother-in-law. She enjoys watching them as they play in
their playpen together, and she doesn't even mind the occasional messy
diaper. After all, what are sisters for?