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I brought Wendy home earlier in the day. She’d had things to do around her house, so it had been a morning of talking over a bland breakfast at the local diner. I was still utterly surprised at how accepting she had been, enough that she even reluctantly asked to have a few of the diapers to bring home. “I’ll leave a used one in the bathroom trash can now and then,” she told me before she got out of my car, tucking two of the adult briefs and the two GoodNites I’d given her in her overnight bag.
Neither of us had changed out of our diapers in the morning. I was barely wet at all when I woke up - just a dribble - and just threw on a bra, a pair of flower-print panties over the diaper, and denim overalls. I wore the same tank top I’d slept in. Wendy’s parents weren’t going to be home that morning, so she was just going to throw her first used diaper in the trash can when she got in.
I was stretched out on the couch in our living room when my mom came in. I glanced up from the book I was reading as she pushed in through the door and kicked it closed behind her with her foot. She smiled at me and dropped down a few bags in the hallway.
“Hey, Mom,” I said, closing my book and propping my chin up. “Need help?”
“No, I’m alright,” she said, huffing out a breath and bringing one of the bags over to the couch. “I got some things for you down at Goodwill, though. How was your night?”
I rolled my eyes and laughed a bit. “It’s a long story. But how about you tell me how your night was, first?”
She patted my thigh to scoot me over, and I curled my legs up underneath me. She furrowed her brow as plastic rustled under her touch. “Still in a diaper?” She frowned deeply and adopted a look of concern. “Oh, Ann, honey, you’re not wetting during the day now, are you?”
“Nuh-uh. I just never had much of an accident after my change in the middle of the night. Kept it on, because maybe I’d take a nap or something.” My face got hot as I giggled. “I’ve just been lazy, though. Better than taking time out of schoolwork—” I held up the assigned novel. “—to get up and go to the potty. Sooo, what’d you and Philip do last night?” I wiggled my eyebrows.
My mom gave me a blank stare. “Ann,” she said, stretching out my name in a reprimanding manner. I grinned in the most innocent manner I could muster. “No, we didn’t do any of that. We had a very nice night. We both made dinner together, and went out to see a film. We had a lot of time to talk and get to know one another even more.
“He’s under a lot of pressure. He’s trying to get custody of his children through the courts from his ex-wife, because she’s apparently a very heavy drinker. One of them is wheelchair bound, and she does a shitty job of caring for them. The older boy’s fourteen and the boy in the chair is going on eleven.”
“That a shame,” I quietly said, sitting up so I could lean my shoulder against her. “Do you think he’ll win it?”
“I hope so. I think you’ll like him when you meet him. He’s a very sweet man. He’s extremely excited about meeting you, honey. And,” she paused, biting on her lower lip as she rubbed my knee. “I told him about your bedwetting.”
“Mom!” My jaw dropped. I had shouted louder than I expected, sitting upright and raising a hand to nervously scratch at my head.
“I know you don’t want anyone knowing, really, but—“
“Mom, that’s my concern!” Tears were already welling at the corner of my eyes. Suddenly, being diapered right then and there felt like a horrible idea. “I don’t want you telling people I don’t know! It’s .. it’s inconsiderate!”
She glanced down at her hands while I pushed the book away from me. “But honey, he understands. He completely does, and he’ll be comfortable in helping us deal with it.”
“How will he?” I snapped, leaning my head back on the couch. “You’re the only person I’d let change my wet diapers, and you haven’t done that for a few years now, given the few exceptions when I was sick. .. I think I’m perfectly capable of dealing with it on my own, Mom.”
There was an awkward silence between the two of us as my mother stood and sauntered towards the single window of the living room. She watched the things beyond it for a few minutes - kids laughing and throwing sticks at one another, chasing each other about on bikes, errant dogs let loose for a few minutes of freedom from binding chains. Without a word, she drew the blinds across. The sunlight outside became nothing but a bland ebb of light against the beige drapes. Eventually, she returned back to the couch beside me.
“I’ll explain myself in a few minutes,” said my mom as she began rooting through one of the bags. “But I want to show you what I brought you, first.” Her voice became soft. ”You’re wet, aren’t you?”
Parents and children all have their own ways of bonding. Some sit down over a cup of tea. Others prefer a picnic or an hour on the porch-swing. It all depends on two things; it needs to be something you can do to speak during, and something personal that those involved can have equal part in. My chin nodded in response to her question. My rear was damp and I had been scratching at my inner thighs now and then. Used diapers irritate fast.
I stretched my legs out along the couch as my mom stood up. The plastic in my underpants was barely audible, and even under my overalls, my crotch bulged from how much it had absorbed. One by one, I unbuckled the straps to my overalls and let them lay behind me.
While I watched the ceiling, my mom took over the task. I lifted my bottom as she pulled down my overalls to a bundle near my socked feet. She slid my panties down too, leaving me only in the diaper. I tucked my tanktop under my chin. The clatter of the buttons and buckles on my overalls weren’t the only sound as she gently tore away each of the four tapes holding on my diaper.
“Sweetie,” she said, lifting the soaked pad from me. All too familiar, the acrid stink of old urine caught my nose. “I don’t care if you want to wear a diaper during the day, but at least change out of the one you wore to bed, no matter how little you went, okay?
“Phil’s son - the one in the wheelchair - is paralyzed from the waist down. He fell from a tree when he was a few years younger and permanently messed up his spine. Philip understands bedwetting, Ann. He’s been dealing with his son’s total loss of continence for a few years, now.” The moist garment was drawn out from under me, and as she had done when I was still a baby, she simply wrapped the brief and secured it with its own tape. She placed it on the ground beside the bag and began looking through it. “Seiloh is an absolutely wonderful young boy. He’s smart - he might wear diapers, but he’s at the top of his class in school. I think you would adore him, and the fourteen-year-old, Morgan, helps his father take care of his brother.”
I clamped my jaw while she spoke and searched, letting my butt rest on the couch cushion. Although butterflies still danced in my belly from the sheer fact that she had told someone, at least he directly dealt with it. Maybe I was over-reacting.
“If.. I had known that before, I wouldn’t have jumped. Do you think he’ll treat me different because of it?”
“Of course not! He knows you’re very smart. You’re my daughter, after all.” Mom procured a new package of cleansing cloths from the bag and plucked one from the box. I flinched when she wiped off my privates and rear. The stink of pee became one of cool antiseptics - a much better alternative!
“My heart aches for that little boy, though. Philip was telling me some stories about what Seiloh tells him. Philip gets to bring them home on the weekends, and his ex has custody of them during the week.”
“What kind of stories?”
She sighed a little, putting the wipe near the used diaper. I sat up to pull the panties I’d had on over myself, wriggling into them.
“I’m not done with you yet,” she flicked my bare leg. “I’ll finish in a minute.
“Seiloh hates his mother. Apparently, she doesn’t change him when he stays with her. Morgan needs to help bathe him and diaper him. At school, the nurses do it. And how she puts that child to sleep. . .” She shook her head. “No diapers, no pajamas, nothing. She just lays him on his bed. It’s not like he can go much of anywhere. He’s told Philip that there aren’t even sheets - just an old quilt. He says there are pee stains all over the bed the mattress, and that his room stinks. Apparently, she doesn’t even flip the mattress after he’s wet it, let alone clean it, and God forbid he have one of his common messing accidents while he sleeps there. From what Philip says, the house the boys live in during the week is a real rat’s nest. She spends her money on booze, and leaves them to fend for themselves. So, when he brings them to his place, he showers them with attention. Seiloh’s always diapered so his nights are dry, and he’s kept in a clean bed.”
I turned my head and looked towards the drapes. ..I had an empty feeling welling in my chest. Philip’s wife was sounding more and more like the father I saw the last time when I was.. six? Not that our house was dirty, but he drank like a fish.
My mom got my attention as she began to empty her bag. “I went down to the Gooodwill and found some things. . . . We spend so much on disposables for you, so I thought we’d try something different.” She pulled out a few folded pieces of thick, resilient cloth. She shook them out and lifted them up to show me. They were shaped like an hour-glass. I lifted my bum once again and pushed my panties down to my ankles. Meanwhile, she slipped the fabrics under me and pulled them tight between my crotch.
I winced as she flattened the other end across my stomach and gathered the sides at my hips. These, she pinned with two safety clasps.
“Cloth diapers?” I asked, somewhat skeptical. “Will they work?”
“Might as well give them a try. They weren’t used, apparently, so I washed them and obviously, they fit.”
“They’re a little tight, Mom...”
“But better than being baggy and leaky, no?” Without another word, she pulled my overalls and flowered panties off of my feet. Cold vinyl touched my toes as she slid my feet into the top of a pair of clear, plastic underpants. I sat up to draw them up around my sides.
They were tight with elastic bands around my upper legs, and covered my navel with a similar waistband. Vinyl crinkled very discreetly. I stood up, pulling my tanktop down around my hips. The plastic pants bulged, light and airy, and I could feel them rubbing on my thighs.
“Get comfortable in them for a bit. We’ll try them out for a few nights, just to see if they work. If not, it’s back to disposables and the drawing board!” She placed my overalls and undewear on the couch and stuffed my old diaper in the bag.
flicked the elastic. “Can
I take them off?” Indeed,
I appreciated the thought, but these were the most uncomfortable
thing I’d ever experienced with my ten years of sleepwetting!
I had no hope of closing my legs, and my weight felt off,
somehow. I had more
padding around my middle than I thought was comfortable.
“You weren’t going anywhere today, were you?”
“No,” I said, creasing my forehead.
“Then who’s going to mind if you wear them about the house? You can put your overalls back on, but try to get used to them. Oh, and if you need help changing in the middle of the night, don’t hesitate to ask. Those are pretty tight, and you might need extra hands to hold them steady while you pin.”
I stood there like a deer in headlights, staring down at the bulky cure for my incontinence. My mom stepped out into the kitchen, and without even bothering to put my overalls back on, I stretched out on the couch to resume reading the book during which I’d been interrupted. I couldn’t stop wriggling and fidgeting, trying to get used to the cloth.
Without advancing even one word further in the chapter, I nearly jumped out of the diaper my mom had pinned. The phone on the couch-side table began to ring, and I retrieved it immediately, squinching my nose up at its chatter.
“Hello?” I said, draped over the arm of he couch.
“Hey, Ann. It’s Wendy.”
I pushed myself back into the cushions and curled my legs up. “Oh, hey! What’s up?”
“Nothing much. Just wanted to check up and see if you were doing alright.”
“Yeah, I’m okay. A little embarassed,” I lowered my voice. “But other than that, okay.”
“Aw, hey. Don’t be embarassed - like I said, I’m not going to judge you about your bedwett—“
I cut her off. “Oh, no! I’m not embarassed about that.”
“What is it?”
I let out a long sigh. “Well, you know how neither of us changed out of our.. underwear, this morning?”
I finally did, but I’ll tell you about that in a second.
“My mom got home and I was reading that book for English out in the living room. And she had a bag full of stuff, and we got to talking about her and Philip. He seems like a pretty cool guy, but that’s another story. We got to arguing about a bit of stuff. So anyway, we sort of did a bit of bonding, to put it in layman’s terms.”
“Bonding?” The line was quiet for a moment. “What’d you do?”
I whispered. “She changed me.”
“Like.. out of your diaper?”
“Uh huh. It happens now and then. Usually when I’m sick and in bed, or just when we’ve had problems. It’s sort of like a mother-daughter thing, you know? We can talk while she does it. But she got me something new.”
“What’d she buy for you?”
“Well, when we stopped talking and she took off my diaper, I started to get up and pull my panties up. But she stopped me and said she wasn’t done. So I laid back down, and she ended up putting a new one on me. I’m sitting here on the phone, in just my tanktop and my sleep undies.”
“She doesn’t care if you wear them during the day?” Confusion rang in her voice.
“No. She said that if I’m comfortable with doing so, then it’s okay.. but it’s not a disposable diaper. She bought five or six adult cloth diapers from the Goodwill, and a pair of vinyl panties. They’re so uncomfortable! I look like I’ve got a tire around my waist and pillows between my legs! Feels like it, too.”
Wendy couldn’t help but giggle at the comparison. “Why not take them off?”
“She told me to take some time to get used to them. She wants to try them out for my bedwetting, because I think it’s starting to turn into a hassle with disposables. My room smells, sometimes, and I leak more often than not, and you should see the nasty stains it’s left if I don’t have a rubber sheet. So I’ll give it a try.”
they might work, and might not.
But if you’re not going to need those disposables anymore,
you know who you can give them to,” I heard her snicker slightly
on the other side of the phone.
“Can I tell you my story now?”
“Sure.” I looked down at my fingernails. “What happened?”
“My mom already mentioned something to me. When I got home, I hung around for a bit in that diaper and then did like I told you and put it in the trash. My mom got home not too long ago, and she was getting the trash together . . .”
“Did she find it?”
“Sure did. And she seemed angry at first. She was like, ‘What’s this in here for, are you doing something perverted I should know about, yadda yadda,’ and I just sat down and explained my story to her.”
licked my lips. “What
did you say?”
“Well, you know how I was on my period, and that’s why I was looking through the cabinet under your sink for pads, right? I obviously didn’t use a pad when I had the diaper on, so I’d bled some into it, and I said to her that whenever my monthly comes along, I have trouble holding my pee during the day. I said that I’d been frequently going in the bed on an off, every few nights, but that it got really bad when I was on my period.”
“Do you think she’ll buy it?”
already did. I checked
on the computer when I came home and found out that some girls do
have problems in their teens between bladder control and their
“I could’ve told you that,” I shrugged, adjusting the phone. “I do. But it’s expected, with me.”
“Either way, she was cool about it. I’m not sure if it’s exactly the right thing to do, but if she’s comfortable with it, then I’ll milk it for all it’s worth.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, biting my bottom lip. Something just didn’t click. Somewhere inside of me, I had a longing for others to know about my problem, only so I needn’t be so secretive and taboo about it. But gaining understanding had never felt so uncomfortable. “Just don’t lie yourself into a situation you can’t get out of. You really don’t need to do this for me, Wendy.”
“I know I don’t. I only feel right doing it, though. You’re not blessed with natural control like most other people are, so why should I be? Look, I’m going to go. See you tomorrow in school?”
“I’ll be there,” I said, smiling faintly. “Want to come over tomorrow afternoon?”
“Definitely. I’ll see you then.”
“Bye,” she said, and I heard the reciever click.
I put the phone back in the cradle and stretched, yawning. The vinyl on my plastic pants crinkled faintly. I put my panties back on, as worthless a statement as they were - the diapers were so big that their small size only added more discomfort. I buckled my overalls and adjusted their size to allow for the absorbent cloth.
I sidled into the kitchen, trying not to look like a blimp with glasses. I leaned against the doorway and silently watched my mother as she sorted clean dishes from the dishwasher.
“You.. it doesn’t bother you if I resort to wearing diapers during the daytime, Mom?”
She looked over her shoulder at me and shrugged. “You’ve done so before with difficult times. Like when you first started needing them, and when you were stressed. You’ve been sleeping night-by-night in diapers since you were six, honey, and I can see that it might become a consoling, normal thing.”
“But it doesn’t weird you out?”
“Of course not,” She closed one of the sink-top cabinets. “If it seems good for you, dear, then I’m supportive. It’s a very important factor in your life, after all. Who am I to decide what’s correct and what isn’t?”
I pulled my glasses off my face and began to rub the lenses off on my tanktop. “I need to tell you about last night!” I blurted, laughing a little. “I never did tell you!”
“Oh?” My mom began washing her hands in the sink. “What happened?”
“Wendy came over and we watched movies and had some girl talk. I got prepared for bed. You know as well as I do that I’m always taking a risk when I spend the night at someone’s house or invite someone here. I always wear those GoodNites rather than a diaper, since they’re quiet.”
“Are those the bedwetting pants for children?”
“Yeah. Well, I woke up at four o’clock soaking wet. It was one of those nights where I drench the bed so bad that, from my feet to my shoulders, I’m wet.”
She stopped what she was doing and frowned, looking behind me. Her tongue clicked. “Oh, honey. . .”
“No, it wasn’t so bad! I was in tears, but Wendy understood! She helped me clean up and I told her all about my problem. .. Funny thing is, Mom, Wendy understood. She’ll be a lot more open about her bedwetting when she’s here.” Grinning, I put my glasses back on my face.
“She wets the bed, as well?” Eyebrows raised. “It’s a small world, after all.”
“Not as badly as I do, but she’s still in diapers, sometimes. It comes and goes in phases, she said. But that’s besides the point.”
We spent the rest of the evening talking about various things - when I’d get a chance to meet Philip and his sons, or when they’d come over. A few hours after my mom had changed me, I went diaperless and opted for just my panties and overalls from about seven o’clock on. Around eleven, when I’d finally decided to hit the sack, she kindly helped me change back into the cloth pads and plastic pants, and we kissed one another goodnight.
I hadn’t had the dream for a few years, up until that night. Maybe all the thought about Phil and his children triggered it? Either way, it always seemed more real. I’d all but forgotten about it, I thought. . .
“Glen, goddamnit, let her go,” the woman demanded, raising her voice over the caterwauling child that lay stretched across the man’s lap. The little girl was bawling, kicking her feet and reaching her hands for the carpeting. He stank of booze, and with every heavy, sobbing breath, she smelled it. She didn’t know exactly what it was, but Daddy was always very different when he reeked of it. She hated that smell.
His hand came down upon the girl’s rear with a deafening slap, and she shrieked. He only laughed, half-spitting the words. “Hell’f I will! Fuckin’ little .. little brat broke th’ fuckin’ doorknob, slammin’ it ‘round and actin’ like some stupid little bitch!” He slurred his words, spanking the child one more time. His hand was swinging harder and harder with each strike.
The girl’s mother took a step closer, caressing her own cheek, where he’d punched her. The drunk hadn’t taken his own daughter without a bit of make. Ann had been laughing, being clumsy like all six year olds often are. But excitement had gotten the best of her, and when she’d pulled the front door closed a little too hard, running and hiding had been the best option.
But he’d woken up at the noise, and stalked downstairs at the whim of a beer too many. Or maybe six or seven too many, given his usual after-work ritual. Ann was immediately wrenched from her mother’s grasp, dragged to the living room by the lobe of her ear, and leaned her over his sweaty knee for an old-fashioned punishment.
Blonde hair got caught in her mouth as the mother looked about their modest living room for something intimidating. Her best improvision armed her with a thick, study ashtray. Hotel fare, fully glass, and as heavy as a rock. She clamped it in her hands and stared at the man.
She took another step closer, and he paused the punishment for a moment to glare carelessly at his wife. “All the time, Glen. All the time! I didn’t see you turning into a damned drunk when I married you and had a child! You really pulled that one on me, didn’t you?”
“You talkin’.. bout?” He mumbled, taking up a handful of his daughter’s dark hair. She whimpered, resolving the stinging with sobs.
“Let her go, Glen. Let her go, and get the fuck out of our house.”
“I paid for this g’damn place!”
“Like hell you did! I pay for it. It wasn’t my problem you lost your job because you were too drunk to work, and maybe I should’ve told you to get out sooner. Take the car! If it means you cream it into a tree, maybe it’ll be worth your time!” She bounded forward and brought the ashtray down on the back of her husband’s skull, grimacing at the clatter it made as it caught his skull.
He grunted, loosening his grip upon the girl. The little girl was halfway free, hand gripping the carpet, legs pushing her away from her father’s vicegrip, when he began using curled fists to beat her small body against the floor. Punch after punch, he pounded the breath out of the girl where she curled ineffectively on the carpet. He was leaning over her, using all of his strength to ram his knuckles in her small gut and on her rickety spine.
The ashtray hit one last time with a mixture of fury and desperation. Glen stumbled over the girl’s battered body and touched a hand to his matted hair.
“F-.. fuckin’ bitch!” He cursed, while the blonde-haired woman kept swinging away with the glass ashtray, making her shoulders into the man. He eventually crashed through the storm door, landing as a sack of mindless flesh on the front stoop. Oblivious to the blood that was pouring from the new gash smiling in his forehead, he stood, and began staggering his way away from the home. The eyes of confused neighbors looked on, and windows in houses across the court brightened with light. Ann’s mother launched the ashtray at her husband for a desperate finale.
“Crawl back in your hole, Glen! And take your goddamned ring with you, you.. you,” Words weren’t so abundant as she tore the gold band off of her finger and threw it after him. It clinked off into the pavement and disappeared in the midnight. “You drunk!”
Ignoring the gaping jaws of those who’d awakened at the racket, she shrugged back in through the door and rushed into the living room, where her daughter lay sobbing on the rug, between coffee-table and couch.
“Ann, darling,” she gasped, dropping down to draw the child close to her. Clasping the back of the child’s head to her breast, the mother cradled the little girl. “Ann, honey, I’m s-so sorry.” She completely ignored the warmth that had seeped through the child’s denim pants. The little girl had wet herself from fear, and it seemed that, with each sob, she continued to do so a bit more. Her tiny body was swollen, and with any sudden movements, she’d choke in agony.
“I’m so sorry,” Ann’s mother pleaded, pressing constant kisses to a dark scalp. She stood, and withdrew a blanket from the back of the couch. Swaddling the six-year-old in the marroon afghan, the mother turned and stormed out of their tainted home.
My legs jerked. It wasn’t until I was thrown out of the dream that I could realize that that was all it was. I shot up immediately in bed, wicking the sweat from my brow and the tears from my cheeks. There was a hollow, sunken feeling in my chest - I was crying louder than I had thought, and each sob made me cough.
3:29, read the clock by my bedstand. Soothing moonlight pushed in through my curtains. With bare legs, I pushed the blankets to the side and pushed myself out of bed. My hips were aching where the pins of the cloth diaper dug against them, and underneath the vinyl pants, the layers sagged as though someone’d stuck a hose in my waistband. I wasn’t used to their hanging, drenched feeling, nor to seeing the beads of moisture clinging to the inside of the pant.
“At least I didn’t leak,” I thought outloud, wiping my nose and dropping back down on the side of the mattress, patting down the bedstand for my glasses. It was then, though, sitting, recognizing the soft warmth under my rear, that I realized there was something very different about my wetness.
I wasn’t only wet. It was following my initial fear that I found that out. My entire room reeked with air that was sour and eye-watering. Smelled like a summer evening in the country, I thought, only the manure was fresher. After touching the messy behind of my plastic pants, I simply cupped my hands around my face, leaned backward across my bed, and began to bawl.
When my mom pushed my door open, I flew upright from my bed and stood stupidly, arms out to the side and legs slightly parted. Only after my reaction did I realize how stupid it was - what would make me look any different standing up, still crying, than laying down and doing it?
She rubbed at an eye and rested her hip against the doorjamb. Her hair was a mess, but her face still blushed in concern. “Ann, honey, are you alright?” Her nose was bunched up a little. “Why are you crying?”
I dropped my hands down to my side, where they brushed along the sides of my vinyl pants. “Mom, I.. I had a terrible dream,” I said, stuttering and sniffling like an infant. My words didn’t make me sound any older, and I kept squirming, fidgeting in that dirty diaper.
She smiled softly and turned to start off down the hallway, but paused in my door before she did. The hallway light made her shadow long, almost creepy. “..I’ll be back in a minute, Ann. Just sit down on your bed.”
Disgusted faces were in plentiful supply as I carefully crawled back back onto my bed and lay my head on the pillow. I wiped at my face, trying my best to ignore the smell and the mound soiling the rear of my underpants. Though I lay on my back, it took all of my concentration to keep my butt off of the mattress so I didn’t make more of a mess than I already had.
“It must’ve been a miserable one,” whispered my mom, inching her way back in my room and flicking on the lightswitch near the door. The edge of the bed dipped as she sat near my legs, unfolding two disposable diapers and setting them on the disturbed blankets. She set the box of cleansing cloths near them, along with an old plastic bag aand a trashy bathtowel.
“Did you mess yourself, too? The room doesn’t usually stink like this,” She was rubbing my leg, taking a moment to examine my used diaper from her vantage point. My mother wasn’t stupid - I knew she knew I had shit in my pants, but I appreciated her attempt at coddling my dignity. “If you did, don’t be embarassed to say. I just thought you could use a change.”
Teeth chattering nervously, I nodded. “I did. .. Oh, Mom, I feel like such a loser,” I sighed, looking to the side. “The dream scared me so much, I think. That’s why I went.”
“It’s not something you meant to do, so don’t let it bother you. Lift up,” she told me, and I raised my ass off the bed. She slid the old bathtowel underneath me and with the same opportunity, peeled the vinyl pants off of my waist and slipped them off of my feet. I felt their wetness kiss my toes.
The smell became stronger, and my butt plopped down to the towel. Something squished - a very unwelcome feeling - beneath me. My mom noticed my blush before I did.
“Oh, I changed dirty diapers when you were a baby. Don’t be embarassed,” she reiterated, smiling again. She was quick in removing the pins from either side of the cloth diapers, and I sighed in relief when she began to pull the nappy out from under me. She folded it, careful to hold it by the places where it was tied - the only parts that weren’t drenched or messy - and stuffed it in the bag. “What was your dream about?” Asked my mom as she motioned me to lean to one side. I did, and she began to wipe away with the cleansing cloths.
I folded my hands under my cheek. “About . . . dad.”
“What about him?”
“It was a nightmare, Mom. .. It was like I was six again, and I had broken that doorknob. . .” I paused, trying not to make it so clear that I was sniffling. I wiped at my nose.
When my rear was wiped clean, she patted my leg, and I rolled back over to lay on my belly. She began unfolding one of the two disposable diapers and, after taking the towel out from under me, she slid it under me and pulled the front tightly up between my legs. It felt wonderful to be back in the usual diaper!
She fastened each four of the tapes in their positions across the front of the diaper and then reached up to pat my cheek. “Don’t let the dream bother you. It’s just that, and we’re passed that whole situation, right? Just try to relax a bit.”
I did as she said and stretched my legs out, reaching my toes to the end of the bed, yawning, folding my arms behind my head. How much better it was to recline in a clean diaper!
“Mom, we went to the hospital right afterwards, didn’t we?”
She bowed her chin in agreement. “We did. I don’t think I’ve ever driven that fast in my life, Ann. I thought he’d broken your ribs, but we were fortunate.” Tears glistened in her eyes, and she softly rubbed the bedspread. “At least, I thought we were. He’d bruised your kidneys and lots of other things inside of you, hitting you that hard. Don’t you remember being in diapers for months afterwards? You just never stopped wetting in your sleep, but you recuperated much more than everyone expected you to.” I rubbed at my eyes and wriggle my toes, trying to loosen most of the taut muscles in my body.
She paused in her story. “Uhm. .. Ann, honey, why are you doing that?” My mother asked, looking very suddenly confused.
“Doing what?” I giggled tiredly. “I’m just stretching.”
She gave me an odd look of confusion, and I sat up, scratching at my scalp and curling my legs underneath me. “What?” I said again.
Foollowing her stare, I looked down towards my crinkling underpants. Right then, I remembered the pressure that had been in my bladder when I woke up, and I’d forgotten about it during my change. Not until I saw that faint, yellow stain rapidly spreading in my crotch did I realize how relieved I felt.
I nervously babbled, crossing my legs and peering down at the sheets. “I.. didn’t exactly mean to. I mean, it just happened. I forgot I had to go and I just lost track, I guess.” My cheeks were burning.
“You’re not losing your control when you’re awake, are you, dear?”
“Not.. really,” I said.
I shrugged. “Now and then, but only when I get excited or freaked out or something. Don’t worry about it, Mom.”
She turned her head to the side and then nodded a little, motioning me to lay back down. Rather than changing me out of the already wet diaper, she simply fastened the other one she’d had overtop of it. “You’ve been having some heavy night-time accidents lately, so a little extra protection won’t hurt,” she reasoned, leaning over to open my drawer and remove a pair of panties. They were one of my older pairs, and had stretched from years of wear - white, with lace around the leg openings, and they had violet designs all over them. She slid these up on me and I looked down. The leak guards of the diapers still peeked out from between my legs, and even though the creases in the diapers bulged from beneath the panties, it made me a bit more comfortable to wear something over them.
“All set,” said my mom, standing and gathering her things. “Are you alright after that dream?”
Again, I shrugged, folding my legs. “I guess. .. You don’t mind if I stay home from school tomorrow, do you, Mom? I can have Wendy get my work.”
“That’s fine, honey.” She tapped her chin with a finger in thought. “I tell you what. I’ve got that king-sized bed, and it seems sort of useless sleeping in it by myself. How about you take the other side, tonight?”
Blinking, I quickly responded. “But aren’t you afraid I’ll wet it?”
“Not at all. Besides, I think all we’ll need to worry about in the morning is a dribble, given how much you used the cloth ones.” She began to pick up the things on the bed, including the plastic bag where she’d stowed away my dirty diaper. “Go get comfy. I’m going to go wash these things.”
I did as I was told. My mother’s bed was warm, and I slid into the oft-unoccupied side, curling my legs beneath the blankets and stretching out along them. My pampers rustled beneath the blankets, but at least the bed was clean, and that was all that mattered.
I fell asleep fast, before my Mom even came up to join me. I remember her scooting into the bed beside me, patting my rear, and kissing me goodnight, but that was it. I dozed, wondering just how successful I’d be hiding all of this from the boy I’d slowly come to adore. And that’s just when this story starts to get interesting. . .
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