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Story By Little Sunshine, Canada
Jenny Gets A Cold - Part 2
John was worried about Jenny. The two of them were spending a quiet evening at John’s place. Jenny was sitting at the kitchen table, peacefully sketching a picture for an art class she was taking. John was at sitting across from her, finishing up some paperwork from the office. Or at least, he was supposed to be doing paperwork. What he was actually doing was stealing glances at his small, golden-haired girlfriend. Although Jenny was 24, she was so slender and dainty that she always seemed like a doll to John. And never had she looked more innocent than she did that night as she sat sketching, her eyes cast down at her paper, one slender, bare arm moving gracefully as she drew.
Although she was lovely, John couldn’t help but notice her pallor, and the dark circles beneath her eyes. She had been fighting a cold for the last two weeks, and her cough had begun to rattle deep in her chest in a most alarming way. She had been sleeping fitfully, and had not been eating properly, either. She picked at her meals with a disinterest that concerned John more and more with each passing day. And she was changing her behaviour at night, too.
After a couple of nighttime accidents, he had begun diapering Jenny before bed every night for the past week. At first, both John and Jenny had awkwardly called her nighttime garments “disposable underpants,” as they were described on the package they came in. But everybody knows that underpants are not made to absorb peeing accidents. On the mornings when John pulled wet Goodnites off Jenny, it seemed silly not to refer to them as diapers. It was clearly what they were. Jenny had grown used to John’s gentle cuddling of her on these mornings as he changed her, and loved the bubble baths he gave her to clean her up. To her, he always seemed to love her more during these times than anytime else.
Now as he watched her sketching, she shivered. She was clad only in a thin, short-sleeved blue t-shirt.
“Are you cold, darling?” he asked in concern. She looked up at him and smiled cheerfully.
“No, I’m fine.” She often said this. John had noticed that Jenny seemed somewhat out of touch with her physical sensations. She often said she wasn’t cold when she was shivering, wasn’t sleepy when was yawning every five minutes, and sometimes denied having to go to the bathroom when she was squirming and plainly in need. This unconsciousness of her own body made her seem much younger than her 24 years.
“I’ll go get you a sweater,” he said kindly. He went into the bedroom and removed Jenny’s white fleece pullover from the closet. He was about to shut the closet doors, when he noticed some clothing dropped on the floor in the back of the space. He sighed at Jenny’s carelessness. She had simply thrown her clothes on the floor of the closet instead of hanging them like she was supposed to. He reached down and picked up a pair of her black dress pants for work. Under the pants, in the corner of the closet was a pair of her blue and white panties, crumpled into a ball. John picked these up and was surprised to find them slightly damp. He raised an eyebrow. What was this? Had Jenny had a small wetting accident? It couldn’t have been serious, since her pants that were on the floor with the panties had remained dry.
John unfolded the panties and looked inside. Inside, on the blue and white fabric was a dark brown stain, about the size of a quarter. It was small, but there was no doubt what it was. He stood for some time, staring at Jenny’s soiled panties. What did this mean?
It looked as though she had possibly had an upset tummy, and had a toileting emergency. She had clearly made it to the bathroom at the last moment, but wasn’t able to get her panties down in time to prevent a little accident. As he considered this, John became even more concerned about Jenny. Why hadn’t she told him she was having stomach problems? Although part of him was worried, it must be confessed that another significant part of him was inexplicably excited. John had a rather strange urge when it came to Jenny. For some reason he yearned for her to have accidents in her panties. Lately, things had been moving exactly as John had hoped they would.
John strode into the living room, holding Jenny’s slightly poopy panties in his hand.
“Jenny Lynn,” he said authoritatively. She looked up at him. Her eyes shifted to the bundle in his hands, and her cheeks flooded with colour. She knew exactly what he had found. She searched his face and found it so stern that she couldn’t look at him.
“You have some explaining to do, missy. Why did I find these dirty panties in the closet?”
Jenny looked down and murmured quietly, “Oops. You weren’t supposed to find them.”
“Well I did find them. Why did you hide them Jenny?”
Jenny tried to explain. “I was coming home from work on the go-train, and then I got a really bad stomach ache. I needed to go… to go number two right away. I was almost worried I wasn’t going to make it to the bathroom! Anyways, I got to your apartment before you were home, and I ran to the bathroom but when I pulled my pants and panties down my panties were a little…dirty.”
“Jenny, I don’t like you hiding accidents from me,” said John, frowning.
Jenny was indignant. “It wasn’t an accident! An accident would be if I stood on the train and pooped in my pants. And I didn’t. I made it to the bathroom, and I only got my panties a tiny bit dirty.”
John sighed with resignation. He turned, went into his small laundry room, and filled the laundry room sink with soapy water. He put Jenny’s panties in the water to soak. He walked back into the kitchen and took a seat beside Jenny at the table.
“Jenny,” he said firmly, “I understand that you didn’t have a full-out loss of control in your pants. But even little accidents are significant. Sweetheart, that means your tummy is upset, and I didn’t even know that. I thought you just had a cold, and now I’m wondering if you are sicker than we first realised. In any case, the place for dirty panties is the laundry room, not on the floor of the closet. Isn’t it?”
Jenny nodded begrudgingly.
“Princess, I don’t want to have to start checking your pants and your panties every day. But if you aren’t honest with me, I’ll have to do that. Do you want that?”
Jenny shook her head, her eyes wide.
“Okay. From now on, I want you to tell me if you have any dirty panties. Most girls your age get their panties a little bit wet or messy in the daytime every once in a while. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. It can be hard to hold it when you’re hurrying to get to the potty, can’t it? And sometimes girls wait too long before trying to get to a bathroom, don’t they? Even if you just pee or poop your panties slightly, I need to know that so that I can understand what is going on with you. And also so that I can help you clean up any messy clothes. Right? Is that fair?”
Jenny nodded shyly. “Yes. Okay. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I didn’t think it mattered.”
John pulled her onto his lap and hugged her. “Well it does. Everything about my little Jenny matters, doesn’t it?” Jenny smiled and snuggled into his arms, then coughed, her thin body shaking with the effort. John felt the familiar current of worry shoot through his body. She had been coughing for too long. And as she sat on his lap, she felt pitifully light. He was sure she had lost weight in the last few weeks. Her face was beginning to lose its pretty roundness. He made a mental note to schedule a doctor’s appointment for her as soon as possible. John put Jenny to bed early that night.
The next morning, he was surprised to find her diaper was dry. He praised her for being such a big girl and not going pee-pee in her bed. But privately, he suspected she was somewhat dehydrated. He hadn’t been able to encourage her to drink or eat anything the night before.
At breakfast, Jenny listlessly twirled her spoon in her oatmeal, but ate very little, even when John held her on his lap and spoon-fed her. After three mouthfuls she turned her head away and pleaded that she felt too sick to eat any more.
John didn’t want to let her go to work, but Jenny pleaded with him so urgently that he didn’t have the heart to stop her. Jenny was a junior administrative assistant at an office, and took her job very seriously. John drove her to her office, dropped her off, and then headed to his own firm where he worked as a lawyer.
Late that afternoon, John was reviewing a case when his phone rang. It was the supervisor from the office where Jenny worked. Fear stabbed John’s heart like an icy nail as he heard the woman telling him that something was wrong with Jenny.
“The poor little thing just keeled over by the photocopier. I think she fainted. She’s burning up with fever. She told us that you were her emergency contact. I think she needs to go home for the day.”
“I’ll be right there,” John said tersely, and immediately hung up the phone and began gathering his things to leave. He felt wrecked with guilt. Why had he let her go to work? She was too delicate to be working when she was ill like this. And she was even sicker than he had realised if she had fainted.
John sprinted down the hallway of his firm and swore furiously at the slow elevator in his building. He swore again at the other drivers on the road as he broke all traffic rules in his rush to get to Jenny’s building. When he reached her office, he didn’t wait for the elevator, but took the steps two at a time until he reached her floor. There, he spoke to the receptionist (rather abruptly) and was ushered into the office coffee room, where Jenny lay curled up on the couch. She had a large, bruised-looking cut above her eye, where she had apparently hit her head when she fell. Her eyes were closed, and she was wrapped in her long, black coat, her face as white as chalk. John knelt down beside her and put his arms around her, giving her a fierce hug.
“Oh my poor little girl. Jenny! Are you alright?” He realised she was trembling.
“I’m alright,” said Jenny weakly, opening her eyes. “But my head hurts. And my throat hurts, too.”
“Let’s get you right home,” said John, protectively. He lifted her in his strong arms, and carried her through the office, ignoring the curious stares of the other employees. She looked like a broken porcelain doll, with her fair head resting against his muscular shoulder, her thin arms wrapped around his neck.
He walked by Jenny’s supervisor without speaking to her. Irrationally, John partially blamed her for Jenny’s illness, privately believing that she worked Jenny too hard. For this reason, he decided to try and convince Jenny to quit work. He could take some time off to look after her at home, and then she could find a new job.
Once in the car, Jenny burst into tears.
John attempted to reach for her, but she clutched her coat around her more tightly and avoided his grasp.
“It’s alright darling. We’re going to get you right home.”
He drove to his apartment and supported Jenny as they rode the elevator to his top floor suite. Once inside the door, Jenny continued to cry, and then said fearfully, “I have to tell you something.”
“What is it, Jenny?” asked John gently.
“I… I wet my pants,” she cried.
“Oh Jenny,” he said lovingly. This explained why she was all bundled in her long coat. John felt a rush of understanding and also some pleasure. She was such a child sometimes. Now that she had confessed it, he became aware of the faint odour of urine.
He carefully opened her coat, exposing her clothing. She was wearing a white blouse and navy pinstriped pants. When he felt the front of her pants, he found them cold and thoroughly soaked, although they didn’t look it. The navy hid the wetness well. He checked her backside and found it sodden as well.
“Did this happen when you fainted, sweetheart?” he asked in concern.
“No…” she said, half-reluctantly. It would have been tempting to blame her wetting on unconsciousness, but she was worried that John would be able to tell if she lied to him.
“Do you want to tell me what happened?” he asked, in such a commanding voice that Jenny knew she had no choice but to give some explanation.
She paused. She was ashamed to admit it, but the truth was that Jenny’s wetting had not entirely been accidental. Her fainting was genuine, brought on by a combination of weariness and lack of breakfast. Afterwards, her coworkers had helped her to the couch and brought her a large cup of tea. She drank this and then cuddled under her coat, to await John’s arrival. After a short time, she felt the strong urge to pee. Jenny was feeling frightened by her faint, and was in a very babyish mindset. She felt altogether too little and weak to be going down the hall to the washroom. She was tired, and wanted to rest and wait for John. She wished she was wearing her nighttime diapers, so that she could just pee her pants as she lay on the couch. Without really meaning to, she experimentally tried to wet just a little bit. John would find out, but he wouldn’t mind. After all, hadn’t he just told her yesterday that most girls wet their panties a bit now and then? The short spurt of wetness was warmer and wetter than she expected. It satisfied some primal urge in her, deep in the pit of her stomach. She was scared, and she felt like a baby. And didn’t all babies pee their pants when they were frightened? It felt so right. The small loss of control made her crave another little accident. And who cared, anyways? John always made her feel that peeing herself in her sleep was perfectly understandable, even a bit cute. Why should it be any different in the day? She tried to wet just a little bit more, but found that her body took over. She was half-thrilled and half-horrified to feel herself unable to stop peeing once she started. She sat still and felt warm wetness soaking through her linen pants and into the ugly tweed sofa cushion that she sat on. What a naughty girl she was being, peeing her pants at work. The forbidden action almost made Jenny climax. She felt the urge to suck her thumb as she emptied her bladder, but resisted it, concentrating on what was happening in her pants. Afterwards, she sighed, smiled, and spent a few blissful moments squirming in her own puddle. After a little while, she felt her pants grow cold. She then got up, flipped over the tweed cushion, wrapped her coat around her and lay down again to wait for John.
Although she knew it was naughty, Jenny genuinely felt that she couldn’t have done anything else. The stress of fainting had caused her to regress emotionally, and she expressed this in the most babyish way possible – by pottying in her pants.
Jenny couldn’t explain her complicated babyish longings to John. So she continued to cry, and said, instead, “I don’t know what happened. I just had an accident.”
John was very understanding. He had no idea that Jenny would have wet on purpose. He believed that she might have fallen asleep while waiting for him and had something like a bedwetting accident. In any case, he had no desire to scold her. He had been worried sick, and felt only the urge to cuddle her and treat her like a princess. It wasn’t all that surprising for her to have wet after fainting. Truth be told, he was glad. It meant he got to change her and clean her up, which he always loved doing. And it meant that his little girlfriend needed him more than ever.
He gave her a hug and spoke comforting words. “That’s alright love. It doesn’t matter. You’re sick and you can’t help it. Everybody has accidents when they’re sick. Don’t cry anymore, Jenny. We’ll get you cleaned up and put you in your comfiest jammies.”
John led Jenny to the bathroom. As he led her, a new idea formed in his mind. He didn’t know if Jenny would like it, but he if he deemed it necessary, he knew he could convince her of it...
Meanwhile, Jenny was enjoying the attention that always came when she peed in her pants. She couldn’t believe her own naughty pleasure at John’s earnest words of comfort. And as he gently removed her wet clothing, she had a secret question in her mind. What would it feel like to do more than wet…?
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