Chapter 12. A Prophecy Fulfilled?
One year later…
Courtney stood behind her podium in the auditorium full of teenage girls. She felt nervous in front of the crowd, but at least her nether regions were shielded from view, lest she fail to “make it through” her presentation. She waited for the room to quiet down and then began.
“Did you know that boys’ and girls’ urinary tracts are virtually identical at birth, save for the final portion?”
A hand shot up immediately. “So then, why are we naturally incontinent?”
“That’s just it,” Courtney replied. “I’m not sure we are.” She continued echoing Jane’s interview. “We possess all the necessary anatomy—the urethral sphincter, nerves around the bladder. We just need to learn to use it all. I see no reason why females cannot toilet-train like males can.”
“Ha, like you’ve ever tried it,” laughed a tall girl on the right.
“As a matter of fact, I have…” Courtney took a deep breath as she transitioned from Jane’s words to her own. “I used to be sitting where you all are, in a wet diaper begging to be changed.” A few girls snickered at that. “I assumed I’d be wearing them all my life, and for good reason. I could control my bladder no better than a newborn infant. I wet myself repeatedly each day, even my clothes if I wasn’t careful.”
The audience grew silent as Courtney told her story—and theirs. “At night I slept on plastic sheets, in case my overnight diaper leaked all over the bed. I was afraid to bare myself even for an instant, for there was no telling when my bladder might release.”
A young woman in the third row raised her hand. “It sounds bad when you put it like that, but…diapers also can be fun. They look cute—make you feel attractive.”
Another hand flew up. “I totally agree. And, like, we’re dependent on bras too—at least most of us are.” Giggles broke out. “But no one thinks anything bad about that.”
Courtney nodded—prepared for this comparison. “Think about it this way. How many of you would ditch your breasts—off the soccer field, that is?” More giggles, but no one raised their hand. “Now, how many of you would choose to be continent?” Half the hands in the room shot up.
“You could still wear cute undies and not wet them,” said a girl on the left.
“I’m sorry, it’s just so weird to think about. Peeing in a toilet? That would be like, having a penis or something.” Raucous laughter erupted.
“Quiet down, ladies,” said Courtney.
A new girl spoke. “It’s annoying having to worry about leaks and stuff. But wetting a diaper feels, I don’t know—girly—like wearing makeup or a dress, or like that other girl said, a bra.”
“Plus, we don’t have to drop what we’re doing to run to the bathroom. We can just—go.”
“I hear what you all are saying,” said a girl with red hair and freckles, “but if I could press a button and suddenly be continent, I would.”
“So would I.”
“What happened when you tried to toilet-train?” asked the tall girl.
“Before sharing that, let me tell you why I did…” Courtney described her struggles at the workplace, her embarrassing accidents, the nagging sense that her bladder was more capable than anyone assumed. She recounted the moment she first encountered Jane’s ideas, and the flood of questions it spawned. Then she told of her vain attempt to toilet-train without professional guidance. At this last part, hands shot up.
“I tried the toilet once, and it ended just as badly.”
“Yeah, me too.”
“That’s the insidious nature of it,” Courtney replied. “Just when you’re old enough to question the world around you, your incontinence has progressed to the point where rebelling against it does little good. A couple humiliating accidents convince you never to try again.”
“So it’s too late for us?” asked the freckled girl.
“No one knows the answer to that. But as most of you have probably realized, our bladder control worsens as we age. That’s why my friend Jenny runs a group for new and expectant moms.”
“Is it working for the toddler girls?”
“Too soon to tell.”
Courtney displayed a slide. “This is the female urinary tract…” She summarized Jane’s theory in language her teenage audience could understand, focusing on the “use it or lose it” hypothesis. Then she switched to a slide showing a diaper, a pull-up, and a panty. She recounted the first time she managed to pee in the toilet, her first day in pull-ups, her first time staying dry without protection.
“What’s it like to wear underpants?” the tall girl asked.
“Panties, you mean? Liberating, but also nerve-racking.”
“Did you have any embarrassing moments?”
The crowd was a mature one—all high-school juniors or older—so Courtney shared a few misadventures, including the fateful trip with Kyle to the restaurant. She omitted the night out clubbing, though; some stories were better left untold. She ended the presentation with her revelations about Wolcott’s failed experiment, for she felt it important that her audience hear both sides.
“And that’s how it stands,” Courtney concluded. “Where we adults have failed, we look to you, the younger generation. You never know what’s possible until you try.” The audience erupted into applause.
The girl with freckles then raised her hand again. “You can’t be that old… Did you make it out of diapers in the end?”
Behind the podium, Courtney’s hand graced the front of her skirt. Of course they’d want to know what she was wearing under there. She thought of all that had transpired in the past year…
After Jane had left, Courtney sat pondering what the good doctor had said. The longer we wear diapers, the harder reversing it becomes. Maybe Courtney simply hadn’t tried for long enough? Perhaps if she recommitted herself—
—Nothing more than speculative fancy, Dr. Peters’ voice interjected.
Courtney touched her diaper, wet since some unspecified time. The weekend had felt so relaxing, never having to remember to try the toilet. Maybe she just needed a break for a few days, after obsessing over her bladder for so long. She deserved one by now, did she not?
Yet the days expanded to a week, then two weeks, then a month, and Courtney remained in diapers. At first she felt guilty wetting them without even trying to prevent it. When the urge came on, she would glance toward the nearest bathroom wondering if she could make it. But then she’d recall Krystal’s words:
Easier just to go randomly in your diaper, since you’re wearing one anyway.
Courtney’s eyes would drift closed as she let things flow. Relax, she would tell herself, you’re on vacation. Life had grown so stressful, with Kyle gone and Mr. Flanders bossing her around at work. Diapers were calming.
A logical way to accommodate your gender’s natural limitations, as her ex-boyfriend put it.
A reckoning arrived when she ran low on supplies. Six weeks earlier, she was barely making a dent in her stack—but now she was back up to five or more per day. Courtney gazed in the mirror dejectedly. The one she wore cut deep into the flesh that had been accumulating on her hips recently, even with the tapes at their widest setting. She should really get refitted—but why bother if tomorrow she was starting back at the gym? (Or maybe Monday after work.) She filled out an online order for her normal size.
Then she stared at the total—she had forgotten how expensive diapers were. What are you doing, Courtney? Cancel the order. Her finger hovered over her mouse…
You came to my theatre with no diaper on?
She had, and promptly peed all over the floor—on camera. After six months of trying, she could barely keep her clothes dry.
Clearly she needed to wear these; she had better stock up.
A couple months later, Courtney emerged from the shower and toweled off. While toilet-training, she had grown accustomed to going nude for short periods—from the bed to the toilet after sex (back when she was having sex), or like now, from the shower to the changing table. If she felt an urge, the toilet was well within reach.
Only today, it wasn’t. Her hot spray began without warning, splashing across her legs as she stumbled back towards the shower. Courtney gazed down at the trail of pee, her heart racing.
After cleaning up, she spread a plastic-lined towel across her bed and inserted the cold, white diode, unused for weeks. But as she lay with her legs parted, she could barely find which muscles to squeeze. Finally she produced a small contraction, but the diode only registered a 2. This vacation ends NOW, she murmured. She marched to the cabinet for a set of panties.
Those? asked the voice in her head. You’ll end up making puddles on the floor.
So Courtney reached for a pull-up instead, frowning at the way it squeezed her hips. Then she sat down to dinner, staring across at the empty chair that Kyle used to occupy. She reached down to unbutton her skirt, too tight to eat in otherwise. Her vacation from the gym needed to end now too.
After finishing her macaroni and cheese, she sank onto the couch for some reality television, her thighs spreading out lazily against the cushions. Soon her cares slipped away as the frivolous characters fought over each other’s boyfriends. And then she felt warmth flooding her pull-up.
Courtney slapped her forehead. How had she forgotten so easily? Because she’d been mindlessly wetting herself for weeks, that’s why.
She knew what must be done: reraise the bar. Voices be damned, she dug out her pink underwear from the bottom of the drawer and shimmied them up until they hugged her waist far tighter than they used to. Alright, now what? Part of her wanted to jumpstart her workout routine right then, but in panties that was out of the question. Her pad would be soaked in no time.
So instead she opened her laptop and stared at the task Mr. Flanders had assigned her: convincing women that skintight office skirts were the wave of the future. After weeks of meekly obeying his directives, she could bear it no longer. She began composing an email that explained how she truly felt.
"Dear Mr. Flanders,
I think we need to be more realistic about how women view their own bodies. We’re self-conscious enough about our diapers, with the constant threat of leaks and all. Why compound that with clothes so tight that any onlooker could see that her diaper’s full from the shape of it under her skirt? Speaking from personal experience, I just don’t think these products will sell, no matter how sexy we make them seem.
She read the message over carefully…but couldn’t quite bring herself to send it. As she clicked to save a draft, she felt a sudden pressure between her legs. Courtney stood and aimed for the bathroom, embarking on that short journey she’d completed so many times before.
Only today it felt different, the control nurtured over all those months strangely absent. Pee escaped almost immediately, soaking her pad and then some. She barely managed to force it back. After a few hobbling steps, it burst forth again, gushing into her underwear, down her legs, and onto the living room floor. She stood there in shock, till her bare feet sat in a quarter inch of pee.
Underwear for girls? asked the waitress. Obviously that makes no sense.
But Jane said—
—Hogwash. No sensible urologist buys into any of it.
Courtney hung her wet skirt up to dry. Then she toweled off and cleaned up the puddle, thankful for living in an old building with hardwood floors. After showering, she pondered her options. At this point only one remained. Resigned, she fastened a diaper around her hips.
You will never be capable of making it to the toilet, her mother scolded. Don’t embarrass yourself by trying.
In the months since then, she never did again.
From behind the podium, Courtney turned to the girl with freckles. “I wish my answer were different, but after half a year I still couldn’t trust myself in just underwear. So in my case—no, I never made it out of diapers. Perhaps ten years ago I could have. That’s why I’m telling you: Start today.”
“So that’s it? You’re just gonna give up?” asked the tall girl.
“How messed up is that? Some role model you are.”
Courtney half-expected this. “It’s a personal choice we all need to make. Don’t think I took the decision lightly.”
“I want to try it,” said the girl with freckles.
“Yeah, me too. How do I…go about it?”
“We have a program designed by Dr. Wolcott, herself. You start with pelvic floor exercises, then move to pull-ups, and finally to girl’s underwear. It’s all explained in this booklet.” Courtney held one up as she scanned the audience. “Well, if there are no more questions—”
“What about that boy Kyle you mentioned? He seemed sweet—are you still together?”
Courtney demurred. “Now, now. That’s a bit off-topic, isn’t it?”
“Please?” said another girl. “We really want to know.”
“That’s my main hang-up,” the tall girl admitted. “Would my boyfriend still be attracted to a girl that peed in the toilet?”
Good question, thought Courtney…
When supplies ran low again, Courtney had invited Krystal out shopping. Staying in denial wasn’t helping matters—she needed clothes that actually fit.
“I can’t believe these concept drawings,” Krystal said, scanning through Courtney’s phone. “That skirt’s so tight her diaper’s plainly visible.”
Courtney stuck a fork in her food-court salad. “I don’t get it, either. Why would a woman want her ruffles on display at work?”
“Does look cute, though.”
“You’re right, you’re right—I would never wear that to the office…unless I was crushing on a coworker or something.”
Courtney rolled her eyes.
“Ready to hit the shops?” Krystal asked.
“Come on—you’ll feel way better once you try a few things on.”
“Yeah, in what size?” All Courtney’s prior insecurities with her weight paled compared to this.
Krystal stood up and dragged her through the mall.
“We’re starting here ?” Courtney stared at the sparkly sign: Victoria’s Secret – Bra and Diaper Shop.
“Gotta build your wardrobe from the inside out. It’s the only way.”
Soon they stood in a fitting room with their clothes in a pile.
The slender salesgirl asked, “Can you undo the tapes so I can get an accurate hip measurement?”
Courtney folded the top of her diaper down while holding the bottom part to her groin.
“Is that a 38 you have on?”
“You need a 40. It’ll provide better coverage and prevent more leaks.”
“Ohmygosh!” Courtney exclaimed.
“It’s just one size up.”
“Um—it’s not that, is it…” said Krystal.
“Don’t look. Oh, this is so embarrassing!”
The salesgirl’s eyes went wide. Both she and Krystal turned away, just as Courtney sprayed into her diaper—or at least, the part still in place. A little got on her hand.
“Don’t worry, hon. You’re not the first to have that happen. I’ll be back in a minute, okay?”
“Here’s a wipe,” Krystal offered.
Once Courtney was clean and dry, the salesgirl returned with a few samples. Courtney thought fondly back to her teenage years when she and her friends would use this trick to snag free diapers. Now, the cause was more sobering.
“That looks cute on you,” said Krystal while modeling a lavender bra.
Courtney gazed in the mirror at the flowery diaper enveloping her wide hips and bottom. “Uh huh, and I thought I looked plump in a 38.”
“Hey!” Krystal objected. “I wear 38s.”
“Yeah, but you have the chest to offset it. What’s that, a double-D cup?”
“I’m like two sizes smaller…even after gaining all this weight.”
Krystal touched Courtney’s shoulder, bare aside from her bra strap. “We’ll hit the gym tomorrow, okay? No more excuses.”
Courtney ended up investing in several packs of diapers and a few clothes in the larger size. A depressing afternoon—but motivation to turn things around, at least.
“Have you spoken to Kyle at all?” Krystal asked as they sat down to dinner.
“Not a word.”
“Aren’t you curious how he’s doing?”
Courtney breathed in deep. “I’ve written so many texts. I just…can’t bring myself to send them.”
“What do they say?”
“Sometimes a causal, ‘Hope you’re doing well…’ Other times, ‘How about dinner and a movie?’” She sighed. “He’s probably with someone else by now, anyway.”
Krystal shrugged. “You never know… Honestly, I still don’t understand why you ended it.”
“He lied, Krystal—said he believed in me, when really he enjoyed watching me fail.”
“Is that so wrong of him?”
“What?” Of course it was.
“Courtney, sometimes I hate being a girl. I wish I were taller, stronger, less in need of a bra. But every guy I’ve dated seems to love those feminine traits—even my dependence on diapers. Think of it this way: If I tried running braless, guys would be all over that—in fact, several have requested I do it in front of them.”
“Heck no. Hurts even thinking about it.”
Courtney smirked. “Kyle commented on that once. Said my jiggling was cute.”
“See? That’s what I mean. They’re attracted to our bodies’…feminine flaws, you might call them.”
“Well, I don’t mind if he ogles my chest, or finds it cute that I hand him jars to open. But this was on a whole other level… Krystal, he kept convincing me to wear panties, figuring I’d wet them and he’d get to watch.”
“When you put it that way, it does seem wrong.”
Courtney crossed her arms. “Yeah.”
“But…he never pressured you or anything. Even that time at the club, you could have borrowed a diaper from another gal. Seems like…he was having fun with an opportunity you placed in his lap. What guy wouldn’t kill for the chance to watch his girlfriend fail at toilet-training?”
A few weeks later, Courtney finally found the courage to ask Kyle out to dinner.
“How’s work going?” he asked when they were seated.
“Just awful. Mr. Flanders listens to me talk and says, ‘Very interesting point—I’ll think on that,’ but then disregards everything I said.”
Kyle nodded. “At least Mr. Mills valued your ideas, even if he did take credit for all of them.”
Courtney laughed. “That’s a fine way to put it.”
A long silence followed.
“Courtney, I’m so very sorry for how I acted. I was out of line.”
She shrugged. “Hopefully you’ve applied the lessons learned when dating other women.”
He shook his head slowly. “There’s been no one. All I can think of…is you.”
Courtney reached out and touched his hand. “I’m not saying you’re blameless, but…I think I’m ready to forgive.”
“You’re sure? You seemed pretty upset that day.”
“I believe a lot of that stemmed from my own frustration with myself. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t grasp this simple thing you mastered when you were three. All the resentment I felt for being so incapable, I transferred onto you.”
He nodded in understanding. “So, have you made any progress since—"
“—I’m back in diapers, Kyle.”
He squeezed her hand in his. “I’m so sorry.”
Courtney gazed at him affectionately. “Will you walk me home later?”
That night they stayed up talking for hours. As the morning sun began to rise, he finally reached for the hem of her shirt.
She clutched his hand. “Um…”
“It’s alright, we can take it slow for now.”
“No, it’s not that. I’ve, um…put on weight since you last saw me.”
“Oh, that’s what you’re worried about?”
“Mm hmm…like, ten pounds or so. I’ve been eating for comfort.”
“Aww, cuz you missed me?”
“Well, I could sort of already tell. I still think you’re beautiful.” He lifted her shirt over her head, revealing her softened torso.
Immediately, Courtney felt self-conscious of how her bra pinched her sides. She hoped he would remove it soon. Instead, he kissed between her breasts, then inched lower across her tummy. His lips felt so delicious that the extra flesh there bothered her less than it probably should have.
He paused to remove his shirt, his body still as hard as ever. Then he found the zipper of her skirt and slid it down, exposing Courtney’s brand-new diaper. She had chosen it carefully—light pink lace to contrast with her dark grey bra. She knew just how it looked, stretching full and proud across her spacious hips—having studied it carefully in the mirror. “Too much for a first date?” she asked.
Kyle grinned. “Not at all.” He traced her diaper’s seams, tickled her supple thighs where the tight elastic ended. Then she felt his fingers at the tapes.
“Wait—can we leave it on for now?”
With her bra still fastened, she knew he wasn’t ready yet for sex. He must have other plans beforehand. “My diaper,” she said, “I’m scared to remove it.”
“Really? I thought you love it when I—”
“—I do. But…my control has gotten really bad again lately.” She felt something press against her thigh. Interesting…
“How bad are we talking?”
She thought of Jane’s words: I wish my husband relished my need for diapers. And she thought of Krystal’s: They’re attracted to our bodies’ feminine flaws. Maybe she’d have some fun with this? “If I felt anything start to happen,” she said, “I highly doubt I could make it to the toilet.”
“Even just across the hall?”
“I probably wouldn’t make it off the bed without splashing it.” She watched his hardness pulse and grow.
Kyle caressed her thigh. “What happened in the past eight months?”
“Well…earlier tonight, remember how I said that Jane’s experiment actually failed? After learning that, the path forward seemed so dim—I just gave up. Then I guess my bladder reverted back to what it knew. Kyle, I toilet-trained for six months…after 27 years in diapers.”
“And you’re okay with this?”
“No.” Courtney smoothed the elastic on hers. “Eight months ago, all I could think of was how poor my control still was after trying so long to improve it. Now, I’d pray to have even that small bit back. It may not seem so to you, but there’s a palpable difference between knowing I might make it to the toilet and knowing I don’t have a chance.”
“If you ever try toilet-training again, I promise I won’t interfere… Or have you decided it’s impossible?”
“Honestly, I don’t know what to believe anymore. But the thought of struggling though it again—fighting with my impetuous bladder, facing the world without the security of a diaper—is too much to stomach.” She gazed at him, before asking with a smirk, “Do you have any more questions?”
“Um…why are you smiling?”
“Because you’re cute when you’re excited.”
He seemed to blush.
“Silly boy, it’s right there.” She pointed between his legs. “You can’t deny this topic turns you on.”
“That’s how I got into trouble.”
“It’s okay—I’m past that now.” She touched where she had pointed. “So why does it?”
“Turn me on? I think just the idea that you could lose control at any moment, and have no ability to stop it.”
“And you like the thought of that?”
He nodded as she stroked him.
Then her hand fell to her lap and her eyes grew wide.
“Yes…” she whispered, as she wet her pink lace diaper with her boyfriend staring. When it ended, she smiled sheepishly. “Now imagine that happening at a really important work meeting, and you can grasp some sense of what it’s like…and why I tried to—”
“—Courtney, I love you.” He kissed her in the early morning light.
“I love you too,” she said, her diaper warm and full between her thighs.
The memory brought a smile to Courtney’s lips. She raised her hand from behind the podium to show off her diamond ring.
“He proposed?” the freckled girl asked.
“Just last month,” said Courtney, beaming. She turned to the tall girl as the crowd cheered. “To speak to your concern about your boyfriend: I can’t say what Kyle would have thought had I succeeded at toilet-training, but he sure loved helping me try.”
“Hand me a pamphlet,” the girl responded. “I’m gonna do this.”
“Yeah, me too!” said another.
“Y’all are nuts!” said a third.
“Ms. Clark?” said the girl with freckles. “I think you should keep on trying. Six months isn’t that long. It was years before I could perform a Triple Lutz.”
Courtney considered the idea, as she had so many times before…
Jenny was the first person Courtney had told about Kyle’s proposal.
“I’m so excited for you!” Her friend clapped over FaceTime. “I knew he was a keeper.”
“I had to dump him first to realize it… So how are you feeling, Jen?”
“Fat as a cow. But at least now I have good reason.”
“How many months left—just two, right?”
“I can feel her kicking.”
“It’s a girl, Courtney! The results came back today.”
“Oh, I’m so excited for you too! It’s what you always wanted.”
“Well, the potty-training’s half as hard. Just teach her not to dirty her diaper, and then—well, you know the rest.”
And then she’ll keep wetting them her whole life. Another innocent girl starting down that road. “You could…try the other half and see what happens,” Courtney suggested.
“To be honest, I’ve considered it. Have you heard from Allison at all?
“Not since she lost her medical license. Busy rebuilding her life, I’m sure.”
“It seems almost cruel to set my baby daughter up for failure—like Allison did to you.”
“Or for a lifetime without leaks or rashes.”
Jenny smiled but said nothing.
“So will you keep working?” Courtney asked, changing the subject.
“We’ll see. I finally have some excuse to quit that hellhole.”
Courtney grinned while shaking her head. “I wish I had that option.”
“You would if you moved in with Kyle.”
“After he burned his entire savings on the ring…? Come on, Jen, you know I’m more of a ‘suffer the slings and arrows’ type of girl.”
“Are you?” Jenny asked.
The next morning, Courtney fought with her tight skirt. Since getting back with Kyle, she had managed to shed some of the pounds she’d put on, but not all of them. Her clothes from before were only just beginning to fit.
Mr. Flanders greeted her as always, with a subtle scan of her body. “Morning, Courtney. That marketing plan finally ready?”
“Could we talk through it later?”
“I don’t want to talk about it. I want to see it—on my desk.”
“Of course, sir.”
So Courtney sat at her computer, staring at the blank page that the marketing plan was supposed to fill. She sipped nervously from her coffee mug, trying for the umpteenth time even to begin the impossible task Flanders had assigned her.
The matter finally came to a head at lunch.
“Alright, let’s see it,” said Flanders.
“It’s, um, not ready yet.”
“Why not?” he demanded.
Because the clothes he hoped to sell had less appeal than…women’s underwear, even. Not a soul on earth would buy them, no matter how Courtney spun it. “Can I have one more day?” she pleaded.
Flanders opened his phone. “Mr. Mills? Could you come down to the conference room, please?”
Soon her boss arrived with Krystal in tow. Courtney stood to greet them while Flanders remained seated.
“I’m sure this is all a misunderstanding,” Mr. Mills began. “Courtney is impeccable with deadlines—isn’t that right, Krystal?”
The receptionist nodded rapidly. “Coffee, anyone?” she asked.
“I shouldn’t,” said Courtney.
“I should think not,” said Flanders, glancing at Courtney’s tight skirt in a creepy way.
Did he really just say that?
“So what’s the deal with this report?” Mr. Mills asked.
Courtney took a deep breath and pointed at the concept drawings sprawled across the table. “Sir, I can’t write it…because these products aren’t marketable. Look, that blouse barely covers the poor woman’s bra, and the skirt’s so thin and stretchy that her diaper shows right through. I wouldn’t wear that—would you, Krystal?”
Her eyes darted from person to person. “Um…well, no…but—”
Mr. Mills gestured at Flanders. “I’ve been saying all along: Bring those necklines higher.”
In a stroke of daring, Courtney blurted out, “No you haven’t. I’m the one who proposed that.”
The room was silent.
Finally Flanders spoke. “Look down, Courtney…” He sat there with his phone out, as if her objection mattered so little that he couldn’t bother to listen.
“Apparently you would wear it—your tight skirt hides things just as poorly. It’s quite obvious what you have on underneath.”
Courtney’ jaw dropped open, her mind racing to respond but hitting only dead-ends. What could she say, that it fit looser before her ass took on this extra weight? That a thinner pull-up—or (god forbid) a panty—would show through less, if only girls were allowed to toilet-train?
Yet before she could assemble even a jumbled retort, her bladder took matters into its own hands. As she stood there in front of all of them, pee sprayed hard and fast into her diaper, inflating it to the point where her ruffles must have shown even worse than before. Then her heart sank even lower as she felt some trickle down the back of her thigh, wetting her skirt in Flanders’ direct field of view.
Courtney heard a click. “Did you just snap a photo?” she asked.
“But I heard it snap,” said Krystal.
Flanders mumbled something about needing to keep his phone silenced.
Courtney tried to process this sudden turn of events. Had anyone else realized what the photo was of? Krystal must have read her face, for her friend rushed over and peered at the back of her skirt. “Here, hon,” Krystal said, offering a paper napkin.
“Uh, I think you better delete that photo,” said Mr. Mills.
“That’s it?” Courtney asked, recovering from her shock. “That’s all you’ll say about it?”
“We’ll have HR look into it… In the meantime, Jim, probably worth taking our suggestions about thicker, looser skirts, given what just—well, you know.”
“They’re my suggestions, not ours.” Then Courtney’s pent-up rage finally burst free. “You know what? Too hell with this. I quit!”
She pressed the paper napkin to her backside and stormed out the door.
That night, Courtney sat pondering what to do with herself now, having just cut ties with the only marketing firm in town. In frustration, she swept her arm across her desk, sending her scattered work papers fluttering to the floor. There beneath the stack, a familiar title caught her eye:
“Wolcott, J. (2020). A self-fulfilling prophecy? An environmental theory of female urinary incontinence.”
Courtney dusted off the cover. Then she turned the page and read from start to finish, for the first time in over a year. She shut her eyes. Was Jane for real? Or just some crazy lunatic? Maybe Kyle, Krystal, and everyone else was dead wrong, and another path did exist—if not for herself, then at least for someone. Life must have more to offer women than lewd photos taken of their wet fannies.
Truly there was only one way to know. Toilet-training for girls: Why not market that?
She clutched her phone. “Jenny? I have a business proposition for you…”
Courtney stared out at her eager audience. Since that day at the office, the hush money from HR had made moving in with Kyle feel less intrusive, and her numerous talks with Jane had prepared her well for today’s presentation, the first of a dozen scheduled. So far, the rightwing press had left her alone; perhaps her young, attractive visage was too sympathetic a target. Overall, she felt more confident in herself than ever in her life.
All except that one area, hidden behind the podium. You should keep on trying, the freckled girl had said. As Courtney considered how to respond, her bladder caught her unawares. Warm pee filled her diaper, while she fought to contain her look of surprise. At times like this, continence seemed utterly unattainable—her bladder dysfunction past the point of no return.
Maybe the prophecy was only a myth, and all these young, impressionable girls would suffer the same crushing defeat that she had. Yet still they looked to her for inspiration. Should she try again?
Courtney adjusted her sagging diaper. “Maybe I will, ladies. We’ll see.”
~ Finis ~