(I noticed chapters are being posted in individual threads. That is weird and I don’t understand it. But I’ll go with it.)
Chapter 2 - Reaching Space
That moment after lift off, when the whole world is slowly getting further away and g-force gives you a funny face. That’s the moment I waited for. Just before that moment, I relaxed enough to release my bladder.
The force of my pee leaving my body, matched with the force of gravity pushing down on me. It was pure joy.
But as with many of my trips to the moon; this was just another work of fiction.
It was the middle of the night. I was jolted awake by the sudden feeling of falling and landing on my bed. It was a shadow of my dream chasing me back into reality.
As any eight year old and unlike an astronaut about to reach space, there was no unusual force manipulating my urine inside of my space suit. It simply spilled into my underwear and night gown. Yay for that.
I jumped out of bed and lifted my nightie over my head and stepped out of my underwear. I crawled into bed in a new set of undies and made sure it inch myself away from the puddle of my shame on the other side of my bed.
This was the last time I’d have to experience this uncomfortable side effect that comes with my new obsession. After much discussion from our parents, who ignored the responses of Bella and myself, it was decided that some form of diaper would become part of our routine grocery shopping and nightly attire.
So we wet ourselves for the rest of the week until shopping day arrived. If my ulterior motives didn’t exactly make my want diapers, I’d be dreading this moment. I’d rather just have been able to try them out once or twice, and wear them at my own discretion. Not be forced in them for every minute of every day.
But alas, as we were constantly told throughout breakfast, this was for our own good, and it was up to us if we didn’t want to wear them anymore.
We both opted to stay home from the trip to the grocery store. No one wants to be seen buying diapers with their mom. Especially if you’ve simply become known as “The Girl Who Pees Her Pants” around the school grounds.
When she got home, our mother told us to stay put and not help with bringing bags into the house. This was unusual, especially since there was no one with her to help her shop.
After that, the six of us sat in the living room. Two children, two parents, and two packages of diapers. More appropriately, as our parents stressed, they were Pull-Ups.
We were given all the basic instructions of how to put them on and off. They also put a diaper genie in our bathroom.
After the tutorial, we were instructed each to put one on. Bella requested a bit of help, while my privacy was respected and I was sent to my room.
I placed the package on top of my dresser and looked at it for a second. Under the logo and cartoon characters, there sat a very energetic toddler. Her hands in the air and a creepy smile lay rest on her face.
Then, I tore open the side of the package and removed what I had been longing for. It felt like scratchy paper, but it also sort of felt like real cloth. I opened it up and looked inside. I’m not sure what I was looking for.
When the moment of truth came, I stepped inside and pulled the diaper up my legs and around my bottom.
Initially, I enjoyed the padding between my legs, but it was gone a second later. I placed my hand on the back and pressed the diaper up to my rear; the feeling came back. I realized that as I stood still, there was nothing. My dreams were crushed. Unless I was constantly shifting or had a hand between my legs, I was simply wearing an embarrassing garment.
Maybe astronauts weren’t so lucky.
I took one more look at the package. The toddler was still smiling, but I did notice one thing that I had previously over looked. She wore round her ankles a diaper that looked computer generate compared to what I actually had on.
I soon realized just how unflattering a package of toddler diapers looked sitting on my dresser. I ripped open the package and took out at the rest of the diapers.
They all had Disney princesses on them. Not exactly my favorite, but apparently the boy’s designs come with the guy from Cars. I hated that movie.
I counted the Pull-Ups. Twenty-two plus the one I was wearing. I made them into stacks of four or five and put them in my underwear drawer, which was mostly empty.
After placing the now empty package in the trashcan, I decided it was time to inform my parents that I had successfully diapered myself.
I returned to the living room holding my jeans and underwear in hand, inexplicably using them to cover up my new piece of clothing.
My mother glanced up at me for only a second. “Does it fit okay?” she asked. I nodded. “Well,” she said. “Try to make it to the bathroom on time and let me know when you’re running low.”
And that was it. She turned back to helping Bella, and said nothing else to me. In a matter of minutes it became status quo around the house that I was simply a child who wore Pull-Ups.
I returned to my room and sat on the bed. For a second, I enjoyed the squish between myself and the bed. And it was gone a second later.
In the past three months, I had thrown away more underwear than I could count, given my mother twice as much laundry, and embarrassed myself in front of my entire class.
And I could tell you right then and there: it was not worth it.
Shortly after lunch, I sat around the living room watching TV with Bella. I’d only been in Pull-Ups for a few hours, and ever since I put on my jeans again, I’d sort of forgotten all about them.
Then suddenly, Bella let out a loud gasp. I turned to see her shoot a stare down at her shorts and then jump off the couch. She took a few steps before stopping in her tracks and staring down at her shorts again.
A few seconds later, she turned to me and proclaimed, “I peed.”
She nearly giggled, but my eyes shot wide open as I realized what an idiot I had been. As I watched my sister patting herself and looking into her shorts, I remembered that these diapers served a purpose.
A purpose that just might make them worth it.
I sat up felt my belly. I didn’t necessarily have to pee, but I could feel my bladder nearly full. I pressed down on it and it quickly sent a message to my brain: It’s time to use the bathroom.
But I was not going to the bathroom.
I sat there for five minutes. Ten, then fifteen. After half an hour I was growing impatient. I’d actually needed to pee, but my body wouldn’t let me.
Usually I’d had accidents, lost myself in thought or gotten in the heat of the moment during a game of space men. I’d never actually just willed myself to pee, unless I’d been on a toilet. Or in the bath too. Actually If I really had the time, I could tell a different story on that subject. But I digress.
It became apparent that perhaps my body wsa trying to tell me something. It knew I was wearing a diaper and why. It knew I was unhappy with this, and was refusing to let me wet it. I had no other choice but to go to the bathroom.
I slowly walked to the bathroom, as if I was afraid to wet myself. When I entered I undid the zipper on my jeans, and genius struck once more.
If I sat on the toilet, but still wore the diaper, I just might trick my body into allowing me to pee. Someone must have thought of that before.
And so I did just that. I sat on the toilet, with my jeans around my ankles and diaper around my bottom as I finally, and thankfully, managed to wet myself.
There was a slight burst of warmth, but it all began to trickle down to the seat of my diaper and accumulate there. My heart was racing as I felt as though it might leak, even though it would just fall into the toilet.
But alas, I did not leak, but Cinderella did sit now amongst a slightly darker background, which sat on the front of a now thicker padding. And that was something I liked.
I stood up and at last, I was able to stand still and appreciate my new underwear.
I pulled my jeans back up and, for unknown reasons, flushed the toilet. After I did that, I thought about why and just brushed it off as I left the bathroom, greeted by my mother.
“So did you make it in time?” she asked.
I panicked, and told the truth. “Not exactly.” Okay, I sort of told the truth.
“Well,” she said, “Try harder next time.”
She walked away. Didn’t even tell my to change, just motivated me.
And motivate me she did. Next time I will try harder.
Harder to not get caught.