The Heist

Hey folks. Haven’t written anything for the community for a while. Had this idea rolling around in my head, and I needed to get it down on paper.

So, I read fetish stories to get my sexual kicks. I do the same when I write them. I like imagining mature women being mistaken for someone much younger, being humiliated, and all that jazz. I like the idea of her loosing control of everything around her, and being able to do nothing about it. This story is pretty much the embodiment of that, and the equivalent of smut for me. Don’t let that hold you back, though. It’s a nifty story with what I hope is some good character development.

I have three parts written so far, and I hope to finish with six. If I release it all at once, though, you’ll just get bored and wander off. So I’m releasing it one part at a time. If I get part #4 in the next day or so, I’ll release part #2 for ya. If I go a long time without writing any new material, I can just release the next part to keep you interested. You see how that works, ya? (I’m a phenomenally slow writer.)

So, here it is. Critique the hell out of it for me. I’m talking spelling, grammar, story-telling, continuity error. Whatever it is, just blurt it out. If I’m an awful writer I want you to tell me to my face. Seriously.

Part 1

I walked up the steps of St. Anthony’s Secondary School on a sunny, Tuesday morning. The
stone steps were still slick, and that wet concrete smell you get just after a rainfall was
in the air. I was wearing my standard issued white dress shirt, red tie, plaid skirt,
knee-high socks, and white velcro shoes. And, of course, after I pushed open the heavy door
and entered the quiet school, I could hear the deafening crinkle that accompanied every step
I took. My diaper seemed to be a lot louder inside than outside. How the hell did I get
myself into this? Technically, I don’t need diapers. Technically, I’m not in the 10th grade.
Technically, I’m not 14 going on 15.

You wouldn’t know it by looking at me, but, walking into St Anthony’s Secondary School that
morning, I was 20 years old.


I shook my head. “No.”

“Come on, this is the only way and you know it,” she pleaded.

“You fucked up. I think it’s only fair YOU deal with it.”

She narrowed her eyes and gave me a frown. “Look at me. Then look at yourself. Who do you
think could pull off a better 14 year old?”

She was right - but it was still a stupid idea. She was in her low thirties, and I was 20.
She was 5’7, I was no more than five feet, if that. She could easily pass as a single mother
raising a 14 year old. Pull my hair back in a pony tail, put on some cutesy clothes, and I’d
make a damn good daughter. It was a perfect cover for the both of us while we were hiding
out. But we’d have to live our fake lives down to a perfect T. We would have to embody our
new lives completely for at least three months. That’s why I hated the idea so much; there
was no way out. I wouldn’t have minded it so much, but my fake, Angela, was also
incontinent.

“Okay,” I said, breaking the silence. “I don’t see any other way out of this mess. If these
are the fakes you got, then we’re stuck with them. But you owe me 10% of your share for
going through with this.”

“Five percent.”

“Deal.”

“No real names from here on out. For all intents and purposes, you’re Angela and I’m
Bernice.”


The heist had gone off perfectly. There were three of us, all with different jobs. Part of
Bernice’s was to get fake identities for the three of us. You do that by looking up state
death certificates. You have to find someone who, if they hadn’t died years ago, would be
close to your age today. Then you find some shady dealer to get you some fake ID’s, and you
can request from the government all the information about the person you need: medical
records, criminal records, parking tickets… The trick is to find an identity that flies
under the radar. No government employees, no criminals. You want to make sure you’re
inconspicuous enough - that you blend in with the every day types.

She found Jerome’s fake first. He’s now a French national in the US on a work visa. The
heist was his idea. He planned it, gathered our help, and executed it. When the job was
done, he took a small percentage of our earnings and split, leaving us with instructions to
only use what we need, and wait for him to arrive within three months or more. By then, the
media blitz should be over and it’d be safe for him to launder the money and divvy it up
between the three of us. After that, we were free to part ways for good, leave the country,
and cast off our fakes. Until then, we had to lay low with fake identities.

Bernice found the perfect candidates for our fakes: Bernice and Angela O’Connor - a 34 year
old single mother with a 12 year old daughter who had died out-of-country two and a half
years ago. Wonderful! Only, she forgot to tell me about my fake’s medical condition until
AFTER the heist. It was too late now. If I didn’t want to end up in a federal prison for the
next 10 years, I’d have to live my life as an incontinent 14 year old for at least the next
three months. Ugh. I was disgusted with the whole thing, but the alternative was worse, so I
was okay with it.

It never became apparent to me how badly this could backfire until the very end.


“Hold onto the buggy, dear,” Bernice said. “I don’t want you wandering off.”

“Bernice! I’m not going to–”

Bernice leaned in close and whispered hoarsely, “Quit calling my Bernice! I’m either Mom or
Mommy. You’re supposed to be my daughter, now act like it!” Begrudgingly, I grabbed ahold of
the side of the shopping cart. Christ, I was supposed to be 14, not 4. I could do with a
little more respect, you old whore.

But all I said was, “'Kay, mom.”

We were in a Walmart, shopping for our new identities after being on the road for three days
straight. We’d already passed through the clothing section, getting a few outfits for
ourselves (mine from the kid’s section), and now we were headed to the pharmacy part of the
store. Our disguises weren’t quite complete. At the job site we had hair dye, make-up, and
ball caps to hide our identities. My long blonde hair was now a mousey brown and pulled
through the back of my ballad into a ponytail. Bernice had coloured her’s slightly darker
and clipped it short, while slopping on a metric fuck-tone of eye shadow. We looked very
much the parts we were supposed to be playing. There was just one thing missing.

“Do you see any you like, Angela?” She said it in a syrupy-sweet voice and prodded me toward
the youth diapers on the shelves.

My cheeks burned. “Uh, does it matter? … That one I guess.” I pointed to a package without
looking at it, leaving my eyes downcast. Fuck, this was embarrassing.

“Hmm, I dunno about that one. How about this one?” She lifted a package off the shelf and
held it out to me. It was a pink package with a diagram of the diaper on the front, arrows
pointing to the different features (Improved leak guards! Added seat comfort! For youths
90-110 pounds!).

“Sure, whatever.”

She threw two packages into the cart and we made for the checkout, stopping only briefly for
some baby powder and wipes. After paying, she directed me to the bathroom at the back of the
store. Even though it was only a single-person bathroom, she insisted on coming in with me.
I told her she was crazy, but she brushed it off as her trying to get in character as a
loving mother.

That should have sent a bright red flag up in my mind. But I was still somewhat fucked up
from the massive adrenaline rush I had gotten from the heist.

She handed me a diaper and asked, “Do you need help putting it on?”

“Ugh. No. Just turn around and leave me alone while I do this, okay?”

“That’s no way to talk to your mother,” she said with a smirk, but complied anyway.

I pulled down my jean skirt and underwear, keeping a careful eye on Bernice to make sure she
didn’t turn around while I was naked. I unfolded the diaper, figured out where the back was,
and sat on it on the toilet. I pulled up the four tapes and attached them to the front. It
felt a bit loose, but whatever. I pulled my skirt up overtop.

“Okay, done.”

Bernice turned around an examined me. “Hmm… I’m not sure if I like you in that skirt,
Angela.”

I went wide-eyed. “Whattaya mean?!” She was playing mom again.

“I’m just saying, I don’t think it’s appropriate for a 14 year old.”

“But I’m 20!” I slapped a hand over my mouth. Can’t let that slip, even in here. I needed to
get used to my birthday being on June 12th, 1997, otherwise I could get myself found out in
the future.

“No, you’re 14,” Bernice said, getting a little angry. “And I don’t think that’s appropriate
for a 14 year old to be wearing. Now take it off.” I kicked off my skirt and stood there in
a diaper and t-shirt. “That diaper seems awfully loose. Did you put it on properly? Have you
never changed a kid’s diaper before? Come on, Angela, pull it together.” I was burning up
and I could feel tears welling. Christ, this was horrible. Bernice knelt in front of me.
“Let me fix this for you.” I didn’t bother batting her hands away as she retaped the diaper,
pulling it snug around my waist. “Better?” I nodded.

She fished through one of the bags and pulled out a pair of pink shorts. She held them open
in front of me at knee level, and I figured out she wanted me to step into them. So I did,
and she pulled them up my legs and fastened them for me. It was the first time in a long
time someone else had dressed me.

“Let’s get going.” She gathered the bags, and I slipped my flip flops back on. Fuck, this
diaper was thicker than I imagined. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror as I left the
bathroom following behind Bernice. The bulge was pretty apparent, at least to me.


Driving down the highway, four hours outside the city Bernice had arranged a house for us to
rent, I felt the urge. “I have to pee,” I declared, a little unsurely.

Bernice didn’t even glance at me. She kept her eyes on the road and her hands at 10 and 2.
She was wearing a pair of dark bug eye sunglasses and lipstick. She looked pretty, and not
close enough to the 36 year old she was supposed to be pretending to be. Sitting next to
her, I felt really inferior. I was wearing a t-shirt, little kid’s shorts, and a diaper. I
felt like a little kid.

“I said I have to pee.”

“What do you want me to do? You’re incontinent.”

“I’m not incontinent, my fake is incontinent.”

She waved a hand. “Whatever. You’re supposed to pee your pants.”

I held it. At least for another hour. By then my bladder was screaming and I was squirming
in my seat. By then I was about ready to give up, but that decision was made for me when we
unexpectedly hit a pothole. It took me by surprise and I, well, I lost it. My bladder let
loose the the torrent it had been holding back, and quickly filled my diaper up. My face
went from surprise to disgust in about a second. Everything was wet and gross and warm. I
looked over at Bernice. She was still focused on the road, but I could have sworn she was
smiling. If I didn’t know any better, I would have sworn at the time she hit that pothole on
purpose.

“Well, I’m hungry,” Bernice said. “I’m gonna stop over there for lunch.” She pointed to a
diner off in the distance, along the side of the highway. A diner that, no doubt, would have
a bathroom. She pulled into the parking lot. Near the entrance of the building there were a
few 35-40 year old men, drinking coffee, smoking, and examing each other’s Harley’s. I got
out of the car and started walking toward them, but felt a hand on my shoulder. I spun
around to find Bernice pushing a diaper into my hands.

“If you can’t realise you’re wet, I’m gonna have to start checking you like a toddler. You
leaked onto my seat.” I felt the back of my shorts and they were a bit wet where the diaper
had leaked.

“Ah, fuck.”

“Don’t use that kind of language around me, please. You go in there and find their bathroom
before I change you in the back seat.” I grabbed the diaper and hurried past the bikers, my
whole face hot and red.


“This is so embarrassing.” We were eating in a booth at the greasy spoon off the highway. It
wasn’t nearly as bad as walking through Walmart with a diaper on, but now I was sitting and
the bulk of the diaper was more apparent.

“Just try and get used to it, allright? They aren’t coming off for three months.” I gulped,
thinking about everything I was going to have to do in them in near future. Maybe I could
sneak off to the bathroom. I had to do it away from Bernice, though. There’s no way she’d
let me compromise our identities like that.

Just a single mother and her teenaged daughter trying to make it in the world. Yup, that’s
us. But then a thought occurred to me.

“Berni–I mean, Mom. What about school?”

She finished chewing before addressing me. Waiting to answer me was something new she had
started doing, and I hated it. It made me feel like an unimportant kid, but I was just as
important in the heist as she was.

“Well, you being 14 and turning 15 in a few months, I guess that would mean you’re in grade
nine, right?” I nodded, the horror of the situation coming to a full realisation. “Then we
can’t have you hanging around the house all day. Someone will notice and start becoming
suspicious.” I cringed as she leaned in a bit closer, the smell of the coffee she wouldn’t
let me have on her breath. “I’ll just have to enrol you in high school.”

My head collapsed into my hands. I felt like crying but I didn’t. Repeating high school was
not something I wanted to do.

“Think of it,” Bernice continued, “as a second chance to do all the things you weren’t able
to do in high school the first time. That sounds like fun to me! I’m jealous.”

I hated that. I hated that and I hated the Bernice and I hated the heist. I hated Jerome for
recruiting me. I just wanted my share of the money and then to flee. But I couldn’t do that
because it would put everyone else in jeopardy. All that meticulous planning and bribing and
back-door dealings would be for nothing. We’d all be caught and thrown in jail. Jerome knew
that, and he knew we knew that. That’s why he left the money and split. He knew we couldn’t
take off with it. We had to wait for him to come back.

“I don’t want to go back to high school,” I said in a very quiet voice, my gaze downcast.

“I just don’t see any other way, Angela.”

And she was right. And I hated it.


It was six PM by the time we rolled into town and got everything unpacked and moved into our
new home. It wasn’t a bad home. It was strictly middle-class, with a white picket fence,
garden, and empty doghouse in the backyard. It was the physical representation of the
American Dream; everything I came to hate in my late teens. I wondered how a single mother
with no job could afford rent here, but I didn’t bring it up to Bernice.

Since we didn’t have much food yet, she suggested we go out for dinner. I said okay but of
course it didn’t matter what I said. I went to go change into some fresher clothes and
Bernice barged in on my while my shorts were down. I resisted only a little bit as she
checked my diaper. She declared I was “only a little wet” and patted me on top of the head
before leaving me again. Yeah, I had peed a bit more on the ride between the diner and the
city. What else was I supposed to do?

We went to a little Italian place - a place where parents bring their kids. Nothing too
spectacular. Our waiter was kind of cute though. Bernice caught my eye and told me I was way
too young for boys. Whatever.

Half way through the meal, though, my daily bowel movement was making itself known.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” I told Bernice.

“So? You know what to do.”

“No, I mean, I have to… go number 2…”

She crinkled her nose in disgust. I was afraid of what her answer might be, but she said,
“That’s really gross, Angela. I’ll take you after we’re done eating.” I celebrated a silent
victory, but stopped when I realised what a stupid thing to celebrate that was. And, sure
enough, after diner she took me by the hand to the women’s washroom, where she helped me
take my diaper on and off. She said it was because she had to do SOMETHING to keep the
masquerade up, in case we were being followed, or something. I complained about my diaper
being clammy, and she said she didn’t bring any extra diapers for me, and made an offhand
remark about bringing a diaper bag next time. That shut me up.

We got home and Bernice gave me a bed time of PM. We didn’t have a TV or internet yet, so
there wasn’t much to do anyway. I just went to my room to go through my meagre possessions.
The bed and the dresser came with the house. I had some clothes from before the heist, and
some from after. I had a netbook, one pair of underwear, and two packages of diapers. I also
had a photo of my dad, which I kept carefully tucked away in between the folds of a pair of
sweat pants.

I took out that old photo of my dad. It had been taken when he was a young man, no more than
25. It was all that I had left of him since his death shortly after I turned 14 (as in, six
years ago). This seems kind of stupid, but I took it out any time I was feeling down and
talked to him like he was actually there. I wanted to keep it hidden from Bernice; I didn’t
know what she would do if she caught me with it. She’d probably yell at me for compromising
us. We were supposed to cut off all ties to our old lives: No friends, no family, no ID, no
indicators of identification whatsoever. It was the ultimate sacrifice, with the ultimate
payload.

And that night, the first night in this new house and new life, I was feeling defeated
beyond anything as I crawled into bed wearing a diaper I didn’t really need.

Re: The Heist

I like that story, good work :slight_smile:

Re: The Heist

more!!! more !!! Please!!!

Re: The Heist

I enjoyed this story. I hope it continues. I can’t wait to see how Angela’s fellow students treat her when they find out she wears diapers.

Re: The Heist

I like it; please continue. I noticed a few misspelled words and such here and there, but they can be fixed by proof-reading.

Re: The Heist

curious as to how much control Mommy takes I very much enjoyed this nice work looking forward to more.

kenk7us

Re: The Heist

Bam! Spellchecked the shit out of that! See? This is what I pay you guys for.

Re: The Heist

That’ll be $25, please. :stuck_out_tongue:

Re: The Heist

As I said in the FTT, please continue this story.

Re: The Heist

Part 2

“Morning, sleepy head!” Bernice called in her fake mom voice as she ripped open the curtains
on my window with a clatter. Sunlight filled the room and attacked my eyes. It had been
three days since we moved in, and so far she had down this every morning. I was beginning to
think she enjoyed being a mom.

“Go away,” I said, hiding my groggy self underneath the covers.

“Today’s a special day, Angela dear. We have to go to St. Anthony’s to pick up your uniform
for Monday.” Monday. Today was Friday. Tomorrow - Saturday, then Sunday comes afterwards.
After that was the beginning of my new high school career. I didn’t want to go to a Catholic
school, but Bernice insisted because they aren’t directly affiliated with the government,
and it’s easier to get me in. I just had to pretend I was Catholic.

“Why do I have to come with you?”

“Because,” Bernice said while whipping the covers off me. “You have a little, tiny body that
needs to be fitted with the right size of uniform.” I groaned. “Now get ready, honey,” and
she flipped a diaper at my head and left.

I sat up, still feeling like crap from Bernice’s attempt at cooking the night before. I was
in no mood to go to a school and try on different uniforms. My diaper was wet, but not
because I wet the bed. The last few nights have sucked because I wake up needing to pee in
the middle of the night. I don’t dare disturb Bernice, so I just go in my diaper. Peeing in
a toilet sounded nice, but it wasn’t worth it to incur her wrath. I changed myself and went
down to the kitchen in just my diaper and pajama top. It felt weird walking around like
that, but I was by no means a morning person and could not care less about putting pants on
so early.

As I was pouring milk into my cereal when Bernice came up behind me and tightened the tapes
on my diaper. She does that sometimes, trying to act all motherly and stuff. She hadn’t
checked my diaper since our first night here, and for that I was glad.

“Is that what you’re planning to go out in today?” she asked.

“Hah, no,” I said, sitting down with my cereal at my netbook. We had internet now, but she
wouldn’t let me take it into my bedroom.

“well, hurry up and get dressed after you’re done. We leave at quarter after.”

I finished up and went back to my room. I had worn most of my meager clothes since getting
here. The only clean thing was a pair of short alls hanging up in my closet. Hell no was I
wearing that. I pulled on a lengthy white skirt and cutesy pink shirt.

“Let’s goooooooo, Angela!” Bernice called from downstairs.

“Coming!” I shouted back. Just before flinging the door closed and galloping down the wooden
stairs, I sniffed my room. god, it smelled like piss in there.


I sat on the chair in the office swinging my legs. I had to pee a little. Bernice put her
hand on my legs to get me to stop.

“So, Angela,” Mrs Spanelli, the student councilor, chaplain, and nurse began. “Why don’t you
go and try this uniform on in the bathroom? It looks like your size.” She handed me the
uniform and I followed her directions to the girl’s bathroom while they stayed behind, to
talk about me, I supposed.

There was no one else in the bathroom, all the kids being in class right now, so I took the
furthest stall from the door. When I saw the toilet, something I had only been using for
taking a crap these past three days, I thought about my need to pee and how great it would
feel. Knowing Bernice would never be able to stop me now that I was finally alone, I sighed,
feeling content… and realized I was having my first real accident. Shit! I stopped the
flow. What was happening to me? I slapped myself on the forehead and swore at myself.

I stripped and prodded the diaper. It wasn’t too wet. I changed into my new uniform: A dress
shirt, a plaid skirt, a tie, and knee high socks - usual Catholic school fare. The skirt was
much shorter than the white one I was wearing before, coming halfway up my thighs. That
worried me a bit. High school was hell before, but it would be worse a second time if anyone
found out I needed diapers.

I stopped myself. Right. Not needed diapers. I was doing all this for the big payoff at the
end.

I put my velcro shoes back on (the ones Bernice bought at Walmart for me because she thought
they were adorable), and carried my clothes back to the office. I listened to their muffled
talk through the door (had I closed the door on my way out?) before letting myself in.

“… both of them,” Bernice was saying to Spanelli. They looked up at me.

“Oh, Angela,” Spanelli said in a kind tone. “I hadn’t meant for you to put it on. I just
wanted you to make sure it fits and then come back.” Oh god, I felt stupid. I caught Bernice
out of the corner of my eye trying to suppress her laughter.

“I-I… Well, I’m so excited to start school on Monday, I wanted to wear it for the rest of
the day!” I said with fake excitement. I felt like a stupid little kid.

“That’s nice, dear. And it seems to fit good. I’m going to give you a couple extras so you
don’t just have one uniform. Your mom should receive the bill in the mail in about a week.”

“Sounds good,” I said while taking a seat.

“Just one final thing regarding your medical issues.” I blushed. Outside of Bernice and me,
no one had known I was wearing diapers. “You will be given extra time between classes…”
Score! “… to visit the nurse’s office for a check up and change.” I nodded my head slowly.

“Okay, so I’ll see you Monday morning here in my office so I can get you acquainted with the
school and give you your schedule. Sound good?”

“So good, it almost hurts.”

“On behalf of the rest of the staff and students, I welcome you to St Anthony’s Secondary
School!”


“You want me to get me diaper changed by the NURSE?! The hell is wrong with you?”

“Don’t talk like that to your mother. It was just a joke, alright? I’m sure she’ll forget
all about it.”

We were on the drive home and I was fuming. What gave her the right to do that to me? “You
shouldn’t have done that.”

“Yeah? And you shouldn’t need diapers. You’re 14 for god’s sake.”

I wanted to tear my hair out. This was so friggen frustrating. “YOU made ME incontinent! Do
you remember that part?! Don’t let this mothering stuff go to your head, Bernice!”

“I told you not to call me that!” she screeched at me. There was an uneasy silence following
it.

“…Stop the car.”

“No.”

“Stop the car! I want to get out!”

She pulled over to the side of the road. We were still a few blocks from the house, but I
got out anyway.

“Come on, Angela. Don’t do this.”

“Don’t tell me what to do!” I shouted while pointing a finger at her, holding back my tears.
“You know DAMN WELL you aren’t actually my mom!”

“Angela, please, people are starring. Think of our cover.”

“I don’t give a shit about our cover! I don’t give a shit about --”

I stopped. In one fluid motion, my bowels gave out and emptied into my diaper. Time seemed
to slow down as I stood there next to the car in a school uniform and loaded diaper. That
was the first time this had happened. It was the grossest thing I had ever done, and I
hadn’t done it on purpose. The tears I was holding back burst forward, and I started
bawling.

“Oh, honey! Oh, Angela! I’m sooooo sorry!” With no other option, I got in the car and closed
the door, careful not to sit in my mess. “We’ll get you home and clean you up, okay? Just
stop crying.” But I couldn’t. I couldn’t stop crying. “I’ll get you a Happy Meal, okay?” I
didn’t even care, and barely noticed when she made a detour to McDonalds. The Happy Meal
wasn’t because I was 14 (what kind of 14 year old eats a Happy Meal?), it was because a
Happy Meal was what I usually get, being so small.

By the time we got home I had stopped crying and had graduated to intense sniffling. I had
also given up on holding my ass off the seat, and was sitting in my mess. The car, of
course, stank like nothing else, even with the windows rolled all the way down. Angela got a
shower running while I stripped down to my diaper. She brought me a fresh diaper and my new
pajama’s that I hadn’t worn yet, then left me to my own devices. I cleaned myself off as
best I could, got changed, and left wearing pink striped PJs. I left the dirty diaper on the
floor. Let Bernice deal with it. Mom’s usually clean up after their stupid babies.

I ate my Happy Meal while Bernice puttered around the house, pretending to clean while she
tried to avoid me. I brought the My Little Pony toy with me into my room, and crawled into
bed. It was barely lunch time, but the wide range of emotions I had gone through had tired
me out, and I needed a nap.

The last thought I had as I drifted to sleep was: I knew I shouldn’t have eaten mom’s home
made cookin’.


I woke to the sound of my dresser being opened. Bernice was there, stacking diapers into my
top drawer. I realized with a start that my diaper was wet. Had I wet in my sleep? That
scared me. Feeling around, though, I realized I was sweaty all over. Whew. Crises averted.
It was probably just the sweat I was feeling in my diaper. There was no way to be sure, but
it was my best bet. I don’t wet the bed.

“You can’t just leave your used diapers on the floor like this,” Bernice said, motioning to
the taped up diapers littering the floor. “I’m gonna go get you a diaper pail.” She sniffed
the air. “And an air freshener. Are you gonna be okay alone?”

“Ofcourse I am.” It came out a bit more bitter sounding than I had intended.

“Okay, okay. Just making sure. I’ll be back in an hour or so. 'Ta!” She left. And I needed another shower. The dirty diaper in the bathroom had been cleaned up,
thank god.

After my shower, I put on a fresh diaper, t-shirt, and beach shorts. The beach shorts were
bought in the kid’s section, so they were a bit cuter than I appreciated, but whatever. I
spent the rest of the afternoon hanging out on the internet. I wanted to watch TV, but
couldn’t. Our internet came with cable, but we still didn’t have a TV. Bernice said she was
taking care of it.

That was one of the benefits to this whole thing; I didn’t have to really deal with
anything. Bernice handled everything for us. So while I didn’t like her much at the moment,
I had to hand it to her. She got crap done. Plus, she was the only one with a driver’s
license. All my current ID had me set at 14 - not even old enough to take the learner’s
permit test. So while all this loss of responsibility was somewhat relaxing, it was
frustrating knowing I couldn’t drive myself anywhere, or do much of anything without
Bernice’s help.

I cringed. I couldn’t even go to the bathroom without her help. This sucked.

Bernice didn’t come back when she said she would. It had been three hours since she left.
She had said she’d be back in an hour, right? I didn’t care. Really. But I felt something
gnaw at my conscious as I sat there peeing in a diaper absent-mindedly. What if she had been
pulled over by the cops and they figured out who she really was? What if she had been taken
off to prison? What if they were now on their way here, ready to book me and send me to jail
for ten years where I’d develop a lesbian relationship with muscular woman named Frank? What
if -

  • The door slammed open, and I watched in horror as… well, as Bernice trudged in with
    several bags of stuff.

“Bernice!” I shouted, happy to see her and forgetting my anger.

She gave me a weird look. “Hiya, kiddo. Sorry I’m late.” I noticed she didn’t have any
take-out with her, and worried I would have to eat her cooking again. But my fears were put
to rest when she told me, “I don’t have time to cook dinner. Make yourself a sandwich. And,
uh… Did you leak again?”

I tried to look over my shoulder and down at my ass. “I don’t know.”

“Well, your butts wet, and so is that chair. Go clean yourself up and I’ll take care of
this. Don’t put any pants on, I want to inspect you.”

Inspect me? Whatever, I came out with no pants, just like she asked. She started by fixing
the tapes on my diaper again.

“You aren’t changing yourself properly. You need to make sure it’s nice and tight.”

“whatever.”

“No, not ‘whatever’. Angela, I can’t have you leaking on my furniture just because you don’t
know how to change your own diapers.”

I fumed. “YOUR furniture? If I recall correctly, the money you used to buy YOUR furniture
belongs to BOTH of us. Remember that? Four days ago?”

“Hush, Angela. We’re not supposed to talk about the money. For now, it’s my money because
I’m the mom. If you want some money to go out and do something, just ask me and I’ll give
you some. Got it?”

“Fine. Whatever.”

“And try and take more care with your diapers, okay? Be a big girl for mommy.” That almost
set me off again. I’ll pee all over her furniture if I want! I’ll pee on anything or
everything in this house and she’ll just have to deal with it! She’ll be the one cleaning it
up too!

It wasn’t my problem, after all. It wasn’t even my furniture.


The weekend came and went. Seven diaper changes later, it was Monday morning. With Bernice’s
behavior so unpredictable, and my emotions out of whack, diapers were now the only constant
in my life.

“Wakey, wakey!” Bernice shouted while ripping the curtains open and pulling the covers off
me. I threw my pillow over my head. This was the earliest she had woken me up yet. “The bus
comes at 10 after eight. You don’t want to be late for your first day of school, do you?”
The way she said this made me think she was subtly mocking me.

“Hell yes I do.”

“Come on, now. High schools the only place for a girl on the cusp of adulthood like
yourself.” She grabbed me by the arms and yanked me to my feet. “Take these,” she said,
handing me my uniform and diaper, “and go take a shower.” She pushed me toward the door.

“Okay, okay, I’m going, mom. See?” I marched to the bathroom, took a shower, got dressed,
and went downstairs for breakfast. I was surprised to find a Hannah Montana backpack filled
with school supplies and a brown-bag lunch waiting for me on the kitchen table.

“You packed a lunch for me?”

“Sure did.”

“Thanks.”

By the time I was done eating, it was time to catch the bus. Bernice lead me outside and
pointed down the street to the bus stop. I could see three other teenagers there wearing
similar uniforms to mine. When I got up close, I realized they were all taller than me.

I asked the only girl there if this was the bustop to get to St Anthony’s.

“Yep,” she replied. “Hey, are you that new girl who just moved in?” I nodded my head. “Cool.
What grade are you in?”

A moment of hesitation. “Nine.”

“Cool. Maybe you’re in some of my classes. I’m Sam, by the way.”

“I’m Angela.”

“Cool. Hannah Montana, huh?”

“Yeah. She’s the shit.”

Sam broke into a big smile. “Cool.”

When the bus came and we all piled on, Sam sat with a girl with red hair. I sat down in the
first empty seat I could find. The bus ride was uneventful, and I found myself dozing a bit.

We got there just as the first bell was ringing, and I climbed the steps to my new high
school career.

Re: The Heist

Part 3

“Angela, this is your new big sister, Julie!” Spanelli was motioning to the tall twelfth grade girl next to her. She had long legs, a thin build, and bottle-blonde hair. She’s what I would call a valley girl.

“Nice ta meetcha’!” she said, bubble gum interfering with her words. “Ohmigawd, I just adooooore that butterfly clip in your hair!”

“Oh, heh, thanks,” I replied, fingering it nervously.

“Okay, I’ll let you two get acquainted with each other. Julie, you know what to do. Show her where everything is around the school, get her to her classes, make sure she doesn’t wander off the property. I’m just kidding, Angela, but ninth graders aren’t allowed to leave the school untill the day is done. It’s just a rule we have here. You’ll get more freedom next year. Now have fun you two!” She left me with the valley girl.

“Soooo, I know you don’t want to go to class and I sure don’t, so let’s do the tour real slow, okay?”

“Sure,” I said.

We spen the next half hour wandering the school as Julie pointed out the different wings and rooms and everything else. She showed me to my locker, then dropped me off at my first class.

When the prim young teacher opened the door, I motioned to my schedule and said, “Uh, I’m supposed to be in this class.”

“Ah, the new student. You can call me Mrs Barkovitch. Come on in and take that seat in the first row. Class, this is Angela O’Connor. She’ll be joining us for the remainder of the school year.”

As I walked across the classroom, I was acutely aware how loud the crinkle of my diaper was. I hurried up and took my seat. The teacher put a book on my desk.

“Allright, class, eyes on me. Throughout the book, Holden often takes his cap off when he goes into buildings. As he’s a young person about to take the leap to adulthood, he feels pressured by the adult world to conform to their standards…”

The teacher droned on. Thankfully, five minutes before the end of class, Julie knocked on the door and told the teacher she was instructed to take me to my next class. It was embarrassing, sure, but I was hating English class more than I had the first time.


“Let me just see. Lift your skirt, Angela.” I lifted my skirt for Mrs Spanelli. “Dry. Good girl.” She had just finished explaining the concept of in loco parentis to me. She would be acting in place of my mom to make sure I was kept clean. Oh god.

“What do you have now?”

“Gym.”

“Any time you have gym, you can change in here for privacy, okay?”

I changed into my gym uniform in the nurses office, then left. Julie was waiting outside to direct me towards the gym.

“Gym sucks most of the time, but you can totally get out of it by pretending you’re on your period. You’ve had your period, right?” She smacked her gum. I wanted her to choke on it.

“Yes. I’ve had my period. Thanks.”

“Then have fun!” She patted me on the butt. I glanced over my shoulder at her as I walked into the gym and saw the weird look on her face. She knew. Of course she knew. How couldn’t she? She was the last person in the world I wanted to know about my diapers.

I shivered as the gym door closed behind me with a clang. It was friggen freezing in here. The squeak of sneakers echoed off the walls, and I saw a group of about 25 girls kind of running around the perimeter of the room. I spotted the gym teacher and approached her.

“I’m supposed to be in this class.”

She checked her clipboard. "Angela O’Connor, is it? Great. We start every class with a 3 lap jog around the gym. Go ahead and join them.

I started jogging, aware the shorts weren’t as baggy as I would have liked, and the shirt a bit tight. I forgot about that, though, when I ran into Sam. Literally.

“Shit, sorry. Wait, Angela?”

“Oh. Sam. Hey.”

“Cool. You’re in my gym class.” We started walking side by side. The running three laps thing didn’t seem to be strictly enforced, as most of the other girls were jogging. Up close to the action, it seemed most of the girls were close enough to my height. I wasn’t the shortest one in the class, either. “How’s your first day going?”

“Allright enough. English was a bore.”

“As usual.”

“And some creepy girl has to follow me around and make sure I don’t kill myself or something.”

Sam snorted. “Yeah, they have that Big Sister/Little Sister for new kids. It’s so stupid. Like, we’re teenagers, not babies, right?”

“Right.”


“New girl! Pass!”

It was soccer week.

“Make the kick, make the kick!”

Usually my height stops me from making any serious sort of contribution to the team. But I was playing better than I had since, well, since the last time I was in the ninth grade. I had more practise than most of the girls here, and not many had a major reach advantage, them being 14-15.

So yeah, in short, I was kicking a bit of ass.

“New girl, take it!”

I took the ball down the side of the gym, toward the net. I was untouchable! unstoppable! Unmovable!

The headbutt came from the side, and hit me in the stomach. I landed on my ass with a ‘poof’, and my immediate reaction was to piss my pants. I couldn’t stop the flow. It was one of the few legit accidents I’d had since starting this whole thing. It made me feel awful.

I had some serious cramps. That had fucking hurt.

The gym teacher blew her whistle. “Mackenzie, what the heck are you doing?” I looked up. Mackenzie was a bulky girl from the other team. She had a grin on her face.

“It was an accident, coach!”

“Was it an accident, Angela?”

Mackenzie offered me her hand and helped me up. “I don’t know, but it hurt a lot.”

“Okay, go sit down on the bench. Miller! Johnson! Help her over.” Sam and sine blonde girl came to my aide and helped me over to the bench.

“You okay,” Sam asked? I nodded. “Do you want to cry?” My eyes were wattering a bit.

“Not really.”

“That was cool,” the blonde said to me. “I want you on my team next time. you’re really good.”

“Thanks.” She took off back into the game.

Sam put a hand on my shoulder. “Do you want me to get the nurse or anything?”

“No, I’m okay.”

“Alright. Get well soon.” And she was gone too, leaving me with a sore belly.


At the end of gym class, Julie came in to fetch me once again. It wasn’t until I stood up that I felt really bad. We made it out into the hallway before I had to stop.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, I just–” A sudden need to take a crap overcame me. My bowels jack-hammered up and down. “I need to get to a --” But it was too late. I lost control right there in my gym uniform, with Julie watching. It was unmistakeable what I had done.

I was still clutching my stomach when Julie said, “Holy crap! We need to get you to Mrs Spanelli.” As she dragged me down the hall, I started crying. Not outright bawling like I had done in the car on Friday, but still crying. It was too much for one person to take.

She ushered me into the nurses office. “Mrs. Spanelli, Angela pooped in her diaper!” She said it kind of airily, almost like she didn’t quite believe it had happened.

Spanelli came out of the back and saw me crying there, Julie holding me up. “Oh dear. What happened? Why are you crying?”

Of course, I was crying because I just crapped myself. But I was supposed to be incontinent to begin with and used to this kind of stuff.

“I got tackled in gym and now my stomach hurts.”

“Oh no. Well, you better come back here.” As she lead me into the nurse’s station, she yelled for Julie to stay there until she got back. She helped me up onto the wax-papered exam table. “Take of your shorts please.” While I did, she entered a supply closet and came back with one of the diapers I had given her so I wouldn’t have to store them in my locker. “No let’s get you cleaned up.” I stopped her hand from untaping me. “Angela, in a situation such as this, I need to make sure you get cleaned up properly.” I still didn’t move my hands. “Angela, please.”

With a sniffle, I stopped resisting and just let her change my diaper. After cleaning me up and sprinkling a good helping of powder on me, she asked me, “At home, do you change your diapers, or does your mom.”

“I do…”

“I see. Well, you’ve got a bad diaper rash right now. You have to remember to stay clean, okay?” I nodded yes while she finished up. “Do you want me to call your mom?”

The thought of crawling back to Bernice after today’s events sent another cramp through me. “No.”

“Good. Now put your school uniform back on. It’s lunch time.”


The rest of the day came and went in a blur. Julie promised not to tell anyone, I talked to a few of the girls from gym class, made it through the rest of the day without anymore accidents. Those things were starting to worry me. I didn’t think simply wearing a diaper would cause me to piss or shit myself uncontrollably. Something was up. Granted, the fact I wasn’t allowed to use the bathroom may have had something to do with it.

“We need to talk,” was the first thing Bernice said to me when I got home. I felt like crap. It had been a long first day of school. I just wanted to take a shower and go to bed. “Mrs Spanelli called.”

“What did she want?”

“She told me you weren’t… cleaning yourself properly.” I shuddered. “I went out and got you some rash cream. And that bottle of baby powder I got you last week? It looks like you haven’t even touched iT.” Oh yeah. the baby powder. “She told me I should start changing you myself.”

“WHAT?!”

“That’s what she said.”

“Nope. Sorry. Not happening.”

“Look, if we can’t keep you clean, I’m gonna get in trouble. If I get in trouble for child abuse or whatever, then when the authorities show up, they’ll realize somethings going on. Got it?”

“I. Don’t. Want. You. Changing. My. Diapers.”

“Believe me, I don’t want this any more than you do.” I started to protest, but she cut me off. “BUT, I’ll only change your diaper once a day, right before you go to bed. That’s just to make sure you’re cleaned up properly after the day. I’ll keep doing this until your rash is gone, at least. Then we can go back to normal. Okay?”

Normal. What the hell did that even mean any more? Less than a week ago I wasn’t wearing diapers. Now I was shitting my pants uncontrollably.

“Fine.”

“Good. Now, what do you want for supper?”

“Nothing. I don’t feel well so I’m going to bed.” I went to my room, dragging my feet along the way. When I got there, I found Bernice had followed me. “Is there something you want?”

“I need to change your diaper, honey.”

“Right NOW?”

“You just said you were going to bed.”

“… Fine, but it’s not even that wet.”

“I got you a diaper bag today,” she said, completely ignoring me while hefting a duffel bag out of the corner. It had colorful kittens all over it. She pulled a vinyl mat out of it and unfolded it on top of my bed. “Lay down on this.”

My face stuck in a permanent look of disgust, I did as I was told. Bernice hummed a tune while she pulled off my skirt and got to work. In many, many ways, it was worse than being changed by Mrs Spanelli. She had been nurse-like about it - strictly business as usual. But Bernice was really getting into her motherly role. It was the most humiliating moment in my life. But far from the last I would experience before this whole ordeal was up.

“Oh my. I see what she meant when she said you had a diaper rash. Luckily, I got some cream for your little toosh.” I groaned. She applied the cold cream all over, then used an amazing amount of baby powder. I sneezed. She taped me up and poked my nose with her finger. “All done!”

“Great.”

“Sweet dreams, baby Angela,” she whispered as she turned out the light and closed my door.


Things were rough those first few weeks. I had almost no control over my diapers. I got changed by Mrs Spanelli at school, and by Bernice in the evening. I had to ask Bernice to help me to the bathroom to take a crap. My bowels were in revolt, though, and I continued to have the rare number 2 accident. I was worried and wanted to go see a doctor, but Bernice told me we couldn’t risk it. Because of that, I was under constant stress at school about being found out. That, coupled with Bernice’s constant warnings to keep things under wraps, lest we get found out, meant my social life was growin very slowly.

Okay, it was pretty much non-existent. I tried to avoid people at school. Some of the girls from gym class liked me because I was reletively good at some sports. And then, of course, there was Mackenzie. She hadn’t made a serious move on me, but outside of gym class she sneered at me whenever she saw me. In line at the cafeteria, she pretended to push me. In the hallways, she got in my way. In gym class, she always found an excuse to block me. It was stupid stuff, but I added it up to me being the new girl in school. And she was a bully.

Despite how bad everything seemed to be going for me at the time, it only got worse when, three weeks after my first day of school, we finaly got cable.

Re: The Heist

More More!!!Love it!!!

Re: The Heist

BAM! Just for you, BabySiri.

Part 4

I unslung my backpack and dropped it to the floor. “I’m home!” I called to Bernice. She didn’t answer. I found her in the living room, eyes plastered to a new TV she had gotten.

“I got cable,” she said without turning her head.

“Oh. Cool.” She was watching a 24 hour news channel. Our faces and real names were on the screen. “Wait. What the fuck?” The news story was about us.

“I’ve been watching all day. It’s a media blitz. We’re all over news.” I sat down to watch beside her.

“This isn’t good, mom.”

“I know. This isn’t good at all.”

We were being desperatly searched for by the authorities. It was being called the Crime of the Century. It had made us fugitives, hiding from the law.

No. Not ‘us’. We were Angela and Bernice O’Connor now. We didn’t look too much like our past selves. We were living in such a way that no one would be able to catch on… or, at least I hoped.

I felt a hand reach up my skirt and check my diaper. “You’re wet,” Bernice said.

“I know.”

Neither of us looked at each other as we talked. The realization of just how close we were to being caught was too much.


We sat down for dinner. I in my shirt and diaper, Bernice in her jeans and blouse. I didn’t wear pants that much anymore, and I didn’t own any jeans. Because of the diapers, I stuck mostly to skirts and skorts when going out. Bernice was getting better at cooking, so I didn’t mind eating it as much as I used too. I was quickly growing complient to Bernice and her ways.
The news was running in the background.

“I’m worried,” I said, shoveling a fork-full of potatoes into my mouth.

“Oh, don’t be, Angie. I’ll figure something out.”

I got a call from Sam later on in the evening. She invited me to go see a movie with te girls. I said of course I’d go, happy to get out of the house. Diapers be damned. After I hung up, I remembered I didn’t have any money.

I found Bernice in te living room, once again watching the news.

“Um, mom?”

“What is it, dear?”

“Can I have some money to go to the movies with Sam?”

She thought about it. “How’re you getting there?”

“Her brothers driving us.”

“Alright. Take $20 out of my wallet.” I cheered silently and grabbed a twenty from her purse.

Excited to finaly be doing something and hanging out with someone other then my mom, I pranced to my room to find something to wear. I decided on a colorful pink skirt and white top. The finishing touch was a coat of lip gloss and a pink elastic to hold my air back in a pony tail. I glanced at my reflection in the mirror. I looked very much like the teeny-bopper I was supposed to be. In fact, I thought I looked adorable. And even though I hated wearing diapers, the way they crinkled when I moved only added to the cuteness level.

Yeah, I was going a bit insane.

When a knock came at the door, I answered it and hugged Sam. “Bye, mom!” I shouted, leaving with my twenty dollars in hand. I didn’t get a reply.

Sam lead me out to her brother’s car. She got in the passenger seat, and I sat in the back with Sheila and Carrie.

“Okay, this is everybody?” asked her brother, turning around and examining us. Sam had told me about her brother. He was in grade 11 and had his own car. Those were the most important parts. He was also damn cute - I mean, for a 17-year old. He didn’t look 17 though, he looked like he was in his twenties. His well-toned arms flexed as he gripped the stearing wheel, and he had just a hint of beard. I shyly looked away from his gaze.

“Yep,” Sam said happily.


The movie we went to see was some crummy PG-13 romcom. It’s not that important. What is important is what happened during the movie. Being only 14, I could still get a child’s ticket. Thinking this whole situation had benefits after all, I spent the rest of my money on a bunch of junk food and a giant soda.

That was a mistake. I wet pretty well througout the film. Near the end, I felt wetness on my legs, but pretty much forgot about it. I didn’t have a lot of experience with leaky diapers, you see. After the drive home, I said goodbye to my friends and went inside. All the crap I had eaten wasn’t making me feel too hot.

“You’re fifteen minutes late,” Bernice said to me as I walked in.

“I am?”

“Your bed time was fifteen minutes ago. You should’ve told me when the movie ended.”

“Chill out, okay? It’s not that bad.”

“And look at your skirt!”

“What’s wrong with it?” I looked down. Bernice spun me around.

“You leaked all over it!”

“Oh shi-”

“Angela, if you can’t tell when you need a change, I’m going to hire someone to walk around with you everywhere you go so THEY can do it for you!”

“I didn’t know I leaked! And I didn’t have any diapers with me!”

“Did you even think to bring your diaper bag?” I shook my head. “Then maybe hiring a babysitter isn’t such a bad idea after all!”

"You can’t!

“Well, you’re THIS close to making it happen, girl. Now get up to your room so I can change you.”

I did as I was told, and Bernice kept on going on about how disgusting I was as she cleaned me up. I felt awful.


The days came and went. Bernice continued watching the 24 hour news cycle. I thought it was a good thing - she was watching out for us. But watcing the news like that has this way of twisting people. They start fearing the mundane. Parents start worrying about child molestors on every street corner. And Bernice became paranoid aboutcompromising our cover.

She only went out to get groceries, and spent the day at home. Sam asked me to hang out after school some days, but Bernice wanted me home directly after class was done. Plus, all my diapers were at home, so I had to go there for a change. Bernice became sort of over protective of me. In her mind, I was just some stupid kid who didn’t know what was best. The fact that I stopped changing my own diapers didn’t help. It started in the morning; I was always tired and too slow for her liking, so she changed and dressed me for school. Then I’d come home, she’d check me, change me if needed, and I’d spend the rest of the day with no pants. Bed time came, I’d take a shower, and she’d be waiting for me in my room with my PJs.

The worst part was, I grew complacent with the whole thing. All these little constant reminders that I WAS a little kid began to mollify me. What little responsibility I had was taken out of my hands against my will - and I didn’t mind. I wore diapers everywhere, and Bernice always brought along a diaper bag for me. There was no “acceptance” of it. This was just the way things were. I was a kid. I needed diapers. I was changed by my mom and by the school nurse. Everyone knew what was best for me.

My body began to adjust itself accordingly. While true accidents were far and few between, I wet myself in small spurts throughout the day rather than holding it. I also stopped waking up to pee in the middle of the night. My personality began to adjust to the situation too. I stopped acting like a 20 year old pretending to be 14. But I wasn’t quite acting 14 either. Being under constant supervision and being treated like a kid, I began acting almost more… immature than 14. And my circle of friends picked up on it. I was very much the baby of the group.

Sometimes at night, after having my diaper changed and getting tucked in, I’d think about Jerome. But not much. He was part of my other life, not this one. The heist seemed years ago. I’d yawn and turn over, truely expecting him to show up when the three month waiting period was up.

And when it came and went, I hardly noticed.

Re: The Heist

that was great. thanks for writting more. please continue.

Re: The Heist

I liked. If possible can we get the next chapter sooner?

Re: The Heist

Well written. Well thought out. And still more coming? Yes please!!!

Re: The Heist

Part 5

“So what are you doing for your birthday?” Sam asked me on the bus ride home from school.

“Huh?”

“Um, hello? You turn 15 next week right?”

“Oh, yeah.” My new birthday had hardly crossed my mind. “I don’t know, probably nothing.”

“Come on. You have to do something! You never hang out with us! We should all get together for your birthday and do something cool!”

“Like what?”

“Let’s go to the beach,” she suggested as the bus rumbled to a stop and we got out.

“The beach is almost three hours away!”

“Road trip!” She said it in a high-pitched squeel.

“Right. And who’s gonna drive us?”

“My brother can.” I grew all woozy at the thought of Sam’s brother. He had been one of the main characters in the school play.

“Okay, but I’ll have to ask my mom.”

Sam threw her hands up in the air. “You always have to ask your mom to do anything. You should tell her to get off your back, for god’s sakes!” I gave her a mock pouty look, big eyes and everything. “Aaaw, I can’t get mad at that face. Let’s hope she says yes.”

“Yeah. See you tomorrow!”

“Bye!” We parted ways. We were neighbours, but we lived at opposite ends of the street.


“Mom, I’m home!” I called from the door, flinging my shoes off my feet.

“Hello there!” The voice was unfamiliar, but bubbly and warm. A woman came around the corner, college-aged. She was the embodiment of a sorority girl: womanly figure, preppy clothes, and a head of bouncing golden curls.

“Who’re you?” I asked, a little bit scared that mom wasn’t there to greet me.

“My name’s Heather. Your mommy asked me to come by and watch you for a bit while she was out.” She spoke to me slow, like she thought I was retarded.

“Oh.” I didn’t now what to say. Any thoughts of conflict had been conditioned out of my head.

She flipped my skirt up and stuck her hand through the leg band of my diaper. “You’re really wet, sweety. Let’s go get you a fresh diapy, okay?”

“'Kay.” The way she was talking to me made me want to explain to her that I wasn’t mentally-disabled in any way, and that whatever Bernice had told her was pure fabrication. Instead, as she was leading me up to my room by the hand, all I managed to get out was, “I’m not stupid, you know.” That just made me sound more like an idiot.

“Mm-hmm. Of course, sweety. Now hop up on the change mat so I can clean you up nice-nice.”

What could I do? I did as I was told. She used an ungodly amount of baby powder, but I could tell she had a lot of practice.

“When’s my mom coming home?” I asked, mid-change.

“Oh, not till late.”

“Where’d she go?”

“She told me she was visiting a friend.” Visiting a friend? That didn’t sound right. Something was up. I decided Bernice was doing someting behind my back.

“What am I gonna eat for dinner, then?” I asked, a little worried. But just a little.

“All done!” Heather declared, fixing the last tape into place. She tickled me on my exposed belly, producing a giggle. “Your mommy made some sandwiches. I thought it’d be neat if we went to the park for a picnic. How’s that sound?”

Admittedly, I was pretty excited to spend the evening outside of the house. I bounded away from the bed, but Heather stopped me.

“Hey, kiddo! We need to get you dressed first.” I stopped where I was and waited for Heather to get some clothes out for me. She dressed me in the shortalls I had avoided wearing up untill that point. She thought they were adorable, though.

With a few hours before supper, I spent my time watching TV and dicking around on the internet. I peed once. Nothing too interesting.

Heather unbuckled my shortalls and checked me just before we left. She decided I was dry enough, and gathered up everything we’d need (including my diaper bag, I noticed disdainfully). We hopped in her car and drove a short ways to the park. It was actualy the biggest one in town, built last year after a large flood came through town and washed everything out in the area. It had acres of grassland, a fenced in play area for kids, and a nice grass-covered hill overlooking the whole park.

We set up shop on top of the hill. Heather unfurled the blanket and set the food up. We had sandwiches and some gross stuff called bean salad. While she drank from a water bottle, I had to drink juice from one of those portable sippy cup things. I wasn’t happy about it, but I did it anyway.

While we were eating, I felt the tell-tale rumbling that came from my tummy shortly before every messy accident. I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do. Did Bernice tell her I used my diaper for everything? Or that I could make it to the bathroom for number 2 with a little help? I was paralyzed in one spot for the rest of the meal, terrified of blowing my cover. Realizing squatting the whole time wasn’t going to help my predicament, I stood up.

“Angela, sweety? What’re you doing?” I was rocking back and forth on the balls of my feet, holding my bum. My situation was much more dire now. I shouldn’t have waited. Screw the cover!

“I have to go to the bathroom.”

Heather looked surprised for a moment, her pretty blue eyes getting wide. But only for a moment. Instinct kicked in, I guess, and she went into action mode.

“Okay,” she said carefully, as if I might explode at any moment. “I’m just going to pack everything and fold up the blanket. Just hold on one minute and we’ll get you to the bathroom.” But it was too late anyway. Whether it was the food or something else, I just couldn’t hold on. Once again, I pooped myself. I was left standing there, one hand on my padded behind and one at my mouth, with a loaded diaper like some toddler who wasn’t quite ready for potty training.

I felt the tears well up. No matter how many times I did this, I’d never get used to it.

Heather saw the whole thing.

“Oh no! Don’t cry,” she said as I started wailing. That’s easy to say when you’re not the one standing in a messy diaper in front of the babysitter your mom hired for you even though you’re almost 15. She wrapped her arms around me and pulled me close. She was so much bigger than me that it made me feel like a real little kid. But this was nice. I couldn’t remember the last time someone had embraced me like that. That was the point where I decided I liked Heather. She was alright in my books. I slowly calmed down. “That’s right. Hush, little girl. It’s just a poopy diaper. Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?” I nodded my head. She had already changed me once. What’s one more time?

She got the blanket out and set it out on the grass once again. Then she dug through my diaper bag and got out a spare diaper, some wipes, and a bottle of baby powder.

“Um, what’re you doing?” I asked.

“Getting everything ready to change you, silly.”

“Here?” I looked around. We were the only ones on top of the hill, but there were plenty of people down below us.

“Of course.”

“But I don’t wanna!”

She furrowed her brow. “It’s not healthy to keep someone in a dirty diaper for very long, okay? I don’t want you sitting in it all the way back to your house.” I opened my mouth to ask why I couldn’t be changed in the women’s washroom, then closed it. I’d been changed by Bernice in public washrooms before, and there’s ALWAYS someone in them. We may be out in the open here, but there was no one close by. “And if you behave, I might buy you some ice-cream.” Some ice-cream would be nice. I let her take my shortalls off me and place me on the blanket. She untaped my diaper and pulled it forward. After being stuck in a diaper for so long, the fresh air on my crotch was startling. Shocked, I peed a little, but Heather got the diaper back into place in time.

She got to work, cleaning me up efficiantly and thoroughly. She was much more gentler than Bernice or even Mrs Spanelli. She easily held my legs up with one hand as she wiped me with the other. She slid a new diaper into place and finishhed with her signiture move: A crap-load of baby powder. More than last time. After taping me into my new diaper, I could still smell the stuff. It was over-powering.

She helped me to my feet, then walked away with the dirty diaper towards a nearby trashcan. I was left standing there, in plain view of anyone who happened to look this way, in a diaper and shirt. Nervous, I whimpered softly to myself until Heather came back and helped me into my shortalls.

It never occured to me that I could have put them on myself. It never occured to me I didn’t need anyone’s help to get dressed. It never occured to me how easily I had slipped into this new role - Until it was too late.


Bernice didn’t come back that evening. After a bath and fresh diaper, Heather had me in bed at 8, a full hour before my usual bed time. She tried to change me into my PJs, but I told her it was way too hot to wear them, so she let me sleep in just a shirt and diaper. A small victory.

Bernice woke me up the next morning. But when I got home, Heather was there again. The following week, the pattern continued. The morning of the day I officially turned 15, I finaly confronted Bernice.

“Where the hell have you been going every night?” Bernice’s eyes widened.

“Don’t use that language with me, young lady. I’ve been going out.”

“Out? Just ‘out’? What does that even mean?”

“Step in,” she said, holding my skirt out for me to step into. “It doesn’t matter. you just worry about yourself, okay dear?”

I crossed my arms and pouted. “No. I want to know why you’re keeping this such a big secret from me. I’m your partner - remember? You should be keeping me on the same level!”

“Angela–”

I stomped my foot. I was acting like a spoiled toddler, but I had learned it was the only way I could get her attention.

“Fine. I’ll explain everything to you after school today and take you with me.”

“But–”

“No buts, Angela. Wait untill after school.”

I grumbled. Bernice finished getting me dressed then took me downstairs for breakfast. Neither of us said another word, and before I knew it, I was on the bus to school once again.


I dashed into the house after school. Bernice was waiting for me.

“Are you ready?” she asked me. I nodded my head. “Then let’s go.” She hurded me out to the car, diaper bag in hand. I buckled up in the back seat, that where I had taken to sitting lately. Not only was it safer for me,but since I’m so tiny I could be mistaken for someone much younger. It was just a precaution against getting pulled over. We had managed to evade the authorities so far, but we weren’t taking any chances.

Or, at least, that was what Bernice had told me weeks earlier.

“Today is your birthday,” Bernice said from the front seat as she pulled out of our driveway.

“Yeah, it is.”

“I got you something. I think you’ll like it.” She handed me a giftbag without looking. I pulled a large stuffed bunny with light pink fur out of it.

“Uh, thanks,” I said, blushing. I had had a large collection of stuffed animals before my dad died. They were juvenile, but I wished I’d still had them. They made me happy.

“Do you know what else your birthday means?”

“No. What?”

Bernice’s voice took on a much darker tone now. “It means it’s been four months.” I stared blankly, not comprehending. “… Four months since the heist, dear. It’s been four months since then.”

Oh. Right. The heist. We hadn’t talked about it since we began this charade. It had been pushed from my mind and was nothing but a distant memory.

“But, wasn’t Jerome supposed to come for us after three?” I asked. I hugged my bunny tight.

“Yes. Yes he was.”

“But why hasn’t he?” Desperation growing in my voice. Tears welling in my eyes. The full realization of the situation dawning on me.

“I don’t know. He could be still laying low. He could have left the country without us… he could’ve been caught… They’ll do that sometimes - catch one but not report it to the media so the rest aren’t notified.”

“Why didn’t he come for us, mom? Why didn’t he come for us?” I lost it. I started crying again. Increasingly, it was how I dealt with problems. Everything was out of my control, but if I cried enough someone would fix it.

“Please don’t cry, honey. We’re going to fix this, okay? I just need you to be strong.” I reduced myself to sniffles. “Good girl. It’s very important you be a big girl for mommy right now,okay?”

“Uh-huh.”

We drove in silence for a while, until I suddenly remembered something

“where are we going?” I asked.

She glanced at me in her mirror, her eyes darting quickly back to the road. “Jerome and I agreed on a back up plan: A way to communicate in case something happened. After four months, if he still hadn’t shown up, he said he’d leave a messege in a specific post office box. It’s in a town the next state over. That’s where I’ve been going, and that’s where we’re going today.”

“Has he left a messege there yet?”

“No.”

No is a very cold word.


“Number 216. Right here, Angela.”

I skipped down the hallway to where Bernice was standing in front of a row of lock boxes.

“this is the one?” I asked.

“Yup.” She produced a key from her pocket and stuck it into the lock. The lock clicked and the door swung open. Inside was… nothing. There was nothing inside. My throat tightened and my heart sank.

“Nothing…”

“Yeah. Nothing yet.” She closed and locked the metal door.

“So, what do we do now?” I couldn’t look Bernice in the eye. Instead, I took to speaking to Mr. Bun, held tightly in my arms.

She shrugged. “We keep on living. We wait until Jerome gets in contact with us. Have you been watching the news, Angela?” I shook my head. “The media circus has died down mostly, but it’s still going strong. Jerome didn’t plan for the coverage to go on this strong for this long. There’s a good chance he’s just waiting it out.”

“But that doesn’t make any sense. You said he would have contacted us through this box if he wasn’t gonna come in time.”

She gave me a look that I had been seeing more and more of every day since this started. It was a look that said, “You poor, stupid child. You just don’t understand.” I hated it.

“Come on, Angela. It’s a long drive back. Let’s go get some dinner.” And we did.


I sat in the booth at McDonalds, my Happy Meal barely touched. I was too anxious to eat, even though Bernice ket assuring me everything would work out.

“Why can’t we just leave the country without him?” I asked softly. She put her burger down.

“He has the connections we need to launder the money. Do you know how to launder this amount of money? Because I sure as hell don’t… Besides, how would you feel if me and Jerome left the country with YOUR share of the money?” She stared me down, eyes borring holes into my head.

“I… I guess I wouldn’t like that…”.

My legs felt wet. I reached a hand down and felt the moisture. “Uh-oh,” I mumbled. Bernice had watched me.

“Did you leak again?.” I didn’t say anything. She sighed. “I haven’t had a chance to change you since you got home from school. I’m sorry, it just completely slipped my mind.” I felt reassured knowing it wasn’t my fault. “Well, if you aren’t going to eat, we should get you changed. Come on.” She grabbed my hand and lead me out to the parking lot. Looking back, I saw a small puddle had appeared where I was sitting. She opened the back door of the car and grabbed my diaper bag, getting the changin mat out of it and unfolding it on the back seat. She pushed me down onto it.

“Here?” I asked, eyes going wide. Public diaper changes had become increasingly more common.

“Well, I could change you on the ground, if you like.”

Without argument, she slipped my drenched school skirt off and got to work. She wouldn’t let me put my skirt back on after, so I ended up riding in the back seat of the car futiley trying to pull my school shirt down over my diaper.

About halfway down the highway, the unthinkable happened. Lights flashed and a siren sounded. I turned in my seat and looked out the rear window.

“It’s the cops,” Bernice said, glancing in the mirror.

“What do we do?” I asked, panic rising in my voice.

“I’ll handle it.” She was trying to appear unworried, but I could tell she was just as nervous as I was. She pulled to the side of the highway and rolled to a stop. The cop car pulled up behind us. We both watched anxiously as the trooper got out of his crusier and sauntered over. Bernice rolled her window down in preperation. It suddenly got much warmer in the car, and presperation formed on my forehead.

“License, registration, and proof of insurance, please,” he said from behind mirror aviators.

“Is there a problem, officer?”

“I just need to see your license, registration, and proof of insurance, please, ma’am.” Bernice handed him the documentation. He walked back to his car and dissappeared into it, leaving the driver side door wide open. I saw Bernice pull a small handgun out from beneath her seat and set it down on her lap, hiding it with her jacket.

The tension built as we waited. He seemed to take an awful long time doing whatever it is cops do after pulling someone over. Would the papers Bernice gave him work? Would our identities hold out? Or had we allready been discovered and was he just playing games with us?

After an aganizingly long wait, he came back, hand resting on the holster of his gun. My pulse raced. All I could do was stare straight forward as he made his way to Bernice’s window. He stopped and peered in at her for a moment.

“A car matching the make and model of yours was reported stolen a little while ago.” Bernice’s hand slowly moved to the gun-shaped lump under her jacket.

“Is that so?”

“Yup. But your stuff seems to check out.” He handed Bernice her papers. “Sorry about the delay, ma’am. Just got to make sure. You have a nice day now.” Both of us breathed a sigh of relief as he turned away, and Bernice’s hand moved away from her lap. But we both jumped a little when he suddenly turned to us once more. “One last thing. You should consider getting a booster seat for your little girl back there. You can never be too safe.” And his face broke into a smile.

“Oh. Of course,” replied mom.

“Allright then. Have a good day, you two!”

He left us, and we pulled back onto the highway and into the flow of traffic. Neither of us said anything on the rest of the drive home. By the time we got home, it was dark out, so I didn’t mind getting out of the car with nothing covering my diaper.

I didn’t mind at all.


“Where were you on your birthday? I called your house like a thousand times.”

“Sorry, Sam. Family emegency.”

“Oh. That sucks. But I’ll make it up to you. Why don’t you come sleep over at my house this weekend? My brother’s got this soccer thing in another town and my parent’s are going with him. Sheila and Carrie are gonna come too and I’ll try and get us some wine coolers! What do ya say?”

I considered it. I’d have to ask Bernice first. “… Sure. Sounds great.”

“Cool! Hopefully your mom doesn’t give you a hard time about it.”

But of course she did when I got home from school that day.

“Do you have any idea how close we were to getting caught just a couple of days ago? Do you have an concept of laying low?”

“We were never going to get found out by that cop! You heard him yourself, everything checked out!”

“Yeah. Either that, or he knew who we are and now the FBI followed us home hoping to catch all three of us in one place!”

“You know that isn’t true. And part of laying-low is acting normal. Well, teenage girls hangout and I want to hangout with my friends!” She was quiet for a moment.

“Fine, I’ll let you go, but on one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“I talk to your friend’s mom first.”

And that’s how I ruined the sleepover. I explained to Sam that if I wanted to sleepover at her place, my mom had to talk to her mom. And, of course, that meant she had to run the whole thing past her mom, which meant her parents found out about this little shindig. They allowed the sleepover, but decided her mom would stay home while her brother and dad went away for the weekend to this ‘soccer thing’. My mom and her mom talked on the phone, and I had a feeling I knew what they were talking about.

The day of the sleepover, Sheila, Carrie, Sam and I decided it was still a go, even with Sam’s mom watchng us.

But by the end of gym class I would have changed my mind.


Okay. Everything’s good. Line it up perfectly… Get your fist ready…

Volleyball. Another sport I wasn’t too shabby at. Being good at everything despite my size was quickly putting me on the popular train.

Look to the spot you want it to go. Swing back…

Apparently I was taking took long to serve, because just then Mackenzie, who was on my team, came up behind me and sabotaged everything I had worked so hard to conceal. In one swift motion, she pulled my gym shorts down to my ankles.

In front of everyone in the class.

While all eyes were focused on my serve.

Time seemed to slow down, if not stop completely. I felt myself tear-up. My diaper was a wet, but I didn’t know if it was visibly obvious. What did it matter, anyway?

Everyone stood in stunned silence. I heard Mackenzie yell, “Angela just got --” then stop abruptly. She must’ve been just as surprised as everyone else.

Finally able to react, I grabbed my shorts and yanked them up, then ran out of the gym, crying.


“Angela?” It was my friend, Sam. Of course, now that she knew the truth, she wouldn’t want to be my friend anymore.

“Angela, are you in here?” I had hidden myself in a stall in the bathroom - a place I didn’t often find myself.

I heard footsteps approach the stall door. I muffled my crying.

“You can come out. No one really cares that you…” Wear diapers. “… Wear those things.” This was so surreal. It felt like a dream, and I had a pain in the pit of my stomach.

“Please, Angela. Mackenzi’s a freak, but I think even SHE feels bad about what she did.”

“I feel so bad about everything!” I said through fits of sobbing. “I ruined your sleepover and now you probably hate me and it’s all because of my, my, my --”

“Angela! Really! It’s okay! Just please open this doo!” I pushed the door open. Sam looked me up and down, then wrapped me up into a big hug. It was a one-sided hug, as my arms didn’t seem to want to move from my sides. In some far-off distant world, I heard the bell ring - signalling the end of class.

I managed to stop crying and calm down enough to talk to Sam without throwing up.

“It all makes sense now,” she was saying. “Why you never want to hang out with us. Why you never go anywhere after school. Why your mom’s so over-protective of you.”

I looked down at the ground, feeling very small next to Sam. She was taller than me - most people were taller than me - but she was also acting very maternal. She dabbed my eyes with a handfull of paper towels as she spoke.

“I’m sorry for ruining your sleepover,” I said.

“You didn’t ruin it.”

“Yes I did. My mom wanted to talk to your mom about it, and that’s when she found out. So now she’s not going out of town and instead wants to stay home and… babysit us.”

“It’s not that big of a deal. We can still drink coolers and stuff. We just have to be careful about it. My mom will stay out of our way, though, you don’t have to worry about that. She’s a cool parent. And you’re still coming tonight, by the way. You don’t have an excuse now that everyone knows your secret.” She smiled. A moment of silence passed between us.

“Sam?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think EVERYONE knows?”

She shrugged. “This is highschool. News travels fast. But it’s not a big deal; anyone who makes fun of another person for having a dissability is a waste of space. I don’t think anyone’s going to give you grief about it.”

“You think so?”

“I really do. Now, do you think you’re ready to face the music? We’re about ten minutes late for class.”

I nodded.

And we left together.


Mom dropped me off at Sam’s house. I was already wearing my PJs, so my overnight bag contained clothing for the next day as well as a couple diapers and some wipes in a plastic baggie. I knocked on the door and mom honked as she drove away. I waved goodbye.

Sam’s mom answered. About a foot taller than me, she had to bend a bit to give me a big hug. “Come on in,” she said, leading me through the doorway with a hand on my back.

“The girls are up in Sam’s room right now, but just before you take off, I want to talk to you.” She bent her knees and put her hands between her legs, always maintaining that nice smile as she spoke to me. “I talked to your mom, and she explained your situation to me. Whenever you need a change, just come find me, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good,” she said, briefly squeezing my cheek. I recalled a time, back when I was actually 15, when people would do this to me all the time. “You can leave your bag down here.” I slid it off my shoulder and found my way upstairs to Sam’s room.

“Hey,” I said meekly as I entered. Sheila, Carrie and Sam all greeted me warmly. Sam was at her computer desk and Sheila and Carrie were sitting on Sam’s futon. Overnight stuff was scattered around the room. None of them were wearing PJs. It was only 7pm. I suddenly felt very juvenile in my colourful My Little Pony jammies and diaper.

Sheila and Carrie gave a sidelong glance to eachother, than turned their attention back to me. “We just want to let you know, we don’t care that you wear diapers,” Carrie said.

“Yeah, it’s not a big deal,” Sheila confirmed.

“If anyone at school ever gives you a hard time about it, we’ll all get together and gang-beat them for you,” Sam said while shaking her fist in a mock threatening manner. We all chuckled, more to break the tension than because it was all that funny.

After that, there was no mention of my diapers for the rest of the night.


“What do you guys want to be when you grow up?” Carrie asked. We were all sitting around Sam’s room, sipping coolers.

“I allready know what I’m going to be,” Sam said. “A cop.”

“No way,” I said,athough I could fully see Sam becoming a cop.

“Yup.”

“I want to be a writer,” Sheila said. I was taken aback. I always thought Sheila rarely said anything because she was kind of air-headed. Everyone else nodded in agreement, however. “A writer for Cosmo.” Oh.

“And I,” said Carrie, rising off her seat in a dramatic fashion, “am going to be a princess.” We all laughed. “But really, I’m going to marry a doctor and never work a day in my life.”

“What about you?” Sam asked me.

I shrugged. “I dunno. I guess I haven’t really thought of that yet.” And it was true, even to 20-year-old me. “If I never figure it out, maybe I’ll be a bank robber or something.” I let out a nervous chuckle.

“Pfft. That’s cheating.” Carrie said.

“You’re the one who said she was gonna marry a doctor!” I said back, and whacked her upside the head with a pillow as she gave me a big grin.

“But that’s actually possible. What are the chances you’re gonna rob a place?”

“Maybe I already have.”

“Ha! But of course! You were part of the team that pulled off that big heist a few months back! It’s all coming together now.” I felt my throat tighten, but everyone else laughed at Carrie’s dramatizations.

It was a silly thought that I, little Angela O’Connor, who couldn’t even change her own diapers, could pull off something as ingenious as the heist of the century.


Three coolers and one-and-a-half scary movies later, I felt wetness creep up around my butt. Oh no! I had gotten so used to being checked by other people I hadn’t bothered with my diaper at all and now I had leaked!

I carefully got up and navigated my way through the dark room to the exit, and went off in search of Sam’s mom. I found her in the living room and explained what had happened.

“Is it bad?” she asked, examing my pants.

“I think my pyjammas absorbed most of it,” I said, blushing heavily and refusing to meat her eyes.

She nodded in a business-like fashion. “Well, first thing’s first, let’s get you into a clean diaper.” She grabbed my bag and lead me upstairs and to her bedroom. There, she unfolded my changing matt and placed it on her bed. She stripped me of my wet PJs, cleaned me up, and changed me into a fresh diaper.

“I don’t have any PJs that will fit you,” she said as she went through her drawers. “But it’s a warm night and I don’t think you’ll need them.” She produced a long white shirt and handed it to me. “Just wear that. It’s big on me so it should cover everything it needs to cover on you. I’ll wash your PJs for you and have them ready when you leave tomorrow. Okay?”

I nodded and pulled the shirt over my head. The hem came down to just past my diaper. “Thanks.”

“No problem, kiddo.”

We marched back to Sam’s room, where her mom turned the lights on and announced, “Okay, girls. Go get ready for bed.” There was a lot of “aaaawwws” but she cut them off. Carrie and Sheila grabbed their PJs and went off to change in the bathrooms. Nobody seemed to notice my sleepwear had changed. Sam’s mom went over to where I was sitting on the futon and inspected the damage. It appeared my PJs HAD soaked pretty much all of it up. She didn’t mention this to Sam.

“I’ll get out of your face now. But keep the TV and the lights off.”

After the usual hushed whispers about boys and school and the future, I crawled into bed with Sam on her futon, since I was the only one without a sleeping bag. As the other girls drifted off one by one, I remained awake. Thinking. Despite the setbacks, life was good. I had friends who didn’t care I had to wear diapers. They had found out about my deepest, darkest secret and still wanted to be my friends in spite of it.

I couldn’t remember if I had a single friend as dedicated as these three from my previous life.

And it didn’t bother me.

Re: The Heist

This is a great realistic story that is progressing nicely. I also would like chapters updated more frequently, but not at the expense of the quality of the story. Take as much time as you need to update this enticing epic of an increasing loss of control, in more ways than one!!! Superb job so far, keep up the great work.

Re: The Heist

This is a really good read. I’m enjoying it even beyond the diaper content!

Re: The Heist

Definitely my favourite sort of story. :slight_smile: