You can always go back, but you can’t go back all the way
– Missisippi, Sheryl Crow vocals, Bob Dylan lyrics
Greetings, I’m Trish. I wrote a few stories on the Network54 site, and the first follow-up site (which was eventually destroyed I think.) Also, about that time, my hard drive died and destroyed a story I was writing. This seriously ruffled my feathers and I haven’t written anything since. Honestly, if anyone still has my story which ends with mall security going to a different bathroom than the one the protagonists fear, well let me know.
But in honor of the brave writers who continue to churn out brilliant material, here’s a story for you. Again, I’m not really interested in constructive feedback (only praise), so I’m just going to post this all at once.
A few more words of warning, since this intro is so short already.
-This story contains elements of truth, but is just a fantasy.
-Chapter 3 contains adult material, but I think it is crucial for the character development.
-The story is written in a different style than my past stories, but I’m a different writer now. If you look for the themes in this, you should understand why my style of writing has changed. I also have a few comments at the end.
Perhaps the light blue pair of flip-flops Karen tried on weren’t “adorable”, but they were at least “cute”. And at $7, the price was right. The only question was whether or not they would be comfortable for long walks in the park. Due to the elastic band holding the pair of flip-flops together, Karen certainly wasn’t going to be able to test them out completely. But Karen took a few mini-steps, with her feet shuffling together down the aisle.
“Mommy, I’m going potty.”
What? Karen was suddenly shocked out of her shoe euphoria. She heard the statement from the aisle next to her. Did I just hear what I thought I heard? Karen quickly poked her head around the corner and noticed a 3 year old girl sitting in a cart while her mom was talking on the cell phone.
“We’ll be out of here in a minute sweety,” the mom said before returning to her phone conversation.
Karen stepped aside in shock. Did that girl know she was wetting her diaper and her mom wasn’t even hurrying her to the bathroom? How strange? Karen wanted to spend a few more minutes by the mother and daughter to see what happened, but she didn’t want to seem like she was stalking them. Plus she had to get to her sister’s birthday party. She hurried to the card section and picked out a generic birthday card.
But then as Karen walked up to the register she saw the mom and daughter checking out. After making their purchases, the mom put the daughter down on the ground. And sure enough the girl waddled out to the car, with her steps clearly impaired by her wet diaper.
Karen didn’t know what to think. All sorts of emotions flushed over her. Three years ago Karen had been obsessed with diapers and wetting, but she hadn’t thought about it since she graduated from college. She felt her heart racing as she thought back to those memories. I can’t believe I just saw that girl wet her pants! She smiled to herself.
Karen then drove to her sister’s house and joined the family on the patio in backyard.
“Karen, glad to see you. Do you want something to drink?” her sister asked. “We have soda in the cooler and I can get you some lemonade if you’d like.”
“Lemonade would be great Kathy”, Karen replied. Karen then said hello to Kathy’s husband, her niece, her nephew, and introduced herself to a few of Kathy’s co-workers who had joined them for the birthday BBQ. Karen didn’t really know any of the co-workers so she sat herself down on a chair on the edge of the patio and watched Kathy’s kids kick a soccer ball around the backyard.
Her mind flashed back to the girl at the store. What was it about the incident that caught her attention so? It wasn’t like she had never seen a girl wet a diaper. She had changed her niece’s diapers a few years ago. The truth was, ever since she graduated from college and her sister had kids, she just thought about diapers differently. But the whole incident at the store changed things. What was she feeling? What struck her was that it just seemed so wrong. The mom seemed so indifferent to the girl wetting. Her sister had never been like that. Her sister’s kids were 5 and 3 and both had been potty trained since they were 1 and a half. Heck, she was pretty sure her own mom had been strict about potty training too. Karen remembered her mom bragging about how Karen was almost potty trained before she could walk.
But here was this girl, sitting in her cart, telling her mom she was peeing, and her mom didn’t care. Karen’s heart raced. She smiled.
Karen drove 5 miles out of her way to a pharmacy where she never shopped. She quickly perused the incontinence pads and didn’t see anything she hadn’t tried before. She looked briefly at the swim diapers on an end-cap. Karen always wondered how a swim diaper worked, but they were clearly too small to fit her. Then she went to the diaper aisle. A new packaging caught her eye. There was a package of girl’s underjams XL priced on sale. Karen looked at the package and couldn’t believe her eyes. The girls on the package all looked like adolescents. The idea of any of the girls on the package wetting the bed seemed remarkable.
Karen encountered a long line at the front of the store, but waited and purchased the underjams anyhow. There was a time when she would have been embarrassed to do this, but that time had passed. She knew at age 25 she was clearly too young to have an adolescent child who was a bed-wetter, but she wasn’t worried about the clerk saying anything. The thrill, the rush, the danger she once felt from making this transaction had long since past.
Karen hurried home and ripped open the packaging. She slid off her panties and held the hem of her dress up as she quickly slid on the bedwetting diaper. Wow, these things are snug, Karen thought to herself. She seemed to remember that girl’s goodnites still fit her perfectly, but these underjams barely fit over her non-adolescent hips. Oh well, the snug feel was still fun.
The purple trim on the underjams was also fun. Most girl’s diapers had pink colors or Disney prints, but this had a refreshing and subtle purple design. It seemed a little more grown-up to her, but not as boring as an adult diaper. The thought of a 12 year old girl wearing these made Karen smile.
Karen then proceeded to spend the next hour guzzling a 2 liter bottle of Diet Pepsi until she worked up a strong need to pee. Karen then stared at herself in the mirror as she flooded the diaper. It expanded slowly without a hint of a leak. She reached down and felt the warm wet bulge below her. It felt nice, but hardly erotic. She decided to wear the diaper for awhile longer.
Her sister called and asked Karen if she had left her sunglasses at her house, but the sunglasses didn’t belong to Karen. Karen wished her sister another Happy Birthday and then hung up. By now Karen felt the need to pee again. She peed again, and even though she thought she felt a small drop, a tiny leak on her leg, the diaper held. Karen decided to leave the diaper on for a little while longer. She went to turn on the computer, but quickly realized that she couldn’t sit down without causing a leak. The diaper was near capacity.
Instead she went back in the bathroom and stared at the girls on the packaging. She couldn’t help but smile at the idea of any of those girls wearing a diaper. They all seemed way too old to wet the bed. Did some girls really wet the bed at that age?
Karen flashed back to when her friend Summer slept over in 2nd grade. Summer was 8 and a half at the time and Summer wet her sleeping bag. Karen’s mom was furious and Karen could still picture her mom yelling at Summer. “What’s the matter with your parents! They can’t get you to stay dry at night? You’re eight year’s old! Eight-year-old girls don’t pee themselves. Only babies wet themselves. I’m going to have to have a talk with your mom.”
Karen bounced back to reality as she felt the need to pee again. (The half bottle of Pepsi made the urges more frequent.) Karen released a trickle and this time the diaper couldn’t keep up. She soon felt the pee leaking down her leg and splashing on the tile floor in the bathroom. She held her dress out of the way and smiled at herself in the mirror acting like a little girl who had an accident.
“Why didn’t you tell me your diaper was wet?” Karen scolded herself in the mirror. She reached down and felt the wetness of the soaked diaper and felt a twinge of arousal.