T - Time

That night, I dreamt about diapers. My friends and I were sitting at the next town ice cream shop’s terrasse, as we did some days earlier. I stood up, as if I was going to the loos. I went back to the path on which I left most of the adult diaper pack I had stolen at the chemist’s. The diapers were still there. I took one. I put it on in the toilets of the ice cream shop that looked very much like the one at my mother’s. Then I returned to my friend’s table. They had continued their conversation. As for me, I finished my ice-cream and opened my legs wide. Here, in the middle of everyone, I slightly tucked my tailbone and put a hand on my diaper ; I was ready to let my bladder go.

Jolt.

Sweat.

Fear.

I jumped off the bed, checking that I did not pee on myself.

-What’s happening ? asked my sister, half-awake

-Nothing. I thought there was a bug in my sheets.

-You’re the bug… she spilled before turning her back on me.

Apparently, I did not wet my bed, but I had not been far from it.

I quickly went to the loos to satisfy my thwarted urge. For the first time, I was scared that my practices would modify my behavior and made me pee in my bed again. I thought about my parents telling me that I would have to wear diapers, just like they did with my sister. Weirdly enough, that prospect did not rejoice me at all. Being able to wear them once in a while, for pleasure, it was one thing. Being forced to use diapers, while making my family worry, potentially becoming the laughing stock of my friends, it was something else. That scenario created a tenacious anxiety. 

My sister and I eventually got back to my mother’s home a couple of days before the Autumn term. I decided to avoid ABDL nights  for a while in order to reassure myself concerning my capacities to hold my bladder.

Using the family computer as I wanted had not been possible for a while, even though I had a strong desire to do some research on the possibility of not being able to hold myself if I wore diapers for too long. I was quite impatient too to read new ABDL articles and especially the flock of comments coming along with it. A bit before the All Saint’s holiday, the occasion finally presented itself.

It was a Friday night. We had been invited to dinner by our neighbours. My sister and their daughter, who were as thick as thieves, were playing together. Adults had their own conversation. I pretended to be tired and went home early. Walking into the empty house, I removed my shoes and my overcoat and left it in front of the door to delay an ill-chosen time for arrival. Then I headed for the family computer.

I went directly to the french forum. Only by seeing the homepage again with the last posts, livened up by some pictures, it was as though a weight had been lifted off my chest. I started looking for articles that were speaking about incontinence induced by an ABDL lifestyle. If I did not find any testimony on that matter, there were plenty others on various kinds of subjects.

Clic. Ah !

Clic. Oh !

Clic. Really ?

Clic.

Clic…

May the one that never forgot the hour by plunging into some gripping matters cast the first stone… The sound of the doorway made me start.

Alt + F4 > Start > Turning the computer off

I jumped out of the office chair to slip in the corridor leading to my room and cautiously closed the door. I heard my sister and my mother coming in, cursing about my things laying on the ground and going to bed. For me, sleeping was not an option. I put the third Molicare on and my two hands groped at the crotch almost with brutality. I was beside myself. Quickly, I climbed on the edge of my bed to reach the highest pleasure.

Lying on my mattress, I still could not sleep. I was thinking about everything I had seen, all those diapers, all the possible situations… After an hour or so, I put my left hand on my diaper and relieved myself. The warmth that was spreading, the thickness that was building, the sounds of friction that would start to change… I caught the diaper with two hands one more time and I rubbed, rubbed, rubbed harder. For the second time, I held a gasp biting my lips. Here, at peace at last, I rolled on my side and let Morpheus embrace me.

The morning had begun a while ago when I woke up the day after. My mum was out, paying a visit to my grandmother. I was going to get some breakfast while my sister was already on MySpace, listening to whatever fell under the mouse. She had just started a computing workshop at the school I used to go to. It mainly consisted of being able to type on a keyboard with more than the forefinger and understanding the global functioning of a computer. Therefore, she put into practice on of the shortcut she had recently learnt : 

Ctrl + H

-Daisy, what’s this ?

I instantly felt dizzy.

-Daisy ?! What’s this ?!

I did not dare to move. I did not dare to open my mouth. I barely allowed myself to breathe.

-What's with all those girls wearing diapers ? Why on earth would you search this ?

I started defending myself. Telling her that I was afraid what had happened to her would happened to me, that I was forward planning just in case. She did not look convinced. I told her to mind her own business. There too, she did not look convinced.

Taking advantage of a moment of silence during family lunch, she did not fail to mention : 

-Daisy, she looked at a website where there are pictures of grandpas putting diapers on girls.

My mother looked at me, staggered. Then she turned her eyes on my sister. 

-Go to your room, L.

-But I didn’t do anything ! She is the weird one !

-I said go to your room !

L. grabbed her plate and took refuge upstairs. My mother took a deep breath.

-Look, Daisy, I already found some diapers hidden on your bed. I thought it would only be a passing fancy, that you would quickly go over it… If you want to, we can go to a psychologist to speak about it.

It was all too much. I burst into tears and locked myself into my room. 

The day after, I threw away with fury the suitcase containing the last Molicare.

To rebuild myself after this and to start being a diaper girl again, I would need time.