Untitled 01 Parts 1, 2, and 3 (Patreon)

“Mrm.” Linda murmured, trying to wrestle the sleep out of her eyes. She shifted to find a comfortable position. She spread her legs apart to give her full slushy diaper space to settle. It didn’t feel warm. It was room temperature mush.

Linda felt her bladder remind her of a pressing need to use the bathroom. She could tell her diaper was at capacity. Anymore and she’d probably leak. She also wasn’t a bedwetter to begin with.

She tried it on a whim. She always thought diapers were kind of cute. What was the harm in wearing one to bed while clutching a stuffie? Falling asleep was much easier while in little mode.

The first time she woke up with the familiar pain in her bladder, she sat up. Only to feel the bulk of a diaper between her legs. “I don’t have to get up…” She realized it took some effort, but eventually she started trickling. Slowly, her diaper absorbed the pee. Within minutes she was already fast asleep. Warm pee tickling her thighs.

A few weeks later she didn’t have to sit up anymore. She could remain on her belly while letting go. Normally she still had to wake up just enough to tell her body it was okay. But sometimes, she was able to release the moment she awoke from a dream. On rare occasions, she was already starting before she woke up.

She knew at that point she had to start paying attention, otherwise she’d slip even further. She could stop wearing it though, at this point she was too nervous to have an accident if she didn’t wake up. “I just won’t go automatically anymore.” She had reasoned.

That was still her hope today. Yet, as she sat there, rolling over to survey the damage, she had to think about when she peed last night. “I woke up around 2 am… right? No, was that a dream?” She could piece some of it together. Sitting down, letting go, but she couldn’t recall physical details. Her diaper felt a splurge of warmth. Her body was beginning to decide for her. She looked at her bedroom door. It felt so far away.

“Whatever, I’ll just be a bedwetter.” She thought, she stopped holding back. She released a flood of pee into her full diaper. Most of it managed to absorb into the padding, but some leaked out. Part of her regretted the fact she peed herself into a medical condition, but it wasn’t devastating. No more than picking the wrong car color. “I wake up in this bed 99% of the time anyways. Who’s going to know?” She thought, reasoning she could just be careful whenever going to friends' houses. She could just tell them it was a medical issue.

She stopped thinking about it before she even finished peeing. It was routine for her to think that way anyways. Already back to sleep before the puddle finished growing.

2

Stacey’s brain didn’t hold onto the thought for longer than a split second. It wasn’t her job to think about things. Her mind wasn’t practiced. She didn't work things out. She did what she was used to doing, and that was being a complete train wreck in everything without your guidance.

“Nehh!” She squealed, it was hard to use fingers. She never fully developed motor skills. She fumbled with the lip, before ultimately dropping the carton of milk. She watched it fall in slow motion, until it hit the floor. The carton ripped open. Milk erupted out, spilling all over the floor.

“Uh-oh..” Stacey said, she felt overwhelmed. She didn’t know what to do. This was all too much responsibility. Instinctively she walked clumsily backward from the situation. She kept going until her back hit the living room cabinets. Her knees buckled. Her diapered butt hit the ground.

She stared far away at the milk, still spilling out onto the floor. She felt helpless. Her bladder worked automatically. She released a hot stream into her diaper. Stacey felt some of the pee spill out of the sides. Her diaper was too full. That wasn’t something she could fix either though. All of it was too much for her to deal with. She naturally funneled her emotions into tears. Her lips trembled, whimpers started slipping out. She quickly crescendoed into a wet blubbering mess on the floor.

“DDDAAAAADDDDYYYYYY!!!!!” She squealed, “DADAAA! DAAADDDYYY!!” She screamed, upset you didn’t respond within seconds. She heard you come down the stairs. Seeing your face appear, it was the first instance of relief.

“Oh my goodness, what’s wrong? What happened??” You questioned, hurrying over to the scene.

“I jus-um- I mum, umum, milky an-an, I- nuh-uh….” She stammered, trying to get the words out. She dug her face into her arms. Too embarrassed to get it out. That’s when you noticed pee still leaking out of her diaper.

“You are such a mess, aren’t you? I let you play by yourself for 10 minutes and this is what happens?” You said teasingly. The light-heartedness in your voice helped. Stacey felt the big scary emotions fading away. She looked up at you, her cheeks red, tears still falling, but a healing smile on her face. “Is that true? Are you just too much of a baby without me?” You said again, teasing. You dug some fingers into the sides of her torso. You wiggled into tickles.

“DADDY!! Heheh!” She squealed, you didn’t attack for long. You extended a hand down toward her. She happily grasped it, allowing you to hoist her up. You held on, guiding her back to the kitchen.

Everything was going to be okay. You were here. That made Stacey’s mind float back to a blank happy fog. Her thumb elevated the feeling as it slipped between her lips.

3

Laney didn’t have rights. She never wanted those. It was something her mother had taught her when she was young. Having responsibilities, fighting for women's equality, it was all way too much. It was way easier to listen to Daddy and do as she was told.

Potty Training fell into that category. Her Daddy didn’t think it was right for her to hold it all the time. She didn’t have a choice, nor was her control that good to begin with. Her family thought pull-ups were good enough. Her bladder never developed past that stage.

But she didn’t even try now. Daddy explained to her how all of that was unnecessary responsibility. It didn’t take much effort to start getting used to them. Daddy said to only use her diaper, so that’s what she did. No questions asked. She was a good girl, and listened to what she was told to do. It was clear.

Her control slipped away. She devolved into an unpotty trained dog. Her diapers took care of the subconscious accidents she was always piddling out. She didn’t think about changes. If she wasn’t allowed to change for three days in a row, so be it. If Daddy wanted her to sit in the mess, then she would. No questions asked. She was used to living in a swampy used diaper anyways.

Her mother wasn’t the only one who instilled this idea in her. A lot of women were starting to find it easier to stop talking, and put a diaper on. Deep in Laney’s heart, she didn’t see herself as an individual. She needed to be told what to do, how to think, and how to act. If Daddy wanted her to spread her wet diaper legs, then so be it. Making her Daddy happy was the only responsibility she had. If filling her made him happy, then it was her duty to do it all day, everyday.

That’s how she lived her life. That’s how Stacey, and most of the world, wanted it. And if someone had a problem with it, then they could take it up with her Daddy.