Chapter 5. Potty-Training, Take Two
Each night Courtney practiced her pelvic floor exercises. By week’s end, she could reproduce Monday’s result with some consistency, but voluntary contraction still eluded her. That part of her body felt so disconnected from her mind that she might as easily lifted a spoon through telekinesis.
Until one day, it happened—at work of all places. She’d been practicing behind her desk, searching and searching for that lost neural connection—when, miraculously, it fired. The faintest tremor, but she felt it plain and clear.
“Got all that, Courtney? On my desk by 10:00 tomorrow.”
“Hmm? Oh…of course, sir.” She tried squeezing again, but now it escaped her. Darn it!
At home that night, though, she hit upon it again, and then a third time shortly after. She had it cornered now, exposed with nowhere to hide. She squeezed again, more meekly this time, as her muscles had grown fatigued. No matter—now she could exercise them whenever she liked. By Friday, the instrument displayed a “2” for the first time, and she called Allison with the exciting news.
“That’s fantastic, Courtney! Keep at it, and it should improve a lot more. In the meantime, I feel you’re ready for the next step.”
“Exactly. Set a timer like you did before, and be sure to sit on the toilet even if you feel no urge to go.”
“And if you feel the urge when you’re not sitting on it, use those pelvic muscles to hold on as long as you can. Even if it’s just for a few seconds, that’s progress.”
“I know you’ll do great, Courtney! Talk soon, okay?”
“Wait—I have a question.” She thought of her first failed attempt at this.
“How do I…pee on the toilet?”
Courtney drank a tall glass of water like Allison suggested. Then she pranced to the bathroom cabinet where she had stashed the pull-ups. She picked out a white one and lay back on the changing table to remove her newly wet diaper. There she paused. How would she manage this in front of Kyle? He was coming by for dinner in an hour.
The unspoken rules of diaper etiquette flashed through her mind, ingrained through her years of growing up female:
A lady never lets her diaper show. Everyone knows you’re wearing one, but don’t make it obvious. Disguise your ruffles with a flowy skirt, dark colors, or structured denim.
A lady never lets anyone know. When you wet, be discrete about it, and don’t let it distract you from what you were saying or doing. Carry on as if nothing occurred.
A lady always waits her turn. Never change when it would inconvenience others. Wait till the end of a meal or show—and in the case of a single facility, let men go first.
The rules seemed silly sometimes, but when everyone around you followed them and expected you to as well, flouting them wasn’t so easy.
Well, the first caused no issue for Courtney. The pull-ups were thinner than any pair of diapers she owned and would hardly show through. As for the second rule, she had long since trained herself to wet discreetly. It took discipline, but no more so in a pull-up than in a diaper, it would seem. The third rule proved trickier, as her timer would surely go off during dinner.
Maybe she should wait to try this when Kyle wasn’t around? They’d been spending most weekends together, though, recently—her only real opportunity to practice. Perhaps she should just tell him the truth. He would understand, wouldn’t he? So she slid on the pull-up and set her timer for 45 minutes. Then she set to work in the kitchen.
Courtney mixed together a salad and fried some potatoes. She was about to put the lambchops in the oven when her timer buzzed. Well, that’s inconvenient. She would have to drop what she was doing just to go pee? She considered waiting until she had finished cooking. No, better not push her luck. Who knew how much longer she would stay dry?
At the toilet, she hiked up her skirt and slid the pull-up down her thighs. Wow, so much easier than fiddling with the tapes on a diaper! Then she sat down and tried to relax. She pictured a garden sprinkler, water filling the bath, and the rest of Allison’s suggestions, but nothing worked. Come on, Courtney, pee now or you’ll flood your pull-up at dinner…and with that thought, a small tinkle sounded. Holy cow, she did it!
When the trickle ceased, she stood and reached for her pull-up, but felt a drip grace her hand. Now exposed to the cool bathroom air, her entire vulva and parts of her fanny felt wet. Did guys have to wipe after peeing in the toilet? She did, apparently. Oh well, still simpler than cleaning up after a wet diaper.
“Hello beautiful,” said Kyle as she opened the door. He hugged her tight, his hand trailing down below her waist as it often did, causing a slight crinkle.
Courtney wondered if the pull-up sounded any different than a diaper. “I made lambchops,” she announced.
“They smell amazing. Here, we’ll have them with this.” He held up a bottle of wine.
“Yay! I’ll go chill it. Hey, I need to tell you something before we eat.”
“What is it, sweetheart?”
She gazed into his pretty eyes. “I…uh…am so excited about our dinner together!”
Kyle smiled. “Me too! Shall we?” He beckoned towards the kitchen.
Okay, so maybe she wouldn’t be telling him quite yet. Reaching into her pocket, Courtney switched her phone to vibrate.
They sat down at the table and started enjoying the meal. A few minutes into it, Kyle said, “These lambchops are amazing. What did you put on them?”
“Rosemary.” Just then, Courtney’s hip vibrated. “Sorry, will you excuse me for a minute?”
He looked at her quizzically. “Uh, sure.”
She headed to the bathroom and sat on the toilet once again. She checked her pull-up: still dry. A minute passed, but nothing happened. How long did it normally take to change? Not much longer than this, she imagined. She tried for another minute, but she could think only of Kyle waiting out there impatiently, which made it even harder to pee. Finally she gave up.
“Sorry about that, sweetheart,” she said, returning to the table.
The meal continued, with Kyle soon describing an issue he encountered at work. “We ended up having to reboot the whole system…”
At that moment, Courtney felt a strong pressure build. Here it comes. For the first time in recent memory, she pushed back against it deliberately. She actually felt the muscles clench—she was doing this!
“…turns out it was a hardware problem all along…”
Courtney nodded. But the pressure continued to mount, exerting unbearable force against her quickly tiring muscles.
“…we tried rewiring the thing, but that didn’t work either. Courtney, are you even listening?”
“Mm hmm.” Her efforts collapsed, and she felt her pull-up grow warm. She tried her best to hide the look of relief that crossed her face.
“So that’s where it stands,” said Kyle. “I’ll troubleshoot it again on Monday.”
“That’s crazy,” said Courtney, feigning comprehension. “So, ready for dessert?”
“Nah.” She walked to the refrigerator, her saturated pull-up squishing between her thighs. “I bought these, though!” She placed a white box on the table.
“Éclairs? No way!”
Kyle poured them another glass of wine. Courtney sipped it slowly as she ate, conscious of the state of her pull-up. Finally her hip vibrated again.
“Did you enjoy the meal?” she asked.
“I’ll be right back.”
Courtney managed to squirt a tiny bit more into the toilet, her pull-up having absorbed the vast majority. She cleaned herself thoroughly, then pondered what to wear next. A diaper felt like regression, but at least it would arouse no suspicion. Besides, she wanted to look sexy for him. The plain white pull-up looked drab compared to the frilly diaper that matched the bra she had on.
“Cute set,” Kyle said later that evening, as he finished removing her skirt.
“So was it the wine, sweetie?”
“Lots of changing this evening.” He unhooked her bra.
“Oh—yeah, must have been the wine. I, uh…didn’t want to take any chances.” She would fill him in tomorrow. Right now, she would simply enjoy what he was doing to her breasts.
The weekend was a flurry of activity, with clothes shopping, a movie date with Kyle, and two trips to the gym inspired by the shopping trip. Courtney remained in diapers the whole time, afraid of navigating pull-ups and a potty timer outside her home. She finally slipped one on after work on Monday, her face brimming with excitement as she tossed her soggy diaper in the trash.
Ooh, first I better try peeing, she realized. She sat on the toilet for a bit, but apparently she had wet too recently—maybe on the drive home? The memory was foggy. She set her timer for a safe 45 minutes, then pondered what to make for dinner. In the end, she stuck with a salad—appropriate, given how her ass had looked in designer jeans, her diaper forming obnoxious patterns in the denim. She refused to go up another pant size.
“Have you had a diaper fitting recently?” the salesgirl had asked.
“Uh…yes,” Courtney lied. The thought of the perky coed stretching a tape measure around her softened hips made her cringe.
To make the salad more palatable, Courtney doused it in French dressing and poured a glass of diet Coke to go with. Then she sat at the table, enjoying the feel of her thin pull-up beneath her flowy skirt. She flicked on the television. Earlier that day, her boss had berated her for missing an imaginary deadline, so a bit of reality TV felt well deserved.
Before she knew it, her timer sounded. Time to pee already? Her show wasn’t even over. Reluctantly, she stood up from the table and sat again on the toilet. After a minute or so, a trickled emerge, building to a stream that split in two and ran across each butt cheek. Was there a tidier way to do this? she wondered, unrolling a wad of toilet paper. She reset her timer for an hour.
Still hungry, Courtney microwaved popcorn and resumed her show. The cold diet soda complimented the buttery taste so well—she poured herself another. When the episode ended, she plopped onto the couch and began the next one. Soon her cares drifted away, unmoored by the inane plot. Would Savannah choose Ted or Henry? Both were so good-looking. Personally, Courtney preferred Albert, but he had already been voted off.
A pressure formed at Courtney’s groin, barely registered. Then warmth spread between her thighs. I guess I’m peeing now… Wait—I’m peeing? Her eyes flashed wide—she wasn’t supposed to do that! How long had it been? Her phone said 48 minutes. Courtney sighed. She was supposed go in the toilet, or at least practice holding for a few seconds, not just mindlessly wet herself. She resolved to be more conscientious.
A couple weeks later, Kyle kissed Courtney goodbye after a leisurely Saturday breakfast. “Tell the girls I say hi, okay?”
As soon as the door shut, she hurried to the bathroom to try to pee. Krystal would be here any minute to drive to the train station, where Jenny would be arriving from the city. Then it was back to Krystal’s for Netflix and drinks. To Courtney’s delight, a decent amount sprayed into the bowl, though some trailed down her thigh. Maybe I’m finally getting the hang of this? She wiped herself and set her timer for an hour.
“One sec,” Courtney texted.
She yanked up her pull-up and jeans. Then she grabbed her bag and descended the stairs, her heart aflutter. At the front door, she gripped the knob with a sweaty palm. Each day this week, she had intended to wear a pull-up to work…but how would she explain her zillion trips to the office bathroom? So instead she had practiced holding in her diaper. Twelve seconds was her best so far—when she remembered to try, that is. So unaccustomed to monitoring her bladder’s behavior, she tended to pee absentmindedly—or worse, find her diaper wet with no memory of how it got that way. Needless to say, this morning marked her first time venturing out in a pull-up. She took a deep breath and turned the latch.
Jenny gave her a huge hug when they arrived at the station. “How’s my skinny, childless girlfriend?”
“You look great too!” said Courtney.
“Yeah, lots of healthy meat on these bones.”
“Oh, stop,” Courtney retorted, though Jenny’s baby weight was plenty evident. Courtney almost did feel skinny in comparison. “You remember Krystal, don’t you?”
“Hot blond receptionist? Of course!”
“So nice to see you again,” said Krystal. Her blue eyes and flowing curls looked striking as always, her slight tummy well camouflaged by her generous bust—much like Jenny before her pregnancy.
“Shot gun!” Jenny yelled, as she tossed her bag in the trunk.
Courtney settled into the back seat and checked her phone: twenty-five minutes left on the timer. She should be safe for a while, hopefully.
“How’s that boy Kyle?” asked Jenny.
“They’re in looove,” Krystal sang out.
“Oh my gosh, is it true?”
“Kind of?” said Courtney. “He’s super sweet.”
“But you haven’t said it yet,” said Jenny.
“Well, not out loud.”
“Just say it,” said Krystal.
“Not before he does!” Courtney objected.
“Definitely not,” Jenny agreed. “So, whereto for lunch?”
Hopefully somewhere close , thought Courtney, as her potty timer buzzed. Using it was proving tricky when out and about.
Finally they pulled into a ’50s-style diner.
“Anyone need a change?” asked Krystal on the way in.
Jenny shook her head.
“I’ll go with,” Courtney offered. “Jenny, we’ll come find you after.”
Inside the women’s room, Krystal set her purse down on a changing table, while Courtney headed for the stall.
“Don’t tell me you’re still trying this,” Krystal called over the divider.
“My pull-up is still dry. Can you believe it?”
“A pull-up? Seriously?”
“They’re super comfy. You should try one.”
“Dry for how long?”
“Over two hours—though I peed in the toilet halfway through.”
“How did you manage that?”
“I’m using a timer. When it goes off, I try to go.”
“And that actually works?”
“Sometimes it does.” Courtney conjured a raging waterfall in her mind, but still nothing happened.
“Sometimes I think you’re nuts,” said Krystal, starting the faucet to wash her hands.
The sound provided the inspiration Courtney needed. Yes! Twice in a row!
At lunch, she and Jenny exchanged stories of old times.
“Tell me a really embarrassing one about Courtney,” Krystal begged.
“Hmm,” said Jenny. “Well, there was a certain game of Truth or Dare…”
“Ugh, can we forget that ever happened?” Courtney pleaded.
Jenny told it anyway.
When she reached the climax, Krystal exclaimed, “Oh, you poor thing!”
“Well, I blame Jenny for letting the dare stand.”
“Me? But I even got you the towel and everything!”
Courtney laughed out loud.
Whoops. She managed to squeeze things shut, but not before dampening her pull-up. A minor leak, but it could foretell something worse. She checked her phone: just twelve minutes left on the timer. The safest option would be to try going now, but she didn’t want to be rude. I’ll at least wait till it buzzes, she reasoned—but when it did, the meal still seemed far from over. She tried to assess her state of urgency, but of course she felt nothing. She pressed snooze and hoped for the best.
“What about you, Krystal?” Jenny asked. “You must have stories from work.”
“Well, Courtney is always saying our boss is a misogynist twat, which he kind of is. But whenever he’s around, she’s always like, ‘Yes, Mr. Mills! Of course, Mr. Mills!’”
“Sounds like the girl I remember.”
“Hey!” Courtney objected. Then her eyes went wide. She clenched as hard as she could and started counting in her head. One one-thousand, two one-thousand…eight one-thousand, nine one—ohmygosh! She felt her pull-up inflate, while her heart did the opposite. She scolded herself for not going earlier.
“Wow, I can’t believe I ate that much food,” said Jenny. “That’s like, a week’s worth of visits to the gym.”
“Tell me about it,” said Courtney, composing herself.
“Oh shush. What are you, like still a size small?”
“Let’s work it off over Netflix and booze,” Krystal suggested.
“My kind of girl.” Jenny stood and started heading towards the exit.
This meant there would be no second trip to the changing room, as Krystal had already used it. Courtney was not about to inconvenience everyone with another request. Her soggy pull-up squished against her in the car seat. She prayed it would hold up until Krystal’s.
Thank goodness! Courtney whispered in the bathroom when she could find no wet spots on her jeans. A close call, though, considering how little padding the pull-up possessed. She felt around absentmindedly for the tapes. Duh! These don’t have them. So she was forced to remove her socks, shoes, and jeans just to slide the thing off—careful as to keep the pee-soaked padding clear of her legs. She cleaned herself up and slid on another. Then she joined her friends on the couch, where Jenny and Krystal were already curled up, imbibing popcorn and vodka tonics.
They watched two episodes of their favorite romantic comedy. When Krystal went to mix more drinks, Courtney escaped to the bathroom and managed to pee a little. A couple episodes later, her hip vibrated again. “Hey, excuse me for a minute,” she said. Feeling self-conscious, she added, “Start the next one without me if you want.”
This time only the tiniest tinkle sounded in the bowl, scant output given the volume of alcohol she’d consumed. That did not bode well. She inspected her pull-up, grown damp from intermittent leaks. Still wearable, though.
“Everything okay, hon?” Jenny asked when Courtney returned.
“Haven’t you changed, like, three times since we’ve been here?”
“She’s potty-training,” said Krystal. Then she covered her mouth. “Oops, was I not supposed to say?”
“She’s doing what?”
Courtney took a deep breath. “Don’t worry, Krystal. I would have told her eventually.”
“But…how?” asked Jenny.
“Ladies, this will blow you mind…” Courtney retold the entire story, from Jane Wolcott’s interview, to the experiments with Allison Diaz, to the self-fulfilling prophecy, itself.
“So now Courtney’s trying pull-ups and a potty timer,” Krystal added.
Jenny, who had been silent through all of this, suddenly burst out laughing. “I’m sorry, but it’s too much! A potty timer? We use one with my three-year-old son!”
Courtney gazed towards the floor. Of all people, she thought Jenny would understand. “You know, it’s actually working—kind of,” she muttered.
“Hey, girl,” said Jenny, suddenly serious again. She lifted Courtney’s chin back up. “It’s working for my toddler son too. Who’s to say, right?”
“Yeah, who’s to say?” Krystal chimed in.
A slight grin formed on Courtney’s face. “I’ve got tons of pull-ups. Want to try too, Jenny?”
“Heck no! For one, my fat ass would never fit into them. But…we’ve got your back, cool?”
“Yeah, whatever we can do,” said Krystal.
“Aww, that’s so sweet of you,” said Courtney. “Ready to watch the next one? There’s still seventeen left in this season.”
“I have a question, first,” said Jenny. “What happens…in between when the timer goes off? Like, can you actually…feel the need and make it to—”
“—Still working on that.”
“Meaning I haven’t made it… yet. I don’t get much advanced warning—or…any, really.”
“If it happens,” said Krystal, “we could pause the show and help.”
“Absolutely we can!” Jenny added.
“Um, okay,” said Courtney. “Thanks.”
They started the next episode. When it finished, Jenny looked at Courtney as if waiting for a cue.
“I didn’t know if you needed to…”
Courtney looked up from her phone. “What are you, my mother? I’m fine. Start the next one.”
Krystal pressed play, and the episode meandered towards its climactic scene.
“Jack! You flew home from Paris?”
“Oui Madame.” He grinned broadly, then pulled her close. “Alyssa, I couldn’t wait any longer.”
She swiped his hand off the hem of her skirt. “Please, let me change first.”
As she shut the bathroom door after her, George emerged from behind the shower curtain. “Are you actually wet?” he whispered.
“Not that I can tell.”
“In that case…” He unzipped her skirt, revealing a red lace diaper beneath.
“George,” she whispered. “He’s right outside!”
“I know. It makes it so much hotter.” He kissed her square on the lips.
“Ohmygosh!” Courtney exclaimed, as her hand flew to her groin.
“Pause it, quick!” said Krystal.
“With me, okay?” Jenny offered, extending an arm.
Courtney took it, her other hand still wedged between her trembling legs. “I’ll never make it. I’ll just…go right here.”
“No you won’t. Up, we go. Toilet’s just over there.”
Courtney took a few faltering steps while hanging onto Jenny for support. “Yeah, I got this, I—ohmygosh!” Her eyes glazed over as her bladder released.
“That’s farther than I would have made it,” Krystal remarked.
“Same,” Jenny agreed.
Courtney sighed. “Guess I should have gone when the last one ended.”
“Mm hmm,” said Jenny.
“Well…since it’s already paused, I’m-a go change out of this soggy thing. They don’t hold much.”
Several hours later, Jenny stood and dusted the pizza crumbs from her bust. “Krystal, want to flick the TV off? Time to get ready.”
“Sure you don’t want to finish the season?” Courtney asked.
“We should go out—hic—show Jenny the local scene.” Krystal set down her drink.
“Might wanna sober up some before then,” Jenny suggested.
Krystal stood up. “I’m good, see? Not even wobbly.” She trudged off to the bedroom.
Oh well, thought Courtney. The Netflix marathon offered a predictable rhythm: two episodes, then the toilet, rinse and repeat—like a built-in potty timer to help her stay dry. Navigating a bar felt daunting in comparison.
“Courtney—off the couch, now!” Jenny then explained, “I never get to do this. When you have a kid, you’ll see.”
Courtney sat to pee before joining her friends in the bedroom. She watched Krystal emerge from the closet with an outfit picked out. Her friend tossed everything on the bed, minus a sky-blue diaper, and ducked into the bathroom to change into it. Meanwhile, Jenny and Courtney fished their dresses from their bags and smoothed them out.
Krystal soon returned in just her t-shirt and diaper. She turned her back and removed her shirt. Courtney caught herself staring as her friend unhooked her bra, her large breasts sagging downwards, visible even from this angle. Krystal leaned forward to hook a new one in place, then turned to face her friends.
Courtney looked on with envy at Krystal’s gorgeous curves, clad in the sky-blue matching set. The bra gave perfect shape to her prodigious chest, while the lace-trimmed diaper hugged her supple hips and thighs alluringly.
Jenny was next. As she removed her clothes, the weight she carried grew even more evident, her fleshly hips protruding outwards and her bra band creasing her sides. Her large diaper stretched to accommodate her wide bottom. She turned to Courtney. “Not the figure you remember from senior prom?”
Courtney gazed at her friend’s exaggerated curves—chest on par with Krystal’s, belly straining against her diaper’s waistband. Yet somehow, Jenny made it work—her posture proud, her hip cocked outwards in all its rounded glory. She shimmied her dress up and Courtney helped zip it—tight and red and beautiful.
The show over, Courtney slipped out of her own clothes, revealing her jutting hips and slender curves up top, clad in a plain beige bra and pull-up chosen to hide well under clothes. In high school, she had waited patiently for her chest to finish filling out, especially compared to Jenny. When it finally had, she appreciated the result—any more might prove a hindrance. Yet standing now next to the two of them, she felt her adolescent insecurities return. She had on a boring pull-up, no less.
“So that’s what they look like,” said Krystal while zipping her skirt. “Somehow I expected more.”
“Like what, a cute little fly or something?” Courtney slid on her low-cut lavender dress. After glancing at Krystal’s endless cleavage, she peaked down, adjusted her bra, and tugged the neckline even lower.
As they entered the bar, heads turned to gaze at the three young women in tight clothes and heels. Jenny went to order drinks while Courtney snagged a booth. It quickly grew apparent, though, what had drawn the room’s attention: not the three of them, per se—all eyes were on Krystal.
Courtney watched the demure receptionist spread her wings and flutter about the room, the eager men jockeying for position to hit on her. Everything was relative, of course. Normally Courtney could hold her own at bars, and Jenny too—but not with Krystal there. Still, it was nice to see her in her element.
When Courtney’s phone vibrated, she invited Jenny to the changing room.
“You can sit there and pee on purpose?” Jenny asked.
“Sometimes.” Courtney heard the telltale sound of Velcro tapes. “Hey, when you’re done, do you mind running the faucet?”
“Ha ha, sure. I have another question, though.”
“Shoot.” Maybe Jenny was curious to try this, after all?
“Just wondering, was the blond butterfly there when you met Kyle?”
Ah well, not about potty-training—but Courtney still laughed. “She was, actually. His friend came on to her while Kyle played wingman. The poor guy got nowhere with Krystal, but Kyle and I talked all evening.” She left out the part where they’d made out in his car, his daring hands gliding up her skirt, caressing her ruffles after learning she was dry, then exploring her charms within… A slew of dates followed, ending similarly.
“That worked out well for you,” Jenny said. “Hey, how’s this—inspiring enough?”
As the water sprayed in the sink, Courtney sprayed in the bowl.
Sometime later, a rugged man approached her at the bar. “Cute shoes you’re wearing,” he remarked. “They bring out the green in your eyes.”
Courtney smirked. “How could shoes do anything for my eyes? They’re way down there!”
He took a long sip from his mug.
“I’m Courtney,” she said, extending her hand.
“Will,” he replied. “I guess I need a new pickup line.”
“Worked well enough, apparently.” She smiled, happy finally to receive attention. “So what brings you out, tonight?”
“Just here with a buddy. My wife stayed home.”
“So did my boyfriend,” Courtney quickly retorted.
“Actually, he asked a favor. Would you mind divulging your blond friend’s favorite drink?”
So that’s what this was about. “Brandy Old Fashioned, semisweet.”
“Thanks a million.”
Not long after, Courtney and Jenny sat chatting in their booth, when Krystal plopped down across from them with a hot man in tow.
“This is Joe.” Krystal giggled.
“Hi Joe,” said Courtney.
“Another Old Fashioned?” Joe asked.
Krystal touched his shoulder. “Yes, please!”
He waved his hand in the air. “Waitress?”
Just then, Courtney felt a twinge between her legs but was too tipsy to mount a response. Her pull-up grew warm beneath her dress. Had her timer gone off? She fished it from her purse: 25 minutes ago, apparently—while she was busy chatting with the rugged guy. In that moment, her bladder had been the last thing on her mind.
Joe turned to Krystal. “Should you be changing before that next drink?”
“Oh you’re right, I guess I should! I’ve had quite a few by now.” She stood and headed for the ladies’ room, her full diaper pressing out her skirt.
“Wait!” Courtney called. “I’ll go with.”
They lay on adjacent benches. As Courtney removed her sopping wet pull-up, she heard Krystal undo her tapes while humming the tune from outside.
Courtney marveled at her friend. Krystal seemed to embrace this world and her place within it, answering the phones and serving coffee by day, asserting herself only in nighttime venues like this one. She even embraced her incontinence as an intricate part of the deal. And her body…mirrored that persona: feminine and voluptuous, with Krystal perfectly content with that. Perhaps that’s why Courtney had been drawn to it earlier, not out of jealousy. What was it like to inhabit that body? To feel the tug of those breasts and not resent their encumbrance, or the lewd way men stared? To casually wet herself and not resent that either?
No matter how friendly they became, a distance stood between them, far greater than the thin divider separating their two benches now. Krystal seemed a soul content, while Courtney wanted more. And the first step was to stop ending up on a changing table.
A high, sweet voice interrupted Courtney’s reverie. “If I leave with Joe, can you and Jenny find your way back home?”
“Sure, hon. Hey, watch yourself tonight.”
Jenny gave Courtney a huge hug as her train arrived the next morning. “Keep me posted,” she said. “I want stories of Kyle seeing you in underwear.”
“Will do,” Courtney laughed. “Bye, bye!”
Judging by how things were going, though, she wondered if that would ever happen. If she couldn’t keep her pull-up dry, how could she possibly graduate to panties?