Chapter 1: The Accident
“Emily! It’s time to get up!” A voice carried up the stairs, my mother, stirring me from my sleep.
I groaned, rolling over, trying to snuggle back under the warmth of my blankets, refusing to open my eyes even if it was just for a few more minutes. Why did waking up have to be so hard? Why couldn’t it be easy? And why was it so cold? I pulled my blanket up higher, curling up into a little ball, just trying to find a little warmth in the chilly morning air. But something was wrong. My blankets were freezing, damp even. I reached down, feeling them with my hand. My eyes shot open. No, not damp, they were soaked.
“No, no, no, no,” I whispered to myself, a wave of panic striking through my body, adrenaline pumping as I scrambled out of bed. Looking down at my pajamas, I wanted to cry. They were completely drenched, dripping with pee from my chest to my knees. That wasn’t the worst of it though, running my hand back over my bed I confirmed my worst fear, my sheets were soaked all the way down to the mattress. I had wet the bed. I had had an accident like some little kid.
“If only I had worn the stupid pull-up,” I mumbled, looking over at the infantile garment on the ground beside my bed. Bedwetting wasn’t something new to me. I had been having accidents on and off for the past few months, mostly at night. It was the reason I wore a pull-up to bed every night. Well, every night but last night. Last night after going to bed, I had decided to switch my pull-up for a pair of panties to try and prove that I was a big girl. To prove that I didn’t need to wear diapers to bed. Obviously, I had been very wrong.
When mom had first brought them home, she had tried to make me feel better about wearing them. She had called them “protective undergarments,” but we both knew that they were really just glorified diapers. Their purple design with Cinderella and Minnie Mouse made it known that they were indeed diapers. Diapers meant for potty training toddlers. But with my being the shortest girl in my class, they were almost to big on me. That alone was embarrassing enough to burn a permanent shame into my cheeks, a rosy red that burned fierce at the slightest mention of pull-ups. A constant paranoia. The only thing worse than that was knowing that I needed them like some little toddler. Waking up in the morning with Cinderella all faded out, letting me know that I wasn’t ready for big girl panties yet.
“Emily!” Mom shouted, “Are you up yet?”
“Ya, I’m up, I’ll be down in a few minutes,” I called back shakily, hoping she couldn’t hint the panic in my voice. I needed to hide my accident until I could do something about it, until I could clean it up. Something I had no idea how to do. I would figure it out later. Right now, I needed to buy myself enough time.
I looked over at my clock, I was already running late. There would be no shower this morning. Quickly, I pulled my wet pajamas and panties off, burying them deep down in my laundry hamper where hopefully nobody would notice them. That was the easy part. With my clothes hidden, I toweled off my body, trying to dry myself off as best as possible before pulling on a fresh pair of panties along with a pair of jeans and a cute t-shirt and sweatshirt. An appropriate attire for a Wednesday in the late fall. Winter was fast approaching and that cold, nipping chill was already in the air.
“Emily,” Mom shouted again, “It’s time to go, are you ready yet?”
“I’m coming mom, just a few more minutes,” I said, already pulling my bedding back into place, making my bed as if it was a normal day. I had no way of stripping my bed, let along hiding all my peed-on sheets and blankets. It would be something I would have to deal with later, and even then, I had no idea how on earth I would get away with it. Trying to get all the laundry through the wash without being noticed was a long shot. All that mattered in the present, however, was making it through the school day. One thing at a time. I just needed to stay one step ahead.
“Emily! You’re going to be late, let’s go.”
I took one last glance at my room besides the slight stench of urine, it looked normal. All I could do was hope and pray that my parents wouldn’t find out. That they wouldn’t realize I wet the bed for the umpteenth time this month. And with that, I grabbed my backpack, heading for the stairs. My bare feet pitter-pattering as they flew down the steps, more running than walking. Mom was waiting for me at the bottom, her arms crossed, an annoyed look on her face.
“What took you so long, sweetheart?” She asked, handing me my lunch box, “You’re going to be late.”
She sounded like a broken record. “Sorry mom,” I said, my brain searching for an excuse, anything to prolong my little secret. To stay one step ahead. “I… I forgot to finish my math homework,” I lied, “I… I was trying to finish it before school.”
“Hmm, ok,” She said, brushing my hair from my face. "You didn’t have an accident, did you?
“Mom!” I whined, blushing as I brushed past her, “I didn’t wet the bed.” I hated being asked that question, even if I had had an accident, it made me feel like a baby being asked if I had wet my diaper. It was embarrisng. She didn’t need to know all my potty habits like I was some helpless little baby.
“I was just asking sweetheart,” She said, her demeanor changing, relaxing, “Now, hurry up and get your shoes on before I have to sign you in for being tardy.”
I sighed, relieved that my lie had passed for the moment. " Just stay one step ahead, that’s all I have do, stay one step ahead ," I thought, pulling on my socks and shoes while mom started the car. Heading for the door, I stopped by the pantry, grabbing a strawberry pop tart for breakfast before climbing into the car. I buckled in and then mom pulled out onto the road. We were off, driving to school. The car was quiet, only the radio breaking the silence between us. That was alright though, I didn’t want to talk, I just wanted to think, needed to think about this crazy morning. Staring out the window, I ripped open the pop tart wrapper, taking a bite of the sugary, sweet goodness as my eyes wandered, zoning out. It was going to be a long day.
I stared at the clock, tapping my pencil like a psychopath as Mrs. Patton’s voice droned into the background. It felt like I had been sitting through English for the better half of the morning, and yet, the lesson had only started five minutes ago. Sighing, I turned back, glancing up at the board, up at Mrs. Patton for just a second before burying my eyes in my notebook, busying myself with little sketches as I waited for lunch. Anything to take my mind of my accident. It had been playing in my head on a loop all morning. A nagging reminder of how much trouble I had gotten myself into. Tears welled up in my eyes just thinking about it. How had I been so stupid? I wiped my eyes with the side of my shirt, glancing around at the zombified class, making sure nobody saw that one stray tear. They hadn’t, and if they had, they were all too busy in their own little worlds to care. They had their own problems to worry about.
A while later, Mrs. Patton finished her lecture and passed out an assignment. Those zombified stares from the class turning to moans and groans as pencils were pulled out and writing began. Just another day at school. Another boring day.
I was only a few minutes into the assignment, my brain already dying with boredom, when they PA system screeched on.
“Mrs. Patton,” A hazy, muted voice called.
“Could you please send Emily down to the office, her mother is here to check her out. She can bring her things.”
The entire class looked over at me as I slouched back in my seat. It was like being the one living person among a throng of the dead.
“Emily, you can finish the assignment at home and bring it back tomorrow,” Mrs. Patton said, seemingly unconcerned by the minor disruption.
I looked at her, confused. “My mom… Here to pick me up?”
She looked at me like I had three heads. “Well I don’t know any other Emilys in this class so it must be you,” She joked, “Once you pack your things you can go.”
My heart fluttered, pure excitement pumping through my body. My parents never checked me out early. It was like this entire wall of pressure had been lifted off my body. I could breathe again. I wasted no time in throwing my things into my backpack, zipping it up as I made a mad dash for the door. A few of my classmates stared at me longingly, wishing it was them being paroled from this awful place, as I slipped out into the hallway, the door slamming shut behind me, echoing throughout the empty hall. During class, the place felt abandoned, desolate. The vacant white walls blending in with the linoleum floor. The fluorescent lights overhead completed the look. The place felt like an insane asylum. It reeked of despair.
As I made my way down the hall, heading for the office, my giddy excitement disappeared bit by bit with each step I took. A nervous pit in my stomach forming in its place. My bed. My sheets. My pajamas. I’d forgotten about them in that moment of excitement. And now, every step I took was brining me closer to reality. Closer to having to deal with it. Assuming I hadn’t been caught. My pace slowed, trudging along with my head hung low. Could it be a coincidence that I’m checked out that day I wet the bed? Or had mom already found out? Either way, I wasn’t ready to face the truth. I wasn’t ready to see my mom or dad. I needed more time to think. And yet no matter how slow I walked; the office soon came into sight. My heart racing as I took those final few steps to the door. My stomach felt like it was about to come out my mouth. I wanted to puke. Taking a deep breath, I stepped inside.
The office felt entirely different than the rest of the school. A fake persona hiding the evil beyond its walls. It felt normal in here. Gone where the white walls and floor, that hospital-like feeling. The floors in here were carpeted, the walls painted a soft yellow. The fake plants in the corner making it almost feel homely. Mom was standing at the counter, pen in hand, signing a small stack of papers. The office assistant stood by her, pointing and talking as mom signed away. That annoying, permanent grin stuck on her all to cheerful face. Neither of them seemed to notice me walk in.
“He… Hello,” I squeaked, clutching my backpack straps as they both turned towards me, mom smiling. A soft, gentle smile at that. It eased the panic inside me, made me feel calm, relieved. Maybe it had been a coincidence. Maybe I hadn’t been caught.
“Hey, sweetheart, you ready to get going?” Mom asked, turning back to the papers.
“I… I guess so,” I said, stepping towards her, thinking for a moment before continuing, “Where are we going?”
The office lady butted in. “Well, as soon as your mom here gets these papers signed, I’m guessing you’ll be celebrating your last day of school.”
“My last day of school?” I asked slowly.
Mom took over this time, giving the lady a “not helping” glare as she set the pen down, handing the papers over. “That’s right, sweetheart, your last day of school,” She paused for a moment, “At least until we start homeschooling that is.”
“But… Why?” I asked, that knot in my stomach coming back. The room felt so warm. So distant. I could feel my stomach rising again.
“We’ll talk about it later, Emily, once we get home. Your father and I want to show you some things first.”
“No… I want to know why.”
“Emily… We’ll talk about it later, now come on your father is waiting in the car.” She said, grabbing my hand as though I was a fussy toddler. She didn’t miss a beat as she led me through the door and out to the parking lot. Mom dragged me by the hand behind her. I couldn’t understand why she was being so forceful. And then I saw the car. Dad was standing by the side door, his arms crossed, waiting. Definitely not good. He was supposed to be at work. Doubly not good.
As we got closer, he gave me a small smile, a kind of sorry look as he opened the back door. I stopped dead in my tracks at the sight, my eyes widening as I pulled against mom’s hand trying to get as far away as possible. This couldn’t be real life. It had to be a dream. A nightmare.
There, sitting in the back seat of the car was a car seat. A baby’s car seat all set up and ready to go. It felt like my entire world came crashing down around me. I knew it was for me. I knew it was because of my accident. They had found out. And this was my punishment. I could feel my eyes starting to water, on the verge of tears as I sat down on the ground, my body going limp.
“Mom… Mommy please,” I cried, looking up at her, pleading, “I’m… I’m sorry.”
“Emily, sweetheart, it’s not what you think,” she said calmly, bending down to pick me up. “We’ll talk about it on the way home.”
I was in complete hysteria as she carried me over to the car. My shirt soaking with tears as snot dripped down my face. I looked like a toddler having a temper tantrum. A total meltdown. I wanted to fight, wanted to fuss and kick and scream, but my entire body felt numb. Mom rubbed my back as she set me in the seat, smiling at me as she buckled up the harness. And then the door was shut. They both climbed in, dad in the driver’s seat and mom in the passenger’s seat, neither of them saying anything as they pulled out of the parking lot.
I had run out of tears by this point, but my face was still red and puffy, evidence of my recent episode. I didn’t know what to think at this point. My parents didn’t seem mad, they actually seemed sorry for me. Sorry even though they just committed me to homeschooling and strapped me into a car seat. I was so confused. My brain ached just thinking about it. I wiped a stray tear from my face to see mom holding a couple of tissues out to me.
“Here, sweetheart, these will do better than your sleeve.”
It was the first thing any of us had said since getting in the car. I glared at her, crossing my arms as I looked out the window. She had just strapped me into a car seat, there was no way in hell I was about to talk to her.
She sighed, setting the tissues down within my reach. “Do you want to talk about it sweetheart?”
I thought about it for a moment, hesitated, before answering. “Is it… Is it because I wet the bed?”
She looked back at me. “No, sweetie, it’s not. That’s only part of the reason.”
Dad took this as his cue to jump in. “Pumpkin, your mother and I have been talking about this for a while now…” He said, pausing for a moment. “And after what happened today, we decided it was time to switch things up a bit. Time to take a break from the world for a while.”
“Your fathers right, sweetheart.”
“Ok, but why am I in a car seat?” I asked, pulling on the straps. I wanted to know why. Needed to know why. Needed to know what they were talking about.
Mom’s turn. “Well, sweetheart, when your father said take a break from the world for a while, he meant it,” she said, taking a deep breath, “I don’t even know where to start.”
“What your mother means to say is that we know being a big kid has been tough on you, especially this year,” he paused, looking over at mom who nodded back, “We think its best if you spend some time as our little girl again… Our baby girl.”
My brow furrowed at this. “What do you mean?”
Mom chimed in. “It’s means that for the next few months were going to be treating you as though you were a toddler.”
“A toddler?” I asked, “Like an actual baby?”
“That’s right, pumpkin,” Dad said.
A thought crossed my mind. Last Summer we had spent the weekend with mom’s sister. She had a toddler. A cute, little girl named Abigail. And as cute as she was, there was something about her I couldn’t forget, especially now. She was in diapers.
I looked up at mom, worried. “Don’t toddlers where diapers?”
They both looked at each other and then mom answered. “They do.”
“Am… Am I going to have to wear diapers.”?
She looked back at me. “Yes, sweetheart, you are. And being in diapers means using them to.”
She must have seen the look of shock on my face because she quickly added, "Don’t worry, sweetheart, it’s going to take all of us some time to get used to it.
I scoffed at that. She wasn’t the one that would be wearing and using diapers. “But what if I don’t want to?”
Dad again. “Well, pumpkin, you don’t really get a say in that. Your mother and I have already decided and that’s that. No ifs, ands, or buts about it.”
The car was quiet after that. I didn’t want to hear anymore, and they didn’t want to tell me anymore. Mom switched on some music to drown out the silence. I sat back in the car seat, sulking as I stared out the window.
A few minutes later, I saw the driveway come into view. We were home, something for the first time in my life I wasn’t ready for. Once Dad turned off the car, I tried unbuckling myself only for mom to intervene.
“Sweetheart, babies don’t do that, their mommy’s do.”
I blushed as they got out, dad disappearing inside while mom opened my door, brushing my hands out of the way to undo the buckle as though she had done it a thousand times before. Once I was free, she lifted me onto her hip like one would do with a toddler and carried me inside.
"You know I can walk, right?’ I told her, squirming in her arms. Even though I was light, neither of them had carried me in a couple of years. It felt awkward, out of place. It made me feel like a baby. Something I was not ready for.
Mom smiled, bouncing me to settle me down. “Well you better get used to it sweetheart, mommy’s going to be carrying you around a lot more from now on.”
I sighed, letting her carry me through the house and upstairs. At the top of the stairs she set me down, patting my butt as she guided me down the hall. My door was shut, all my posters and things had been pulled off the door. I wanted to stop, wanted to ask questions, but she pushed me forward, further down the hall. Dad stepped out of their bedroom, smiling at me as he motioned for me to step inside. I hesitated, afraid of what I was going to find. I felt mom’s hand on my back again.
“Go ahead sweetheart,” she said, “Go check it out.”
Reluctantly I did. I stepped into their room, my mouth dropping open with shock at the sight. There, at the foot of their bed was a crib. A baby’s crib. My pillow and a baby blanket already inside. My teddy bear lay over to the side with an extra quilt draped over the crib. A mobile hung from above. That wasn’t the worst of it though. Off to the side of the room where there dresser was, a changing pad lay on top. A small basket of supplies laid off to the side. I could see a set of diapers sticking out, taunting me with my future. I stepped forward, feeling small. I wasn’t even tall enough to reach the pad. They would have to pick me up, like a baby. I shuddered at the thought. And then my attention turned, looking over to where dad’s reading chair had been. In its place was a large rocking chair. The kind meant for nurseries. For nursing mothers. A burp cloth was draped over to top of the chair and a bottle warmer sat on a table just beside it.
I turned to face my parents. “Is… Is this for me?”
“It is,” mom said, walking over to the changing pad. She grabbed one of the diapers from the basket and held it out to me.
I stared at it, not wanting to be any closer to the infantile garment.
“It’s not going to bite you, Emily,” She said, “Mommy just figured you might like to see one before you’re wearing it.”
I nodded, reluctantly taking hold of the diaper. It felt so soft. The silky, cloth padding felt thick and fluffy in my hand. I looked over the admittedly cute design, cookie monster was staring up at me, smiling at me like I should be happy. Happy that I was about to be wearing him. It reminded me of the diapers Abagail had worn, just a bigger version. “Is this an actual baby diaper?”
Mom chuckled at the question, ruffling my hair. “Yes, sweetheart, you’ll just barely squeeze into a size 6.”
I glared at her, handing the diaper back. I had another question. “Why is all this stuff in your room?”
Dad spoke from behind me. “We figured that with a new baby running around that it would be easier to keep an eye on you if you were close by,” He said. “You know, to make sure you don’t go sneaking your diaper off in the middle of the night like you did with your pull-up.” He added, jokingly, trying to lighten the mood.
I blushed having my accident brought up, but neither of them seemed to care as the conversation kept on moving with me as the center piece.
Mom sat the diaper down on the changing pad before turning back to me. “Alright, sweetheart, can you come over here so mommy can get your diapee on?” She asked, patting the changing pad.
I shook my head, taking a step back, right into dad’s stomach. My head barely went past his belly button. He took hold of my shoulders with his hands and pushed me forward towards mom. I didn’t know what to do. That paralysis and numb feeling from before had come back. It felt like I was watching my body from afar, unable to control anything going on. I was standing right in front of mom now. She picked me up under the armpits and sat me down on the side of the changing pad, busying herself with my shoes and socks. As I sat there being undressed, I couldn’t help but look over at the supplies laid out beside me. On top of a baby’s onesie was the diaper from before along with a container of wipes and a bottle of powder. Everything needed to change a baby. Only, I was that baby. Something that didn’t sit right in my stomach. I didn’t want to be a baby. I didn’t want to wear diaper.
“Arms up,” Mom cooed.
I didn’t know what to do. I sat there like some helpless toddler as she pulled my shirt off, leaving my chest exposed to the world. Even though I had yet to hit puberty, I still couldn’t help but blush as I tried to cover myself up. Especially with my dad only a few feet away. It was embarrassing.
“Emily, sweetheart,” Mom said, pushing my arms out of the way, “You’re a toddler now and toddlers don’t care who see them naked.”
Those words stuck to me. The idea of having no privacy, no personal space, no modesty crossed the line. It made me mad. Made me angry. They had no right to do this to me. I wasn’t a baby and I wasn’t going to let them turn me into one.
“Emily, can you lay down for mommy so she can get your diapee on?” Mom asked, putting her hand on my chest, trying to guide me back, trying to get me to lay down.
“No,” I said, pushing back, swatting her hands away. “I’m not wearing a diaper.”
She seemed taken aback by this, shocked. Her eyes showed it. She looked back at dad who nodded, taking a step over beside her. Two against one.
“Emily, please lay down so Mommy can get you dressed,” Dad said, looking at me with a smile that pleaded for me to listen, a smile that asked for me to behave, for me to be a compliant little toddler.
“No!” I growled, kicking at mom as she tried again to take control. “I’m not a baby and I’m not wearing a diaper!”
Her demeanor changed. Her eyes narrowed and piercing. Gone was the sweetness and sympathy she had had before. Mommy mode had been turned on. It was clear she meant business this time and if I was going to keep being rebellious, she was going to show me who the boss was, who the mommy was.
“Believe me, little girl, you are going to be diapered and dressed in that onesie whether you like it or not,” She said, giving me the mom look. A look every kid knows all too well. “Now you can either lay down like a good girl or you can go over daddy’s lap. The choice is yours.”
“I’m not wearing a fu…”
I gasped, shocked as Dad stepped in, grabbing me with one arm like I weighed nothing, carrying me kicking and screaming over to the rocking chair. Sitting down, he held me in his lap, my arms pinned by his own as mom unbuttoned my pants, pulling them off, leaving me in my panties. I was already in tears, begging them not to do it. Pleading for my life. But it was hopeless. Dad easily turned me over, pinning me back down with my butt in the air, exposed. I was sobbing, tears streaming down my face as hysteria kicked in.
“Please Daddy, don’t,” I begged, struggling against his hold, whimpering as I squeezed my eyes shut. It had been years since I had had this done. “Please, I’m sorry.”
His hand came down, connecting with my backside. It stung. I squirmed in his lap, trying to make him stop, but his hand came down again.
I was a blubbering mess by the end of the spanking. My butt throbbing, stinging from where dad had made contact. They had made their point. If I was going to be a good girl then they would be nice back, but if I was a bad girl then they weren’t going to be nice. Dad let me up, turning me back over in his lap, pulling me close to his chest as I sobbed. He held me there for the next few minutes, cradling me as I cried into his chest, soaking his shirt with tears. I didn’t want to look at either of them. I just wanted to be left alone, just wanted the day to be over.
Mom rubbed my back. “Now are you going to be a good girl while mommy gets your diapee on?”
I didn’t answer. My face still buried in dad’s chest. I felt his hand on my back, coaxing me.
“Pumpkin, you need to apologize to mommy.”
I thought for a minute, hesitated before nodding. I pulled my face out of Dad’s chest, looking up at her. “I… I’m sorry mommy.”
She crouched down level with me, locking eyes. They still looked serious, but they were back to being kind, understanding, and loving. “It’s alright, sweetheart, mommy forgives you. Now daddy and I really didn’t want to do that, but we make the rules, not you. Understand?”
I nodded again, trying to choke back the tears as dad pushed me from his lap, standing me back on the ground. He planted a kiss on my head from behind, giving my back one final rub for encouragement.
“Honey, do you want me to go get a bottle?”
“Please,” She said, holding her hand out to me. “Let’s get that diapee on.”
I took her hand, letting her lead me back over to the changing pad. I was promptly lifted and laid down, this time with zero fuss from my end. My feet just barely dangled off the end of the pad like a real baby. I felt like a real baby. As mom readied the supplies again, I watched Dad walk out the door. At least he wasn’t going to see me naked. I wiped another tear from my face, hiccupping.
“Here you go, sweetheart,” mom said, holding a pacifier to my lips.
I had little choice and fearing a second trip over dad’s lap, I let her slip the nipple into my mouth, nursing it like some little baby. As much as I hated the idea of having a pacifier in my mouth, it was oddly comforting, soothing. It helped me to relax and take my mind of the task at hand: my diapering.
“Good girl,” She said, turning her attention to my panties. “We won’t be needing these silly things for a while, will we?” She continued, working the last semblance of maturity down my legs before tossing them in the diaper pail.
With my panties gone, I felt so exposed, so infantile. I might of well have been a baby. Laying there, naked, suckling my pacifier as mom popped open the tub of baby wipes. I wanted to fight back, wanted to do anything to delay being diapered, but my tender backside told me otherwise. Sighing, I stared up at the ceiling, hoping this whole thing whole thing was just a bad dream, a nightmare.
I jumped at the unfamiliar feeling. The wipes were chilly and damp, and as mom wiped down my front side, I squirmed, whimpering as more tears came to my eyes. I wasn’t ready to be a baby.
“Shh, shh, you’re ok, sweetheart, you’re ok,” She cooed. “Just relax.”
She rubbed my belly, soothing me before pushing my legs to my chest, wiping down my bottom, making sure to clean every crack and crevice. And then it was done. My cheeks burning red as I realized mom had just wiped my bottom clean, something she hadn’t done since I was four.
I watched her next unfold the diaper, blushing as she gathered my legs in one hand, holding them up as she slid the diaper under my bottom with her other before setting me back down. I could already feel how thick the diapers were. The soft, fluffy padding lifting my bottom up off the pad. And then she sprinkled some powder over my diaper area, making me smell like a baby. A surprisingly nice smell, comforting. If only I wasn’t the one smelling like a baby. And then, much to my dismay, she pulled the diaper up between my legs, holding it against my tummy with one hand as she used her other to press the tapes down nice and snug. I had been diapered. My first since I was a baby. Unless you count the pull-ups that is.
Mom used a fresh wipe to clean her hands off, smiling down at me, cooing, “All done, now let’s get your onesie on.”
She seemed to be enjoying this a little too much. At least there wasn’t a mirror around. I probably look like a mess. After an afternoon of tears, sobbing, and snot, I probably look like a toddler post temper tantrum. Not a good look.
“And I’m back dad,” Dad said, entering the room. “Where do you want it?”
“Just set it in the warmer for a minute, I need to finish getting our little one dressed,” Mom said, lifting me off the dresser, setting me back on the ground.
The diaper was noticeably thicker than the pull-ups. It came up to my belly button, hugging my hips nice and snug. The padding between my legs forcing me to stand with my legs wider apart than normal. It made me feel unsteady, like a baby learning to walk. I now knew the difference between a diaper and a pull-up.
My attention was drawn back as a shirt was pulled over my head, my arms being pushed through the sleeves as though I didn’t know how to dress myself. And then, I watched mom, hanging onto her shoulders for balance as she pulled the fabric down to my crotch, three little clicks sounded in the air, and I felt a pressure pulling my diaper up, like it was hugging my body. Looking down, I realized I was in the onesie from earlier. It was white with pink embordering, my name etched out so cutely in large font. They had to of had it custom made.
“Are you good for now?” Dad asked, scratching his head as he backed towards the door, clearly uncomfortable with the situation. He had always been the big softie.
Mom nodded at him, lifting me onto her hip, carrying me through the room. She grabbed the quilt from the side of the crib, wrapping it around me before walking over to the rocking chair. She sat down, cradling me in her lap like a baby, my upper body resting against her chest, her arm supporting me, rocking softly as she hummed.
As mad at her as I was right now, I couldn’t help but relax in her arms, nursing the pacifier as she comforted me. After all I had been through today, even if it was her fault, I couldn’t help but feel safe in her lap, feel loved. At the end of the day, I was her little girl and she was my mommy and I would always feel safe in her arms.
“You know, sweetheart, your father and I aren’t doing this to embarrass you or punish you,” She said, “We’re doing this because we love you.”
I don’t know how being taken out of school, forcibly diapered, and being treated like a toddler showed love, but alright, go on. I wanted to say that, but it was clear she wasn’t expecting any input from me.
She continued. “We know that you’ve been struggling… That you’ve been unhappy lately and we just think that a little break from all the responsibilities of being a big kid will be good for you. Good for all of us.”
I nodded, sinking into her side, yawning around the pacifier, the day’s events finally catching up to me. I was exhausted.
“I love you, baby,” She cooed, patting my bottom. “Now close your eyes, you’ve had a long day and a nap will do you good.”
I nodded again, my eyes slowly drooping over the next few minutes, nodding off as her rocking lulled me to sleep. I was on the brink of nothingness. I felt her move me, slide me down a bit. I didn’t care, I just wanted to sleep.
I felt her pull on my pacifier, taking it from my mouth. I whimpered at its loss, missing its comfort, opening my eyes just enough to catch a glimpse of the baby bottle in my face. Its nipple aimed for my mouth. I was too tired to fight as it pushed against my lips, sliding inside. It was warm, comforting. I suckled out of instinct, a stream of warm liquid filling my mouth. I winced at the taste. It was thick and chalky with just enough sweetness to cut its bitterness.
“That’s a good baby,” Mom cooed, patting my diaper as she rocked. “Such a good baby,” She said, “Babies need plenty of formula to grow big and strong.”
Formula. That’s why it tasted so funny. As I lay there, nursing, the bitterness slowly went away. The more I nursed, the sweeter and creamier it became. It was so comforting, so soothing. It warmed my insides. Made me feel sleepy. I closed my eyes as I suckled. Relaxing as that feeling of sleep washed over me. The world seemed so distant. Mom patted my bottom, my diaper, like I was an infant. Her rocking and humming lulling me to sleep. I was just so tired, so exhausted from the day. I could feel myself drifting off. And then there was nothing.