Synopsis: Five middle school friends – Ava, Chloe, Madison, Riley, and Sophia – can’t wait until summer break begins. One of those girls harbors a secret she has held deep inside for as far back as she can remember. Soon she’ll have a chance to act on it if she dares. Will it be worth it?
Everyone remembers their first. First girlfriend (or boyfriend). First car. First job. And, for those of us with an inclination toward ABDL, our first time wearing a diaper or pull-ups at an age past the point of toilet training and the nostalgic feeling that experience left on you. This is a story about firsts and the impressions they leave. I hope you enjoy it.
The Girl Who Wanted to Wear Diapers
The girl walked downtrodden behind her mother as she trailed several feet back from the shopping cart with both of her hands stuffed into the pockets of her jeans in a manner befitting a newly minted teenage girl who was still required to go along with her parents during trips to the grocery story.
The girl had put up a fuss about the impromptu shopping trip after she had gotten buckled into the passenger seat of the car when her mom picked her up from school. Couldn’t her mother have gotten the grocery shopping done on the way to pick her up from the middle school, rather than afterward? But the fussing was a just a ruse, as was the sullen look the girl wore on her face. Grocery shopping days were her favorite days. Better than her birthday. Better than Christmas. Even better than snow days when she got to stay home from school.
The girl followed her mom as if she were on autopilot. The route her mother took through the grocery store was always the same. No deviations. No doubling back. Produce. Non-perishables. Meat. Dairy. Refrigerated items. Frozen items. The bakery. And then, at last, the section that made the entire trip worth more than a long-imagined and never fulfilled vacation to Disney World: The Baby Aisle.
The smell was always the first thing to hit the girl as she rounded the corner into that aisle, a scent that brought out feelings that lingered in the back of her mind no matter how hard she attempted to suppress them. She could tell herself as many times as she wanted that she was done with this childish fantasy. She could let the shame incurred by these thoughts hold back a desire that she did not even know the origin of. The girl could reach a point where she would tell herself the lie that she would never think those thoughts again, never desire those things again. But that was then, not here. Here, an unnamable emotion swelled up inside her. What is it that diapers smell like? Innocence. A smell of a time from before. Before decisions and responsibility. Before grades and homework. Before the ever-accelerating rush toward maturity and adulthood.
The girl breathed deeply and at last allowed her eyes to wander, if only for a moment, to the display of colorful packages lining the shelves. She knew each brand by sight. While laying in bed at night she could recall exactly how each of them looked, down to the exact weight range the diaper size covered, the patterns of children’s show characters that adorned each one, and the number of diapers sold in each box or bag. Still, she looked, not for anything she had seen before, but for the possibility of something new.
The girl had done a double take the day she had gotten a glimpse of a size seven diaper for the first time on the shelves at the store. She had seen one of those packages in a magazine ad once, but never in person. She had tried wearing her baby brother’s diapers on a handful of occasions, but the scrawny two-year-old only managed to fit into a size four, which to the girl’s disappointment, didn’t amount to much more than a slightly oversized pad when she had snuck one away to her room to slip into her underwear once everyone else in the house was asleep. She doubted her brother would be big enough to even get past size five before he was potty-trained. Her mother was already talking about getting started on that soon and it wasn’t likely to take all that long, either. The girl always blushed when her mom bragged about how she had managed to get her potty-trained in less than a week.
There was one particular package the girl’s gaze would linger on even though she must have seen it a hundred times by now: pull-ups made for girls her age, but euphemistically labeled as bedtime underwear. Those were the Holy Grail. A quest for which she would gladly embark on even if it meant dodging saw blades and walking over an invisible bridge.
The packages of those bedwetting pull-ups weren’t even there this time. That didn’t bother the girl much. Those sometimes ended up out of stock. And she knew what they looked like anyways.
Then her heart skipped a beat. The package was there, but the designs on the package had changed for the first time in what must have been a year or two at least. She turned her eyes forward again. Mom was still facing the other direction. The girl looked back at the package and was amazed by what she saw. The upper boundary on the weight range listed on the pull-ups had jumped all the way up to one-hundred-and-forty pounds or more.
The implications of that were obvious. The girl had been well within the boundaries of the previous size range, though she had been inching toward the top of that range as part of a late growth spurt. This gave her hope that these pull-ups would still fit once she finally got her hands on one. And that is exactly what the girl intended to do this summer.