I posted this on AO3 a few weeks back and thought I should share it here. I have a few other things as well, but I won’t spam the lot in one go. If you want, feel free to check my AO3 stuff out.
Some other tags: 2nd person, reader insert.
You Almost Wet Yourself on the Train
You squirm, clenching your thighs together.
You can’t ignore it, as much as you wished you could. If you did, an accident was inevitable. Instead, you had to focus on it, focus on not giving in to your aching bladder.
It was stupid, really. You knew you should have gone to the bathroom before leaving school, but one of your friends had chased you down and when you next checked the time you realised you were going to miss your train home if you didn’t book it. When you got to there to see the train literally rolling into the station, you noticed the warning your bladder gave you. But you didn’t have a choice, so you got on, sure you could hold it until you got home, or at least the stop you got off at.
As the train accelerated out of another station, it hit you how stupid you really were being. You could have gotten off here, found a public bathroom and be free of this misery, but you had told yourself you didn’t want to wait a full hour for the next train, but now you were certain you couldn’t delay this inevitability.
So, you promised yourself you would get off at the next stop and find anywhere you could go, before you wet yourself. It seemed life had other ideas though.
“Due to line upgrades,” the automated voice said over the loudspeaker, “this train will not service the stations of …” You paled as it listed off the next station, and then the next, and the three after that. It still serviced your station, but that was seven stops and a full twenty minutes away.
You looked around the cabin, your panic sharply rising. The train was empty except for yourself and a motherly looking older girl, but these trains didn’t have bathrooms in them. If they did – well – you wouldn’t be in this situation.
As your eyes found the end of the train, a better idea that wetting yourself or peeing on the floor came to mind, but you were sure they locked those doors now. With no other choice however, you gingerly got up, concentrating to not let anything escape as you did so, and shuffled walked to the end of the carriage.
Your panic rose again as you tried the doorhandle between the carriages only to find it locked. You remembered when you were younger and you could walk between carriages, but they’d started locking those doors a few years back so only staff could do it. Still, you had hoped.
Now, your only choice was to hold it.
“Do you need some help, sweetie?”
It would have been hard to miss the almost scared expression on your face.
“No –” You stopped mid-sentence.
You were increasingly coming to the conclusion how stuffed you were if you didn’t come up with something right now, and the embarrassment of admitting you weren’t much better than a little girl who desperately needed to use to potty was far less than that.
“I – I need to use the bathroom,” you admit in a strained whisper.
If it weren’t for the fact you knew it would lead to you wetting yourself in your seat, you would be crying right now.
“Aww,” she cooed sadly.
Maybe if this were any other scenario you would have reminded her you weren’t four years old, but it was hard to do that between your aching bladder and the very little girl-like situation you found yourself in.
The other girl stood up and looked down the train for something before humming curiously. As she sat back down, she picked up her bag and placed in on her lap. The bag was slightly odd, quite boxy with a single messenger-bag like strap.
“I’ve got an idea, and it’s probably for best if you’re sure you can’t hold it,” she said kindly, a comforting smile on her face.
You nod, willing to accept any ideas at this point.
“I’m a babysitter, and one of the little girls I look after still need nappies sometimes.” The dread returned as you realised what she was going to suggest. “She’s just a little bit smaller than you, but I’ve got my nappy bag here and her nappies will fit you.”
You wanted to ask what girl your age still needed nappies, but you couldn’t deny you were the smallest girl in your year. It wasn’t like you hadn’t hit puberty, you even had a bra to prove it, but that didn’t change the fact you were really short… it also didn’t change the fact you really needed to find a bathroom. Besides, the girl probably meant a pullup, and you were sure there were some kids your age that still had trouble with bedtimes.
“N-no,” you say, but the words sound foolish even to your ears; you had to go.
The babysitter’s smile softened though.
“It’s okay, sweetie. I won’t make fun of you; lots of boys and girls have accidents, not just the very little ones, and nappies will help you avoid this accident.”
You could feel your eyes wetting in shame, but you had to give in, this was far less worse than the alternative. You gave the older babysitter a nod.
“Aww, don’t cry, sweetie,” she said with a tinge of sadness.
You did as she asked and tried to hold it in, to stop this from being more embarrassing as this already was.
The babysitter though looked you up and down.
“Hmm, it’s a good thing you chose a skirt, today, isn’t it?” she said, unzipping her bag. “Lie back across the seat for me.”
Lie back ? Or maybe she really didn’t mean a pullup. But still, there was no option now, so you did as you were told, lying across the three seats that made up a row.
You could see the older girl remove a pastel pink nappy from her bag and unfold it. She set the nappy on the seat across from you before giving you another comforting smile.
“Now, we’ve just got to get your undies off, okay?”
You nodded back, your thighs still clenched together, before the older girl pushed up your skirt. You weren’t sure you would be able to hold it when you parted your legs, but you had to try. Thankfully, the older girl didn’t object as she tugs at your underwear and you only had to unclench very slightly to slip them past your thighs, over your knees and then your shoes. She set them aside before grabbing the nappy and unfolding it.
“Lift your bum, sweetie,” you said.
You concentrated on not letting anything escape as you did so, but for a moment you swore you felt a little dab of cool wetness trickle down as you did so.
“Now, I know it’s hard, but you’re going to have to relax so I can get the nappy on you,” she said kindly. “Don’t worry about any little spurts; I’ve already gotten the nappy under you so don’t worry about those little accidents; that’s what the nappy is for after all.”
Concentrating hard, you let the girl push your legs apart. You pull in a breath sharply as you feel a single, quickly spurt escape you. Your eyes start watering again in embarrassment.
“See?” she commented as she pulls the nappy up between your legs. “Your nappy caught it all.”
Your nappy .
You stare up at the ceiling and nod. The older girl happily hums as she tapes you up securely. There’s something comforting about the sound and the action.
“There, all done!”
You look down, the girl is giving you a wide, comforting smile. As she stands up she her hand out to you. You take it and she carefully pulls you upright. Self consciously you adjust your plaid school skirt so it covers your nappy.
“You’re all good to go. I guarantee a wet nappy is way better than holding that .”
You know and your bladder is screaming at you, but it takes everything to tell your body to let go when your brain is telling you that you’re not on a toilet and you’re wearing something around you crotch. Noticing your hesitation, the older girl takes the seat next to you, putting her arm around your waist in a sideways hug.
“Would you like some help?” she asks.
You glance up at her, a strained expression on your face. You nod.
You’re suddenly surprised when she slips a hand under each armpit and – with surprising strength – picks you up. You soon find yourself straddling her lap as she pulls you into a hug. At the sound of flowing water, you realise a torrent of pee is leaving you and your nappy is filling. It’s too much and you burst into tears before the older girl pulls you close and your cry into her breasts.
It’s a strange and confusing set of feelings. On one had, this is utterly humiliating, but on the other, your bladder is crying out in relief. It’s weirdly one of the best things you have ever felt and keeps feeling better as the stream of pee keeps coming. At the same time, this older girl – whose name you don’t even know – is being incredibly kind and caring.
She’s slowly bushing your hair with her fingers as she hugs you comfortingly, the flow into your nappy now ebbing. It feels heavy on your hips, but it’s secure and hasn’t leaked. You relax in her arms for several minutes before you feel her shift and her hand pats your bottom. You can feel the swollen nappy move as she does so.
“Wow, it’s a good thing you had your nappy on, isn’t it sweetie?”
You sniffle and look up at her with a small wet smile. Maybe if it had been any other day you would be put out by her tone and words, but this girl had been way too kind to you despite everything. So, you give her a small, embarrassed nod.
“Aww, and you feel heaps better now, don’t you?”
You sniffle, brushing your wet nose with the back of your hand before nodding.
“Oh my!” she exclaims quietly.
You’re not sure what is going on as she suddenly bounces you in her lap, an arm deftly slipping under your wet bottom as she stands up. Your arms instinctively go around her neck as she picks you up and you’re cuddling her again.
She doesn’t go far, picking up her nappy bag with her free hand before taking a seat again. You’re confused before she pulls out a packet of wet wipes.
“Close your eyes, sweetie,” she orders before she begins to clean your face.
You didn’t wear much makeup, but it did make you feel older, and it felt like it compensated for your small stature. But you were sure it looked a mess from all the crying, so you didn’t object as she removed it.
“So, what stop do you get off at, sweetie?”
You mumble it out, squirming in her lap. The wet nappy is warm and doesn’t feel bad, but it’s still a slight weird experience.
“Oh, really? That’s my stop too,” she replies. “I’m Elizabeth, but you can call me Liz if that’s too long.”
You blink at her for a moment before blushing in embarrassment, remembering it’s polite to give your name in return. She giggles.
“Well, I hope you don’t mind me calling you Sweetie .” She bops you on the nose with a finger.
It’s embarrassing, but Liz is so nice about it. So, you just got red in the face.
“O-okay,” you agree.
She smiles broadly at you.