✅ My Sister's Problem

101. Accepting my Fate

I blushed and tried to hide my face as Mum taped my diaper up again. I didn't want anyone to see me, not given what I knew would probably be happening soon. I didn't even need to go that badly, but I was sure that a little pill pushed up inside me would make that change pretty quickly. I wished I could have waited until tomorrow, just to have this indignity a little less often if I couldn't escape it completely. But I also knew that in a way I was getting a taste of my own medicine.

I had made Lindy wet herself. I hadn't told her what was happening, I hadn't even asked if she would help me. Maybe if I'd asked her if she would mind having an 'accident' once or twice, I could have gotten access to diapers without having to upset her. Sure, she would have thought it was weird, and she would have laughed at me forever. But that would have been more fair than ratcheting up her existing insecurity, and making her feel bad about something that was only happening to feed my curiosity. At the time I'd only thought about my own desires, and that had resulted in my sister becoming my enemy; a situation I was sure that I didn't want. Now... I'd made her feel embarrassed and grossed out, and she had the power to do the same to me. It was a huge difference to me, because one thing was disgusting while the other wasn't actually that bad. But maybe that was just because I was weird; to Lindy it might be practically the same. So this might be making me feel just like she had felt when she woke up in a wet bed those first few times.

I still hated it. But I could tell myself that this was somehow fair. That it would be selfish of me to say no, just like it would have been selfish of me to embarrass my sister just to get what I wanted to satisfy my own weird desires.

Mum helped me up, and led me back to sit on the floor in the lounge, like I was a baby without even the strength to sit up by myself. She scattered toys around me, and then said that she hoped I could take care of myself while she had a few other things to take care of. I nodded, and found myself smiling just a little as I imagined myself like a real baby, playing with spongy foam blocks and toy cars with rounded corners to keep some small child from hurting themselves. I was a baby, I told myself, and when I was sitting here like this I could really imagine it. I played for a couple of minutes, before I realised that I still needed to pee. I thought about asking Mum for permission to use the bathroom, however unlikely it was to be approved. But a second later I thought again, and I found that there was a different conclusion waiting for me; a way of looking at things that I would never have dared to imagine before.

I was a baby. I couldn't help myself. Mum had just made sure that I was going to poop in my diaper soon, and I would be helpless to fight it, just like a real baby. Compared to that, wetting myself barely made any difference. Sometimes I enjoyed being treated like a little baby, and I'd already found out that a wet diaper didn't actually feel that bad. Sometimes, I could even tell myself that it felt kind of nice with that warmth spreading around me. If I asked Mum to let me use the bathroom, she would just say the special words that made me feel like a baby. I would wet my diaper, and then I'd laugh and not care. So why did I even need to ask?

I told myself that I was just a little baby, and that I couldn't help it. But it was harder than I'd thought to try and wet myself. I tried closing my eyes and imagining that I was sitting on the toilet; and I tried looking down at myself, seeing the bulge of my diaper as a reminder that I was just a baby and I couldn't help myself. It would surely be more comfortable if I could let go, but I didn't know how to convince my subconscious mind that it was okay. Even if I really wanted to have a little accident, I didn't know how.

I was sitting there staring into space, trying to relax my bladder, when Lindy came in again. She was smirking like always, and she must have found this so satisfying. But I couldn't bring myself to hate her; everything she'd done had been in response to what I did for her, and I knew now that I should never have put her in a position where she felt that she needed to get her own back like this. Her response was over-the-top, sure, but I'd planted the seeds that had led us here. I couldn't object to her getting a little enjoyment out of it.