Previous Chapter

Chapter 1

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I exit through the multicolored glass door of the famed coffee and pastry chain, putting my sunglasses back over my eyes as I walk through the parking lot and back to my car. I take a small sip of the hot coffee, the styrofoam squeaking lightly against the tips of my fingers as I do so.

Holy shit that’s so awful.

I gag audibly in performative melodrama to an audience of no one. I don’t understand why Northeasterners are so obsessed with this place. God, it’s like drinking battery acid. Get your pH balance right, you godless, donut-bearing heathens.

I sit down in my car and take another sip. Equally repugnant. As I rest my weight into the seat, I notice something feels off, like I can feel my ass bones pressing into the leather. The pull-ups I’m wearing under my jeans barely make a rustle as I move around. I really would’ve thought the transition from diapers to training pants would have been less jarring than cotton, but god, it’s like I’m basically wearing nothing. 

It’s crazy how quickly your body adjusts in little ways to new normals, and how you don’t even realize it until they’re ripped away. The telltale symphony of crinkles you hear every time you move in your seat reduced to a fraction of the volume, how much harder surfaces feel when you sit on them…not to mention having to catch yourself from just relaxing when you feel a twinge in your bladder.

I squirm a bit at the thought, my hand going to the front of my jeans instinctively. I press my fingers gently into the crotch of my pants, feeling the…VERY SLIGHTLY damp padding shift from the pressure. My cheeks flush immediately despite my rationalization.

There I was last night, debating whether or not I should wear one of the few diapers I had left in my inventory on the drive down. I'd gotten so used to peeing myself every half-hour or so that there was no way I'd be dry for my initial intake and medical exam, and that thought made my stomach curl.

On the other hand, there'd already been a few times I caught myself peeing before I'd even fully processed what was happening. It's not like I was having 'accidents,' per se…I was just BARELY thinking about using my diapers before relaxing my bladder, three weeks into wearing almost constantly. I’m sure I’d be fine if I had even a day or so to adjust, but I was leaving the next morning, and then I’d be back in diapers full time just a few hours later.

I couldn’t honestly say that I trusted myself in big girl panties for a few hours.

That thought made me irrationally squirmy.

God dammit. Focus, you dumb baby. What are you gonna do?

Then the perfect compromise hit me: Pull-ups.

Did I have any? No. Could I get them delivered from TheNile in a few hours? Yes. Was it insanely asinine and wasteful to order an entire pack of them just so I could use one of them for maybe three hours on my journey down to Evergreen, especially considering I might not even end up needing the extra protection? Abso-fucking-lutely.

I ordered them right away. And it turns out my anxiety was justified. I hadn’t even made it an hour into the drive before I noticed a twinge in my bladder. I smiled, I let myself relax, felt a tiny bit of warmth–

SHIT. NO. ABORT. FUCK.

My hand shot to my jeans, clenching my pelvic muscles as I stopped myself mid-stream. Luckily it was little more than a spurt, and the pull-ups absorbed it with no issues.

I squirm again. I SHOULD feel responsible. I made the right call. But ‘the right call’ was about whether or not I could keep my pants dry for a couple of hours. The juxtaposition of maturity was ripping my brain in half.

I take a third sip of the coffee. The lukewarm toxic sludge hitting my tongue grounds me in an instant, snapping me back to reality. I shake off the thoughts, starting my car, my phone automatically re-connecting to the system as it springs back to life. A map with directions pulls up on the central interface.

14 Minutes
1 Evergreen Blvd

Less than a quarter hour off the highway. Less than fifteen minutes until my new life officially begins.

I look at the top corner of the screen. Two bars of reception, and I’m about to drive from nowhere-adjacent to its absolute center.

You’ve procrastinated for the entire first hour of the trip. It’s now or never. You’ve gotta call Mom. 
I click into the phone app on the car screen and scroll to mom’s name. I hover over the call button.

It’s fine, you’ve got this, just like you practiced:

Hey Mom! I’m calling from the road right now. I’m sorry but things have gotten soooo crazy for me in the past couple weeks. I’ve decided I’m going to Evergreen. I know it’s a lot out of nowhere, but I really don’t see any downside to getting another two years of schooling and connections under my belt. I’ve gotta go, I’m pulling up now, but I love you! We’ll talk more soon!

And that would be that. Cut her off with a slight stretch of the truth so she doesn’t have time to rebut. Today is gonna be a lot as it is, and an exasperated sigh from her is the upper limit of what my brain can handle right now.

My hand is still hovering.

Fuck. I should’ve done this days ago. Stupid.

My finger presses down.

…One ring tone…

…Another…

…And again…

“Hiiiiiii there! This is Victoria. I can’t make it to the phone, but I’ll get back to you as soon as I can! Have a great day!”

My breath releases in a heavy sigh of relief. Oh god, a voicemail is gonna be so much easier.

I feel a bit guilty at how relieved I feel.

The BEEEEEEEEPP that follows pulls me back out of my own head. Shit.

“Hi! Mom! It’s Erica! You probably knew that, duh,” I laugh nervously. Dammit girl, get your shit together.

“Sorry I missed you and that I took forever to let you know, things have just been….BLAAAAAHH!” I make a silly face and voice. Jesus Christ.

“But yeah, so, anyway, sorry, I’m just calling to let you know that I’m going to Evergreen! The school. I decided to do it. Two more years of school and connections for free just seems too good to turn down…so…”

I pause for a second. I squirm in my seat anxiously. The rustle of my damp pull-up distracts me, and the pause stretches from awkward into something worse. Fuck, what else?

“So yeah! Just wanted to let you know! The apartment’s all set, I won’t be able to make it home first, I’m actually heading down to school now. About to pull-up, actually!”

My stomach flips at the freudian slip, and I cough uncontrollably like a fucking idiot.

“Sorry! I’ll call back soon and we can talk more! Love you! Bye! Bye! Bye.”

I pause for another second. Jesus, that was abysmal. All that mid-shower rehearsal, and for what? Should I re-record that? 

Whatever. It’s fine. I hit the red button to end the call.

I breathe out slowly, deeply. That was certainly a voicemail of all time. The guilt of having to break the news to her like that is still nagging heavily at the back of my mind.

It’s fine. I’ll talk to her soon. I adjust my rear view mirror for no reason, the boxes I have stacked in the pulled-down seats of my hatchback making it impossible to use. I take one more sip of coffee. Christ. Still so bad.

I turn on the loudest, most braindead deathcore playlist in my library to drown out any semblance of thought in my racing mind.

Next stop: Evergreen.

———

Well that’s intimidating.

I had first spotted the stone wall through the trees a mile or so back. Ten feet tall, plain, light grey stone, with the tiniest hint of ornate carvings running along the top trim. I followed the road until I hit the road sign for EVERGREEN BLVD and swung a right. I saw it right away on approach: a wide stone arch connecting the walls on either side, a wide pillar hanging down right in the center of it.

No…not a pillar, a small structure. I can see a black tinted window roughly eye level in the front of the structure. This must be the first security checkpoint.

And now I’m sitting in the car, completely stopped at the road’s entrance like a head in deerlights. Wait, what? Oh my god, I need more coffee.

I’ve already stopped the music, ears ringing just a bit. Just dead silence as I stare at the monolithic, imposing pillar in front of me.

I snap out of it when I see a figure pop out of the side of the structure. It’s waving at me energetically. I shake my head and pull up, slowly but surely. My head shoots downward for a moment as I slow the car to a crawl, and I have to stop myself from checking my pull-ups through my jeans again. 

When I finally get close enough to see the door to the checkpoint, I see the figure again, waving at me with a warm smile. I feel my chest tighten a touch. It’s fine. They’re basically underwear, and they’re barely wet. No one will see. No one will know.

“Hey hun, don’t be shy. How’re you doing today? New student, just arriving?” Her voice is low, a bit gravelly, but has a surprisingly calm and soothing tone.

She’s an older woman in a light grey guard uniform that matches the stone walls surrounding her. She has curly grey hair, long, but pulled back into a tight bun. Her eyes look like they’re only half open, but there’s a gentleness to them I wouldn’t have expected from a security officer.

“Hi! Yes, sorry. Erica Fairport, new student.”

“Perfect! Welcome to Evergreen, Erica. I’m Betty, and it’s a pleasure to meet ya.” I can see her making a few clicks on the monitor she’s sitting in front of. “I just need a quick photo ID from you and we’ll get you on your way.”

“Oh, sure, of course!” I stumble and frantically dive into my bag. I should’ve gotten this out ahead of time, what was I thinking?

“No rush hun, take your time,” she says in an equally calm measure. She probably means that genuinely, but I maintain my frantic pace regardless, albeit with a quick glance and smile to her.

I eventually grab my license out of my wallet, cringing as I glance at the picture on it. It’s amazing how bad the photographers at the DMV make you look, even after you spend hours doing your hair and makeup the morning of.

Betty smiles again and casually takes the license from my hand with a, “Thanks hun, this’ll just be a second…”

I see her do a quick check of the front of the license before flipping it over and placing it somewhere out of my line of sight. I hear a beep from somewhere in the guard post. An exhale from Betty follows, and then a rhythmic clacking of her long, gorgeously painted nails on plastic as she rolls her fingers against the desk.

Another beep a moment later, and another smile from Betty. She turns back to me slowly, handing back my license in turn.

“You’re all set, Erica. Just follow this road, it’ll lead you directly to the parking garage. Once you’re underground, just park in the first lot you come to, which is the guest lot. From there you’ll see some signs to the elevator that’ll lead you to the campus entrance. Everything’s well marked, so don’t worry about getting lost.”

I place my license back in my wallet, nodding in understanding. “Amazing, thanks so much Betty! I hope you have a great day!”

She smiles back to me, taking a sip of her own shitty coffee in the same styrofoam cup as she waves a goodbye.

Well that was relatively painless. For a school so worried about security, I was honestly expecting a full sweep of my car. It’s only as I pull forward that I notice several thin black strips running along the underside of the arch above me. Were they scanning my car while I was parked under the arch?

I shrug it off. Whatever makes things easy.

The two-lane road immediately bends to the left, thick pine trees flanking either side, completely obscuring the view after twenty or so feet. I drive slowly as the path winds back and forth a few times before coming to a small clearing, the road straightening and running directly into a tunnel built into a tall, grassy knoll. The hill must be two stories tall and twice as wide, again completely blocking the view of anything beyond it.

The tunnel starts descending almost immediately as I drive into it, then flattens at what must be at least thirty feet underground. The tunnel is well lit but plain, the walls and ceiling lined with bright concrete.

Another fifty yards in I see the tunnel opening up, with a large sign pointing to the right for GUEST PARKING. The ceiling of the opening curves up to about fifteen feet into a wide dome shape, a single level parking lot appearing before me. There’s a fork at the entrance to this lot, with a sign reading STAFF HOUSING to the right and STUDENT PARKING / STAFF PARKING / DELIVERIES going straight.

I turn into the guest parking lot. It’s easily the biggest underground lot I’ve ever seen. I can see probably two dozen cars bunched together close to what I’m assuming are the elevators, and they’re taking up maybe a quarter of the available spaces.

I park as close as I can to the cluster. As I do, I can see a comically large, ornately decorated sign bolted into the cement, an arrow pointing down to the floor below it:

ELEVATORS

I guess Betty wasn’t kidding.

I hop out of my car and shut the door behind me, then swing around to my trunk. The paperwork wasn’t clear on when or where I should bring my stuff in, so I guess I should grab a few suitcases now just in case I need to take multiple trips. I grab the first oversized, black, plastic-shelled travel suitcase from out of my trunk, pulling the handle up as I set it on the ground next to me.

“Welcome, new student!” I hear in a strange, overly enthusiastic voice behind me.

I jump what feels like several feet in the air. That’s one hundred percent a serial killer, and this is how I die. I quickly turn around, heart pounding in my ears, hoping I have enough time to kick the killer square in the dick before he starts with the stabby stabs.

Who I’m met with is…well, actually, no one at all. Five feet in front of me is what appears to be a large hotel bellhop cart, lined in a polished, silvery metal finish with multiple hooks, racks, shelves, and a large bin in the center. I stare at it in confusion for a moment until I notice a pair of cheap-looking plastic googly eyes staring right back at me from the solid panel lining the front of the cart.

“Hello, new student!” it repeats, “Please confirm identity: ERICA FAIRPORT.”

I laugh out loud. Still slightly disconcerting, but oh my god, the googly eyes got me. So stupid.

“I…um…yes, that’s me,” I reply to the machine, still half out of breath.

It pauses for a moment before continuing, “Thank you for confirming, ERICA FAIRPORT.” The tonal shift where the AI takes over for the name pronunciation is jarring, almost comically so. “Please load all items you wish to be brought to your room on my shelves and racks! After you are finished loading me up, please say, ‘LOAD COMPLETE’”.

I laugh again. That had to be intentional, right? I don’t know, maybe I really do just have the same sense of humor as a twelve-year-old boy.

“Alright, scab,” I reply in my best fake porn voice, cracking my knuckles before walking closer to the cart, gently caressing the polished metal as I continue, “Hope you’re ready, because I’m about to fill you up with my big. Fat. Load.”

I fucking crack myself up.

A few minutes later and I’ve filled the bot up with everything in my car. It’s probably a little sad that I can fit my entire life onto a bellhop robot, but I’m honestly more impressed than anything.

“Load Complete, my little slut.” I can’t help but take one more crack.

“Confirmed! Thank you, ERICA FAIRPORT,” it replies in the same, overly jolly tone, “I will now proceed to your room, ROOM 404. I will remain directly outside of your room until you are ready to unload all of your items into your new living space!”

And with that, it starts wheeling away from me at a hilariously slow pace.

Well, that was equal parts weird and convenient.

I make my way to the elevator, purse on my shoulder, sunglasses on my head, coffee cup in hand. I take a final swig. FUCK. So awful. I toss the cup in the trash can in front of the elevator right before I walk in.

Only two buttons on this one, CAMPUS and GARAGE. I press the former and I’m on my way.

The first thing that hits me when the elevator doors part is the smell. The air is heavy and humid, carrying a mix of pine, earth, and a sort of clean musk into my lungs. I’m instantly hit with a flashback to the summer camp I attended in middle school. A light breeze kisses my cheeks, gently blowing through my hair. I feel a calmness easing through my whole body.

I step out from under the small canopy covering the elevator entrances. It takes my eyes a moment to adjust to the bright light of the mostly clear sky, taking my sunglasses down as I step forward onto the cobblestone path in front of me. The sounds hit me next. The light rustling of the wind through the trees fills my ears, followed by a chorus of birdsongs.

But when my eyes adjust a few seconds later, I see it, directly in front of me, right on the path ahead.

Holy fucking shit.

The building is totally unlike anything I’ve ever seen. Its scale and beauty are equally staggering. Dark brick, copper colored roofing, and gigantic glass windows comprise the majority of the structure. I see two glass rotundas from my angle: one on the top level of the frontmost building, and a much larger one further back. I can’t even tell how far up it goes…I try to count the levels, but keep getting distracted by the glasswork, the detail of which I’m blown away by even from this distance. There’s also absolutely no way to tell how far back the building goes from this angle.

I realize I’m barely moving, slowed to a crawl in my state of awe. I pick up the pace a little, but my gaze continues to shoot all over, admiring so many tiny details that I can barely retain them all.

The front of the building seems to form a sort of semi-circle shape, but with several sharp angles separating certain sections. Jesus, so much glass. So many windows. The natural lighting in there must be phenomenal. 

It all faces a large, mostly empty, light-colored brick courtyard. At the center of the courtyard is a large bronze statue of an angelic looking figure, wings and hands both facing sharply upward, its face looking directly forward, right into my soul.

I walk closer, the whole structure continuing to grow in stature as I do so, towering over me. The sun’s light gleams off of the windows at different angles with every movement I make. I slowly start to notice dozens of tiny rainbow shadows (wait, no, refractions, right?) scattered across the grounds of the courtyard as I pass through it.

I gaze at the statue as I pass it. Its lack of real detail is intriguing, thanks especially to its towering scale of at least twelve feet. I try to spot a plaque, an inscription, ANY kind of marker as I continue to walk by it, but find nothing. Huh.

I face the building once again, spotting the large wooden doors in the center. They’re flanked by massive paned glass windows on all sides, left, right, upward and diagonally. I pause just before I make it to the door, and my hand shoots to the front of my jeans for another instinctive check. I step forward, brace myself, expecting that they’ll need a good amount of push to open. When I do push, I’m shocked by how light they are, and how easily they glide open.

I step through the door, taking my sunglasses off and placing them on the top of my head once again, my eyes taking another moment to adjust to the indoor space. The doors swing shut behind me and the noise of the courtyard just… stops. The silence is deafening.

There’s a staircase directly in front of me, and it’s breathtakingly gorgeous…I’m no architectural guru, but I can recognize an artistic masterpiece when I see one. Carved banister, wide enough for four people, leading up to a landing lined with large paintings, all of which seem to be landscapes, and all against walls paneled with dark wood.

There’s dark wood everywhere. Panels running the full height of the walls, upstairs and down, waxed to a low shine…the kind of wood that took a forest and a century. Delicately carved, pale, off-white stone pillars form a line underneath the atrium for support. Past them, the room keeps going, though I can’t see how far.

The floor is stone, the same shade of off-white as the pillars. You can see where it’s worn smooth in a path down the middle, just a few shades lighter, tens of thousands of footsteps impressing it over at least a hundred years. My steps echo on the pale, archaic stone. I take three of them and stop, the sound of my own shoes making me unbelievably self-conscious.

Two hallways, one on either side. The left one is lit and open and has a little brass sign. The right one is just… a hallway.

Against the center of the left wall is a large desk. Dark wood, similar in shade to the room's paneling but noticeably more modern. The woman behind it is already looking up at me, already smiling, like she's been expecting me for a while.

"Welcome to Evergreen!" Her voice bounces off every wall in the room. She's younger than Betty by a couple of decades, dark hair in a high ponytail, sporting a pastel yellow cardigan so bright it could sear the skin off a vampire. The nameplate on the desk reads SANDRA. "New student?"

"Hi! Yes. Erica Fairport." I walk toward the desk, my footsteps announcing every inch of the trip.

"Erica! Perfect, perfect, perfect." I hear her begin to clack at a keyboard that’s out of my view, typing at a speed I can only describe as ludicrous. "Can I please just grab your ID one more time? I know, I know…Betty JUST checked it down at the front gate, but I PROMISE this is the last time you’ll have to take it out today."

I smile back to her as I fish the license back out of my purse, this time with fifty percent less clumsy bitch energy (practice makes perfect). Sandra takes it, holds it up, does the glance-down-glance-up, and hands it back with a smile like I've passed some kind of test.

"Wonderful! Okay!" She produces a lanyard from under the desk with a plastic badge clipped to it. TEMPORARY, it says, in letters big enough to read from low earth orbit. She also hands me a single folded sheet of paper. "Please be sure to keep this badge on until you get your new watch! You’re headed to New Student Intake, which is in our medical wing.”

I unfold it. It's a clean little diagram of the first floor: the Grand Hall, the Dining Hall, Medical, a terrace, a scatter of restrooms. Half the rooms don't have labels at all.

"Head straight through those doors, then all the way through the Grand Hall…it’s the first room you enter after the security door and you’ll absolutely know it when you see it because oh. My. God. SO GORGEOUS.” She laughs and fans herself in jest. “After that, just take a right at the windows. The signs should lead you right to medical after that, and the door to intake will be on your left!"

“Straight, right, follow the signs. Got it.” I loop the lanyard over my head. "Thank you so much!"

"Of course, hun! And congratulations, by the way." She says it warmly, like she means something specific by it, and then she's already looking back at her screen.

I turn to my right, toward the back of the room that she gestured to. That’s when it occurs to me that there are no doors.

The wall under the atrium is just… wall. That dark wood paneling, floor to ceiling, interrupted by nothing except the stone pillars in front of it. I glance down at the map, then up again, like a door is going to materialize out of sheer cartographic authority.

Behind me, I hear a single soft click.

A section of the paneling swings inward. A whole piece of the wall, moving on invisible hinges, opening onto a lit space beyond. No hiss, no glowing seam, no campy spaceship noises. It just opens, the way a door opens, because apparently it is one.

What in the ever-loving sci-fi fuck?

I look back at Sandra. She's still facing her screen, but she's smiling.

"Right through there, sweetie."

Okay. Sure. The walls open here. Noted.

I walk through the door-that’s-a-wall-that’s-a-door and it closes behind me with the same soft click, seamless again, and I'm standing in a small wood-paneled room about the size of my old bedroom. Empty, except for a single frosted glass door set in the center of the far wall, glowing faintly with the light of whatever's behind it. A small black panel waits beside it at shoulder height.

An airlock. It's a fancy, wood-paneled airlock. What the fuck IS this place?

I tap the temporary badge against the panel. It replies in a series of jolly beeps, like a tiny robot sidekick saying hello, and the frosted glass slides aside.

Oh.

Oh, wow.

The Grand Hall is the kind of room that makes you stand still in the doorway like an idiot, which is exactly what I do. It's a ballroom. An actual, honest-to-Vishnu, Victorian ballroom, the length of maybe four of my apartments, with floor-to-ceiling windows down the entire far wall pouring morning light across a polished parquet floor. The ceiling is white and gold and painted… a mural with clouds and pale blue sky, like somebody looked at the actual sky outside, thought they could do better, and said ‘Hold my beer’. A chandelier the size of my car hangs dead center, throwing tiny prisms across the floor. Two raised seating areas bracket the far corners, all velvet and dark wood, arranged around fireplaces I'd bet money still work.

It's the kind of room that should be roped off. The kind you shuffle through behind a tour guide who says please don't touch anything twice a minute. And instead there's a girl my age curled sideways in one of the velvet chairs with her shoes off, reading something on a tablet, a coffee cup on the two-hundred-year-old table beside her like it's a dorm lounge.

Because it is. Because this is where I live now.

I cross the ballroom at a reverent shuffle, resisting the urge to apologize to the parquet, and pass under the arch at the far end.

The corridor beyond runs along the back of the building, and the entire outer wall is glass. Beyond it, a stone terrace, and beyond that the lawn rolls downhill for what must be a quarter mile to the lake, because of course there’s also a fucking lake. The water glimmers in the morning sun with absurd beauty, like a shot out of a cheesy romance film. Glass doors stand open to the terrace, and the scent of pine and fresh water fills my lungs.

To my left, the hallway wraps around, and a bronze sign with tidy institutional lettering points that way:

DREAMLAND NURSERY → 
POOL →

My whole body cringes so completely that I feel my teeth vibrate. Dreamland Nursery. Sure. Fine. Of course that's real, and of course it has a sign, in the same font they'd use for a chemistry lab. 

I’m not ready to think about that sign, so I don't. Instead, I go right.

Twenty feet down, another archway opens on my left, and the smell hits me before the sight does: coffee. Real coffee, recently ground, so so so fresh. The Dining Hall is smaller than the ballroom but built from the same materials: long tables, big windows, morning light. A handful of girls are scattered around it in twos and threes, eating, talking quietly, one of them laughing at something with a mug in her hand.

My mouth literally waters. I think about the styrofoam abomination I drank an hour ago and feel a wave of genuine grief.

Later. Coffee later. Intake now.

Another sign at the far side of the dining room points me onward, and the corridor past it changes personality mid-stride. The dark wood gives way to pale walls, the stone floor to something softer and quieter, the light warmer and lower. It doesn't look like a hospital. It looks like what a hospital would be if somebody actually wanted you to feel okay in it, which for some reason makes my heart beat harder, not softer.

And then I see it. An office door on the left, propped open, with a rolling poster board parked beside it. The board is bordered with a god-damn-I-shit-you-not literal construction paper rainbow, complete with an enormous hand-drawn arrow pointing at the door. Above it are bubble letters in six alternating colors:

✿ NEW STUDENT INTAKE ✿

Somebody laminated it.

I stand there a second, one hand on the strap of my purse, the little map folded in my fist, my damp pull-up suddenly very present against my skin. Three weeks of practicing alone in my apartment, and every step of it walked me here, to a door with a fucking rainbow on it.

Okay, Erica.

I step inside.

Previous Chapter

Chapter 1

—————————

Fifteen Days til Evergreen

Those boxes in the kitchen are still flat. I should really get on that.

I’m drawn back into my phone by the sound of Pineapple Banana Kitty. It feels like it’s been in every other video on my feed for the past three days, but somehow, it still makes me smile.

I’m lying on my couch face up, feet up on the arm. I’ve been doomscrolling since I got out of the shower. Again.

But it’s fine. I mean, I’m working on the most important task as we speak, right?

I use my other hand to give myself a few firm butt pats. I smile at the tiny thud-crinkle sounds my hand makes on contact. My sixth diaper. Still dry, though. I should probably get some water.

I jump off the couch and head towards the kitchen for a glass. I’ve been pretty good at wearing to bed every night…they’re still working like a charm in knocking me right out. I’ve been pretty cautious about how long I wear them, though, and haven't really gotten myself to put one on after I hop out of the shower.

That ends today! I really need to start wearing them for longer periods during the day. No urgent errands. Nowhere to be. Just me, the couch, and a great excuse to be a lazy bitch.

Another day, another band t-shirt and pair of sweatpants, but this time with a diaper underneath. If I do nothing else, dammit if I’m not wearing and wetting the HELL out of this thing.

__________

Fourteen Days til Evergreen

Fuck. I wet the hell out of this thing.

Like. A lot.

Like, way too much.

And now I have to do laundry about it.

I swear I wet yesterday’s diaper more than this, and with no issues. I’ve only been wearing this one for a few hours, but I was also lying on my back when I tried peeing this time…was it pee number four? 

It took me a second to realize what had happened. The normal, spreading warmth was there, but when I laid back into my mattress, that initial damp feeling you get where the pee settles into the padding…it didn’t go away after the first few seconds like it usually does. I looked down in confusion, rolling to the side to find two giant wet spots on the bed underneath me, and then two more wet spots on my sweatpants, right where they met the seat of my diaper.

Hubris, thy name is pee pee pants.

I quickly jump off the bed and strip off my pants, leaving me in just my t-shirt and wet diaper, then I strip my bedding. There’s a small wet spot on the mattress itself, but I think I caught it quick enough.

I waddle my way to the living room, balled-up laundry in hand. Despite my annoyance, I can’t help but smile. That feeling of my thighs lightly rubbing against the soft plastic after I’ve wet a few times and the sag starts getting serious…ugh, there’s just something about it.

I toss my clothes into the washer and look down at myself. I guess I should take this off and get in the shower. Diaper number seven, I hardly knew ya.

As I press the one-and-done button on the machine to start the load, it suddenly hits me. I’ve written this EXACT scene before, to a T. Chapter 7, The Laundry Room. Experiencing déjà vu is one thing; having it over a smut scene you wrote two years ago is something else entirely. How in God’s name did I get something like this SO right before I had ever done it? 

Jesus, has it really been two years since I worked on that?

Whatever. I need a shower.

__________

Thirteen Days til Evergreen

So it turns out ten diapers isn’t a lot when you’re wearing them every day. And I’m not even wearing them full-time yet. Here I am, standing naked except for the towel wrapped around my head, second-to-last diaper from the pack of Sunkiss now in hand. 

Well, shit. One more thing on the to-do list: Order more diapers.

It seems like a slightly ridiculous task considering I’ll be at Evergreen in less than two weeks, and all this will be covered with my room and board. But at the same time, I’m definitely not where I want to be with the whole “pre-acclimation” thing. I’m still taking breaks. I still haven’t worn out of the apartment. There are…other thresholds I’ve yet to cross.

I fidget and squirm in place, and I can’t tell if it was the embarrassment that triggered it, or something else.

I sigh as I lie down on the bed, grabbing the powder I’m now keeping on my nightstand, completely unobscured. I unfold the Sunkiss and lay it underneath me before sprinkling a bit of powder over my stomach, inner thighs, and butt. I can’t believe how much powder has helped now that I’m wearing them for more than an hour or so. It’s almost like there’s a reason most people consider it a necessity, you dumb baby. 

I tape myself into the diaper, then slide my fingers in between where the diaper meets my thighs to fluff out the leak guards. Another good tip I picked up from the internet that seems to have helped a ton. I wiggle my butt a little once I’m good to go. A tiny final ritual I’ve added to the process. Equal parts silly and cute. I’m so embarrassing.

I throw on some tiny sweatshorts that barely cover my diaper. Another no-errand day, but hopefully a check-some-other-shit-off day. I throw on another band shirt from the clean laundry pile, then make my way to my couch.

I catch the pile of still-flattened boxes in my periphery right before I sit down. Unfortunately I’ve got more pressing matters to attend to.

I pull up the app for TheNile on my phone. I still feel guilty about using them so often, especially after that whole failed bid for their new private island headquarters in the Caribbean to become its own sovereign nation. But hey, I need premium-brand adult diapers in less than twenty-four hours, so there’s not much I can do.

My fingers make a few clicks before landing on the Sunkiss Masterpiece product page again, but I pause before hitting ‘ORDER NOW’. Before I had made the BIG purchase on my first pack of diapers ever, I had done a frankly unhinged amount of research first. The price, the capacity, the fit, the aesthetics…I did a LOT of comparing and contrasting. There may have been a spreadsheet involved. 

The research had clearly paid off. I was definitely a big fan of these and have barely run into any issues in my ten-diaper journey. At the same time, though, it had been a close call for the first purchase, and there were still a plethora of options I would love to try. 

A few more clicks and I’ve got one of the close contenders pulled up. Trests are apparently the lambos of medical diapers: pure white, amazing plastic and fit, and a truly absurd capacity. Certainly pricier than Sunkisses, and very similar aesthetically, but by far the most glowing reviews I’d seen on the boards.

I add the Trests to my cart, but I don’t check out yet. There’s also…another option. I hesitate, but end up clicking away to something a bit more…over the top. I pull up the page and the name alone makes my brain stutter. PottyPants…fuck, I hate how hard that does things for me.

These ones are clearly made for people more into the little side of things who also have a solid penchant for humiliation. A cute, aesthetic design on the front: a blue teddy bear over large baby blocks. Words on the front saying OOPSIE that fucking disappear when wet. Another cartoon bear on the butt, holding his nose.

I’m squirming SO hard on the couch. There's absolutely no way I can handle those. 

Right?

Fuck it.

I click the ADD TO CART button, then quickly check out before my anxiety has a chance to kick back in.

Huh. I guess options are good, right?

I squirm again. Maybe one more add-on, while I’m at it…

__________

Eleven Days til Evergreen

This was a fucking terrible idea.

With every crinkly step I take closer to the department store entrance, the harder my heart pounds. Jesus Christ, this thing is so loud. Everyone you walk by is going to hear it and know EXACTLY what you’re wearing underneath that dress. You should probably turn back now.

No. No no no. That’s fucking stupid.

You know the music they play in there is gonna overpower any small rustle coming from you. You know that even if someone did hear some hint of crinkle, an adult diaper would be the last thing that person’s mind would jump to.

You’re wearing a black dress with a long skirt. You’re wearing shorts underneath that just in case your skirt gets blown up by the gods themselves. You chose a huge department store in the next town over from school, all while most students aren’t even back from break yet. 

Hell, you even saved your last Sunkiss for this. The Trests are a little thick, and the PottyPants…yeah, there’s no way I was wearing those out of the house.

You need to take the plunge. You need to get used to wearing them around other people. There is no way you could have made this easier on yourself, less risky, or safer. You’ve got this.

The self-pep-talk is enough to keep me from sprinting back to my car, but not quite enough to slow my heartbeat down, or to stop a few beads of sweat from forming on my lower back. 

…You’ve got this.

I walk through the front door and instantly feel a blast of air conditioning that causes my dress to ripple. My eyes go wide and my hands shoot to my skirt. I remind myself again that it’s fine, that there are anti-wind contingencies in place.

I grab a cart as the store’s greeter barely gives a nod in my direction. I can feel myself tensing. He didn’t even look at me. Chill, woman.

I take a few breaths and start making my way to the home office section, taking my phone out as I do to pull up the list I made.

EVERGREEN — STUFF TO GET

(Riverton Superstore, NOT Newburgh)

STICK TO THE LIST. IN AND OUT. 45 MINUTES MAX. 
(if you stop to look at records, I will fucking end you 😘😘😘)

PAPER/OFFICE
- Notebooks x3 (the GOOD ones. lined, not grid, I’m not an animal)
- Pens (the .5s, black. buy two jumbo packs, you WILL lose them)
- Sticky tabs
- Index cards
- Highlighters???? (do people still?? get them anyway)

As I make my way across the store, I pass by the tech section. A massive kiosk for GameChanger AR Glasses takes up the majority of the section; the same freakin’ kiosk that’s in every department store, tech store, and office supply store from here to Timbuktu.

Would it be convenient to have an insanely powerful AR computer available to me at all times? Absolutely. Would it save me a ton of time, space, and energy to take notes virtually using the AR features on the glasses instead of using physical media like some archaic bog witch? Definitely.

But there’s something so satisfying about the tactile experience of putting pen to paper that AR could never replicate. Besides, giving them permission to bank literally every experience I have to live indefinitely at some data center in the Andes is a hard no from me.

But wait, isn’t that exactly what Evergreen is doing with their watch?

No, it’s fine. It’s all anonymized, unlike the GameChanger data, apparently. And it’s all going to researchers rather than corporate marketing bot farms…right?

I chuckle at my own rationalized cognitive dissonance.

I make it over to the row where all the writing supplies live. I turn the corner and see a college aged girl in her pajamas looking at some notebooks. I freeze, holding my breath without realizing it. 

I shake my head lightly and take a few steps into the aisle before freezing again. Fuck, this crinkling is so loud. I stop and pretend to look closely at the poster board that lines the wall next to me until she moves on. Luckily, she walks to the other side of the aisle to make her exit once she’s done. I enviously glance at her comfy-as-hell-looking pants as she walks away. 

My heart is still racing, but I continue into the now-empty section, to my actual destination.

I skip right past the garbage in the notebook section to the top shelf and immediately find one that calls to me…hardcover, cloth-bound in a soft, deep purple, a thick black ribbon marker sewn into the spine. I lift it up…umph, the heavy weight of it sends chills down my arms. I run my thumb across the cover, feeling the weave of it catch on the pad of my finger.

I flip it open and practically press my nose into the gutter. Glue, cotton paper, and something close to leather fills my lungs. I fan the pages once, slow, and let the whole thing breathe out at me.

The quality shit just hits different.

Twenty-eight dollars for a notebook. I don’t give a fuck.

I place it tenderly in the cart. Then I grab two more in different colors.

I can feel how wide my smile is as I pick through the shelves to find the remaining items I need. God, I never thought I’d be school shopping again in my life, let alone for writing supplies. My heart is fluttering, and for the first time in a long time, it’s not because I feel like I’m about to die.

The last of what I need from this aisle now in my cart, I pull my phone back out to see what I need to grab next.

BED/BATH/~*~*BEYOND*~*~
- Sheets — TWO SETS MINIMUM (learn from your mistakes, bitch)
- Mattress protector ← ACTUALLY IMPORTANT, DON’T FORGET
- Towels (plz ball out. you’re allowed nice things)
- Robe
- Laundry bag
- Hangers (they never give you enough)

My eyes lock onto the second item in the next section just as I take my first step away from the aisle. A small rustling sound catches my ear, then echoes in my brain like a thunderclap. I look around to see no one nearby, cheeks burning as I do.

I make my way down the wide main aisles of the department store to the next home section. I only pass a few people on my way over, and end up holding my breath a moment every time someone walks by. Not a single person looks up from their phone as they pass.

I quickly settle on some higher-end items for basically everything I need, since I’ve still got those security-deposit savings I apparently don't need. High-thread-count purple sheets, fluffy purple towels, purple hangers, then a simple white robe and laundry bag (you can’t win ‘em all).

I come to the final item. The mattress protector. I learned quickly how necessary these are. In fact, I should probably throw one of these on my mattress once I get home. It is the landlord’s, after all…

So…two mattress protectors, just in case? No wait, three. No wait, that’ll take up too much luggage space. I can wash them, right? So one will be fine, I’m sure.

I grab two and throw them in my cart before anyone turns the corner and sees.

Ok, section down. What’s next?

TOILETRIES
- Shampoo/conditioner (the green bottle the stylist mentioned)
- Face wash, moisturizer, the usual
- Toothpaste/brush/floss
- Hairbrush (seriously, throw the old one out)

I make my way over to the pharmacy section nearby for all the toiletries I need. The traffic is relatively low overall, but that god damn crinkle still echoes in my ears every time I pass someone by. I smooth my skirt out, then do a subtle double check to make sure it hasn't ridden up.

There’s someone standing right at the entrance of the first aisle I need to enter. I pause for a moment, then move past her slowly, carefully. A tiny “Excuse me” escapes my lips, barely audible, even more unnecessary given how wide the aisle is. If she hears my words or what’s under my dress, she doesn’t acknowledge either.

I burn my way through the aisle with ease. The products are all in the same places as they are in the store I usually go to, so grabbing everything I need is basically muscle memory.

Ok, what’s next?

~~ M I S C ~~
- barrier cream — the zinc one w/ the good reviews, NOT the drugstore stuff
- powder (unscented? scented? decide in the aisle)
- wipes (thick ones, aloe. school’s will be garbage)

I feel my heart skip a beat, and not in the fun way.

Ok, it’s fine. You’re fine. These are all normal things that normal people buy on perfectly normal days. I take a step towards the…baby section. I swear, these stupid Sunkisses are getting louder and louder.

I pass the tech section again on my way over. As I do, something catches my eye that temporarily settles the pit forming in my stomach.

OH SHIT, VINYL RECORD CLEARANCE WHAAAAAAT.

I crack a smile and turn towards the music section before catching myself. Fuck. Nope. Don’t fucking do it. In and out, in and out. I throw my head to the sky and give a dramatic, audible whine, stomping my right foot once before turning back towards my actual destination.

I finally make it. After a quick glance to make sure no one will see me, I turn the corner. 

Boxes of diapers. All different brands, floor to ceiling, forming literal walls around me.

Don’t look directly at them. Avert thine eyes.

I quickly make my way down to the perpendicular aisle. I come across the wipes first.

I may or may not have done a crazy amount of research when it came to all of the things I need from this section. Yeah, sure, Evergreen says they’ll provide the ‘necessary materials’, but I’m guessing they cheap out on what they provide. If this is gonna be our new life, we’re going for the good stuff.

You’ve gotta find the adult-sized wipes, but for the love of god get the unscented ones. The heavy aloe wipes are good for your skin, but they do NOT play friendly with inny-bits. Let’s try not to get a UTI the first week of school.

It takes me a moment to find the adult wipes: they’re a bit buried, lower on the shelf than the more popular baby wipes. I start to bend over before quickly snapping back up, looking around once again. I shake my head. Girl, your dress is long and you’re wearing shorts. No one is gonna see your fucking diaper if you bend over.

I bend over and grab the wipes, throwing them into my cart.

The powder is next. Easy enough. It’s on the next shelf over, and I know exactly what I’m looking for. Again, I know the school will provide something, but let’s be real, the lavender-scented powder is where it’s at.

I quickly grab the purple bottle of powder off the shelf before moving on. I make my way down the aisle, looking for the barrier cream on my list when I spot something low on the shelf I’m passing.

A tiny white box with green outlines.

FLEET
Mini-Enemas
4 count

I stop dead in my tracks.

Pause for another beat.

I grab the box and quickly stuff it in my cart, right in between the towels I picked up earlier.

Then I move on.

It takes me a minute to find the barrier cream; there are only a few options in stock, and they’re slightly lower on the shelf they occupy. I need the kind with zinc, especially if I’m going to be wearing these for longer periods of…

I freeze as I hear someone approach from the aisle behind me. 

Fuck.

My eyes go wide, and I see a taller guy in his thirties appear to my right, where I was just grabbing the wipes.

He looks right in my direction.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

I can feel my back start to sweat. Heart pounding faster. Why is he looking right at me? Oh my god, he knows, he knows what I’m doing, why I’m here, what I’m wearing under my dress. Oh god, I have to get out of here, I have to…

“Excuse me,” the man says calmly, reaching just in front of me to grab a bottle of baby lotion on the shelf just above where I was looking.

“Oh, sure, sorry!” I say without even thinking first.

And just like that, he’s moving away, out of my sight within moments.

I grab the shelf next to me and take a few deep breaths. In for four. Hold for four.

I smooth my skirt out once again. You’re fine, everything’s fine.

The rest of the shopping trip goes off without a hitch, and before I know it, I’m walking out of the store, newly bought reusable bags filled with my purchases in the cart. I grab my phone out of my purse to check the time, see if I made the 45-minute goal.

Damn. 83 minutes. Almost double.

I laugh to myself in spite of it all. If anything, that makes me feel better. I just survived something I never would have DREAMED of being able to do even a couple of weeks ago. I spent close to an hour and a half walking by and existing within inches of complete strangers, all while wearing a diaper under my dress. No weird looks, no heads snapping up from the crinkles, no clumsily bumping my padded ass into some hot girl stocking the shelves and going down in a heap, skirt flying up over my head.

Just…a totally mundane, uneventful trip to a store.

Huh. How about that.

__________

Seven Days til Evergreen

I look to the pile of flattened boxes to my right. Shit, I REALLY need to get on that.

I wipe a few beads of sweat that have formed on my brow with the back of my right hand as I continue to mop the floor in my kitchen. I’m cleaning the apartment first so I don’t procrastinate it into the dirt, THEN I’ll start packing. This will be fine.

I’ve been jumping from cleaning task to cleaning task for the past couple of hours. The two extra-strength cups of coffee I brewed myself beforehand have definitely helped. I can still feel my teeth vibrating a little, but whatever works.

I look down to the black crop top I’m wearing, damp with sweat, but not exactly soaked. I definitely need a shower after this, and for once, it’s not because I’ve peed myself multiple times.

Though to be fair, that isn’t helping either.

I opted to ditch the pants for this bout of work. I tried shorts for a bit, but it’s not like they were covering much, anyway. The Trest I’m wearing isn’t exactly pristine at this point; like my shirt, it’s damp, but not soaked.

…or maybe I spoke too soon. As I’m finishing up the floor, I feel a pressure in my bladder. No worries. I stop mopping for a moment and start to relax my pelvic muscles, closing my eyes as I do so. I’m about halfway through the Trest pack at this point, and I know for a fact that I can safely put another full pee into this and then some.

I smile, letting out a small sigh as I feel the floodgates release. The warmth quickly begins to spread across the front of my diaper, the light, pleasant crackling of the expanding padding filling my ears. Almost twenty diapers into my new life and this feeling hasn’t lost its magic. I hope it never does.

As the warm stream ceases, I twist behind me and give myself a pat on the squishy butt. Not even close to leaking.

Trests are definitely my new favorite. I tried to stress test them a few days ago to see how much pee they could hold, and the freakin’ tapes started to give out from the weight of the sag before I could get it to leak. Between that, the fit, the AMAZINGLY soft plastic, the…ahem, ~squish~ factor once they’re a little wet…the Sunkisses were great, but the internet wasn’t lying, the Trests really are the lambos of the medical diaper world.

Smile still wide on my face, I set off to finish the task at hand. A few minutes later, I’m done, wiping my brow one more time with a look of smug satisfaction on my face.

I’m putting the mop back in the kitchen closet when I feel another pressure. Lower than before. The smallest cramp hits just above the same area.

Before I can even blush, my mind jumps to something I wrote. That same piece that’s been collecting digital dust in my cloud drive. The scene where Jessica has a… different kind of accident… in her diaper, right in the kitchen, before she knows what hit her.

I bite my lip at the thought, my cheeks flushing right on cue.

Of course, my current situation isn’t nearly as desperate. The slight cramp has come and gone, and the pressure is barely noticeable without conscious thought. But my mind is racing now.

I grab my phone. It takes me a second to remember exactly where the cloud app lives in my sea of folders and icons, but I find it quick enough. A few more clicks, and I’m right at the chapter. The first time I’ve even opened my story in at least a year.

I laugh at the name of the folder that holds my precious, hidden work.

THE LUSTY BOSTONIAN DIAPER MAID

It’s a working title, okay? 

I make my way over to the couch and scroll to the moment in the chapter I’m thinking of.

I squirm as I begin to read my own words despite remembering every line to a T. Is that a bit narcissistic? Eh.

I feel another tiny cramp. I look up from my phone. The pressure’s still there. Barely.

…Could I?

I climb my way onto my knees, my arms resting on the back of the couch, leaving my phone back down where I was lying. Unfortunately, the small amount of movement is all it takes for my body to tense up a bit.

It’s fine. Just relax. You’ve written scenes like this, too. You just have to relax.

I do my box breathing exercise. I can feel myself relax, my body getting softer.

But it’s like that pressure I just felt has completely evaporated into the ether.

Maybe it’s just the position. This one isn’t really all that natural, now that I’m thinking about it.

I switch positions slightly, bringing my feet up onto the couch, lowering myself into a squat. I feel my wet diaper shift under me with a light crinkle as I do so. I’m determined.

Again, I try to relax. I know it was just there. Where the fuck did it go?

Maybe it just needs a little…push. I bear down, try to see if I can force things along a bit. I push. I push more.

But nothing.

I exhale dramatically. This is stupid, anyway, let’s just go use the bathroom while we still have a chance…

No. We need to cross this barrier at some point. Let’s do it here where we have total control, total privacy.

I get up off the couch now. I was standing when I felt the first cramp, maybe that’s the key?

I stand there, eyes closed, breathing deeply, slowly. Trying to actively relax my body, actively relax my mind.

But nothing.

I bury my face in my hands and let out a frustrated, angry groan. Why won’t my body cooperate? I’m finally in a place where I can bring myself to do the thing I’ve wanted to do for YEARS. WHY?!

Small tears are forming in the corners of my eyes. I quickly wipe them away before pulling my hands away from my face. Fucking stupid. Fucking useless.

I tear violently at the tapes of my diaper, catching it as it falls, balling it up as I walk towards the bathroom, towards the toilet. I need a shower after, anyway.

__________

Four Days til Evergreen

God fucking dammit. Why did I take so long to start putting together these fucking boxes?!

This feels like the seven hundredth bankers box I’ve made today. I look to my kitchen ceiling and exhale dramatically as I watch the ceiling fan spin lazily around. At least the fan is now dust-bunny free.

To be fair, I don’t have THAT much stuff I need to pack from my kitchen. My coffee setup, a few mugs, dishes, and whatever bullshit has accumulated in my junk drawer over the past year.

I look back down, scratching the back of my head as I do so. I scratch my bare thigh with my other hand and exhale again. I don’t think I’ve put on a pair of pants in days. Maybe thirty total seconds of pants per day when I have to open my door to grab takeout I had delivered?

I HAVE been wearing diapers pretty much full time for the past couple of days, which I consider a huge win for me. I look down to the PottyPants I’m currently wearing, the OOPSIEs on the front panel long since faded. I give the front a quick poke, and can’t help but smile at the little squish-crinkle it makes. So dumb.

I stare at the doom drawer directly to my right. I sigh again.

But hey, you know what? It’s fine. I’ve still got time. Don’t need to rush too hard. I let the emotional synthpop I’ve got playing in the background ground me, envelop me.

Everything is chill. Take it slow, you’re ok.

I make it to my knees and open the doom drawer. Probably best to deal with this nightmare first, right? 

The first thing that jumps out to me is not what I was expecting.

Shit. I forgot I threw this in here when I got it in the same package as the diapers last week. It’s still in a cute little sealed bag, oversized rubber nipple staring directly at me.

I slowly reach in to grab it, flipping it around. Nothing fancy, just a simple pastel pink finish, button, ring and all.

There’s a part of me that wants to shove it in the bankers box and move on, just like I did when it came in the mail. But no. I may have bought it a little impulsively, but there’s some reason I bought it at all, right? 

I tear the top of the plastic wrapping encasing the paci and remove it. The pink plastic is perfectly smooth. The nipple is reasonably sized…not comically oversized like some of the other models I’ve seen online, but…just right.

I flip it over and stare at it for a moment. Then I pop it in my mouth, closing my eyes as I do so. 

I’m expecting another rush of sensations. Burning cheeks, a spark of something as my tongue presses against the rubber, something low, deep, scratching into the dark recesses of my brain.

Instead, I get nothing.

Huh. Alright then.

I try to mess around with it in my mouth for a couple of seconds. It feels silly, sure, but not that same deep shame as…other activities I’ve experienced in the past few weeks.

I shrug, taking it out of my mouth, wiping the nipple against my shirt before haphazardly tossing it into the doom box.

I guess some things really ARE better on paper.

__________

Two Days til Evergreen

I look at myself in the mirror, up and down. I look so god damn ridiculous. Cute as fuck, but ridiculous.

Here I am, standing in just a black bralette and a diaper. Specifically, a PottyPants diaper. Even more specifically, a very, VERY wet PottyPants diaper.

I run my fingers down the front of the padding, where the OOPSIEs used to be. The fact that I made them vanish still digs at something deep in my brain, even after I’ve gone through an entire pack of them.

I turn to the clothes I bought, folded neatly and organized into piles on the bed next to me. It’s finally time to put these new clothes to the REAL test. I’ve put four good pees into this diaper, and now we’re gonna see which of these outfits can actually hide what they need to when I’m legitimately soaked.

Actually, scratch that: five pees. I feel a light twinge in my bladder. I don’t know if I’ve been hydrating better this past week or if wearing more often is just making me more aware of my body, but I’ve definitely noticed I’m peeing way more often than I was when I started a few weeks back. It’s probably both, right?

I’m a little skeptical that the diaper will hold up, but I can tell my bladder’s not THAT full, so I relax myself. I lean back just a smidge to make sure gravity helps the new intake find its way to the less saturated padding in the back of my diaper. I still smile at the warmth in spite of my vigilance.

Okay. Five pees in. The diaper is sagging down by literal inches. The soaked padding means the diaper has expanded significantly in most directions. If any of these clothes can hide this thing, they can hide anything.

The first thing on the pile is what I’m most hopeful to try: that same black dress I tried on in the fitting room, sans padding. Please work, please work.

I slip the dress over my head, the same way I did in the dressing room. I pull it down quickly. My stomach drops a little when I feel the material catch more than I expected as it hits the plastic of the diaper, but it slides down it a moment later without issue. I smooth the skirt out and look in the mirror.

Hell yeah. The black seems like it covers everything perfectly. That tiny bit of wiggle room around the hips and ass I accounted for seems to have paid off. I take a few steps. The volume of crinkle is absurd, but I can’t seem to notice anything under the dress visually.

I give myself a little arm pump of victory in the mirror.

But wait. There’s no way in hell I’m gonna wear a dress every day for the next two years, right?

Ok, so a win, but not a complete victory. I definitely need some more go-to options.

I shimmy back out of the dress, then fold it and put it into the suitcase I have opened on the floor in front of me. I’d love to say that it’s only the winner that will go in there, but unfortunately I procrastinated on this game of dress up a little too long, and I don’t think I’ll have time to return anything.

It’s fine. Maybe I can donate them once I’m there. Or maybe I’ll just keep things I can only wear in private.

I go for the next piece I want to try: a flowy, black midi skirt with an elastic waistband. Again, a little too long for my usual taste, but it’s still pretty damn cute, and it should work in theory.

I step into it and slide it up past the diaper. I have to hike it higher than I’d normally wear a skirt to keep the white plastic waistband hidden.

This one also seems like it works at first glance. I twirl around in the mirror, then try walking.

Fuck. When I walk I can DEFINITELY see it catch and shape around the intense bulk covering my butt.

But is that really a big deal? It feels like it, but maybe I’m just being extra.

I don’t love it, but it’s a solid maybe. I slip it off, fold it, toss it in the suitcase.

Next item: a pair of dark green wide-leg trousers. Let’s see if I can wear pants with these things.

I slide the pants up. They don’t seem like they catch on the diaper too much, the thighs are wide enough to give it some room even when it’s this soaked. 

But then I zip and button the pants closed. I look in the mirror and spot it immediately. Fuck. The bulge against the crotch of the pants is…not exactly subtle. I guess this will still work with a long sweater or something, but that combo is only good for maybe half a year. Though I guess it might also work with thinner diapers?

Dammit. This is already way more annoying than I thought it was gonna be. I pull the pants off in haste, barely rolling them up before I toss them in the suitcase.

I grab a random pair of jeans in frustration, hoping to have some better luck. I step into them and quickly pull them up.

God dammit. I’m a fucking idiot.

I must have grabbed the wrong thing off the shelf. The jeans are dark, but they’re FUCKING LOW RISE. I try to tug the jeans up as high as possible, but the waistband ends at a comically low point. A solid inch and a half of bright white plastic diaper waistband blooms above them.

Frustrated, I glance briefly at the wooden chair I use for my desk, now directly behind me, huffing as I flop myself down on it to more easily get these useless jeans off.

As soon as the seat of my diaper makes hard, swift contact with the flat wooden surface, I gasp. I feel it immediately.

Wet. Warm. Spreading.

I freeze. My eyes shoot down. Two small dark circles have appeared right below where the seams of the jeans meet the thighs. I can see the circles slowly growing, spreading outward.

No. No no no no. Oh my god. I fucking leaked.

I can’t believe I just fucking did that. Twenty-two years old, sitting in my own…

I shift to jump up, and the movement presses the soaked padding against me, everywhere at once. Squishing. Clinging. Warm.

The breath I was about to spend on panicking transforms into something else entirely.

You stupid fucking bitch. You checked. You were so careful, and you still—

My hips move again. I don’t tell them to. The diaper squelches and crinkles under me, loud in the quiet room, and the heat of it blooms up through my whole body.

—still couldn’t keep it in. Like a stupid 

little

baby.

The word lands somewhere it shouldn’t. Somewhere low.

That’s what you are, aren’t you? A stupid baby who can’t control herself. A naughty little girl who can’t be trusted in big girl panties.

I’m grinding now. When did I start grinding?

This is why. This is exactly why you belong in diapers.

“Oh my god…”

The pants are gone, my body on autopilot, kicked into my bedroom floor. 

I look down at my diaper. The OOPSIEs are gone. All of them. And it’s all my fault.

My hands find the edge of the chair and grip in with a vice-like intensity. I press myself down into the ruined, soaked warmth of it…of my disgusting, leaky diaper. The chorus of squelching and crinkling with the light squeaking of the wooden chair fills the room, probably the apartment. 

Awwww, such a desperate little slut, aren’t you? You don’t even need toys or hands, huh? Come on, baby, show me how much you love your diapers…

The more I rock myself, grinding, humping my diaper into the hard, cold surface, the more the soaked padding bunches together, creating more and more pressure against my throbbing, engorged clit. I can see two tiny pools of liquid forming where the leak guards meet my thighs, right next to my pussy. 

Such a disgusting, filthy little girl. We’re going to need to get you some thicker diapers, since apparently these aren’t enough to hold your accidents…

I’m panting, sweating, my hips accelerating uncontrollably. I already feel it, the building pressure. Closer. Closer. Oh my fucking god.

That’s it, princess, show me how much you deserve to be in your baby pants. Cum for me. Cum in your disgusting, soaking, piss-filled diaper…

I scream out. The edges of my vision go black. My whole body shakes. Fireworks.

I collapse back into the chair, still panting heavily, still trying to catch my breath.

I open my eyes. I instantly spot the pair of piss-stained jeans I threw onto the floor in front of me.

I laugh out loud. Welp, guess I’m not returning those. Guess they’re mine forever now.

__________

One Day and One Sleep til Evergreen

I’m back in bed now, naked except for a towel covering my wet hair and a fresh, clean Trest snuggled around my butt.

I take a deep breath and smile, closing my eyes. I’m done, and a full day before the move. I can take tomorrow to just fucking chill. There’s probably something I forgot, something I’ll have to deal with last minute, but having an entire twenty-four hour buffer feels phenomenal.

I let out a sigh of contentment. I wiggle my hips. The tiny crinkle makes me smile wider.

Relaxation mode engaged. I’ve been so busy for the past week that I’ve barely been on my phone. I wonder if there’s a new chapter up for Back To Daycare? 

I go to open my browser on my phone, but I pause, glancing at my office chair on the other side of the room. An image flashes briefly in my head of what happened earlier on that chair. 

Instead of the browser, I open up the cloud drive app on my phone. Into the folder that holds that story that’s been sitting untouched for too long.

I create a new document in the folder. A new chapter. I know exactly how it starts. The words come faster than I can type them.

And for the first time ever, they’re inspired by true events.l

Chapter 1

Previous Chapter

—————————

Nineteen days til Evergreen

I wake up to a mess of hair and silk pressed directly against my face.

I yawn as I pull myself away from my pillow just a few inches. A tiny strand of something wet catches my lip. I notice a small dark spot on the pillowcase right where my mouth just was. 

Classy.

I bury my face back into my pillow, slightly to the left of the drool puddle. My body stretches involuntarily as I begin to wake. A loud crinkling noise emanates from beneath the sheets.

My eyes shoot wide and my cheeks grow warm. I completely forgot.

I must have passed out last night after putting it on. I squirm my hips and legs, the rustling plastic growing louder in turn. The soft, thick cotton brushes lightly around my most intimate areas as I do so. I squirm more at the heavenly sensation. A sensual feedback loop, quickly amplifying.

I turn my head to the left, towards my bedroom window. The sun is already bright in the sky. Shit, how long was I out for? However long it was, I feel amazing…muscles loose, head light and hazy…I could just lie here like this for hours.

But then I notice another sensation. Pressure, somewhere low.

Oh fuck. I need to pee. BADLY.

I start to get out of bed, getting to my knees and turning to the right towards my bedroom door.

The cacophony of crinkles causes me to freeze.

I look down at myself, the crimped plastic of the diaper’s waistband meeting my stomach just below my belly button. Like bright white accordion folds. 

No. No way. I just tried putting one on for the first time last night. I couldn’t possibly…

I hesitate. The pressure on my bladder is severe from what I’m assuming was ten plus hours of sleeping. I really need to go. Now.

I look back up. Get to the bathroom, start moving your feet. You can’t do this, not yet. What if it gets all over the bed? I’m sure I didn’t put it on right. Did it get looser overnight? What if…

...Wait. No. None of that will matter in a few weeks. There won’t be a door to run to. No decision to be made.

But I can still make a decision now. I can still move towards the door. Just move!

But I don’t move. My legs are frozen, keeping me kneeling on my mattress. Pressure growing. It’s funny how much harder it is to hold it when you know that relief is so close. So simple. Like your subconscious is already relaxing the muscles before you’re ready to release.

I hesitate long enough for my body to make the decision for me.

I feel it go.

No, not a decision. Not even a choice, really… just a muscle I’ve been holding closed for ten hours finally, gratefully, letting itself open. Like sitting down for the first time after watching five opening bands, the full headlining set and an encore.

There’s a half-second of nothing. Just the release itself, that deep internal unclenching, my whole lower body going soft with relief before anything else registers. A lovely, comforting heat spreading slowly.

Oh my god. I’m doing it. I’m peeing.

No…I’m…wetting my diaper.

My face is red hot. 

My hand drifts down to gently grip where the warmth is spreading. I feel the padding covering my pussy swelling, expanding…the padding around it following suit as the cotton interior absorbs every drop.

I can’t believe…I can’t believe I just did that. That I’m STILL doing it. Without even meaning to. One second, on the bed, struggling internally, weighing my options. And then my body did its own thing.

I look down. I’m still going. Holy shit. A dull yellow spot has stained the previously pristine ivory front of my diaper, expanding outward, downward…the material starting to droop and sag lower against my thighs. 

Did I just have an…accident? Or was my subconscious making the call for me? 

Wearing them was one thing, but actually USING a diaper…

I grip a little tighter, electricity shooting from where the now squishy material makes contact with my clit.
I feel the warm stream exiting me decelerate, the hissing quickly quieting, and then…silence once again.

My hand drifts down further, down the smoothed, hot, soft plastic lining. Down so much further than it had been just a minute ago. I press my thighs towards each other, the expanded, sodden padding between them now stiffer, holding them even further apart. I feel the squish. Hear the crinkle.

Holy fuck.

I close my eyes, slowly lowering myself back onto my bed as my hand continues to explore my wet diaper. I squirm as I feel my weight settling into the seat of my diaper…the once-soft padding now enveloping the bottom of my cheeks in a warm, squishy embrace as I feel the liquid redistribute slightly higher up the back.

The diaper feels SO different now that it’s wet. Still so warm. Still so soft, inside and out. But heavier now…tighter between my thighs.

What a disgusting thing to do.

It feels fucking amazing.

My hand slowly drags back up the velvety plastic. I increase the pressure against the diaper slightly, feeling the material part ever so gently. I squirm more, eyes closed as I bite my lip. The squish of the wet diaper pressing down hard against my pussy, up and up. I can feel myself dripping into the already wet diaper, clit aching in anticipation. 

My hand caresses the sodden plastic slowly, upwards, gently…

BBBBBZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

My erotic zen is broken by the deafening rattle of my vibrating phone against my wooden nightstand.  Infuriated, I grab the phone off my nightstand with the full intent of yeeting it through my bedroom door. Luckily I glance at the front screen for just a moment before I do so.

11:03 AM
MOM CALLING

Oh FUCK. I slept even later than I thought. The call with Mom I scheduled to give her the news.

SHIT.

I flip onto my stomach and scream into my pillow.
I take a breath before flipping back over. It’s fine. I’m calm. Everything’s fine.

I quickly tap on the DECLINE & MESSAGE option.

ME
Hey mom! Give me just one minute.

It’s just an audio call, but I need to throw some clothes on. God forbid I accidentally hit the FaceTime button and…yeah, no, let’s not risk that one.

I jump out of bed and grab the first pieces of clothes I see: the shirt I was wearing yesterday and a nearby pair of sweatpants. As I pull the sweatpants up in haste, I feel a quick increase in pressure once again of the warm, heavenly squish against my mound, against my ass…I whine loudly, taking another deep breath, wishing I had a bucket of ice water to dunk my head in right now.

I settle back onto my bed slowly. I take my phone again, my finger hovering over the button to call Mom back. I close my eyes for a moment to fully collect myself. I press down on the screen.

“Hiiiiiii jellybean! How are yoouuuuu?”

Ow. Too loud. Too much enthusiasm. Too early for this.

“Hiiiii mom! I’m doing good! How’ve you been? What’re you up to?”

“I’m doing just peachy!” she answers, a hint of lecture already dripping from her voice. “I just wish you were home already! I know you have the apartment until the end of the month but you know you’d just save so much money on food if you had come home after school!”

I roll my eyes. Thank god she didn’t want to FaceTime, I don’t think I would’ve been able to stuff that one down.

“I know, Mom, but someone had to be here to do the final walkthrough with the landlord, and it would have felt like I paid the last couple months of rent for nothing if no one was gonna be here.”

She sighs dramatically. At least I know where I got that from.

“I knooowwww I know, I just miss my baby! Plus you’re not gonna be able to see Mary before she heads back off to school. Your sister misses you, too, we all do!”

Blech. I think Mary will be just fine. She’s got her fancy private college friends to get back to, anyway. Little miss perfect princess needs not for the company of the common rabble.

“I know, I know! Tell her I say hi and that I miss her too!”

“I will when I see her, jellybean. She’s run off somewhere, I don’t know. But what’s going on, buttercup? Did your last interview go well? Is my little girl starting her first real job?!”

The elation in her voice is unreal. It’s cool, you can sell this. Gotta put that undergrad to SOME good use, right?

“Sooooooo here’s the crazy thing, Mom. I actually got a WAY better offer in a different interview earlier this week! You’re not gonna believe this, but they actually sought me out and sent someone up to New Paltz to interview me!”

“Wooowww, that’s so great to hear, sweetie!” I hear the surprise poorly hidden behind her regular, jolly demeanor. “You didn’t tell me about this one at all! What’s the company? What’s the position? When do you start?”

I cringe. Exactly one of those questions has a real answer, at least.

“Well, my official start date is gonna be September 3rd!”

I pause and take a breath, bracing myself for the oncoming sound of a mother’s hopes and dreams being crushed by her oldest daughter.

“But here’s the thing. The offer I got was actually for an extremely exclusive grad school down in Westchester called Evergreen! They only accept a handful of new students every year, and I got offered a full ride!”

A deafening two full seconds of silence.

“Woooooowww honey! That’s…that’s amazing! Congratulations on the offer!” I can tell she’s trying hard to sound excited. She’s never been the best actor. “I don’t think you ever mentioned wanting to go for your masters, but that’s great! A free ride is certainly a big deal. What’s your business concentration going to be? What was the name of the school again?”

I take another breath.

“It’s Evergreen, Mom. And they actually accepted me into their creative writing program. They said they were really, really impressed with my work from before I switched…it’s the whole reason they gave me a free ride,” I half-lied.

“Oh! I see.” The thin veil of supportiveness in her voice is quickly fading. “Well jellybean, I thought we had already decided that wasn’t really the most practical path to pursue. I know how much you love to write, but it’s getting tougher and tougher out there for everyone.”

We is a bit strong. 

It’s fine. You’ve got the closing pitch, let’s knock her dead.

“For sure, Mom, but Evergreen sought me out very specifically for their creative writing program, and I can’t think of a single employer that would consider a bachelor’s to have a greater value than pretty much ANY master’s, especially when my undergrad was in business admin.”

God, I sound like a robot. I wonder if she was able to tell that I’ve been practicing that one in the shower for the past two days.

Another pause from her end, followed by a sigh. 

“Well, Erica, it’s hard to argue with that. But I still really think you should think about it a little more, this is a big decision and seems very sudden.”

I crack a wicked smile. Fuck yeah! Got herrrr.

Of course, she doesn’t need to know that I’ve already made the decision, that the paperwork’s already signed, that I’m already on that path. I’ll save that one for the drive down to the campus.

“Of course, Mom! The paperwork is due back soon but I’ll be sure to mull it over again.”

“Alright honey, well I certainly trust you to make the right decision,” she lied, “Just let me know, jellybean.”

“I will, Mom. I have a hair appointment, so I’ve gotta head out,” I lied right back, “I love you though! Talk to you soon!”

“I love you too sweetie! Stay safe! Call your mother more!”

I let the phone collapse onto the pillow and exhale everything I’ve been holding since I scheduled that stupid call.

I look to the right, out my bedroom door. Flattened boxes stacked in my living room. I still have a ton of cleaning and packing to do. I should probably get started on that.

With a sigh, I start sitting up. 

I gasp and moan as I feel my soggy diaper press and squish against my bottom.

Fuuuuuuuuuuccckkk.

Ok. No. There’s absolutely no way I can function like this. Every tiny movement I make reminds me of the wet, crinkly prison I’m trapped in. I barely sat up and the symphony of sensations already has me absolutely dripping. My entire pussy is aching…BEGGING for release.

I have to do something to take care of this NOW. There’s no way I can get anything else done unless I do.

I collapse back into my bed, the springs of my mattress squeaking lightly. I practically flail to get my shirt and sweatpants back off. I’m in nothing but my wet diaper once again, and my hands go to caress the soft plastic instantly. My soaking wet diaper…it feels so fucking good.

I moan. I writhe. My right hand reaches for the wand in my nightstand drawer without needing to look.

I stare at the toy for a moment, then look back down to my diaper. I pull my other hand away from it, using it instead to slowly caress my left breast. I bite my lip, still squirming impatiently.

In a single, fluid motion, I turn my wand onto the lowest setting and press it directly into the front of my diaper, right where my clit lies under the thick, damp padding.

Electricity shoots through my whole body. My back arches involuntarily, both hands now gripping the wand as I increase the pressure, a soft squelch accompanying the amplified buzzing of rubber against plastic.

“Ooohhhhhhhhhh fuuuuuucckk…”

I’m already panting like some sort of feral beast.

I feel like I should savor this. Take my time, explore all the sensations. I’ve been waiting for this moment not just since last night, but for what feels like my entire fucking life.

But I can already feel it building. Quickly building pressure where my wand is pressing. I feel beads of sweat forming on my torso, my brow. I’m grinding without control into the toy.

Fuck it.

I flip my thumb with practiced ease to quickly increase the power of the wand. I let out an animalistic moan.

“OH FUCK.”

The chorus of sounds is truly obscene, and so fucking hot. My panting, soft moans breaking through. The vibrations of the wand resonating against the plastic shell of the diaper. A soft, synchronized crackling and squelching as I grind my padded pussy greedily into my toy.

The pressure is building quickly. So fucking quickly.

And then an explosion. Unlike anything I’ve ever felt.

My entire body rocks and convulses as my back arches. I scream, my voice cracking. Spasms of pure ecstasy rock my entire pussy, inside and out. The waves of pleasure ripple through my entire abdomen. Fuck, my entire body.

I pull the wand away as I continue to cum. I can feel myself squirting, adding more to the contents of my diaper. It’s almost too much.

I let out a long, low moan, my body still writhing, slower and slower.

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

I’m tempted to keep going. Maybe in a little bit I’ll go for another round. But for now, I set my wand to my side.

That was...wow. Is this what I’ve been missing by shoving everything down for all these years? Is this what it feels like to be truly free of your own bullshit, even if just for three minutes? 

I should probably shower. This diaper is gross, and I’m grosser. 

I should start making those boxes, packing up the handful of things in my kitchen.

But no. I think I’ll sit here for a minute.

Just a minute.