✅ My Sister's Problem

82. A New Tool

"Such a good baby," Mum praised me and patted me on the head, much to my sister's amusement. I tried to ignore her laughter, but there was no way she could ignore my blushing. I was probably lighting up the whole room, or at least it felt that way. But the more I got used to it, the more I remembered that being humiliated with my sister around wasn't such a big deal. I could just focus on how comforting it was to not have control; and how much better I felt to hear Lindy laugh with genuine joy after all she'd been through in the last couple of years.

I didn't mind playing up the baby role, if they were treating me like a child anyway. So I stretched out my tongue as far as it would go, trying to catch the little bits of dinner which were still spread around my face. Lindy laughed again, but Mum put the spoon down and pulled out a wet wipe instead, and held my chin in place with one hand while the other danced around to make me completely clean. Then lunch was clearly over, so I expected that I would have to sit with toys on the floor while Mum took Lindy to go shopping for more things they could use to embarrass me. I felt left out, but I knew there was no point arguing. This was supposed to be a punishment, after all, and it wouldn't correct the things I was accused of if all I had to deal with was being treated like a baby.

We were almost back in the house before I realised that the bulk between my legs was making it hard to walk; even harder than it normally was. A few seconds thought, and I realised that I was still wet. I couldn't feel the warmth against my skin now, but it was hard to believe that I would have completely forgotten wetting myself. I really must be throwing myself into this baby role. And I knew that I would have to fight against it a little more, or Lindy might start to suspect that I was enjoying it. That was a secret that I absolutely needed to keep from all of my friends. If Lindy told anyone about Mum punishing me, I thought I might be able to live with that; and it was unlikely because she knew she'd be in for a similar punishment herself. But if she figured out that I was enjoying this? That might make her even more determined to do something I actually wouldn't like.

I hesitated, glanced down at where the diaper was just visible under my skirt, and then looked up at Mum. Would I need to remind her that I was wet? She'd been the one to use Mister Tunes before, so she must know, but it was possible that detail had slipped her mind. It was embarrassing to say, but it would be even worse to keep on carrying this bunch of sodden padding between my legs when they went out.

"Is something wrong, baby?" she asked as soon as I stopped. "Ohh, did my baby have a little accident? Don't worry, it's only natural for a little one. Now, normally it would be quite okay to leave you like this for a couple of hours. These diapers are designed for prolonged wear, and they can keep all the moisture away from your skin. In fact, you can use them three or four times before you really need to think about changing. But I think that while we're going out, it might be better to give you a change first. Does that seem fair, little one?"

I nodded slowly, feeling the permanent blush return. It was humiliating; degrading even. But it also reinforced the impression that I needed Mum to look after me. I felt so helpless, and I loved how safe it made me feel when she did every little thing for me. Even if I didn't like having to wear a wet diaper, just knowing that my choice was being taken away somehow made up for it. I wanted to feel like a child.

Mum took me up to my room, and laid out a plastic-backed changing mat on the bed. She kicked the door closed behind her, and put on some music that sounded like it might have come from a nursery music box. I couldn't stop squirming as she changed my diaper, taking a little break to shave me again with an electric trimmer. She said that it was just so that it would be easier to keep me clean, while I had to use my diapers more often, but to me it felt like one more step towards being a real baby again.

Why didn't that thought scare me? I was sure it should have done. But the things that made me worry were thoughts about my friends finding out I'd been treated like this; about how Hugo would treat me if he knew; and about how difficult it would be to adapt to a normal school life again after a week as a complete baby. And I realised, with some surprise, that didn't sound like a nightmare scenario. If Mum was going to treat me like this forever, force me to be a small child, then I wouldn't have to worry about what my school friends would think about it when I got back, or how it would affect my chances of getting a boyfriend. If I were to become a baby I wouldn't need any of those things, and I probably wouldn't miss them for long. Of course, I knew that was crazy. There would always be an awkward time when I had to go back to leading a normal life, and there was no way this could possibly last forever. And if it had to end, I knew that trying to minimise how humiliated I felt would make it easier to step back into my normal life, and to keep all of this a secret.