✅ My Sister's Problem

43. Changing Rules

I turned my head so I didn't need to look at Mum or say anything, and gently dropped my phone down beside the bed. Then I turned my head and realised that Mum was sitting on my wheelie chair next to the bed, and was lifting things out of her crate onto the desk where she could easily reach them. Baby oil, it really was. But there was baby powder too, baby wipes, and a tub of rash cream. I didn't need those, but just seeing them there made me feel like she thought I was a real child. Like an inquisitor displaying his tools to mentally prepare someone for torture. Sometimes I forgot that Mum was a psychology expert. She also lifted out a smaller bottle, and something in a pink plastic case. I couldn't even guess what she had for me; and I could see there was at least one thing still in the basket as well, but it didn't look like another bottle of some oil or potion.

"Are you going to be a good baby and help me?" she asked, quickly adding "Feet up" so that I didn't have to use my words to answer. I could have argued if I'd wanted to, but this was my punishment and I wanted to show that I was following the rules. I lifted both feet and pointed them towards her, so she could slip the diaper over them with no effort at all.

"Silly baby," she said, and put her hands on my knees to guide them to where she wanted them. Knees further back, pulled up towards my chest a little, and with my feet spread wider. I couldn't understand why; those SleepSafe pants were elasticated, but they didn't stretch that far. But my question was answered quickly enough. "If you're going to be having accidents, we need to make it easy to clean you up. So you won't get a rash."

She reached for the plastic box, and took out something that I didn't get a clear view of. And then there was a buzzing sound, and she was carefully holding my legs apart while she did whatever she was doing. It tickled slightly, but that was all. The buzzing stopped, and I tried to imagine what she was doing. And then I saw her putting a set of clippers back in the box; the kind of thing that you might use to cut your own hair if you really wanted a buzz cut. She was trimming my body hair? I hadn't even felt it, but now that I thought about it, I imagined that having hair there could capture some pee in the case of an accident, and make it less likely to get completely clean.

I closed my eyes, too embarrassed to look at what else she was subjecting me to, and too nervous to protest any more. I moved as best I could when Mum's hands gently pushed on my legs. I felt what could only be baby oil and baby powder on my skin. I wanted to say that I didn't need it, but that wasn't the point. She was treating me like a baby. This was what I had wanted, if I'd allowed myself to admit it. To start with I'd been disgusted with the idea of wetting my diapers, and now I almost didn't care. But what had been there in that first dream, and all the times I'd thought about it since, was being treated like a baby. Talked down to like it didn't matter if I understood. Being diapered. Being told that I needed protection. Having Mum go to all that effort to guard against diaper rash even though it wasn't a real possibility. I hadn't dreamed about needing diapers, but about being treated like I did. And now that was exactly what I was getting, and it took all my willpower to keep for grinning and giggling like a toddler.

And then I opened my eyes, wondering if it was time to put my feet together yet so she could get the pull-up over them, and I saw the last item she was holding up from her basket. I froze in surprise. That couldn't be real, could it? She'd brought a diaper; not the bedwetting pants made for teenagers, but actual baby diapers. They had a pattern of butterflies, as promised, and were divided down the middle by a double pink stripe that looked like the kind of thing designed to disappear or change colour when wet. I knew that much from diaper ads I'd seen on TV when waiting for something else; it wasn't like I'd deliberately paid attention or anything.

"That won't fit!" I said, laughing, and only a second later realised how childish I sounded. I didn't stop anyway, because it was funny to act like the baby she was treating me as. "I'm not baby-sized."

She was unfolding the diaper, slipping it under my butt. I didn't even think to resist. And then she was pulling it up between my legs, fastening the tapes. There were two on either side, and she fastened the bottom ones, checked that it was snug around my legs, before trying the top pair.

"Silly baby," she said. "I might have been surprised today, but I was sure something like this would happen eventually. And it's Mummy's job to be ready, isn't it? You can find diapers in whatever size your baby is, if you look hard enough." She took both my hands and pulled me into a sitting position, which was just a little harder than usual because the bulk of the diaper forced me to keep my legs pretty wide. And I couldn't argue, this was way larger than a baby diaper. It was almost as large as a baby! I hadn't had a clue that things like that even existed, and I had no idea why they would ever be needed. But it was strangely comfortable, even if my awkward posture ruled out any possibility of my sister not noticing.

"Lindy will see," I whimpered, looking down.

"Of course she will," Mum replied. "That's kind of the point. The punishment doesn't work otherwise, does it?" And I had to admit she was right. In the weird euphoria about actually being babied, I'd almost forgotten that this was supposed to be a kind of punishment.

"Okay," I blushed. "You said rules?"

"Yes. A couple of them, but I've not thought them out fully. I'll tell you later. But first, you don't try changing your diaper yourself without my permission. Even if I let you do it yourself, you need to ask so I can make sure you didn't have another little accident. Okay? When you're home, you need to ask for a change."

"What if you're not here?"

"I'll think about that. Maybe you could ask Lindy instead. If your big sister says you can change, that seems fair. Think she'd like that?"

I could laugh then, because I knew I could imagine it. Lindy would love a chance to treat me like a baby. She wouldn't even need to blackmail me, or to know how it made me feel, because Mum would be giving her a chance to take part in my punishment. It was crazy, but this seemed like it could be exactly what both of us needed. Just like Mum, I knew, to come up with the strangest punishments you could ever imagine, and then somehow always be ten steps ahead of what anybody else was thinking.