Author's Note: I'm building up my buffer again. I'm expecting to have the next 2 chapters finished before bed tonight, so if you're supporting me on Patreon it might be worth your time checking the document again (and I'm sorry that there's been so little to read in advance for the month so far).
I came out of the bathroom blushing brightly. My face felt like it was on fire, just because of what I was wearing. The fact that my underwear was on show somehow bothered me more than the absorbent qualities of that underwear; although from the ads I'd seen, I guessed that the SleepSafe company cared less about trying to look like 'big kid' pants than their rivals did. I wondered if some other ones might have helped Lindy to accept them more; the only reason Mum had chosen them was probably the Manitoba flag on the packaging; she always felt obliged to support their businesses since the economic upheaval of secession.
Lindy was sitting there on the foot of my bed, fiddling with some of my stuffies. I tried to remember the names of the toys, but it was a little vague now. I hadn't really paid attention to them in so long, and now the thought that they might be lonely drifted across my mind for a moment. I would have to make sure they all had names and identities again, and I was sure that would enhance the feelings of childishness that somehow felt so good lately.
"Good girl," Lindy smirked. "Now, come and sit down."
She had her phone raised again. She really thought of it like a weapon. Like she needed to be able to hit 'send' in an instant, or I might tackle her and delete the photos or something. I wished she could just understand that I wanted to support her; that I wasn't looking down on her for a problem I had caused; and that I would do whatever she asked even without blackmail. Within reason, at least. Wearing diapers for bed was fine by me, and I would have carried on getting them for as long as I could even without Lindy's insistence. Wearing just a diaper was weirdly embarrassing, even though the only person likely to see my legs was my sister.
Not using the bathroom... I didn't know if I'd go that far or not. I wanted her to be happy, but I already needed to pee. Before morning it would be unbearable, and I was sure that I would be forced to wet myself before Lindy woke up. This would mess up my sleep, and I'd probably be irritable all day tomorrow. But if that's what it took to reassure her, I thought I might give it a try.
I was sure that before I actually slept, I would be turning my computer on again to search online about probably the weirdest thing I had ever wanted to look up; the possible hygiene implications of wetting yourself. It was gross thinking about all those bacteria swarming about on my skin, and it was something I'd been taught to avoid at all costs since before I could remember. But maybe, just maybe, if it made Lindy feel better I could put up with it for one night. Was holding my pee to the point of pain more or less risk that lying there in a wet diaper waiting for my sister? I didn't know. Normally for any kind of question I'd search on my phone, but I knew that wasn't the best idea. Like when I'd searched for research on the trick with the bowl of water, I couldn't use my phone. Mum had been very firm when she bought us phones of our own that we would have them set up as child devices; so she could examine my activity whenever she wanted, including all of our web searches. On my computer, at least, I could remove things from the history without Mum being alerted to each deletion.
I couldn't think about this now. I just wanted to get to bed, and get as much sleep as possible before I had to make that decision. Lindy stood as I sat down, raising her arm to keep her metaphorical weapon pointed in my direction.
"Good girl. Now, tell me what a baby you are. You're the one who really needs these diapers, aren't you?"
"Yes," I nodded. It was barely a struggle now, to say the most humiliating things. After last time she tried blackmailing me, I'd realised that the words meant nothing. They weren't true; I knew that and she knew that. But they made her feel better, and that had to be a good thing. It was worth it to help my sister get over what I'd done to her. "Yes, I'm a little kid who loves my SleepSafe pants. They look like big girl pants, but I need them in case I wet the bed." Lindy giggled at my ad-lib, and I could tell she was finding it hard to keep up the confrontational attitude.
"Good girl. Now, show me what a baby you are. Wet your diaper for me."
"But you said–"
"I said we'll see who can hold it. Guess what: the answer isn't yours. You, I mean. You're just a little baby, you have to go. Or do you want me to press this button?"
"Okay," I mumbled. I should have expected it really; she'd made the same demand last time. And now I hadn't gone to the bathroom. "Does this really make you feel better?"
I could tell from her expression that I was pushing my luck. Her thumb was still there, a little tense like some gunslinger's trigger finger. Why was she taking it so seriously? I closed my eyes, and tried to force myself to relax. I could have gone to the bathroom like normal. I would sit on the toilet, and all my other thoughts would be gone for a second. I tried to see the scene in my mind, to imagine that I wasn't sitting on my bed, about to wet myself. I breathed deeply, slowly, and tried to relax. It was so hard, I'd had a lifetime of learning not to do this. But I didn't have any option, I had to make it happen.
"Come on, baby. I'm waiting." Lindy's voice dispersed the image. And when I tried to clear my mind again, there was a different scene in front of me. I imagined myself as a little kid; a girl who'd need an adult to coax her into going potty. I imagined that I was a little kid, standing in front of the toilet but reluctant to use it. Dancing on the spot like a child, still not really understanding. It was surprisingly easy to conjure up that image; I was desperate enough. I imagined hopping from one foot to the other, and pressing one hand between my legs as I struggled to hold it for just a few more seconds. That little kid, the me in my mind's eye, I could imagine losing control. She would stand there squirming; so desperate that she had to keep her legs pressed together to keep from peeing. She couldn't pull her pants down now, if she moved even slightly she would lose control. So she pressed on her diaper, hoping to stem the tide as the first few drops leaked out, and then a spurt.
I could imagine it so clearly, how it would feel to try so hard and still be unable to control it. But I didn't need to hold my pee. I didn't need to find it. I could imagine it just flowing out, somehow enjoying the shame as it washed over me. And somehow that overcame the last unconscious inhibition. I started to pee, feeling the warmth spread through my diaper. It was gross, it was unhygienic, it was childish. But if I imagined myself as a toddler, it didn't matter. Toddlers were expected to do things like that. Sure, it was still embarrassing. But I didn't need to let it hurt me. I was doing this to help my sister rebuild her confidence after a couple of accidents, and that was reason enough. Maybe I was worrying more than I needed to. I had to maintain some respect with my friends, I had to keep that photo private until a higher power saved me. And this was a way to do that.
I sighed, and I felt like I was actually smiling as the pressure released. It felt good to know that I didn't need to worry about fighting that discomfort all night. Perhaps I could still get some quality sleep in, once I had changed. I waited until the flow stopped, and opened my eyes again. I tried to ignore the heat of the diaper against my skin; I could deal with that soon enough. I sat up straight again, rather than leaning back, and it was even more obvious pressing against me. Disgusting, I told myself. I'd always been told it was gross. But if I ignored my preconceptions and just thought about the sensations I was feeling right now, it wasn't actually that bad. I was sure that if I felt the same combination of pressure and warmth without knowing I'd just peed my pants, I might even be able to enjoy those sensations.
Then I looked up and saw Lindy watching me, that sadistic grin on her face. Did she really think this was going to hurt me? But if it made her feel better, I didn't care that much. I could force myself to realise that all of my disgust was just the accumulation of things that I'd been told so many times I should feel. None of it mattered, and the warmth there, by itself, didn't feel particularly gross.
"Aww, did the baby girl have an accident?" she smirked. "I'd never do that, but I guess I'm more mature than you. Tell me what a baby you are."
"I'm a total baby," I answered, laughing on the inside. Who decided this should be embarrassing? It didn't seem so important now. It didn't hurt me, so I didn't care. "I wet my diaper, 'cause I don't know how to hold it properly. You know what? It's not as bad as you think."
"Ewww!" she squealed, and actually recoiled. But then she smirked, and I knew she had another shoe ready to drop. "Okay, that's a better performance than I expected. Now you have to do whatever I say. I mean, a picture of you in a diaper is embarrassing, but people might think there's some reason for it. But that video, once I cut out the important bits... Nobody's going to take you seriously. You're my baby sister now, Sally. It's my turn to be the one talking down to you. And you don't dare fight me."
I panicked, couldn't believe I'd missed something so obvious. She was holding her phone out like it was a weapon. But she'd never shown me the email on her screen ready to send, or the picture she was blackmailing me with. Because she had the camera running, to make sure she didn't miss a moment. She had me saying I was a baby, wetting a diaper, and then talking about how it wasn't a big deal. All she needed to do was cut out the moments where she was threatening me to make me do it, and I was sure she could do that. She had me trapped; as long as she had that footage I was at her mercy. That wouldn't be too long, I was sure, but for now I had to do whatever she said.
"Damn," I muttered. "I never realised you were recording. Your wish is my command, I guess. But, seriously... you're my sister. I want you to be happy. If there's anything you want me to do for you, just ask. There's no need for all the drama. When you're worried about something, I'll do whatever you need. That's a guarantee. So what do you want?" I did my best to keep calm while I said the words. But my heart was still racing, responding to some stimulus I didn't really understand. Somewhere under the anxiety of being blackmailed, and the embarrassment of having to act like a baby, there was something that had me bouncing in nervous anticipation, almost looking forward to finding out what she could make me do. I didn't understand, but I wanted to find that little impulse and learn more about it.
"I want you to realise I'm more grown up than you. You've still got toys in your bed, and you're in a wet diaper. I'm not. So age isn't the real difference. All you have to do is let me know you understand." I just nodded, and started to stand. The warm pee locked up inside my diaper didn't feel that bad where it was touching me, but I still needed to change before I ended up risking a rash or something.
"Now where are you going?" Lindy stopped me. "You had an accident, you deal with the consequences. Like I said before, you don't change until I say so. In the morning. If that's a problem, maybe you need to learn to be a big girl." I didn't know if there was a real risk of diaper rash overnight, or what would be safe. But I couldn't fight her now. I was helpless. After Lindy went back to her own room I turned the light out, and made an effort to hug all of my forgotten plushies, with Lincoln sitting against my pillow and helping shepherd them into my arms. I was helpless; I was humiliated.
And somehow, after seeing my little sister smile again and knowing that this weird scenario could build up her mood, I was content.