Look Before You Click

Jill Harold Lamaar

Chapter 3

“You know, crying like that is just going to draw more attention to yourself.” Mom advised, tying my shoes for the first time since I was five years old.  

Her words did little to console me, and I kept sniffling from the inescapable thoughts of walking around in public in a diaper and a childish, girly nightgown.  When she was finished securing my shoes, she held me by the hand, and warned,

“Baily Bunny, as soon as we step out that door, I need you on your best behavior.  That means you will hold my hand at all times, you will only get out of the car when I let you out, and you will hold onto the shopping cart at the store.  If I see you running off, I can always add one of those cute backpacks with a leash to the shopping list, and I don’t think you want to be seen wearing one of those.  Do you understand?”

Rubbing the tears from my eyes and clearing my throat, I answered in the way she was expecting,

“Yes, Mommy.” 

“Good girl.  Now let’s go.”

I had no choice but to trudge along beside her as I was led out the door.  Outside, the breeze caused the nightie to flutter against my legs, and I held it down with my free hand to avoid it revealing the bulge of my diaper underneath.

Approaching the car, Mom directed me towards the rear seats instead of the front passenger seat where I usually sat when it was available.  I should have known, but I wasn’t ready for what she said next,

“You’re too big to fit in Brandon’s car seat, but I’m going to see about getting you a booster seat today.  You look so little now that I don’t want to risk getting pulled over for not having my child in a proper seat.”

I willingly climbed into the vehicle, but I had to object to her newest idea.

“Those are for babies though.” I complained, my voice sounding unconvincing from how much I was crying earlier.

“Then your diaper butt should fit in one perfectly.  And besides, would you prefer to explain to a police officer that you’re not actually a baby girl and how you came to end up in your current situation?”

Damn, she had me beat and I didn’t say another word while she buckled me in, found her own seat, and started the car.  Instead of backing out right away, she spent the next minute on her phone, and a sudden surge of music indicated why.

“There we go, the Princess Singalong Playlist.  Feel free to join in anytime, Kiddo.” 

I just rolled my eyes, trying to mentally block out the onslaught of songs from princess movies that I had only ever seen once.  We started moving when I dared to ask,

“Where exactly are we going?”

“Just to the Blanco store up the road, we should be able to get everything there, but if you’re really good, I have one more stop in mind.”

Hearing about the mystery destination fueled both my curiosity and caution, but I was slightly comforted to know that we weren’t going far from home.  The obnoxious music was one thing, but I couldn’t tell how much longer I had left before my recent meal would start making its way south.

Not another word was said, and just four songs had played before we were pulling into the parking lot of our destination.  Seeing all the people walking in and out of the store made me nervous, and I slunk down into my seat to avoid being seen.

That worked for all of thirty seconds until we parked, Mom opened my door, and unbuckled me. 

“Remember to hold my hand, and that you’re the only one out of hundreds of people here who thinks that you’re not a little girl.”

I was concerned that she didn’t include herself in that number, but there was no time to dwell on that worry before we were both walking towards the front door.  Passing through it, Mom collected a cart and said,

“You’re too big to ride in the cart, but I want you to hold onto it and stay close, remember?” 

I did remember her prior warning, and when she released her grip on me, I immediately grabbed the cart, and the journey through the store began.  She hadn’t divulged exactly what we were here to buy, so I was finding out as she grabbed items off the shelves and added them to the cart.  

The first item was a toothbrush, completely pink except for a panda bear at the end of the stem.  From there, we maneuvered our way towards home goods, where Mom selected a collection of a pink, plastic dinnerware with unicorn shapes on it, followed by a trip to the bathroom aisle where a similar hooded towel was thrown on the pile. 

I was getting more and more embarrassed by the minute.  Just walking through the store, I was sure that everyone knew these items were for me, and that they could hear my diaper crinkling under the thin material of the nightgown.  I didn’t see where we had gone next since I was looking at the ground to hide my red face, but then Mom asked a question, 

“Zoo animals, princesses, or ponies?”

I looked up to see what she was talking about, and I saw the rows of kid’s bedding before me. 

“I want to get two,” she continued, “It will make nighttime easier if you leak on your sheets, so which do you want?”

I glanced left and right to make sure no other shoppers heard anything about leaking, and quickly responded,

“Animals and ponies are OK.” barely making eye contact. 

“I should have known you would take the zoo animals, considering you got them for your diapers.”

My vision returned to the floor, and I pleaded in a whisper.

“Mom, -my, can you not mention the diapers here?” 

“Sweetie,” she started, thankfully lowering her voice, “I’m a mother shopping with my little girl.  I’m in charge of checking and changing your diapers, it’s as normal for me as talking about your sheets or clothes.  I know you might be embarrassed, but I promise it will be better if you try to get used to it.”

My jaw hung open as the cart chugged along yet again.  I’m not a little girl and I don’t want to get used to being treated like a baby, but when I saw the plastic mattress protector land in the cart as we passed another family, I felt the urge to cry coming back just like I was a small child. 

“Brandon might still need his for a little while, so I’ll get another one for your bed.” 

I could only sniffle back the tears, clinging to the cart out of fear of punishment and walking along to the next point of humiliation: the girls clothing section.  Mom didn’t even ask me about my preferences here, she simply started by grabbing footie pajamas, holding them up to me to estimate sizing, and tossing them into the cart. 

I softly whined through the ordeal, seeing pajamas modeled after a brown bear, an orange cat, and of course, a white and pink rabbit placed next to me.  After that, we walked a few feet to a rack of dresses.  Maybe they were nightgowns like I was wearing, but they looked like dresses to me, and I blushed while Mom repeated the same process of visually sizing them to my body.  One in yellow, one in purple, and another in light blue. 

By now, Mom must have figured out the sizing of these girls clothes, because shirts and shorts started to rain down into the cart faster than I could see each one.  This was only going to be through the end of summer, right?  All of this stuff is easily going to cost as much as the diapers I bought. 

“Oh my! These are super cute.” Mom said to nobody.

I looked up, saw her holding short overalls, and I wanted to die as I noticed her enthusiasm attract the attention of a few other people.

“Come along, we’re going to try these ones on.” 

“Do I have to? Can’t you just return them if they don’t fit?” I countered.

“It’s just one thing, relax.  These are normal denim and not a stretchy material, so I have to know that they can fit over your diaper.” 

There was that word in public again, and I tried to ignore it on the long march to the dressing rooms.  Once there, Mom left the cart outside except for the overalls and a pink shirt, and a strong hand on my back guided me into the dressing rooms, on the girls side.  Inside a stall, I sat down to take off my shoes, and I was quickly stopped.

“No, no, Little One.  You just sit there while Mommy takes care of your clothes.” 

In the privacy of the dressing room stall, I let a few tears slip down my cheeks as Mom undid my shoes and took off the nightie, leaving me in just a diaper that was covered by the white tights, but not enough to prevent some patterns from showing through.   

“Arms up.”

I just wanted to get this over with, and did as she asked of me.  The t-shirt glided down my arms and over my chest, and only then could I see it clearly in the mirror.  It was bright pink, with the word “Princess” printed across the front in silver, glittery lettering.  I didn’t have time to sulk in my embarrassment before the overalls were being forced up my legs.

Getting the overalls fastened required me to stand, and I was effortlessly lifted to my feet so Mom could do so.  They felt tight to start with, but after the straps were pulled over my shoulders and latched to the front, the garment was pulled tightly into my crotch, forcing my legs apart.

“Mommy, I don’t like these.” I said, trying to take a step.  “I can barely walk.”

“Shush, Baby Bunny, that’s for me to decide, unless you want to waddle out of here in what you’re wearing?”

I shook my head “no” without saying another word, and wished to whatever higher power that was listening that she would take these overalls off of me.  She took her time, turning me around to inspect the fit, all the while the constricting fabric around my groin and abdomen seemed to trigger the bodily response of needing a bathroom in the near future.  My need to pee wasn’t too great, but a few ominous gurgles from my lower stomach reminded me of the bottle I drank earlier and what its effects would be.  

“Alright, lets get those off of you.” Mom finally relented, pulling the clothes away from me and dressing me back into my nightie and shoes.

“Thanks, Mommy.” I offered, honestly grateful that she didn’t make me wear them any longer.

Leaving the dressing rooms, we briefly backtracked, where Mom replaced the overalls and found a larger size to place in the cart before we continued on.  In a moment, we approached the shoe section, but we stopped at a rack prior to the shelves of footwear.  They were girls tights, and just like the shirts and dresses, a stack of bright colors made their way into the basket.  I already hated wearing these tights, but then Mom added salt to the wound with, 

“I can’t wait to get these to my sewing machine and add adorable ruffles on the backsides.”

My face felt like it was burning enough to increase the temperature of the surrounding area, and I was glad enough to comply when Mom told me,

“Sweetie, sit down here for a while and hold out a foot.  I need to see what size you need, and it’s OK to let go of the cart for now if you keep your bottom on the seat.”  

I sat down on a padded chair and stuck out my left foot, happy to trade a shoe for a couple yards of distance from my Mom who was clearly going to keep saying whatever came to her mind.

I watched her peek at the inside of the tongue before using the information to consult a chart posted to one of the shelves, but another rumble from my stomach stole my focus away from her.  Please, please go faster, Mom.  How much more time is this going to take, anyways?  What’s the special surprise if I’m good?  And does “good” mean my behavior, or does it mean having an accident?

I was lost in thought until Mom pulled me back to reality, setting two boxes of shoes down next to me.  I couldn’t see their labels, but the colors of the boxes alone told me that I wasn’t going to like them, and I was right.  She opened the first one to reveal a pair of white and pink sneakers with hearts bordering the entire sole, and I practically recoiled away as she slipped one onto my bare foot.  Again, she managed the tying for me, squeezed my toes a few times, then asked, 

“How do they feel, Baby?” 

I didn’t know how to respond that question.  They felt like shoes and they fit, but I absolutely hated them and wanted it off my foot like it was a leech, sucking away the last the last drops of masculinity left in my body.  But if I say I don’t like them, she might waste more time hunting for another pair and shorten the fuse on the time bomb in my tummy.

“I don’t know.” Was all I could squeak out. 

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’.” She interpreted, unlacing the girly footwear. “And now, for the second pair.”

In a flash, the other box was opened, and inside were a pair of simple-looking white and purple sandals with two velcro straps.  I was relieved that the style was reserved in comparison to the sneakers, but then Mom had to ruin my sense of safety.

“I can tie your other shoes for you, but before we get these sandals, I need you to show me that you can put them on by yourself.  Let’s get your other shoe off.”

While she was untying it, I heard a giggle from two girls who appeared to be a little older than me that were walking past.  They didn’t seem to notice me at all, but my spirit was crushed as if I was certain that they were directly laughing at my predicament.

“OK, Bailey Bunny, show Mommy how you put your shoes on.”

I glanced left and right to guarantee nobody heard that, and then strapped on both shoes like my life depended on it.

“Ok, they’re nice, now can I have my old ones back and we can get out of here?” I begged in a hushed voice.

“Oh no, silly Kiddo.” She chided playfully, putting my sneakers into the box for the sandals. “You can wear your new sandals out of here and we’ll pay for them at the register.  Besides, we still have one last department to visit.”

I had to stifle a sob when I realized that I had been tricked into completing my own girlish attire, and my only window to protest was immediately closed when Mom hauled me upright and returned my hand to its position on the cart.  I wanted to disappear, but my arm began pulling me forward to our last destination, and even looking down couldn’t provide me escape anymore as I watched the purple shoes swinging forward, squeaking with each stride.

I didn’t make it five more steps before a sudden pressure in my gut stopped me in my tracks.  Mom thankfully stopped too, and I hunched over against the cart to help me wait it out, understanding that I didn’t have long now until whatever was in that bottle came out the other end.

“I would recognize that pose anywhere, Baby Bunny.  You’re just going to get more uncomfortable the longer you try to hold it in, and besides, if you’re going to go poopy in your diaper, this is probably the best place to do it.”

I didn’t get what she meant at first, but a nearby baby’s cry drew my gaze away from the ground, and I saw that we were standing in the baby section, right in front of a long wall of diapers.  All I could get out was, 

“Not here, please.” before my throat began to close up and I was fighting the urge to cry again.

“Then stay right here.  And don’t even think about having a fuss at anything that I’m going to get for you, understood?”

I nodded my head rapidly.  I no longer cared who might have overheard that or if everyone we passed knew that the contents of this cart were obviously for me, my only concern now was making it out of this store without pooping myself. 

Mom set off down the first aisle, collecting lotions, creams, and baby wipes before depositing them and moving on to the next row of infantile items.  She lingered there a bit longer, and returned with a collection to show for it, building it all into the monument to my shame so quickly that I couldn’t analyze each selection.  The only pieces that I was able to make out were a bag of pink bibs, with the one visible stretch of shiny fabric reading “Mommy’s Messy Eater”, and a package of two pacifiers that were shaped liked butterflies.

Don’t cry, don’t give yourself away.

Experiencing another intestinal cramp, I start to nervously shift from foot to foot.  It wasn’t any stronger and I could still hold it, but they were definitely getting more frequent.  I was no longer paying attention to my surroundings, and Mom must have noticed my distress, sliding a large, plain cardboard box into the bottom rack of the cart.

“Alright, Baby Girl, let’s go.”

I was beyond relieved to hear those words, even if it meant accepting the finality of purchasing everything Mom had picked out.  We had only just begun moving when she stopped again, reaching out for one last thing.

“Aw, these are really cute.” She said, picking up a lavender package of pull ups adorned with princess characters. “These should still fit you." 

With a complete lack of subtlety, she placed the pull ups on top of everything as if they were the capstone of my humiliation.  Was this a joke?  How could she be buying me more diapers? 

I hid my red face and watering eyes, not willing to prolong the moment any longer, and embarked on the long walk back to the front of the store.  I avoided eye contact with anyone while simultaneously bracing myself for the occasional cramp, which were getting stronger in addition to occurring more often.

In a stroke of luck, there was a register open and Mom was soon transferring items into the long conveyor belt. 

“One of those boxes of shoes has some old sneakers in it.  My little girl wanted to wear her new sandals right away.”

“Oh, and aren’t they cute!” The lady behind the register commented.

I blushed and stood there awkwardly until Mom gave me a nudge and said, “Sweetie, remember your manners.”

“Thank you.” I replied calmly.  This woman must really think that I’m a little girl.  Do I have no more boyish features left for anyone to notice?

“And you are most welcome.” She said, finishing the interaction while scanning the river of pink and purple goods.

Only now could I get a good look at some of them.  There were hair bows, sippy cups, assortments of baby food, and then I could finally read the box that had been riding below the cart.  Mom had gone way past the booster seat and was buying a complete car seat, with the weight rating clearly printed on the top and I knew that I fit within it.

I really was going to be nothing more than a baby girl for the whole summer.

On the other side of the register, Mom was moving the bags of items back into the cart, and I was trying not to reveal my growing desperation in my need to go poop.  I was beginning to accept that I was not going to make it home before it happened, but the least I could do is make it to the car.  

I was so caught up in trying to control my bodily functions that I didn’t even see the final price of everything, and at last, Mom had paid and we were out of the store.  Halfway to the car, the greatest pressure yet was pounding at the door of my sphincter, and I took a chance at releasing some gas.  Much to my dismay, it was less than silent, and the fart rippled through my diaper, seemingly amplified by some unknown force.

“Pee-yew, Bailey Bunny.” Mom exclaimed, feeling the butt of my diaper. “And still no messies?  You must be holding onto your poopy like it’s treasure.”

A family disembarking a minivan definitely heard that, and I walked faster, trying to pull the cart towards our automobile.

Once we arrived, Mom opened the back door and ordered me inside, buckling me in before loading everything into the rear of the vehicle.  She left to return the cart, and then started the beginning of the end.  A cramp stronger than any before was growing, and much lower in my stomach too.  I could tell that my fight was nearly over, but still I clenched, hoping to hang on to the tiniest shred of dignity.

My resolve finally wavered just as Mom was boarding the SUV, and we both heard a wet sputter, but only I felt the warm mush fill the space of my butt crack.  I quickly controlled the release, but the damage had already been done, and my loud sobs gave away my accident before the smell filled the car.  I felt so gross, and I wasn’t even done yet.  Tears poured down my face and I bawled just like a baby, even with strings of snot leaking over my upper lip.

“It’s OK, Baby Girl.  Let it all out and you’ll feel better.” Mom encouraged, backing out of the parking space, seemingly unfazed by the awful stink stuck to me. “You were a very good girl today, and you most certainly earned your reward, but we’re going to have to save it for another day, OK?  Right now, I have to get you home and changed into a clean diaper.”

I had no objections, and despite hating the idea of my parents giving me a diaper change, I needed one and it was only going to get worse.  Letting some of it out had temporarily reduced my need to completely void my bowels, but it wasn’t over.  

I felt like every crack and bump in the road was cut specifically to agitate the mess in my pants and also aggravate my stomach.  By the time we were halfway home, the pressure was building again, and I willed myself to hold on just for a little longer.  Even though Mom didn’t seem to care, I was being suffocated by the stench of my dirty diaper, and I had no desire to increase it while trapped inside this vehicle.

Pulling into the driveway, it started happening again, that same biological force pushing downwards towards my anus, and once the car was in park, I freed myself from its confines and sprinted towards the front door.  The eruption initiated while I burst into the house, and safely within my own walls, I braced myself against the kitchen counter to accept my fate. 

This time, I couldn’t limit the flow even if I had wanted to, and a complete mudslide exploded throughout my diaper.  The first wave spread sideways across both of my butt cheeks and forward between my legs, but it still wasn’t done.  A few whimpers and grunts resonated from my throat as I voluntarily pushed more poop out, just wanting the discomfort in my stomach to go away now.  

The weight of this second surge pulled my diaper towards the floor, opening up space for more of the squelching mush to continue moving forwards, and I shuddered at the sensation of it flooding over my sack.  A final, wet plop followed by the burble of a swampy fart announced that I was finished with my babyish deed, and I was too shocked and disgusted to think.

“Little sister stinky!” 

I nearly jumped at the noise, and turned around to see Brandon’s snickering face and Dad sitting on the sofa, both having watched my whole accident with a front-row seat.  The scene quickly blurred from the tears filling my eyes, but my humiliation changed directly to fear when I heard another voice.

“Bailey Bunny,” Mom called loudly, marching into the house, “What did I tell you about not running off?”

“B-but we’re home.” I blubbered.

“I don’t remember that being an exception, now what was the consequence that I said?”

I remembered it clearly, but could barely get the words out.

“That you-That you would.” Was as far as I got before I was crying too hard to speak.  I’m already a baby girl in a full diaper, how much worse does she want to make this for me?

“That I would get you a backpack with a toddler leash, that’s what I said.  It doesn’t matter that we were home, baby girls can’t be running off in any circumstance, OK?  Getting out of the car on your own or walking out of sight of your parents is a privilege reserved for big kids, not little ones who are still in diapers.”

Through my tears, I saw Dad approaching from the living room, and I was surprised to hear him offer a different solution.

“Maybe we can try something else for now.  Since Baby Bunny only got out of the car without permission, why don’t we start with turning the child lock on for her car door?”

He then leaned in closely and whispered something to Mom, to which she responded with an understanding look that turned into a smile.

“Well, aren’t you a lucky girl,” She said, returning her attention to me. “Daddy has a different idea, but don’t go running away again or I will follow through with the leash.”

Now it was Dad’s turn, “Since you thought that you were big enough to go toddling off without permission, you’re going to practice crawling for us.  Five laps around the living room while we unload the car.  Brandon?”

“Over here!” He called, still intently watching the development of my humiliation.

“I need you to count for your baby sister.  She will be crawling around the room, and every time she passes this chair, you count up one.  Can you do that?”

“Mmm Hmm.” He replied, nodding with glee.

“Ok then, Bailey Bunny.  No more walking for now.”

“Wait a moment.” Mom interrupted, “I’m going to take her clothes off for this.  It would be a shame if she wore holes in her tights or nightie, or even worse, her diaper leaked on them.”

“You’re not going to change me first?” I asked.  I didn’t care how ridiculous it sounded to ask for a diaper change, I wanted to be clean more than anything.

“Nope.” She answered, pulling the nightgown off. “Babies don’t always get changed as soon as they dirty their diapers, and it will be good for you to get used to that.  Remember, this is only diaper number one out of 179 more.”

My tears dripped to the floor as Mom unfastened my sandals and began working the tights down past my diaper.

“Ewww!” Brandon yelled, pointing at my backside.

I couldn’t see it, but a similar reaction from Dad told me all I needed to know, and I hung my head in shame.

“Yep, your baby sister really had to go poopy.” She said, giving a firm pat to my messy crotch, “I didn’t know pink could turn that shade of brown.”

Seconds later, she was lifting my legs to completely remove the tights, leaving me standing there in just a fully used diaper, and that’s when I noticed the front door had been left open the entire time.

“Alright, you can get started crawling then,” Dad directed, “The longer you spend doing this, the longer it will take for you to get your diaper change.

I fell to my hands and knees, eager to get out of sight of the door, but I had only crawled forward a yard when the mess in my pants shifted.  The crawling motion combined with my new body position squished everything forward, fully coating my dick and the entire front of the diaper with semi-solid waste.  I made it behind the couch before pausing, and making the mistake of looking backwards to see my diaper excessively drooping from the weight of my first poo as a baby girl. 

The visual details of the diaper taped to me provided the motivation I needed to keep crawling.  I tried to move gently to reduce the diaper’s sloshing between my legs, but even the most careful efforts didn’t make the next “step” any easier.  I didn’t dare make eye contact with Brandon when I passed him on the front side of the sofa, but I heard him easily enough when I passed by my starting point.

“One!” He yelled, jumping in place on his chosen cushion.

I kept up the energy, but my lower position and deeper breaths made the scent of my dirty diaper sickeningly potent, and even Brandon had his nose plugged when he proudly announced that the second lap of my punishment was complete.

Dad and Mom kept coming in and out of the house, and the pile upon the kitchen table had grown considerably since my last lap around the room.  Mom had taken something over to the sink and Dad was going out for more stuff before the sofa obscured my view, and even worse, it felt like an aftershock was approaching deep in my stomach.

I rounded the halfway point of my second lap and I felt that maybe I could hold it this time.  I already emptied myself out, so this is probably just a bit of gas. 

“Three!”

By the time I finished that third lap, not only were my knees getting sore, but all of the physical activity had renewed my stomach aches and I knew a messy pitstop would be imminent.  Not risking doing it in the center of the living room, I stopped behind the sofa and simply let it happen. 

Not much came out, but the noise that accompanied it would have anyone believing otherwise.  A trumpeting toot bounced off the walls, and it began and ended with the unmistakable, sputtering indications of a baby doing what babies do best.  

My accident was still echoing when the noise was replaced by Brandon laughing like he had just seen the funniest thing in his life. 

“He’s going poopy again!” He said between giggles, one hand still plugging his nose.

“She, Dear.” Mom corrected from the kitchen. “You have a little sister now, Brandon, so try to remember that she’s a girl.  And yes, that’s why Baby Bunny needs those diapers.”

I returned to my task if only to distract myself from the torture of listening to that conversation.  I was beyond uncomfortable, but my finish line was growing closer with the completion of the fourth lap, and after counting on his fingers for a second, Brandon announced, 

“Four!”

Time dragged on as I plowed ahead.  I didn’t know how long I had been down here for, but it was long enough to reevaluate whether crawling like a baby in a full diaper was better or worse than a child leash.  I don’t think I can get more babyish from here, but at least the leash permits me to walk, and if I’m going to be stuck in diapers, I would rather be a toddler than a complete baby.

Of course, my preference here was irrelevant, but the comparison occupied my thoughts long enough to block out reality until I finally crossed the finish line.  I paused to catch my breath, and Dad had thankfully closed the front door so I could rest knowing that at least only my family could see me like this.

“Bailey Bunny, who said you could stop?” Dad asked sternly.

“What do you mean, I’m done.” I protested back.

“I didn’t hear it from Brandon, so keep moving.”

Meanwhile, he was looking at his fingers again and asked, “What comes after four?”

“Are you kidding me, it’s f-”

He leapt between us, playfully waving his arms and making alarm noises, successfully preventing Brandon from hearing me.  

“It’s Brandon’s job to count.  It’s your job to crawl.  I’m going to trust that he knows more about counting since he’s old enough to be wearing big kid underwear and not a baby diaper.  Besides, if you could tell one number from another, you would probably be up in your room right now wearing a blue diaper instead of down here in a pink one.”  

That last dagger left me speechless, and I hung my head, but before I could start moving again, Mom appeared beside me.

“You’ve been a very talkative baby today, but I think we need to practice quiet time now.”

Confused, I turned my head up at her, only to see the nipple of a purple, glittery pacifier staring me in the face.  I reflexively pulled away from it and locked my lips, but she only moved it closer.

“This is going to be your baby girl pacifier as long as you’re in diapers.  Every baby needs a pacifier, and this one will stay in your mouth whenever Mommy or Daddy puts it there.  Please don’t be difficult, I doubt you want another spanking right now.”

That was most certainly true, and I reluctantly relaxed my body towards the soother knowing what was at stake.  For such a small item, it made me extraordinarily nervous, and my bottom lip quivered as I opened it to accept the nipple.  

A tiny mewl reverberated across my lips as soon as the pacifier touched them, followed by the bulb pushing my tongue down and seemingly slipping into my mouth by itself.  The plastic butterfly wings on the shield formed a perfect seal out to my warming cheeks, effectively silencing me while also existing as an obvious billboard of my new status.

“Five!” Brandon yelled from the couch, better late than never.

Keeping one finger on the pacifier, Mom leaned in close, and whispered,

“You know, nobody is going to force you to keep being a baby if you’ve had enough.  If you want, you can go clean yourself up, call the police, and tell them the whole story.  I’ll even return everything I just bought.  Or, if you’re content with what you chose, come with Mommy and I’ll change your diaper.”

Taking her finger off the pacifier, she held out her hand to me to help me up.  This might be a difficult decision for some people, but even with all of the humiliation I suffered today, it still wasn’t as terrible as how I imagine jail would be.  At least I’m home and safe from everything other than embarrassment, and I hate to admit it, but I really didn’t want to tackle this diaper change solo.  

Even with a helping hand, there was no way to stand up without further disturbing the mess in my diaper.  Feeling it squish around caused me to hiss, involuntarily sucking the pacifier tight against my lips.  It wasn’t uncomfortable and the nipple fit my mouth surprisingly well, but any time my eyes were open, I could easily see the sparkles of purple glitter in the bottom half of my vision.

With me in tow, Mom made a quick detour to the table to collect a few of the shopping bags before moving to the stairs.  I waddled behind her as best as I could, and deliberately made wide steps up the staircase to avoid squeezing my full diaper.

“Her butt’s jiggling!” Brandon observed, still laughing like crazy.

“Now now, that’s not her butt, it’s her messy diaper.  And I remember a certain boy walking around in just the same way not too long ago, so don’t tease your sister.”

“Nuh uh! Not me!” He countered, still giggling.

Mom and I were just about at the top of the stairs so I couldn’t hear what Dad said next, and despite the topic of their conversation, it was a helpful distraction from the reality that I was a minute away from having my dirty diaper changed like any baby.  I desperately wanted to be clean again, but I had seen enough of Brandon’s diaper changes to be terrified by thought that it’s now my turn to be the stinky toddler getting pooped wiped off his butt.

“OK Bailey Bunny, here we go.”

Just like earlier, Mom led me into Brandon’s room, but it wasn’t the same as only a few hours ago.  The most obvious change was my bed now being in this room, and Brandon’s dresser had been cleared off and moved up against the changing table on the short end.  Beside it, a stack of nine pink diaper packages grew out of the floor, visible from almost anywhere in the room.  

“Looks like Daddy’s been busy.  He’s smart to move the dresser over since you’re a little big for the changing table alone.  At least there’s enough space to keep your stinky butt on the protected part, and he even stocked it up already.”

I took a closer look to see what she meant, and the drawer that used to hold smaller diapers like Luvs or Pampers now contained rows of my very own Junior Diapers for girls.  

“Sit on the table for a minute, Baby Bunny.” Mom commanded, pulling out a step stool.

I looked at it and hesitated.  Part of me was scared to take the final step towards my babyish future, and the other part just didn’t want to sit down on the package I was carrying behind me.

“It’ll be alright.” She comforted, grabbing my hand again. “I know it’s not fun to be dirty, but just let Mommy take care of it.  I don’t care how messy you are.”

Her gentle, pleading eyes bored straight through my best attempt at an emotional barrier, and for the first time in this nightmare of a day, those were the first words that truly calmed me down.  Following her lead, I toddled up the short steps and slowly lowered my bottom down onto the tabletop, trying not to grimace from the disgusting mass creeping up my backside.

“There you go.  It’s icky and I’m sorry, but I have an important job for you that might help.” 

Unexpectedly, she produced a new, folded diaper and laid it on top of my hand until I held it on my own.

“This is the diaper I’m going to change you into.  I need you to keep both hands on it and make sure it stays clean for a few minutes.  That means holding it up by your chest, not down where Mommy’s trying to wipe you, OK?  Just hang onto your diaper and suck on your pacifier, don’t be fussy.

I took the diaper in both hands as instructed and held it like an explosive that might detonate if I moved it too much.  I had been wearing one for a good portion of the day now, but this was the first time I got to feel the crinkly, smooth plastic exterior with my fingers.  I liked it and it would feel comfortingly babyish if Mom wasn’t swinging both of my legs up on top of the diaper changing table at the same time.

I actually fit somewhat well on it, with only my feet and ankles hanging off one end while my head was laid down atop a pillow with a plastic case on the adjacent dresser.  My first dirty diaper change was happening, and I covered my burning face with the fresh one as I felt Mom’s fingers touch my waist.

I thought I was prepared, but the next thing I heard was two loud rips, I felt cool air on my soiled private parts, and I heard a single comment that brought tears to my eyes yet again. 

“Oh, Honey Bunny…”

I knew that tone.  It was exactly how she sounded when changing some of Brandon’s especially destroyed diapers, and it cut right to my core since I was now the helpless infant who had dirtied himself to such a degree.

Next, both of my legs were lifted high into the air, exposing the entirety of my filthy butt as it lifted away from the pooped diaper with a disgusting sound.  Pulling it out, Mom dragged the rear waistband of the diaper between my cheeks to wipe away the larger bits, and I reflexively twitched and fidgeted from the sensation.

“Hold still now Stinky Butt.  Just lay back and let Mommy take care of this.” She directed, bringing the first wet wipe to my bottom to begin the worst of the cleanup.

I froze like I was a statue, carved in this awkward position, and only capable of whimpering from the cold touch of the wipe on my skin.  

“Yep, keep holding your diaper, and think about how in just a few hours, that one’s going to be as full and stinky as the one I’m changing.  Soon enough, you will feel the need to go potty and poopy again, you’ll let it out right in that diaper, and you’ll be back here on the changing table to do it all over.”

Enduring this diaper change was difficult enough, and her commentary wasn’t helping one bit.  I had closed my eyes to shut it out, but her words were already sprouting into images in my head, and I visualized the clean diaper growing warm and full before overflowing across my hands.  I forced my eyes open to exit that scene, only for Mom to start spinning an even worse one. 

“Or maybe downstairs like earlier, but it won’t feel any different from your position.  Either Mommy or Daddy will check your diaper, and then decide where’s best to change our baby girl.  Who knows?  Maybe we’ll be out at a store like today, and you’ll want to show everyone around us how much of a big baby you can be in your diaper.  Then you can lie down on the changing station in the ladies room while I wipe your poopy butt, just like this.” 

I was almost grateful for the pacifier because it actually helped muffle the noises of me crying once again.  I tried again to imagine that I was anywhere else in the world, but I could only think of being changed in various locations and quickly shook those thoughts away, just in time for a new shock to grip my attention when a baby wipe slid over my balls. 

I shivered and suckled on the pacifier as my only comfort, realizing that I had fallen into a rhythm of it bobbing against my lips.  It was entirely automatic, and something about the nipple on my tongue provided the distraction I was looking for, but also an inexplicable calming sensation as Mom finished the worst part of the diaper change.

“But you know what the cutest part of all of this is?” She asked rhetorically, opening a cap on something.  I was familiar with this step, and I braced myself for both Mom’s answer to her own question and for a glob of protective cream to be spread all over my butt and crotch.  

“The cutest thing is that you wanted this.  You could have ordered anything if you wanted to feel like a baby: pacifiers, rattles, a baby blanket, a bottle, or an outfit.  But you chose diapers, even though you know what they’re used for.  And I don’t believe that you were going to use up a whole pack just wearing them like underwear until they fell apart.  You were going to try to go potty in them, weren’t you?”

She gently plucked the new diaper from my hands, and her hard gaze told me that she was expecting me to answer this one.  I wasn’t sure about poop, but I had definitely planned on wearing some of the diapers to bed and wetting them.  Without the diaper to block my view, I mistakenly looked her in the eye, and my resolve crumbled under the weight of her patient stare.

With more tears accumulating beneath my head on the plastic surface of the pillow, I nodded yes. 

“Aw, well I suppose it’s good that things worked out how they did then.  Who would have changed you otherwise?  I’ve never known a baby to change their own dirty diapers.  And keep your hands down now, Sweetie.”

With my legs still up in the air and hands on the table, she positioned the diaper below me, and the soft, plastic frills of the waistband tickled my skin in a surprisingly delightful way. 

She’s right.  I’m actually being put back in diapers.  Yeah, they’re not the color I wanted, but still.  The only problem is it’s a lot less fun when you can’t turn it off. 

“Of course, we would have found out pretty soon though.  All Mommies and Daddies know the smell of whenever one of their kiddos needs changing, and it lingers.  Don’t you think it would’ve been obvious if your room started to smell like a nursery minus the nicer scents?”

She accented the last bit with a flourish of baby powder sprinkled from my belly button to my butt, and I blushed in shame.  I hadn’t even thought of that.  I still believed that my plan was great if things had gone right, but knowing that I was doomed from the started crushed me, and buried in the sweet perfume of the powder, I truly felt like I wasn’t as grown-up as I had thought.  

The diaper change was nearing completion, and for the second time today, the softness of a diaper was being folded over my groin.  Pulling the sides over, Mom commented, 

“Look at you go on your binky! It looks like a little butterfly flapping its wings.” 

Just then, I realized how openly I had been sucking on the pacifier and I bit down on it to stop.  A moment later, I felt the diaper tightening around my left leg as Mom fastened the first tape, and I whined into the pacifier bulb.  My tongue found the magic spot on the nipple and the pacifier was bouncing in my mouth yet again like it was possessed.

The other side of the diaper grew tighter and Mom must have seen me looking down at the pacifier shield, because I heard her chuckle, then say, 

“I think you might still have your suckling reflex.” She said, balling up my messy diaper, dropping it into the pail, and rubbing sanitizer into her hands.  “Most people lose it after infancy, but it doesn’t look like you did.”

She must have called it accurately, because simply willing my mouth to stop wasn’t doing much, and it didn’t help that every few seconds there was something to break my concentration.  As I was occupied with the pacifier, Mom had started massaging a mound of pink lotion into my chest and tummy, which enveloped me in a soft aroma that finally chased away the odor of my dirty diaper.  

“There we go, baby girls need to smell sweet and clean”, she said, working her hands closer to my armpits, and in one quick motion, she scooped me up and rotated my legs into a seated position on the edge of the table.  

“All done.  Now was that so bad?” She asked, checking that the leak guards were in position on each side.

It kinda was.  In a vacuum, I was happy to be in a clean diaper, but I dreaded to think about how this was going to repeat every time I needed to do my business.  Every time, I would be laid down with the same respect to privacy that a one year-old baby would get, unable to even use a training potty or wipe myself, for the whole summer. 

And I brought this all upon myself. 

My lower lip began to tremble behind the pacifier as I realized that I was out of excuses or deflections.  This was all my fault, from the stupid plan, to panicking and screwing up the whole order.  Worst of all, I could no longer ignore the fact that I chose my future of dirty diapers and girly clothes because I was too scared to accept real punishment, and baby treatment is exactly what someone like that deserves.   

In a surge of emotion, I reached out towards Mom, and almost like she was expecting it, she wrapped me up in a tight hug.

“Oh, Kiddo.  I know this isn’t what you were expecting for your first few months in a new place, and I can’t say that I wasn’t expecting to be changing diapers again.  But big or small, boy or girl, you’re always going to be my baby, and I’m going to be here to take care of you every step of the way.”

I cried into her shoulder, glad to hear her soothing words and even comforted by the way she was still talking to me like she would talk to Brandon when he’s sad or upset.  

“Can you let me dress you?” She asked, rummaging around in one of the shopping bags. “I don’t think you want to walk around in just your diaper.”

“Mmm hmm.” I mumbled into the pacifier with a nod, releasing my hold on her and noticing a wet spot on her shirt from where my tears had landed.

“Ok, arms up, Sweetie.”

I couldn’t see what she had, but I let her guide my arms skyward, fit sleeves around both of my wrists, and pull the pink fabric over my body.  I noticed the print of a popular cat character through the light material, and I actually felt happy to be clothed again, even with a childish outfit.

“There we go.” She said, adjusting the shirt down my body and pulling off a tag. “All set, now let’s go back downstairs so you can play.

“That’s it?” I asked around the rubber nipple, seeing that the shirt only covered half of my butt.

“It’s warm, so you will be fine in just a shirt.  And Mommy and Daddy need to keep an eye on your diaper so you don’t get a rash.” 

I tried not to whine again, then Mom pulled me into another hug and whispered in my ear,

“If you can make it through this behaving like a good little baby, maybe we can finish with a pack of those blue diapers you wanted and a cute baby boy outfit for you.”

I was stunned, and not knowing how to respond, I just hugged her back, refreshing the damp spot on her shoulder.  Mom would do that for me, despite what I did.  Mommy even bought me all-new clothes today, and they might not be what I would like to wear, but I should at least be a little grateful considering the circumstances.  

“Don’t cry, Baby Bunny,” Mom consoled, patting my back. “I know you love your diapers, I know you love your binky, and I think you’re going to love being our precious baby girl.  Now don’t let go, Mommy’s going to take you back downstairs.”

I held on tightly to her, and with a crinkle of my diaper, Mom repositioned her hands beneath my bottom and hoisted me into the air.  As we started moving, I shut my eyes and tried to take in as much of this as I could, suckling on my pacifier and wiggling my suspended feet.  Mom’s strong arms held me safely while she carried me down the stairs diaper-first, and my entrance to the living room was thankfully without fanfare.

“Down we go, Little One.” Mom said before lowering me onto the sofa.  I let go, but quickly wanted something else to hold, and I tried my best to ask, 

“Mommy, do you know where my stuffy is?”

What the two of us heard was an incomprehensible mess, and Mommy gently took my pacifier out and asked me if I could repeat myself.

“I want my stuffy, Mommy.  Do you know where he is?”

“I’ll go look for him”, she replied with a smile, leaving me to watch one of Brandon’s cartoons that was already playing.

“All fresh and clean?” Dad called, coming out of the kitchen with two full sippy cups.  

“Smelling sweet as flowers.” She answered, “Where’s Brandon?”

The sound of a toilet flushing answered that question, and after a moment of sink noises, my brother emerged from the bathroom looking proud as can be.  I was too embarrassed to look at him more, knowing that got to use the toilet by himself while I was getting my diaper changed, but I heard him retake his spot on the other end of the sofa.

“Here you go, Kids” Dad said, holding a sippy cup towards each of us.  Brandon had his favorite one that was decorated with pictures of construction equipment, but the sippy offered to me was pink with colorful ponies on it.

I accepted the drink of what appeared to be apple juice, but I didn’t know that it had been warmed until I took a sip.  The same as with the pacifier, my mouth acted on its own to draw the sweet juice from my new cup, and I had to physically pull it away to stop.

“Here you go, Bailey Bun.” Mom said, touching my shoulder.  I turned to see my stuffy above me, and I enthusiastically reached out for him.   

“Thanks, Mommy.” I said, giving my puppy a squeeze.

“And what do we say for the juice?” She asked.

“Thanks, Daddy.” I added, and so did Brandon after a burp.

“Such polite children we have,” he said with a grin, “I hope you like dinner as much as that juice, it’s on in an hour.” 

With my stuffy and my drink, I snuggled down into the corner of the couch and watched what was on the TV.  It was a show about animal kids at school, and I had seen some of it before, but I never really paid much attention to it.  I finished my juice over the next few minutes, and I fell into such a steady rhythm that I caught myself sucking down air, too distracted by the TV to notice.

Mom must have noticed though, because she came over to collect my sippy cup, and as she was grabbing it with one hand, she reached down and clipped something to the neck of my shirt.

“There’s your pacifier back, Baby Bun.  It’s there if you want it and the clip will make sure it doesn’t get lost.”

“Thanks.” I said softly, looking down at the pacifier dangling below my neck like it was some cursed talisman.  Possibly even more than diapers, it’s an undeniable symbol of babyhood, and its oddly soothing properties were calling to me.  

An episode of the cartoon passed, and I even giggled along with Brandon at some of the jokes in it.  I had been fidgeting with the pacifier for a little while, and I continued to do so through most of the next episode until another feeling started occupying some of my focus: the early signals of a filling bladder. 

Already?  No way the juice went through me that fast, but when was the last time I peed?  My last accident, if I can even call it that now, happened so fast that I don’t know if I wet all, and before that, I had leaked during my spanking.  Other than those, I haven’t had a proper pee since before all the diapers showed up.  Before my diapers showed up. 

Without turning my head, I took in my surroundings to gauge how much privacy I was going to have while doing this.  Brandon was still happily attached to the TV, and both Mom and Dad were in the kitchen preparing dinner, leaving me as good of window as I would get to relieve myself out of sight.

I scrunched up my legs onto the couch cushion and pulled the stuffy close to my face to block out everything else.  Strangely enough, this is going to be the third time I use my diaper today, but only the first time that I do it voluntarily.  

Maybe I should be in diapers.  I couldn’t even make it inside to the bathroom before losing control.  

The sounds from the TV faded away while I concentrated on peeing my pants.  I envisioned that I was in the bathroom, sitting on the toilet like I was this morning, a totally normal scenario for anyone older than four.  

That was the last opportunity I’ll have to use the toilet for months.  By September, what if I’m imagining wetting my diaper to help myself go pee on the potty? 

I relaxed, feeling the urge building closer to the point of no return, and without thinking, I clutched the pacifier and moved it into my mouth.  The sensation of the teat on my tongue started up my motor immediately, and the dummy danced around my lips in response.  I made one last adjustment to my seating position, and the smooth plastic of my diaper tickled the insides of my thighs just enough to break the seal. 

Even though I was expecting it, I reflexively attempted to stop the hot rush of pee as soon as it began, but my body had already decided differently.  I pulled my stuffy in tighter and the suckling sped up while a flood of urine splashed between my legs.  The initial shock of it frightened me, and I was worried about leaking on the couch, but the feeling of my thirsty diaper expanding around me provided a comforting reminder that it wasn’t my concern anymore. 

I’m a baby girl now, and this is what babies do.  I don’t use a toilet anymore and I trust Mommy did a good job putting my diaper on.

As quickly as it started, the stream sputtered out, and I wriggled in place while the last drops of pee were absorbed into my diaper.  I looked down at it, but despite the damp feeling all through my groin, there was hardly a visible spot of wetness on the outside layer.  A soft touch on my arm snapped me out   of my trance, and I turned my head to see Mommy smiling down at me.

“All done going potty?” She asked, gently massaging my arm.

My cheeks swelled with embarrassment, but I couldn’t look away nor answer her, and she laughed to herself before continuing, 

“Mommies always know,” she stated, sliding her other hand down my chest and onto my diaper, giving it a squeeze.

“That will hold until bedtime, but before that, do you want to put some yum-yums in your tum-tum?”

Behind the pacifier shield, I smiled and gave her a nod yes.  I hadn’t even dismounted the sofa yet when she circled around the side and took my hand to help me to the table, still wearing the same motherly smile.

I could tell that my droopy diaper was warmer as I waddled towards the dining room, but I hardly cared.  I really am a baby girl now, and maybe being cared for like one won’t be so bad.  This might not be exactly what I had in mind when I placed that order for diapers, but I get to be a baby again.  Sure, the colors aren’t quite my favorite, but who has to know?  If Mommy and Daddy are willing to give me this option, I would be silly not to take it, and besides, it’s just for the summer, right?