CHAPTER FOUR: GOING OUT DRESSED LIKE THIS
I woke up, lying in a puddle. I was soaking wet and my diaper had leaked. I sighed and then tried to sit up. Since it was light, I could see how the mechanism on the rail of the crib worked. However, I couldn’t get my fingers around the latch. “Damn casts,” I muttered. I looked around. There was a clock on the wall over the door. “Eight-thirty.” I hoped the clock was right. “Violet,” I called.
Nothing. I did hear some stirring in the next room, but it didn’t sound like they were coming into my bedroom or rather nursery. I looked down at the diaper. It swelled to become three times as thick and the white looked yellowish and grainy. The blue stripes were missing except for at the top of my waist. My t-shirt was wet around the bottom and up my back. I was uncomfortable.
“Violet,” I called again. “I am uncomfortable.”
Violet entered the room from the other room. She was only wearing a robe. “You don’t have to yell. I can hear you over the baby monitor. Besides, babies yell out mommy or cry.”
“I am not calling you mommy,” I said.
“Then you can sit in the wet diaper until I decide to come in on my own or you can cry.” She turned and left.
I sat there, but I was stubborn. I wasn’t going to call that woman mommy. After sitting in the wet diaper for about twenty minutes, I noticed how cold and clammy it was. I finally gave in and started to cry like a baby. “Wah, wah,” I said into the baby monitor. “Wah, wah.”
Violet entered the room again. This time she was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. She smiled.
“Wah, wah,” I said.
“That cry doesn’t sound too convincing.”
“This is the best you are going to get,” I said.
“Well, it’s a start.” She lowered the crib rail and helped me out. “It looks like you need some clothes, Baby Beth.” She looked into the crib and saw the wet spot. “And better diapers. Never fear about that. I found a medical supply store on Google. We can go there after your bath.” Oh great. I was going to get better diapers, so this meant I was stuck with them.
I needed a bath, so I didn’t argue. Followed her to the bathroom and stood there and let her do what she wanted to me. She first put the bread bags on my casts and pulled off my diaper and t-shirt. Then she sat me down in the tub.
“So how long are you going to treat me like a baby?” I asked.
“As long as you are staying with us,” she said, “unless you want to work as a maid and keep the house spotless? Until those casts come off though, you will not make an effective maid and I will let your probation officer know how badly you work. So which is it: be my baby or my maid?”
I didn’t relish the idea of wearing diapers and sleeping in a crib, but I liked the idea less of cleaning the house. When I lived with Peter, I was effectively a maid and I got beaten a lot. I would hate that. At least as a baby, I wasn’t beaten. “I’ll be your baby, then,” I said.
She started to scrub me and then stopped. “I almost forgot,” she said. She turned and opened that bathroom cabinet and pulled out a rubber duck and a toy boat. “I have bath toys.” She put them in the water and started scrubbing me. I ignored the toys and concentrated on where she was rubbing me with the wash cloth.
“Play with the toys,” she said.
I waved my bread bag covered hands at her. “I can’t really hold onto things.” She gave me her disappointed look, so I added. “Much like a real baby, I can’t hold stuff.”
That seemed to satisfy her. “Well, thanks for accepting this. I know I originally wanted you as a maid because I haven’t been able to keep up the house since the accident. I just lay in bed all day since I was so depressed. Treating you like a baby is better than having a maid. I have to get out of bed to care for you and a maid would just let me sleep in and clean rooms I would never look at.” She rubbed shampoo in my short, fuzzy hair and then rinsed it out by pouring water on my head from a Tupperware pitcher. I remember my mother did that when I was little.
“I will try to be your baby then. It is the least I can do.” I didn’t mind wetting the diaper that much. I was being a brat last night, but I was embarrassed.
She drained the tub and told me to stand up. I did and she dried me off and then brushed my hair. “I wish your hair was longer. I would put pigtails in it,” she said.
“No way,” I said. “I am not wearing pig tails.”
“Well lie down, so I can get your diaper on you.”
I lay down on the floor. I felt stupid as she diapered me. She had me lift up my butt and she slid the clean diaper under me. Then I felt something cold and slimy against my butt. I sat up and batted at her with my right arm. “What was that?” I asked.
She held up a plastic jar for me to read. “It’s Desitin. It’s for diaper rash. Going to bed with a full bladder was not a good idea and you are starting to get a bit red.” She pushed me back down. “Now let me finish diapering you.” She rubbed the slimy cream on my butt and then sprinkled powder on me before taping me in my diaper. I smelled like a baby.
She pulled me to my feet. “You don’t have your own clothes, so you will have to wear mine today,” she said. She took me by the arm into her bedroom. I had never seen it before. There was a queen-sized bed with throw pillows and shams all over it like you would see in a catalogue for bedding. There was a large dresser with a mirror and a chest of drawers. There were also two large walk-in closets. She first opened the dresser and pulled out a t-shirt. It was red with pink hearts on it. It was also a short baby doll shirt. “Lift your arms.”
I did and she pulled the shirt on me. “There you go,” she said as she pulled in on. The shirt barely covered the top of my diaper. I sighed. At least no one would see my diaper in the house except her. By the time I looked up again, she had a pair of blue jeans. With her help I stepped into them. She was a larger size than I, but the diaper made me need that much room.
I spun around in front of the room and couldn’t see the diaper, but there was an obvious bulge. I was not happy about that. The shirt came an inch or two below the waist of the jeans. At least I had that working for me. There was something missing though. “Shouldn’t I wear a bra?” I asked.
“You don’t need a bra,” she said.
I looked down at my chest and sighed. The shirt was fitted, so I could see the shape of my breasts in the mirror, but they weren’t really ample. I sighed. With a bra, I looked like I had bigger breasts.
“Sit down and I will find you some shoes,” she said. I sat down on a cedar chest at the end of the bed and sighed. At least I was getting shoes. I wondered what happened to the Goodwill shoes from my duffle bag or even the scuffed dress shoes I wore to court. I bet they were both thrown away with my other clothes.
She returned with some sneakers. “I noticed you were size six,” she said. “I wore these once and then I got pregnant and my feet swelled to a size eight.” She put some blue socks on me and then pulled on the pink sneakers one by one and tied them. “Walk around then.”
I stood up and took a few steps. “They fit great. Thank you.”
“Well, don’t thank me yet. We need to go to the store to get you suitable clothes. You can’t wear my clothes all the time.”
I looked down at my crotch. The bulge was staring back at me. “Um,” I said. “Can you please get me baggy pants at the store?”
“You can come with me shopping to get them,” she said.
“But everyone will see I am diapered,” I said.
“So what? Babies don’t worry about someone seeing them diapered.”
“But people expect to see a diaper on a baby, not a twenty-two year old woman,” I said.
“No one will notice anyway,” she said. “No one said anything when I wore diapers when I was pregnant. If someone says anything, we’ll just give them a cover story.” She picked up a bag and put it on my shoulder and took me by the arm toward the garage.
“What’s with the big bag?” I asked.
“It’s your diaper bag in case you need a change while we are out.”
“But,” I started. She wouldn’t listen to me. I prepared for an embarrassing day as we went to the garage and put me in the passenger seat of her Volvo.
She didn’t drive directly to the mall. Instead she drove out by the hospitals which were across the freeway from the courthouse. She pulled into the parking lot of a small store and came around to let me out of the car. The place said Sander’s Medical Supply.
“What are we getting here?” I asked.
“It would be in your best interest to remain quiet when we are in here and let me do all the talking.” She opened the door and we went in.
Inside there were rows of wheel chairs, oxygen tanks, hospital beds, and angry rows of shelves that went into the dark recesses of the store. One section said catheters. I knew what those were from the hospital. I shivered. I never wanted to experience a catheter again.
“May I help you ladies?” an older woman asked. She wore light blue smocks. She smiled at Violet.
“Yes,” Violet said. “I need some adult diapers for my niece here.” She put her hand on my shoulder. “We’ve been using Depends and they don’t hold up to her wettings well.”
I wanted to disappear into the floor. I wished it would have swallowed me up so I would be here to face the embarrassment.
“Carlos,” the older woman called. A handsome man appeared. He looked like he was about twenty-four. He was strong and handsome and his biceps seemed barely contained by the sleeves of his smock. I was in love. I forgot about being in diapers I wanted him to hold me in his arms. He looked almost like Brad Pitt and...
Violet rubbed a Kleenex across my mouth. “You are drooling again Beth.” I was mortified.
Carlos smiled at me. “How are you doing?”
Violet turned toward Carlos. “She was in a car accident a few months ago and suffered a head injury.” She parted my hair and showed them the scar from my stitches. “She suffered some brain damage and we need adult diapers for her.”
His smile disappeared. I purposely let out some more drool, but I was upset. He looked like he was interested in me until he heard I was brain damaged and needed diapers. I knew why Violet lied to him. It would be silly to tell them I agreed to be her baby to make up for the real baby she lost when my boyfriend stole my car.
The old lady took a measuring tape and put it around my hips. I backed up and clung to Violet’s arm like a scared toddler.
“It’s all right,” said Violet. “She is just going to measure you.”
I let myself be measured, but I hated what I was being measured for. As soon as she had a number she turned to Carlos. “Please bring two cases of medium-sized Tranquility ATN Briefs.”
He disappeared. I wanted to ask her what ATN stood for, but that would blow my cover as a retard. I clung to Violet instead.
“She is actually between small and medium, but I find that the larger size absorbs a bit more,” the lady said. “We do have individual diapers if you want to change her into one now and see how it fits.”
“That sound like a good idea,” said Violet. The woman reached under the counter and handed her a diaper that looked huge next to the Depends she had on.
“Let’s get you changed, Beth,” she said.
I was embarrassed enough and now she was going to change me in front of all these people. I got on the floor and closed my eyes.
To my surprise, Violet pulled me to my feet. “Not here, Beth. I am sure this nice lady has somewhere private we can change.” She turned toward the lady again. “We change her on the floor at home, so I guess that is why she did that.”
“I understand,” said the lady. “You can go to the bathroom through there.” She pointed to a hall. “There are adult sized changing tables in there.”
I felt relieved. Carlos came down the stairs from the upper tiers of shelves carrying the two cases of diapers. Violet pulled me down the hall to the bathroom.
It was a normal bathroom, but there was a counter in one corner with padding like someone laid a mat that kindergarteners took naps on on top of it. I laid on the mat and Violet started undoing my pants and then she took my diaper off. I had to pee a bit and felt like letting go like a real baby would, but I decided not to. She had tried to minimize my embarrassment in what was supposed to be an embarrassing transaction. She pulled the new diaper on me and taped it up.
“There are only four tapes,” I said. “That other diaper had six.”
“It’s a different brand,” she said. She taped the diaper in place and tried to pull my pants up. “Well it fits you. Stand up so I can get your pants pulled up.”
I stood and she tugged the pants up. This diaper was much thicker and she had trouble getting my zipper up and my pants buttoned. The bulge was a lot bigger. “I can’t go out like this,” I complained. “Can you get one of the spares from my diaper bag and change me into that?”
Violet shook her head. “We are shopping for clothes for you next. I only have the two Depends in your diaper bag left. You need clothes that fit over these diapers so you got to wear these.”
It made sense, but I was still going to be embarrassed. “Fine, but you need to change me into the new pants as soon as we buy the first outfit.”
“It’s a deal. Now no talking or they will know you are not really incontinent.” She led me back out into the showroom. “It fits her fine. It’s a little snug under her clothes, but at least she will keep her pants dry.”
Carlos gave me a weird look at my puffy crotch. I looked like I had a diaper on. How did I get into this? I still stared at him as Violet and the lady concluded their transaction. I pretended to be fascinated by his watch and grabbed at it so I could touch his hand. He frowned and then held me by the shoulders until Violet finished paying.
“What did the doctor’s say about the brain damage?” he asked.
“She’s just has the mind of a three year old,” said Violet. She took me by the upper arm. “We are hoping that she heals. The brain does rewire around damage, but the doctor said that might take years. She just needs a home right now and that is what I am trying to provide her. Her father is in prison and her mother died, so she just has me.”
“At least you are hopeful,” Carlos said. He leaned down and picked up the two cases of diapers and followed them to Violet’s Volvo. He put them both in the back and went back inside.
Violet helped me into the passenger seat and then got into the car. “What was that about you grabbing at the young man’s wrist?”
“You wanted me to act like a baby. I acted like a baby,” I said.
“You liked him,” she said.
“Duh,” I said. “However, I can’t ever date him because he thinks that I am retarded.”
“Not retarded. You are brain damaged from an accident.”
I shrugged. It’s not that it made much of a difference. I wasn’t going to be dating anyone soon. I still was healing from the injuries my last boyfriend gave me.
She drove me to the mall parking lot. The lot was packed with cars and I just knew that inside it would be equally busy. She came around to the other side of the car and opened the door for me. Then she went to the back of the car and opened one of the cases of diapers and put two in my diaper bag. She stuffed the two Depends in the case with the new diapers.
“Come on,” she said. “Let’s go shopping.”
I looked at my reflection in the car window and noticed how puffy my butt was. “Please, don’t make me go in dressed like this.”
She looked at me with a stern look. “I thought we had a deal. Besides, don’t you want something to wear that will cover your diapers?”
I frowned. I didn’t want to go in. I used to shop at this mall back when I was in college. I hadn’t been there in the three years I lived with Peter. I couldn’t shop when I was his kept woman. Perhaps I wouldn’t see anyone I knew. I shrugged and then let her take me by the arm above my cast and guide me into the mall.
It sure was crowded and I was nervous about anyone noticing that the big bulge inside my pants was a thick diaper. I was starting to need to pee as well. I hadn’t peed yet when I woke up since I was used to holding it until I got to a toilet. That part of my life was skipped over in the rush to go shopping and I hadn’t thought of peeing. I was in the mall and had to pee and I knew the toilets were on the far side of the mall.
“We need to head to the restrooms,” I whispered. “I need to pee.”
“You are wearing your bathroom,” she said. “Babies don’t say they have to pee. They just pee. That’s why you are wearing a diaper.”
I sighed. “I’ll try to hold it until we get home.”
“Suit yourself,” she said.
We walked into the first store and she picked out some clothes for me. She held up various items to me and smiled. “This looks good,” she said.
“I can’t button that with these casts on,” I said.
“Nonsense,” she said. “I will help you.”
I had to pee more. I tried crossing my legs, but the diapers I wore were too thick and I could close my legs enough to do any good. I tried to pretend I was anywhere, but where I was.
“Can I help you ladies?” the sales person asked.
“Yes,” said Violet. “My niece here needs to try on some things. She broke her arms, so can I please accompany her into the fitting rooms to help her?”
“Well, we normally just want one at a time in the fitting rooms due to shoplifters, but I guess it will be okay since she can try on things herself.” The sales girl turned to me. “I bet that sucks. I broke my legs in June and had to be in a wheel chair for a month. I could still write and do schoolwork though.”
I didn’t answer. I was paying more attention to keeping my pants dry. However, Violet spoke for me. “She doesn’t talk.”
I felt some wetness leak from my vagina. I was going to wet myself. I held on tight. If I walked or took a step, I was going to have an accident.
“Right this way to the fitting room,” said the sales girl. I just stood there trying not to pee. Violet pulled me to follow and I stumbled a step and a big wet squirt came out. If I wasn’t wearing a diaper, there would have been a wet spot. “Come on,” she said and pulled me again.
I gasped and then the flood gates opened and I peed myself. I just looked down at myself. The pee wouldn’t stop until my bladder was empty no matter how hard I tried to clamp down. Finally, I was in a warm, wet diaper and managed to follow Violet to the fitting room.
As soon as the door was closed, she undid my pants and pulled them down. She put her hand in my diaper. “You wet, didn’t you?”
I didn’t say anything. I did push my diaper bag at her.
“No, you’re not wet enough for a change. Now lift up your arms and we’ll try these shirts.” I lifted my arms and let her try on about twelve shirts on me. Then she took off my shoes and had me try on the pants and skirts she picked out. She picked up some light blue plaid overalls and held them open near the floor. “Step in,” she said.
“I don’t like those,” I said.
“I do,” she said. “They will make you look so cute.”
I shrugged. “It’s just not my style,” I said.
She gave me that look: the look that said I was disappointing her. Still, I couldn’t cave that easily. “Doesn’t my opinion count?” I asked.
“Beth,” she said, “a baby can’t complain about what clothes she wears. Did you always complain about your clothing?”
I thought about it. The overalls did look stupid and I would be embarrassed to wear them in public, but I didn’t try to kid myself that they weren’t an improvement over silk negligees. I could wear these in public. Sure Violet controlled my life as much as Peter did, but at least she never beat me. I stepped into the overalls and she pulled them up.
“Now if only you had enough hair for pigtails you would be adorable,” she said and brushed the fuzziness on the side of my head.
I tried not to wince. “You are tugging my stitches,” I complained.
“Oh, sorry,” she said. She turned me toward the mirror and I looked at myself. The outfit made me look younger. The small boobs I had disappeared behind the bib of the overalls and the outfit did nothing to accentuate the curvature of my hips. My hair also looked like a baby’s. It was too short. Only the trim of the shirt suggested I was a girl. “Now you do look cute,” she said. “We do got to do something about that hair though. We’ll go to Claire’s next.”
I groaned. In high school all my friends went to Claire’s. I was always bored. If I wanted something feminine, I went to Hot Topic and got retro cartoon stuff, not earrings and hair doodads. Peter cured me of my grunge look, but I didn’t count on the pole dancing look until he already isolated me at home.
She dressed me in what I was wearing before and I looked down to make sure the diaper was hidden. It was, but the bulge felt huge. It expanded when I peed myself. I looked down expecting it to be huge. It wouldn’t be noticeable unless someone walked the mall looking at the butts of every woman to check for evidence of diapers. I didn’t think anyone would do that.
We left the dressing room and Violet put everything on the counter.
“All of it?” the sales girl asked. She started to ring up the purchases. “My commission’s going to be great thanks to you guys. If there is anything else you need just ask for Elsie. I will come in on my day off to help you.”
I smiled at her. She sounded nice. I couldn’t thank her without blowing my cover, but Violet did thank her. After we paid for the purchases, we left the store.
“Where to next?” I asked. I tried to walk slowly to avoid having my shirt ride up or something embarrassing, but she was guiding me quickly by my arm.
“Claire’s,” she said.
We went inside and it was packed with teen girls. I sighed. That was another reason I hated the place. I was an adult, not a teenager. I looked down at the bulge of my diaper. I felt like a toddler, but teenagers still annoyed me.
As soon as we walked in, a sales clerk bypassed all the teenagers, who were probably not going to buy anything. “Can I help you ladies?”
“Yes,” said Violet. “I need some headbands for my niece. She had surgery and they had to cut her hair.”
“Oh, I am sorry. I hope you get better,” she said to me.
I forgot and nodded. “Thank you.”
Violet glared at me, but shrugged.
“Our headbands are right here.” She guided us to a rack in one corner of the store and then went back to keep an eye on the teenagers.
“I thought you weren’t talking,” Violet scolded me.
“I forgot.” I reached for a head band. It was a black elastic headband with a black rose made out of the same material. “I like this one,” I said.
She took it and several others that she liked and we went to check out. I was sure glad to be out of there. When we got out of the store, I asked her to put one of the headbands on me. I missed having long hair and the bit of fuzz on my head depressed me. I thought it made me look like a boy.
She didn’t pick my black one that I liked. She picked a red one with a pink heart on it. It matched my shirt, but still, I hated it. The black one was feminine, but much more subdued. Next we went to the food court.
“Where shall we eat?” asked Violet.
I looked around. There was a Sbarro’s pizza, a Subway, a Coldstone Creamery, a Chick-Fil-A, and even a Burger King, and a Carl’s Jr. I hadn’t eaten out in a long time. Once I moved in with Peter, he never took me out and I could only afford the food at the woman’s shelter cafeteria, so never could eat out then.
“Coldstone?” I asked.
“It’s eleven-thirty in the morning and you need real food, not dessert.”
I looked around. The pizza looked inviting, but I didn’t want that. I never did like Subway since I had saved up my stamps for a new sandwich and they suddenly stopped accepting stamps. That made me mad. At the Carl Jr. there was a sign for a monstrous burger with jalapenos and a third pound patty. I pointed and said, “I want that.”
“Are you sure you don’t want a kid’s meal from Burger King?” she asked.
“I’m sure. I want the Six Dollar Burger with jalapenos.” I knew what I wanted. I hadn’t had a good restaurant meal in three years. I wanted something good. I didn’t think about the fact that it would end up in my diaper and that I would regret everyone of those jalapenos.
“Okay,” she said. She ordered and we sat down. Then I had another problem. I had casts on my arms and couldn’t hang onto stuff really well. I sat and stared at the yummy burger sitting in front of me, the curly fries, again too spicy to eat before you sit in the resulting messy diaper. However I am getting ahead of myself here. I couldn’t lift the burger to my mouth.
“May I have some help?” I asked.
She sat across from me and she had the same thing. She giggled at me and then continued to eat her sandwich. I had to rely on my thumb and forefinger on my left hand to pick up one curly fry at a time. Between each bite of fry I ate, I stared hungrily at my burger until Violet finished hers. As soon as she was done, she picked up my burger and held it for me. I took a grateful bite and then savored the wonderful feeling of the food. I felt the spice of jalapenos and I knew I was in heaven. She fed me bite after bite until the sandwich was done and the burning in my mouth increased.
Of course, I didn’t look as wonderful as I felt. The sandwich is too big for my mouth and even though Violet held the sandwich still, I got a lot of the special sauce on my mouth. Violet smiled and then she did something embarrassing. She took my diaper bag and pulled out a container of wipes, and then proceeded to clean my face and hands. I was humiliated. I looked around to see if anyone noticed the diaper peaking out of the duffle bag, but no one did. They did notice me getting my face cleaned like a toddler though. A guy across the dining room snickered. I wanted to sink into the floor.
I also needed to pee. The thirty-two ounces of Dr. Pepper really hit me hard. I knew Violet would never take me to the bathroom no matter how I argued and I did feel a bit uncomfortable, so I relaxed and peed. When I start peeing, I can’t stop until I am empty. My mother used to tell me that is unhealthy, but I really never let it bother me. However I tried to stop as soon as I felt wetness at the leg bands of my diaper.
“Violet,” I whispered, “you got to take me to the bathroom now.”
“Use your diaper,” she whispered back.
“I just did and there will be a wet spot on my pants real quick if you don’t take me to the bathroom and change me right now.” I was in full panic. I was going to be humiliated.
“Relax,” she said. “If you haven’t leaked yet, you won’t until you wet again. I’ll change you after dinner.”
I still worried, but I nibbled on each of my remaining curly fries while I waited for Violet to eat her fries. After eating we left the food court and went to the bathroom.
There were just a few people in the bathroom and I eyed the changing table with embarrassment. I knew I was going to get changed. I pulled it down and looked at it.
“I don’t think it will hold you,” she said.
I looked down at the floor. It was disgusting. “I am not lying on the floor.”
“It won’t come to that.” She took me by the hand into the handicapped stall and closed the door. She then pulled my pants down. Sure enough, there were too little wet circles at the inseams of the diaper where it had leaked a few drops. She twisted the fabric to examine the outside. It still looked dry, so it hadn’t soaked through the material.
My diaper was swollen and yellowed beyond belief. She quickly undid the tapes and wadded up the diaper and used the tapes to tape it shut. She put it on the floor and got out some wipes. Then she cleaned me. Then the Desitin went on. I still felt clammy when she took out the clean diaper and put it behind me. Then she gently pushed me against the partition so the diaper was held behind me. She took the front of the diaper and pulled it between my legs and then taped it in place. It wasn’t as tight as the changes when lying down, but I had a ring around each leg from the diaper elastic anyway. It could be looser without a problem. Soon my pants were back up, my shirt was down and I was as good as new.
“I got to pee too,” said Violet. She sat down on the toilet and went. I was so jealous. Why did she get to use the toilet? I was an adult too.
After that, we grabbed our stuff and went back to her house. The outing was embarrassing, but Violet did not intentionally try to humiliate me.