I was actually going to do it.
After insisting that I was mature, it was starting to feel like the only option. Kate had gone on to say that a mature girl would want out of her dirty diapers as quickly as possible. The fact that I hadn’t asked for a change right after wetting my pull-ups–NOT diapers–seemed to imply the opposite, even though I tried to explain that I hadn’t been allowed to talk at the time. Stupid pacifier rule.
‘You could have texted,’ Kate had said, right away. But that wasn’t fair, either! She had confiscated my phone right afterwards, though the humiliation of wetting myself had made the following events a little blurry. Did I have time to text? If so, why didn’t I? Doubt began creeping in, which wasn’t helpful when I was already overwhelmed by so many other things. Now that I had failed to express my desire to be changed, apparently this was my last chance to show my sister that I wasn’t some immature little girl.
Gone was the college Annelise, the young woman who was so easily annoyed by Kate’s antics. I felt more like my teenage self the longer this dragged on, the version of me that was a lot more self conscious and easily swayed by authority figures. My current hairstyle certainly didn’t help, nor did the fact that my chest was almost nonexistent now that I had lost my push-up bra and the padding that went with it. But most importantly, I was wearing pull-ups and I had thoroughly soaked them without really speaking up to save myself.
The sooner I was back in clean underwear, the better. Not just to avoid the potential embarrassment of others finding out, but also for my own confidence as well.
And, to make that happen, I needed to use my pull-ups for what they were designed for. According to Kate, it made more sense. Once I fully relieved myself, she would make sure that I was properly cleaned up, and it would be clear that I was a mature girl. No one would have to find out about my little accident. So, desperately wanting all of those things–to get out of the dirty underwear, to be seen as mature despite my unfair size and youthful features, and to keep all of this a secret–I decided to go along with what she was suggesting.
It was one thing to agree. The execution, however, was something else entirely. The only reason I had wet myself was because the pressure on my bladder had eventually been too much for my body to take. But to go against a lifetime of potty training, to actively push from my rear when not in a bathroom? It wasn’t natural in the slightest, and I quickly began questioning whether or not I’d actually be able to handle the mortifying task.
I kept myself awkwardly suspended and partially squatted over the leather seat beneath me, unsuccessfully trying to go. The position wasn’t nearly as comfortable as sitting on a toilet, especially when the pull-ups sagged now that there was the space and gravity for them to do so. Plus my sister was watching, which didn’t help in the slightest. “Kate,” I quietly said, beyond nervous that one of our parents was going to glance back and see how I was keeping myself slightly elevated above the back seat. My anus opened slightly from the attempted pushes, but nothing was actually happening. “I don’t think I have to go.”
“Hmm, I think you just need some motivation, little sis,” Kate said. She tapped her lips in mock concentration while glancing up in thought, “Ooh, I know! You have 60 seconds, or I will come clean about your accident. Oh, and lift up your skirt, so I can see.”
“No, don’t!” I hissed. After everything I had done to keep this between the two of us, I absolutely couldn’t let that happen. Plus Kate had promised!! In my desperation, however, I couldn’t dwell on it. If I had learned anything from unimpressively chugging all that water earlier, it’s that my sister had a habit of making things worse whenever my time ran out. The seconds were already ticking down, and I had to make a choice.
Still hovering over the seat, head spinning, I reluctantly gripped my skirt and raised it until the pull-ups came into view, all while making a more conscious effort to push my bowels. Then I felt it. After a hard push, I could actually feel the mess coming. Realizing what I was about to do, I started resisting in a panic, but it was too late. A warm, squishy lump escaped my lower cheeks, causing the thick pull-ups to pull even more tightly around me. I must have been blushing crimson as I realized what I just did, but it wasn’t over yet. My body was acting on its own at this point, and a much larger chunk pushed itself out now that the first one had cleared the way.
“Oh my God,” I whispered. What had I done?! The pull-ups sagged even lower as the mess settled between my cheeks and the padding, and I also caught a faint whiff of what I had just filled my underwear with. Even though I had just recently wet myself, I still felt a small stream of pee escape as well. It was the natural wet that tended to follow such a bowel movement, and it just added to the already soaked material underneath me.
“Annie.” Kate was staring at me in disbelief as I remained slightly raised off the seat in my squatted position. “Did you just . . . did you actually- did you actually do it?!” she whispered.
Was the sagging lump and my dark blush not enough evidence. “Now convince them to pull over,” I muttered. I couldn’t bring myself to directly answer Kate’s blunt question, and I didn’t know what else to say. Using my pull-ups for their ‘intended purpose’ made me feel the opposite of mature, but I at least remembered the other part of our agreement.
“Annie, I was kidding!” Kate exclaimed. She clamped both hands over her mouth to hold back a burst of laughter. “I thought- I thought you were just fooling around.” Kate let out a small giggle as she glanced down at the sagging material that was easily visible from the way I was still holding my skirt up. “No way . . . this isn’t happening. This isn’t happening right now!” Her eyes lit up as she poorly attempted to hold back another round of giggling.
“Kate, you said I had to!” My eyes widened at her words. No, that couldn’t be right. Kate was good at being mock serious, but the insistence on using the pull-ups for what they were designed for felt so convincing. Feeling beyond self-conscious about not only Kate’s stare, and the way I somehow let her talk me into something so insane, I quickly lowered my skirt to cover myself up.
I sat back down, and instantly wished that I hadn’t.
The sagging mess was awful enough while I was squatted, but sitting made it so much worse. The warm lump pushed back up into me and spread all over my ass, and the earlier warmth of my pee paled in comparison to how the pull-ups felt when they were full in an entirely different way. It was absolutely disgusting, and I was once again scared about whether or not two layers would be able to hold everything.
Kate finally lowered her hands from her mouth, though it still looked like she was about to break into laughter at any moment. Grinning, she said, “New low, sis. Though good thing you were wearing your pull-ups. Can you imagine the mess you would have made?”
“It’s not funny!!” I snapped. “And they’re not mine.” Kate’s words were reminiscent of what she said when I wet myself, but they were a lot more effective this time around. She was right, in a way, but it’s not like this would have happened if I was wearing normal underwear! I tried to sit still, knowing that any movement might make the horrible mess even worse. Most importantly, I needed to focus. “Kate, you said you’d convince our parents to pull over.” Kidding or not, that was the deal. And I was more desperate than ever to get out of the pull-ups that I deeply regretted putting on in the first place.
“We’ve been over this a million times, Annie. When you wear something, then it’s yours. You know, like how sexy my underwear is.” She pulled the waistband of her dark green thong out from under her jeans. The glimpse easily succeeded in making me uncomfortable, as I wasn’t interested in the slightest when it came to my sister’s underwear choices. “Or how perfect your pull-ups are for you, little sis.”
Trying my hardest to ignore everything she just said and did, I instead focused on the task at hand. “Kate. We need to pull over,” I insisted, “Now.”
With a small smirk, Kate merely uttered one little word in response.
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