From College to Crib

Chapter Description: Alice has to face her mother after the public accident. Unfortunately, things continue to get worse as her mother's anger is quick to spill over.

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I obviously couldn’t put this confrontation off forever. With reluctance I turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. I quickly wrapped myself in a towel and started drying off as quickly as I could. As soon as I knew I wasn’t going to drip everywhere I took my baby pink dressing gown from the hook on the door and wrapped it around me. I braced myself and then opened the door. Mom was standing on the other side with her hands on her hips and a face of thunder.

“Mom, I…” I started.

No sooner had I started talking than Mom had grabbed my wrist and pulled me forwards. I had still been tying my robe which half-opened as I stumbled after her towards my bedroom. As I almost fell through the doorway Mom let get of me. I had been battling to keep myself covered up, so I hadn’t been looking over to the bed. When I finally did so it felt like time froze.

“W-What…” I mumbled.

“I didn’t think you’d fail in your training pants quite that quickly.” Mom said, “Luckily I was prepared.”

Pull-ups. Sitting on top of my covers was a green plastic packet of pull-ups. I had of course seen them in stores but to have a pack right in front of me in my bedroom felt strange and alien. I walked over to the bed and picked the packet up as if it had something contagious on it.

“W-Why do you have these?” I sked. I was trying to sound calm, but it wasn’t working very well.

“I bought them in case the training pants proved to be too little protection.” Mom replied.

“I don’t want them.” I quickly said, “I don’t need them.”

I dropped the pull-ups back on the bed where they bounced away from me. I turned to Mom who had her arms folded across her chest. Her mouth was a thin line and she as staring right back at me as if waiting for more.

“G-Give me the training pants!” I continued rather desperately, “I… I mean wash them first, but I’ll wear them! I promise, no tricks or complaining or anything!”

“Are you finished?” Mom asked when I stuttered to a stop.

I could see that Mom wasn’t convinced. To be fair, the best debaters in the world could’ve argued the point for hours and my Mom would likely have been similarly unmoved. My pathetic attempts at rescuing the situation had less effect than a puppy looking at its master’s dinner and wanting to be fed a little bit.

“You lied to me.” Mom said, “And then you wet yourself yet again.”

“I needed to go to the toilet!” I said loudly, “I told you I needed to go but you didn’t let me!”

Even as I argued my case I realised how childish it sounded. I was twenty-three years-old but my argument as to why the accident hadn’t been my fault was similar to that of an actual toddler. I was a grown woman, if I needed to go to the toilet I should’ve just gone, a point that was not lost on Mom.

“So you just urinated all over the floor?” Mom asked as she shook her head, “No, it’s not good enough. You are going to have to earn the right to wear training pants again.”

This was so humiliating. I bowed my head and sniffed back tears. I shuddered to think what it would be like if any of my friends could see me like this. Mom walked over to the bed and picked up the pull-ups. She tore the top of the pack open and I saw the many pairs of disposable underwear inside.

“So, new rule.” Mom said as she pulled at one of the pull-ups, “Until you can prove to me that you can keep yourself dry you will be wearing pull-ups. When I’m satisfied, you may move to training pants again.”

I was being demoted. I remembered this exact same technique from when I was a young child. Potty training had been difficult for me, I would argue Mom didn’t help with it in the slightest with how overbearing and ready to criticise me she was. I wanted to argue but didn’t know what to say. It didn’t feel like there was anything that would help my case.

“Why did you already have those?” I asked sulkily.

“Never you mind.” Mom replied. She held one of the pull-ups open and expected me to step into it.

“You expected me to fail!” I bristled with annoyance and embarrassment that Mom expected so little from me… and that she had been right.

“I expected you would have some issues.” Mom replied, “Now, come on, I don’t have all day.”

With all the humiliations of the last hour or so I had rather lost the fact that I was still basically naked in front of Mom with my gown hanging half open. At least the pull-up would provide some sort of cover. I was keen not to keep Mom waiting too long as well, I knew a spanking would be in my immediately future if I didn’t comply.

My legs shook slightly as I looked down at the pull-up. I was trembling and every muscle in my body seemed to be fighting my brain. As I lifted a leg I nearly fell backwards on to my bed. I quickly leaned forwards and put my hands on my crouching mother’s shoulders, it didn’t occur to me that I could’ve asked to put it on myself.

I felt the papery leg bands against my skin as I stepped through the hole. The elastic sides stretched as my foot hit the ground, I could already feel the padding of the underwear against the inside of my leg. I lifted my other foot and repeated the process with my other foot. I shivered, this already felt very strange.

As soon as my foot was through the hole and down on the floor Mom started pulling the pull-up. I squeezed my eyes tightly shut as I felt it continue to rise up my legs. Soon Mom had pulled it all the way up and I felt the padding nestle against my crotch. I covered my face with my hands as Mom adjusted the disposable slightly.

“There we go.” Mom said as she stood back up, “That wasn’t such a big deal, was it?”

It felt like a big deal to me. It felt like a HUGE deal. I quickly closed my dressing gown tightly to try and hide. Turning away from Mom I just wanted to forget what was happening, but every movement was a reminder. Old memories were being unlocked.

As a child, when I’d had problems Mom would do this same stuff, and it only ever made the problems worse. I could only pray that this time things wouldn’t get any worse, that I would stay dry now and get my panties back. I waited for Mom to leave the bedroom before I finally turned back around and sat on the edge of the mattress. I could feel the thin padding getting pressed against me, it was so much worse than the training pants.

“Have a goodnight.” Mom called out as she left the room.

All I could do was stare blankly as it felt like my life was collapsing around me. If I didn’t start getting my errant bladder under control soon, I had no idea what Mom would do. She seemed worse than before I’d left for college, she’d always been strict but now she seemed mean. I needed to get back into panties, get a job and then get out of the house as soon as possible.

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“Oh crap… Oh god…” I knew there was a problem as soon as I regained consciousness. I didn’t even need to open my eyes.

My warm bed was interrupted halfway down by a cold patch. What was worse was the moisture I could feel on my thighs. Even though I immediately knew what had happened, that I had wet the bed, it took my tired mind a second to realise I had to get out of it.

I climbed out of bed and looked down at myself. This was surely a nightmare. I pinched at my exposed skin, but the pain felt very real. The early morning sun was streaming through the window and illuminated just how puffy the pull-up had become, even worse, it glistened off the moisture that was struck to my skin. I tentatively pulled the covers back and saw a large stain on the sheet. I slumped down at the side of my mattress and covered my face with my hands, the smell of my urine filled the air around me.

I couldn’t believe it. This was just like when I had been a kid and started having problems with keeping the bed dry. I knew now that it wasn’t too uncommon for children, especially girls, to have a little problem with bedwetting or something similar as they started puberty but at the time I felt like a complete freak. I’d experienced a little more urgency in the day which resulted in an accident, Mom had put me in pull-ups, and I started wetting the bed. I had no idea whether it was the pull-ups sending signals to my brain or a coincidence, but it had happened again.

There was no way I could let Mom find out what had happened. I stood next to the bed and started pulling up the sheets, I would have to hope I could sneak them all down to the laundry. With the bedding balled up in a rather soggy pile I turned my attention to the pull-up that was still leaking drips of urine down the inside of my thighs.

I bent down and started to take off my sodden pull-up. I had it around my knees and was grimacing at the smell of ammonia that was assaulting my nostrils when I heard footsteps on the landing. I felt a shiver of horror go through me as I tried to think of a way out of this hell in the few seconds I had left. In the end I did the only thing I could think of doing. I stepped out of the pull-up and hurriedly shoved it under my bed. How I was going to explain all the weirdness I hadn’t quite worked out.

The door opened without a knock and Mom walked in like she owned the place, which I guess she did, but this was still supposed to be me room. Stopping in the doorway she surveyed what must’ve been a very odd scene. Her adult daughter was standing naked next to her stripped bed, the smell of urine wafting across the room and me looking at her like a deer in the headlights.

“What’s all this?” Mom said as she stepped into the room and closed the door behind her.

“I… Erm…” I needed my brain to engage but it was stuck in neutral.

“Where’s your pull-up?” Mom asked.

I swallowed nervously. Under Mom’s intense glare I was quickly wilting. My half-baked plan to hide what I had done had unravelled immediately. I crouched down and reached under the bed. Slowly but surely, I pulled out the soaked disposable underwear. Standing up I held the pull-up in front of me.

“I see.” Mom said. She wasn’t angry like I thought she would’ve been. Instead, her voice was worryingly flat, “And you were trying to hide it?”

I swallowed and then nodded my head. I kept my eyes on the floor where a small wet patch has formed. This was so humiliating.

“Do you remember what happened when you tried to hide the evidence before?” Mom asked.

I froze up. Surely Mom wasn’t referring to what I thought she was. When I had been a teenager and started having accidents, I had tried to hide it just like this. Most mothers, I assumed, would reassure their daughters that everything was alright. Mine decided I need to be punished for not telling her what was going on. I looked up just in time to see Mom’s hand shoot out towards my wrist.

“Stop!” I yelped but it was already too late.

Mom sat down on the edge of my bed and pulled me down across her lap. I flailed but I wasn’t going anywhere, even if I could get off Mom’s lap I had nowhere to go and would likely only make the inevitable punishment worse. That didn’t help me right then though, as my legs kicked up and down like a toddler on the verge of a tantrum.

“When will you learn?” Mom asked rhetorically.

I opened my mouth but the sudden sound of a hand smacking into my backside killed any words before I had the chance to speak them. I immediately tensed up my butt and squealed as I felt the stinging pain spreading quickly underneath the skin. A second spank landed on my other cheek and tears welled up in my eyes. Aside from the pain, this was so humiliating. At twenty-three years-old instead of being out working or having fun with friends I was over my mother’s knees as if nothing had changed in the last couple of decades. My balled up wet bedsheets were right in front of me, a reminder of why this was happening.

I quickly lost count of the spanks. I could feel blood rushing to my head as I let it hang low. I was sniffling and sobbing, occasionally letting out groans as a particularly hard spank landed. By the time it stopped my butt felt like it was black and blue though I was sure it was actually a bright red just like my face. There was silence apart from my light sobs, I wasn’t going to get up unless Mom told me to.

“Have you learnt your lesson?” Mom asked. Despite all the spanking it didn’t sound like she’d exerted herself at all.

I nodded my head.

“I can’t hear you.” Mom said sternly.

“Yes, Mom…” I choked out.

“What did you do wrong?” Mom asked.

I closed my eyes tightly in shame. This was entirely like my childhood punishments. The spanking was always followed by drilling into me what I shouldn’t have done. I felt very small as I continued to balance across my Mom’s lap.

“I… I should’ve told you that I…” This was so incredibly humiliating, “That I wet the bed.”

“That’s right.” Mom said, “And you shouldn’t have tried to hide the evidence.”

“I’m sorry.” I sniffed back the tears that threatened to roll down my red face.

“Alright, get up.” Mom said. She patted my ass a couple of times and although they weren’t nearly as bad as the spanks, on my bruised bottom they still made me wince.

I slowly pushed myself off Mom’s lap and stood up. My hands instantly went to my sore bottom where I gingerly tried to assess the damage. Maybe time had made me forget how much Mom’s spanks hurt but this one seemed more painful than the spankings I had experienced in my youth. I remained in place as Mom got up and went to my drawer where the pull-ups had been left. She pulled one out and returned to me.

“Since I can’t trust you with your pull-ups I will have to put them on you.” Mom said with a put upon sigh.

Mom crouched down and held the padded underwear open. I lifted one leg and slipped it through the hole feeling the papery leg bands against my skin and shuddering. My second foot came up and repeated the process. No sooner had my foot touched the floor then Mom pulled on the disposable causing it to slide up past my knees, over my thighs and then finally settling around my waist.

“Right, go downstairs for breakfast. I have a call to make.” Mom said.

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