The Road Trip

Chapter 47
The Road Trip, Part 47

Part 47

Suddenly, my timeline was accelerated to the point I couldn’t actually fix anything. I had the bathroom to myself, but what could I do? Even if the diaper pins weren’t frustratingly tight, it’s not like I’d be able to clean up and hide the evidence in the 60 seconds or so it would take Kate to find me some sleepwear. Staying in the shortalls would hide the latest secret I was trying to keep, but would result in Kate punishing me somehow. Taking them off, however, would make it clear that I made an immature and mortifying mess in the padded underwear.

I was tempted to just come clean. Things couldn’t exactly get worse, considering that my sister already had a picture of me spreading my legs with the messy pull-ups fully on display. But that was back when she actually pressured me to use the babyish underwear, even if she claimed that she was kidding afterwards. This had happened completely on my own, which meant I didn’t have the excuse of a misunderstanding. It was a lose/lose no matter how I sliced it, and Kate would be back any second.

Naturally, I froze. Running away wouldn’t get me anywhere, as where would I even go after leaving the bathroom? Taking off my clothes wasn’t going to happen if I could help it. I just needed to convince Kate that I was perfectly capable of changing into pajamas without her help. As if I had ever won an argument with my sister, the ‘perfect angel’ who knew just which words to twist and which ones to ignore. But I had to try.

Not much later, Kate returned. Insensitive as always, she didn’t think to knock. Waltzing into the bathroom with a few folded pink things in her hands, she frowned the moment she saw me. “Have you just been standing here, Annie? I told you to strip.”

I blushed at the crass word. As usual, it was uncomfortable to hear certain words from my own sister. While there were absolutely zero sexual implications to the demand, it still felt weird. “I can change myself, Kate,” I muttered. It wasn’t a conversation my usual self would ever be having with my sister, considering our real ages. And even if I was supposed to be twelve, what kind of middle schooler needed help getting dressed?

“Based on how you’ve been acting today, little sis, I really don’t trust you to do anything yourself. We also just went over this, remember? You have to listen to me.”

“But-”

“Annie. Strip, right now. What’s the problem?”

‘I had an accident in my diapers!’ Beyond the truth, however, what could I say? We were both girls, and we had changed in front of each other multiple times as sisters. Considering the fact that she had seen my bare boobs in this very bathroom earlier, and everything else when dealing with my pull-ups at the pharmacy, it’s not like there was anything to hide. Still . . . “Because I’m a big girl,” I replied, forcing a weak smile. Trying to push back on the ‘tween sister’ thing at this point was going to be impossible. Maybe playing her game would be enough to make Kate back off. “I don’t need help changing.”

At that, Kate smirked. “Clearly you do, sis. Pretty sure that’s exactly what you needed help with after mini golf.” 

“That’s- that’s different!” I exclaimed. 

“Is it? Look, Annie. I’m in a forgiving mood, so I won’t punish you for acting out and not being a good girl. Now, I’m going to get you ready for bed, okay? If you can behave right now, then we can spend tomorrow seeing whether or not you can handle doing stuff like this on your own moving forward. How does that sound?”

Objectively fine, save for that one big hang-up. “But, Kate . . . ”

“No ‘buts,’ Annie. It’s your bedtime, and the twins are waiting for me downstairs. I don’t have all night, sis. So, I’m going to count to three. Your clothes better be off by the time I’m done.”

Oh, my God. She was not doing that. Kate was eighteen; she was barely an adult. It was one thing for a parent to use that tactic, or perhaps a babysitter or other authority figure, but not my sister! Blushing more at just the idea itself, I started to say, “Kate-”

“One.”

“You can’t-”

“Two.”

“Wait!” It was unfairly effective. Feeling trapped and slightly confined in the small bathroom with the two of us in there behind the closed door, and conditioned from years of that tactic being used throughout our collective childhood, I found myself moving before I could even stop and consider that there might be alternatives. Slipping an arm under one of the denim straps as Kate sternly gazed at me, it was easier to mirror the action with my other arm once the shortalls were slightly looser on my body. Without my shoulders to hold the childish outfit piece up, the top half flopped open and I began tugging the rest past my waist. It wasn’t until I actually felt the diapers crinkling a little bit from my movements that reality creeped back in. “Kate, I can’t-” I started protesting, not even realizing that I had flipped from ‘you’ to ‘I’ so quickly in terms of why this couldn’t happen. 

She was quick to cut me off with the classic parental, “Two and a half . . . ”

Wincing and feeling my cheeks burning as I continued lowering the shortalls, I let them drop to my ankles after gravity was able to take over. Now my only hope was Kate somehow not noticing that the diapers were sagging, though that had been so painfully obvious to me in the other bathroom when I had checked myself over in the mirror after the disgusting accident. 

My hopes were immediately dashed when Kate gasped. “Annie, what the fuck! Did you use your diapers? Again?!”

“It wasn’t my fault!” I blurted out, “The pins were too tight, and it was an emergency, and-”

“So you wet yourself?” she bluntly asked.

“I, umm-” One way or another, she was going to find out. My blush darkened, if that were even possible, and I averted my gaze as I quietly admitted, “More than that . . .”

Kate gasped “Annie! Seriously?” She took a few steps forward and grabbed the base of the diapers as if she didn’t believe me. It only took a moment for her to realize I was telling the truth. “Is this your way of getting back at me? Shitting yourself every time I put you in diapers?”

“No!” I insisted. She thought I had done this on purpose? “I told you, it was an emergency.”

“And you couldn’t make it from the dinner table to the toilet?”

“It’s not- it’s not like that! I had time, but I couldn’t get the diapers off. And-”

“You couldn’t get your diapers off,” Kate corrected me, “Because clearly you’re going to need to wear them until I can trust that you’re potty trained. Honestly, sis. What if I had listened to you and let you wear something else after your pull-ups? You would have made a total mess.”

That wasn’t fair! If I had been wearing panties, I would have had time to make it to the bathroom. “It was the pins, Kate! They were too tight. I couldn’t-”

“Enough excuses, Annie. Your diapers were put on just right. If they’re too loose, then they’ll just fall off. Especially when you shit yourself like a baby. And if you really needed help, then you could have asked. Instead, what did you do? Wait, when did this happen, Annie?”

I absolutely should have lied, but I was too flustered and embarrassed to stop myself from honestly answering, “When I went to the bathroom during, umm . . . dinner.”

If looks could kill, the silent judgment in Kate’s eyes would have done it then and there. “Let me get this straight, sis. You used your diapers when you had a toilet right next to you. And then you sat in your mess for the rest of dinner, while we did the dishes, and for the whole game with the twins?”

“It’s not like that,” I awkwardly replied. Though yes, it sounded pretty bad when she framed it like that. But after she kept me in dirty pull-ups for so long earlier, I had somehow convinced myself that waiting it out was better in the name of keeping her from finding out. Of course, retrospect was a bitch now that Kate was seeing what I had done anyway. “I wasn’t going to change, umm, later.” As in, by myself. Although I doubted that was a possibility now. 

“Why did you say anything, Annie?” Kate sighed, “And how the fuck were you planning on changing yourself? We’ve been over this. What exactly were you going to do with your dirty diapers?” 

At this point, there wasn’t much to do but tell the truth. So I explained the vague plan I had been putting together ever since I had used the diapers for said emergency. How I was going to shower off, wrap the used underwear in a million layers somehow, and sneak out to find a trashcan somewhere else to dispose of them. The more I explained the potential plan, the more self conscious I felt as Kate simply stood there and let me ramble on about it. “No one was supposed to know,” I concluded.

After an uncomfortable beat of silence, Kate calmly asked, “So you were going to throw away your expensive cloth diapers? They’re literally meant to be reused, sis. That’s super wasteful.” 

“Yeah, but it’s not like I was going to keep wearing them!” I replied, sounding slightly more whiny than I had expected. Getting out of the sagging diapers was turning into more of a priority now that I was standing there with them exposed and no longer on a mission to keep my accident a secret. That desperation was noticeably affecting my voice. Taking a breath, I continued more calmly, “I don’t actually need diapers, Kate.”

“Mm hmm.” She simply gestured to the sagging material between my thighs. “Until I can trust you to not have multiple accidents in a single day, Annie, you’re going to continue wearing your diapers. And that means washing them after making a mess, not throwing them away.”

“But, it’s not-”

“End of discussion. Now, take off your shirt and lie down. I’m going to go get a couple of your clean diapers, and try to figure out how to keep this from the others. Unless you’d like me to tell them?”

“No!” I blurted out a second time. It was even more of a gut response than the previous one. Our relatives could not find out about this. The whole ‘tween’ thing was already going to be something I was never going to live down at future family reunions and other events. This diaper thing, however? That needed to stay between me and Kate. 

“No?” Kate smirked, “Then admit that you need to wear your diapers until I’m convinced you don’t need them any more. Until you’re not having constant accidents like an immature little girl.”