SubscribeStar Story: The Road Trip, Part 38

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Part 38

Kate was clearly playing with the fact that our family took our promises seriously. But I couldn’t remember the last time one of them required this much follow-through and long term commitment. Diapers? For a full week? It was one thing to let her keep this embarrassing dare going for the whole time we were at our cousins’ place, especially after I ended up doing a lot more than simply wearing the pull-ups she talked me into. But I couldn’t wear diapers back home!

Although what was the alternative? If Luna and Lilah found out about any of this, it would follow me for the rest of my life. This tween charade was bad enough; between our cousins and our aunt, this would be a story that would follow me for the rest of my life in our extended family. I absolutely couldn’t let it go further than that. Nineteen year old Annelise, having daytime accidents? Literally shitting her pull-ups? No way.

“My name is Annie,” I began. Giving her a small smile, assuming that I’d be pressured to repeat the whole thing if I didn’t do it with one of the expressions we’d been working on, I continued, “I’m twelve years old. And, umm . . . ” I knew I had to say it. It was my choice; if I agreed to the week-long underwear situation, no one but Kate would know. “And, like . . . ” Despite the personal justification, it wasn’t easy to actually say. “I promise to, like, wear diapers-”

“Wear your diapers,” Kate interrupted, “When you wear something, Annie, that makes them yours.”

“Right,” I blushed, “Like, I promise to wear my diapers for a- for, like, a whole week.” The filler words were completely unintentional this time around.

“There you go. That wasn’t so difficult, was it?”

“Umm . . . ”

“Of course it wasn’t! Now, one more time for the camera. Then we can get you changed, okay?”

“Kate, no!” I exclaimed. The sight of her phone made me throw both hands over the sagging pull-ups that were no longer covered by the shortalls draped over my sister’s arm. “I said it. I promised! You don’t have to-”

“Annie, BEHAVE,” she snapped, “Seriously, it’s like you want to stay in your dirty pull-ups for as long as possible.”

“N-no! I don’t!”

“Then do as you’re told, little sis. Drop your arms. Smile. And say the whole thing for me. Can you manage that, or are you an immature little brat who can’t do the simplest things asked of her?”

I was beyond flustered. Her logic wasn’t making any sense, and yet I felt trapped by it anyway. I so desperately wanted out of the messy pull-ups I was still wearing, and I was NOT a brat. Kate and I both knew that I was the more mature girl between the two of us. But now I had to either demean myself on camera, or accept by omission that I was the difficult girl she was painting me as. “Fine,” I muttered.

Kate repeated the instruction to lower my arms, and then she trained her phone’s camera on me. “Now, what were you saying?”

Plastering a bigger smile on my face in an attempt to make this the first and only recording, I said exactly what my sister wanted me to say. “My name is Annie. I’m twelve years old. And I promise to wear diapers for a week.” The opening sentences were admittedly easy, considering how often Kate had pushed me to repeat them since the house, but it took a lot of work to maintain the peppy smile in regards to the diapered week I was signing myself up for.

“I knew you could do it, Annie,” Kate giggled, “And remember, that means you can’t go by ‘Annelise’ for the next week, either. As long as you’re in diapers, you’re ‘Annie.’”

My eyes widened at that. “But-”

“No buts, remember? Promise that you’ll be ‘Annie’ for a week. Right now.”

“Wait, I can’t-”

“Yes, you can. Go on, little sis.”

“ . . . I promise I’ll be ‘Annie’ for a week.”

“That’s my girl! Okay, diapers and ‘Annie.’ Remember, you promised. That means you HAVE to see it through. Now, let’s get you up for your change. If we take too long, one of the twins might be tempted to see what’s taking so long.”

As badly as I wanted to be out of the used pull-ups, I couldn’t help but hesitate as I gave the changing table a more thorough look. Before, I had been distracted by stripping, and the shift to diapers, and then the promises I just made. Now that I was looking more carefully, however, I was less certain. “I don’t think I’ll fit,” I blushed. True, I was obnoxiously smaller than Kate was, but I wasn’t that small. Plus, the plastic table probably wasn’t meant to hold my weight; light as I was, it’s not like I was the size of a baby or toddler that the fold-up table in the bathroom had been designed for.

Kate just scoffed. “You’ll be fine, Annie. Now, come on. Hop up!” She shifted me by the shoulders so my back was facing the table, then placed her hands on my hips.

There wasn’t much I could do but jump as she helped with the upward momentum. Just like the last few times I had to sit post-accident, I gasped out and let out a guttural mewl of discomfort as plopping down on the previously sagging pull-ups caused the disgusting mess to have a worse effect than normal due to how hard I landed. It was humiliating, and horrifying, and it took everything in me to not leap right back off the table.

Kate didn’t seem bothered by my plight. Once I was sitting on the table, she made short work of swiveling me by the legs so I was more lying back than sitting. The table did slightly creak under my weight, but managed to hold strong. “Seriously, Annelise.” Kate spread my legs for me, and placed her hand on the outer pull-ups. “What self-respecting nineteen year old girl purposely shits herself?” Using a similar tactic from the last time we were alone in a bathroom together, she began roughly massaging my pelvis through the pull-ups.

The full name stung in the context in which it was being used, especially since it had been so long since she had called me anything but ‘Annie,’ but the next part immediately took all my attention. “Kate, stop!” I exclaimed. With my legs splayed, there wasn’t anything I could do to stop her from shifting the disgusting mess all around.

“No.” The response was cold and blunt, and she locked eyes with me. The cruel massage softened, but didn’t stop entirely. Kate merely shifted my mess in slower and more deliberate ways, making damn sure that I was aware just how full the pull-ups were, as well as ensuring that nothing below my waist was even slightly clean. “Tell me whose fault this is, Annie.”

We had been through this once. That I had wet and messed my pull-ups; the former had happened without me speaking up due to the pacifier, and the latter had apparently fully been my own decision since Kate had been joking. “It’s my fault.” I said. The longer ago it was, the more difficult it became to remember the finer details. That, and I still felt like I had to agree with my sister in the name of moving things forward.

“That’s right,” Kate said, “I just gave you a fun dare. You’re the one who couldn’t hold her tiny bladder. And you’re the one who made a mess in her pull-ups.” To emphasize the point, she made a circle on the padding with her hand, shifting the contents within. “Whose fault is it that you need to wear your diapers for a week, Annie?”

Squirming in discomfort, I echoed, “It’s my fault.”

“ALL of this is your fault, little sis,” Kate clarified, “Isn’t it?”

“Yes. It’s all my fault . . . ”

“Mm hmm. Now, you won’t have to wear your diapers forever. Once you prove that you can make it a few days without any accidents, maybe you can go back to your normal underwear. Which means you won’t have to be ‘Annie’ any more. Doesn’t that sound nice?” she stopped her hand’s movement, but kept it in place as a silent threat.

“Umm, yes?” I replied. Where was she going with this?

“But, Annie,” she continued, “You’ll have to be twelve for much longer.”

Wait, what? That didn’t make any sense. “No, Kate. “I’m-”

“I know. But, think about it, sis. You don’t have boobs. You’re SO short, and you’re a fucking twig, too. Oh, and those cute freckles? Come on, Annie. Until you hit puberty and develop properly, I think I should be the older sister.”

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