F - Found
That first Pampers Baby Dry pack lasted two good months. My dexterity about “dressing” increased which had for consequence to make them a little bit more comfortable as weeks went by. A little bit. Let’s be honest, it was no panacea. If the “too small” feature had nice aspects, I often was frustrated not to be completely enveloped. Without mentioning the leaks… Morning wee was impossible to contain ; many shameful attempts proved it. Stubborn kids ! Who’d have them ? I ended up developing a strategy. About once a week, I drank a lot of water during dinner. My mother sometimes made a comment, but did not attach more importance to it. As soon as I arrived in the bathroom, I put a diaper on, went to the shower cubicle and peed. I got drunk on that sensation of relief. Even the fact that urine flowed on my inner thighs did not bother me. When finished, I would rinse my legs with the shower head, I dried, I brushed my teeth, I combed my hair while still wearing the filled diaper so I could enjoy the warmth that it stored up. Then I would take it off, properly took a shower and put a cleaned diaper on for the night.
Management of the full diaper stopped me from doing that too often. I requisitioned a grocery plastic bag so I could carry used ones with less hitch, but I feared the smell of urine would eventually get up to my mother’s or my sister’s noses. Moreover, it meant getting rid of two diapers, so doubled the risks.
At the middle school canteen, I once asked myself if drinking a lot of water and delaying as much as possible the moment to go to the loos would induce the same emotion. I waited until 5 p.m. to empty myself. My bladder was so distended that cramps almost made me pee over myself in the corridor. Finally squatting on top of the lavatory bowl, the jet I created would have competed with the best Karsher. I could not help but to let a little wail go, hoping there was no one around. I found the same sensation of relief, nevertheless the lack of the absorbing diaper would make the experience tasteless. A meal without salt.
The Pampers pack did its time. I went back to the supermarket on a Wednesday to find a replacement. It was the occasion to look into the size situation too. “8” clearly did not mean “until 8 years old”. The back of the pack taught me that it was not more than an indicator of the size panel. I also realised to my utter dismay that the brand did not offer anything larger. The larger articles to be found were made by Huggies with a size 7 fitting until 19 kg or thereabout and I weighed more than twice this estimation. There was of course the diapered knickers that my sister wore and that were made for older children but I had no wish to concede the tapes and the utterly regressive way to put them. Without any convincing alternative, I grabbed the Pampers Baby Dry 8 one more time.
It was the supermarket where my family and I would go to buy our day-to-day groceries. As a result, we knew most of the cashiers and the other way around. There was one with which my mother particularly liked to exchange a few words. I went to her checkout without really thinking about it. I only had a tomato can for dinner, a baguette and the diaper pack. I saw her making a face when she dealt with the last article. She took it, frowned an eyebrow, looked at me, scanned it and rolled it away. My cheeks went red and I started to sweat.
- It’s for friends. Mommy’s friends, I felt I had to explain.
She did not seem convinced, still she did not comment. I became even more embarrassed. I was scared she would talk to my mother about it. With a beating heart, I paid and went on my way thinking that I should find a solution for this too.
Since this moment, I got into a process that a lot of ABDL people know : hiding, avoiding suspicions, distrusting everyone, living in the fear of being surprised, humiliated and above all : never - ever - having a chance to talk about it. This lack of externalisation led me to a gradual isolation and anchored in me a feeling of deep loneliness.
Life, however, would follow its natural course. In May a school trip was planned. Five classes of my middle school would go to Auvergne, a mountainous French region, for a whole week of great outdoors activities. I was sincerely looking forward to it, but when time came to prepare my stuff, I realised with a pinch in the stomach that I would not be able to wear diapers the whole time. Such a shame ! The context was ideal though !
We left a very early Monday morning. The place we stayed in was a huge inn in the countryside. Girls and boys were separated in two immense dormitories. As a lot of classes were mixed up, I did not know most of the girls I would share the intimity, or the majority of our boy neighbours. Prepuberty dictates, they would be the main subject of long post curfew discussions.
On Wednesday, I had found my feet. I slept in a bed on top of a girl who still is a friend by the time I am writing to you. We spent day time doing activities in the open air, our meals were taken on tables so long that they could host about 30 hungry lilttle ones, 20’s community bathrooms offered a charming out-of-the-time atmosphere : best holiday ever ! In the middle of a night, we heard some agitation in the boys’ dormitory. During breakfast, the word had already spread : one of the boys peed in his bed. The girl at my side pointed him to me in a not-so-discreet manner. He was at the end of a table next to us, looking down on a slice of bread with jam that he ate without conviction. Not a single soul would speak to him. He was of an average size for his age, his chestnut tousled hair hiding part of his brown/green eyes. From this moment, I would try to be in contact with him as much as possible for the rest of the stay. I would try to be in his team when we played games, eat at his table, sit not far from him on the bus… I concretely did not address more than 10 full sentences to him, but when I looked at him, I felt butterflies in my stomach. What did I like in him ? Everything, from the way he stood to his elusive looks passing by his clumsy words, showed a socially unadapted character ; a leaning that never left me either in my friendships or in my romances.
I came back home, delighted about the past week. I was counting on a fantastic conclusion sleeping tight with a diaper on. As there were no more diapers in the beach bag behind the washing machine, I climbed on my loft bed. I caught Shaggy in the middle of my other stuffed toys.
My body freezes.
My temples tremble.
My heart gets carried away.
My palms become clammy.
My hands placed themselves mechanically on my mouth to prevent a possible scream. I did not need to open it. It was empty. My mother had probably wanted to do some cleaning… and my diapers were found.