S - Sister of mine
At the end of the summer 2011, my sister joined me at my father’s for a last stay before the Autumn term. Unlike at our mother’s, we shared a room, which was not unpleasant at all.
After having dinner altogether near the port, my sister and I spent part of the night chatting. She had turned 12 a couple of weeks ago. Puberty was slowly gaining her. She would not hesitate to ask me all kinds of questions to which I would always answer honestly. It was not rare that she would make me laugh, as much with her attitude as with the way she would tell the last rumours. I was her model and I would do anything for this to last. I admired her resourcefulness and her nerves. She was my island of trust and I would make a point of honour to show her all the attention our parents sometimes failed to give us.
Meanwhile I was listening with amusement to all the unexpected developments of her week at the activity centre, I could not push away from my head all the pictures of my ABDL night that were popping. I mechanically thought again about all the years when my sister and I were sharing the same room… And to all the times I put a diaper on when she was in the bed right under mine. The faintest sound of friction from the Pampers or the pull ups made me quiver and I used to wonder how on earth she did not notice. All those evenings, waiting for her to go to sleep so I could grope the thickness of this underwear. All those mornings half awake meeting her in the corridor when I just released my bladder in that formidable object of regression. I wanted to interrupt her story. I wanted to pop the question :
“Say L., you remember the time you had to put on diapers again ? Did you ever find it quite delightful ? Because, you see, I do. I do a lot.”
No, really, I did not have her nerves. And I knew that this part of her life was not a rejoicing one. So how could I open myself on the fact that in her unhappiness I found my felicity ?
One day, she, our mother and I went out to the beach. It was Autumn and temperatures had dropped. We were not planning on bathing, only having a nice stroll. I took the occasion to put on a diaper I had stolen earlier on in our regular supermarket. During the afternoon, clouds had opened to let the sun shine bright. My sister had then undertaken to roll up her pants so she could put her feet into the ocean. My mother had followed the initiative. The podo-bathers had exhorted me to do the same between two bursts of laughs. The hitch was that I had put woolen tights on with a skirt. The fear that the diaper might show out either in the process of undressing/redressing or in the bedlam in the water had made me find some limp excuses. L., supercharged, had run after me, pulling down my tights that I had caught up just in time. Nothing terrible, but enough to increase my blood pressure.
At that time, she was too young for me to confide in her. She would not have understood. Even myself I did not quite understand my beginnings as a diaper girl. Now, I could think about it. After many years hiding, I felt like talking.
Especially after the intensity of the last evening and my obsession to do it again.
Especially now that I felt much better after reading the articles on the internet forum.
Especially because the physiological changes of teenagehood were numerous and I needed to externalise some of it.
Growing up, my sister will end up skateboarding, an activity in which she will show indubitable capacities, and follow the well-known clichés for that matter : a vast collection of American caps, oversized outfits looking washed out even new, playlists based on P!nk, Avril Lavigne, Sum 41 and, of course, irrepressible desires for revolution. Me, I long stayed her yin : calm, quiet, oscillating between french variety and Marseilles’ rap.
Despite our style and temper divergences, our bounds never really broke. Our parents instilled in us an opening of mind that made us accept a lot of things without judgement. Most likely without even realising it, she has always been supporting me, merely by staying unchanged at my side in all types of situations. Even if she was about to spark things off… But that is another story.
-What about you, what did you do last night when Dad left you alone ?
-Well, nothing much. I ordered a pizza and watched TV.
-You didn’t even spend an hour on the phone with William ?
-No, I… I thought about him. I am turning the light off. Good night, sister of mine