"Goodnight, Mom!! LOVE YOU!!!" My cheerful voice bounded down the hallway as I stood still, waiting for a reply that never came. It hurt not hearing her singsong voice respond in kind anymore from her office, but it couldn't be helped. It was just another one of those things that changed once mom caught the latest strain of minit's disease. I didn't doubt that she still tried to respond; after all, we were inseparable.
Dad died early on, leaving mom and me alone without him. My extended family was non-existent as well, seeing as dad and mom both eloped without either set of parents seeing eye to eye on the soon-to-be-married couple, so it was just us. Alone. And that was alright.
A light smile crept onto my lips as I thought about mom and dad in wedding attire, a smile blooming on each of their lips as they went through the ceremony together. I didn't have a good idea of how my dad looked, but I assumed he would've been very dashing and handsome. After all, I was a sterling example of the pairs good genetics!
Shutting the bedroom door behind me, I took a seat on the edge of my desk and pulled down my sweatpants, holding my loose-fitting shirt with my chin to reveal my wet pullup.
Yeah, a pullup. I know, but I can't help it. A few years ago, back when mom could still legally drive, we got into an accident that left me partially paralyzed. I couldn't walk and lost many bodily functions, leaving me in the hospital with almost constant supervision. Eventually, with the nurse's help and rehab, I could walk again and do almost everything normally, but the bladder issues still persisted.
We ran out of options, eventually ending therapy with a choice of medication or no medication with either a light or heavy padding. I chose to ignore the drugs because the end result would still be the same.
Mom will still give me a guilty look now and again if she accidentally catches sight of me walking around the house without pants on.
A well-practised motion later, I slipped off the rest of my sweats and brought the soggy pullup to my face to see just how much I peed. I was surprised to see it was primarily dry on the inside before I balled it up and tossed it into the sealed bin nearby. Then I slid the thick diaper I had laid out this morning under my butt and sat down.
Almost instantly, a look of discomfort formed. My left hand worked on the front tapes while the right brought the right worked the baby powder, and quickly inserted the fleshy buttplug vibrator I bought last week online. I must have left it on this morning because the vibrator was already wiggling weakly inside of my colon. As soon as I was done, I taped up the last side and flattened out the rest of the padding, ensuring both leg guards were adequately in place between my thighs and around my ass before I glomped my pillow.
Exhaustion soon settled in as I drifted off to sleep, forgetting to turn off the dingy overhead lamp as I dreamed a sweet dream.
A few hours later, I woke up and rolled to my side to face my alarm clock. It was only 10:46PM, a long way to go before morning. A pain in my gut told me all I needed to know from my bed of cosy blankets, leaving me with an ultimatum I hadn't needed to face since I got out of the hospital: To poop or not to poop.
The buttplug wasn't vibrating anymore, evidently meaning the drain on its battery life had been too much to keep it going for the rest of the night. Actually, I couldn't even feel it anymore, come to think of it. I tried pressing my fingers into the outside of my padding, looking to see if it slipped out anywhere, but another wave of discomfort washed over me as if to force an unpleasant urgency.
I need to decide.
My mind flip-flopped between the options while my body already decided what to do. My butt arched in the air as I gazed face to face with my pillowcase, both arms unstably keeping me upright as they sunk into the mattress. A groan later, and it all started. I struggled to keep my face's composure as the mound in the seat of my diaper continued to grow, only letting out a sigh of relief once everything was out.
I felt both of my cheeks blush with a vermillion hue as I soaked in reality. It had been such a long time since I ever used a diaper for... that, giving me a complicated feeling. I felt around again, kneading the padding gently before moving to an upright position on the bed to get a better view of my instinctual betrayal. And I can't say I was disappointed. The front was no longer a pure white, now tinted yellow with a faint hint of something more lurking beneath the waistband, while the back screamed the obvious: I just shat myself.
Momentarily getting lost in thought, I felt something else stir while the familiar sound of liquid hitting wet padding rang in the air. This evening, not only had I intentionally shat the bed, I unintentionally pissed it as well...
I felt shamefaced and full of disappointment in myself as I slowly sat down when I heard a small shriek for a split second that caused me to jump in my skin.
"Mom!?" I jumped, panicked and glanced around hurriedly at the bed and floor for any sight of the sound I just heard before while my anxiety meter kept increasing at a pace as steady as my racing heart. If mom was around, that means... she saw everything... I felt a lump rising in my throat as I forced it back down and closed my eyes with anticipation. There was one last place to check. Oh god...
Steeling myself for a brief moment, I flung my right leg out of the way, repositioning myself on the bed and swinging the blankets off behind me. When my eyes opened, I checked in the spot where I had just sat down on the bed. Nothing. She wasn't there; nothing was there. A massive sigh of relief adorned my waddle to the bedside, swiftly moving both legs over and plopping down.
Instantly the warmth radiated from my lower half as stale and fresh urine co-mingled with the massive poo mashed under my rear. I felt so exhausted. Mom clearly wasn't in the room, so I must have imagined it. I gazed up at the overhead lamp, both thankful it was on for that and also annoyed that it meant I'd have to get up now...
With a sigh, I got up and took a detour down the hallway to peek into moms room, spying her cigarette-box sized bed with a lump under the cloth sheets. I let out another sigh of relief and shut the door, grabbing a glass of water and heading back to my room. I closed the door behind me, flicked off the light switch and once again plopped down unceremoniously onto the bed.
I was pooped, pun totally intended.
I stared conflicted at my new burden peeking out between my legs from under my shirt. After accepting that I simply didn't have the energy to give myself a change, I drank half the glass and buried myself under the sheets for the second time that night.
Another short while later, the only thing I could remember was a faint new warmth growing between my legs before everything returned to black.
My ever faithful alarm blared in my right ear, letting me know that morning had arrived. The second thing I noticed was the heavy stench that filled the air around me. It hadn't been too bad before I went to sleep, but now after ten hours of rest, you couldn't help but notice it. I felt unexpectedly giddy and a bit... naughty at the thought of the events of last night. Like I broke some big taboo or something. I got up and peeked my head down the hall cautiously, calling out moms name but predictably getting no response.
I then poked my head into her bedroom and office before giving a shrug and padding off to the kitchen. Mom wasn't home, and even when I got to the kitchen, she hadn't left a note. If I didn't know my mom, I would've been worried, but this happened before. I freaked out and called every one, making a big fuss until she showed up back home dumbfounded. We apologized, and I promised her I wouldn't jump to conclusions anymore.
I decided to make some breakfast. Starting with a banana, I dug in while I worked on the rest of the meal. Oatmeal cooked while toast toasted, both finishing around the same time as my last bite of the banana. I figured since mom wasn't home and I was already messy, I could afford to be a little gross, so I pulled open the back of my waistband and dropped the peel in. The thought and feeling sparked a giggle-fit that almost made me pee myself as the slimy new addition cupped my cheeks like a clingy octopus.
Washing my hands at the sink, I spared no time digging into the rest of my meal, even accompanying it with a full glass of orange juice. With a clean bowl and plate, my belly bulged happily beneath my shirt. Simple breakfasts never failed to improve my mornings, so with a spring in my admittedly awkward steps, I put the dishes into the sink and started getting ready for the day.
Groans accompanied my application of eyeliner and farts donned the brushing of my hair. The more I moved, the more I woke my bodies sleeping giant, kicking off the process that every diaper would dread. I figured since I always went poop after breakfast, I could just risk it and use the diaper again. The destination was already unchanged; who would care if there was an extra passenger onboard?
The clocks dinged nine, precisely thirty minutes after I woke up and right when nature decided to call. Last nights lazy abandonment of the loo broke open the mental floodgates that prevented accidents from occurring, leaving me standing dumbfounded in the living room with a hand on my belly as the orange juice from earlier pooled at the bottom of my diaper. The padding sloshed with a large piss puddle, struggling to absorb it promptly. I had to carefully lean back to let it drain to the drier back of my diaper, unfortunately allowing it to mix with last night poo and leak a little bit from the leg guards.
It was here where I started to have doubts about my idea to stick it out until the second messing. If my diaper was already like this, would it really be able to take another three or so hours of whatever I'd end up throwing at it?
While I fretted for a while, I unconsciously shuffled back into my bedroom, pacing back and forth on the cheaply-opulent carpeting, when my eyes suddenly locked on my diaper pail.
The pull up!!
Light flooded from the sky as a massive hand reached down into the tube and brought back out a mostly dry toilet-aide from the depths... Ahem, maybe a bit too dramatic... heh.
I brought it over to my desk and quickly cut off the waistband, leaving behind a dry padded square that would fit perfectly inside my diaper. As I looked over my handiwork, I grabbed another fresh pullup from the bag nearby and did the same thing that I did to the first. Two would be plenty for the rest of the day, but I wanted to ensure I would have all the protection I needed.
If I had paid closer attention, I would've spotted a golden flash of something from within my padded prison as two new layers were shoved down the front and promptly sealed. Unfortunately for past me, I didn't.
The rest of the day zoomed by, with numerous wettings dotting the hours that left my diaper uncomfortably heavy. The stench was unbearable now, but I was determined to see the original plan through. About halfway through my newest spreadsheet, I started feeling something moving in the back of my diaper. Just as I turned away from the screen, a familiar pain in my gut said hello by releasing a massive fart that tore through my shit. I didn't have the time to figure out what it was, so I assumed my fart just reactivated the plug.
With a knowing look on my face, I slid back in my chair, folding almost in half as I felt the first log struggle to push its way into the filth. Even if I had a mirror, I don't think I would've been able to appreciate all the expressions that filled my face at that moment. My eyes rolled back before shooting forward with concentration, blushes served both of my puffed cheeks, and little moans met with the grand finale of gas.
My shit was everywhere but outside the diaper. Some of it pushed up to the front and slowly swallowed the sopping wet inserts from earlier. Another bit threatened to rise upward to the waistband but stopped short before ever reaching its goal. The majority filled the leg guards, reluctantly delaying their escape as the stalwart sentries did their duty.
I had done it. And... I felt so... so bad. I mean, I felt good too! ...but if that taboo was real, I well and truly broke it now. I almost staggered the moment I stood up, the feeling between my legs so foreign I nearly forgot how to walk. It took a lot of effort and logistics to get the diaper off without spilling its contents, even with a third of them sticking to my rear. I had decimated it. Destroyed it. And I'm not going to lie, at the time, I felt proud.
Wipe after wipe became a new addition to the mound sitting in front of me as I methodically cleared the last traces of shit off.
I used a few extra things of tape to keep it all held together before I tossed it in the pail and went to take a shower. There wasn't much point thinking of it too fondly. It was a diaper, I used it, and now I have many more.
As the first drops of water hit my breasts, my mind drifted back to where mom might be... She was late.