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Gemma's wet weekend


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Chapter 1:

Fleur Timperley was a human dynamo of a child. Once she had set her mind to something, she persevered until it was completed. She rarely stuck with anything after it was done, but at least she finished it. 

Since childhood she had tried lots of things. She studied Tae Kwon Do when she was six, and was a natural at it. It only took her six months to achieve her yellow belt, which she did with ease, then decided that she simply didn't want to do it anymore. 

Little Athletics was next. She enjoyed training, competed in her first carnival, won the 100 and 200 meter races, then said it wasn't for her. The same went for swimming, her coach had heaped praise on her ability, but she had no interest in pursuing it. 

Her mother decided that perhaps music might be her thing, and after trying the piano and violin, she settled on the guitar, and practiced constantly, even to the point of making her fingers bleed. By the age of 10, she was quite adept, but said she was sick of the lessons and didn't want to go anymore. The guitar was slightly different from her other interests, which also included a brief foray into tap dancing and art classes, for the fact that she never entirely gave it away completely, and every now and then, would drag her old six string out of her cupboard and happily play for a couple of hours. 

Her mother, Anna, never despaired with her daughters ever changing hobbies, feeling that eventually she would find something that she was passionate about to stick at. 

By the time Fleur was 15, her main passions were education and feminism. She had decided that she wanted to be a teacher, and fight the good fight for women's rights. She certainly wasn't a man hater by any stretch though, and had a lot of boyfriends, although no relationship seemed to last more than a few months at most. 

She put this down to a few things. Her intelligence, that always made itself known by her being naturally argumentative, and enjoying it when she could use her wits to out argue any boy on any topic should she choose too, her passion for women's rights, which she herself had admitted a few times could become a touch over zealous, and her incontinence issues. 

She could certainly understand why boys would be put off by her arguing over any issue. Her constant diatribes on women's perceived status as somehow being less worthy of equal pay and rights equivalent to their male counterparts. Then she would wet herself. 

Her incontinence wasn't a major thing, she just had a weak bladder. It wasn't as if she had to go around diapered all day or anything, she just needed to be careful when her bladder was getting full. She had stress incontinence, which resulted in her having little accidents if she coughed, sneezed, or laughed too hard, but also was prone to bouts of urge incontinence, which meant that when she got a strong urge to pee, she really had to act on it immediately, or else she ran the risk of completely wetting her pants. 

It was a sort of family joke. Pee incontinence ran in the family. Anna had always been the same, as had Fleurs grandmama Joyce. It just seemed to be a genetic family trait amongst the females, they had weak bladders, especially after childbirth. Fleur knew her mother often wet her pants, and as a result, when Fleur had an accident, it wasn't treated as a big deal. As a child, Fleur had even been told to just 'go in your pants' by her mother on occasions when there wasn't a toilet readily available. 

By the time Fleur was 18, she was studying to be a primary school teacher. She had also discovered the alluring effects of alcohol and pot, and would party hard with the radical "hippie" set on the college campus. Thanks to the single-mindedness of her studies, she maintained excellent grades, but also smoked a lot of pot and drank a lot of vodka.

When she drank too much, or got too high, she would usually wet her pants, but she would tell anyone who might suggest that perhaps that might be a sign that she'd had enough, that it was none of ther business.

'It's my right as a woman to decide when I've had enough, and having a weak bladder is just another sign of how women have a poorer deal than men.  I can't help it if I wet myself, and I refuse to feel any shame about the fact that my female body is quite unfairly not as good at bladder control as what the typical males body is! Just because Im unfairly cursed with this, and my pants are wet, doesn't mean that I have any less right to stay and enjoy myself  just as much as anyone else does! So what if they're wet? They'll soon dry! And the mere suggestion that I should leave because of it is a form of oppression!'

Needless to say she was a divisive character. The radicals on campus loved her for her forthright attitude, while the more traditional students viewed her as an intense, left wing nut job. Whatever the opinion, the general consensus was she would no doubt end up getting a liberal arts degree and joining a radical political party at some stage. 

She did minor in liberal arts, but maintained her major in early childhood education, and was soon well known on the campus as "that loud mouthed hippie chick who pisses herself a lot."

She enjoyed her four years of college, regardless of her incontinence issues, and just flatly refused to let an issue like that stand in the way of her degree. She was aware that there were products on the market to help her with her problem, but in her mind she didn't think that it was fair to expect her to pay out good money from her meagre students allowance on expensive products like diapers. Being a medical issue, they should be free. It was only the Big Pharma companies that insisted on milking the population out of every cent they could to line the fat pockets of their grossly overpaid C.E.O.'s at the expense of the poor working man, (or woman, let's not forget women!) that made necessary items like diapers too expensive and out of reach of the general poor student. 

In a good, working, Marxist economy, the necessities like diapers for the medically disabled would be a right, not a privilege. Perhaps she would take an interest in politics after school. After all, somebody had to take a stance on behalf of the downtrodden. Particularly women.

Of course the fact that her incontinence usually flared up while drunk on box wine, vodka and dope had nothing at all to do with being oppressed.

It was nearing the end of her graduating year that her world suddenly changed. There was a huge party involved, (of course), a drunk and stoned Fleur wet her pants, (of course), ended up taking her wet jeans off, (of course), and ended up partaking in a rather large sexual orgy, involving half the people in her liberal arts class. 

Two weeks before graduation, she awoke feeling ill one morning, and started throwing up. This happened every day for a week. She was about to make a doctors appointment, when she realised that her period was a week late. 

A simple kit from the campus pharmacy confirmed it. She was pregnant.

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Authors note. This will be an adult story about Gemma when she grows up. The first few chapters involving her childhood are just setting up the future episodes.

Chapter 2:

Fleur graduated with honours, and wasn't showing any signs of her condition at the ceremony. She hadn't told anyone about her pregnancy, except her mother, who was more than happy for her daughter to move back in with her. Her husband, Fleurs father, had died in a motorcycle accident when Fleur was only four, so for the past eighteen years they had only had one another, and grandmama Joyce to rely upon. While Anna hadn't always agreed with her daughters radical ways, she still loved her dearly. 

There had been no talk whatsoever about terminating the pregnancy. Yes, it was accepted that the still unborn baby would have an adverse effect on Fleurs future career ambitions, but the Timperley family were staunch, if not regular church going Catholics, and the very concept of abortion was abhorrent to them. 

To her credit, and her mothers great relief, Fleur got her act together. She gave up booze and drugs, and took a part time job at the local supermarket in a bid to prepare herself financially as best she could for the impending birth. She had wanted a job in either child care or early education, but knowing that she could probably only work for six or seven months made it simply not viable. Thankfully, her mother was reasonably well off, so money shouldn't be an issue anyway.

The only bone of contention between mother and daughter was the identity of the father. Anna was determined to know, stating quite rightly that he had a responsibility to provide for his unborn child. She was shocked when her fiercely feminist daughter refused to divulge the information, stating that she wanted nothing from him, and nothing to do with him. 

In a way, this made a weird sort of sense, knowing how much her daughter would hate to be dependent on a man for support, but in truth, it was simply because Fleur had absolutely no idea just who the father might be. She vaguely remembered having sex with at least three different guys that night, and had a gut wrenching feeling that there was probably at least two more. Also, there was no guarantee that she had fallen pregnant at that party. After all, she was used to exercising her right as a free, independent woman whenever, and with whoever she chose. She'd slept with a few other guys in the weeks before that party. If she was a man, she would be considered a stud, and just because she was a woman didn't mean she should be considered loose, or a slut. 

That would be sexist after all. 

Anna owned a few investment properties, and when the current tenant of a small cottage on its own small lot had his lease up for renewal, he was told that it wouldn't be renewed, as the property would be required for Fleur and her baby. The cottage was small but comfortable, and only a suburb away from Anna, so it was deemed the perfect solution.

Her pregnancy progressed well, with the only downside being Fleurs incontinence became a lot worse, and by the time the baby was due, she had reneged on her previous views, and was now wearing diapers 24/7 as a matter of necessity. 

On a stinking hot February day, with no breeze at all, but dark thunderclouds still somehow managing to gather overhead, increasing the humidity to near unbearable levels, Fleur was sitting on her couch, wearing only a diaper stretched tightly around her swollen belly, and a strappy sleeveless top, her feet propped up on a stool and the air conditioning blasting flat out. She suddenly felt a sharp pain from her lower belly, followed by a sudden warm wetness flooding her diaper as her water broke. 

She immediately called her mother, who stopped mixing the cake batter she was diligently preparing to make the short drive to collect her daughter and take he to the hospital. She had wanted Fleur to put a dress or skirt on to cover her sagging diaper, but Fleur had refused, telling her mother that she 'just didn't give a shit about being seen in a nappy,' so her mother had grabbed her pre-packed bag, and off they went. 

The delivery was natural, painful, and relatively short, and not nine hours later, Fleur was the mother of a beautiful baby girl. 

She decided that "Gemma" was a nice name. 

Edited by Barry (see edit history)
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Chapter 3:

With lots of help from Anna and grandmama Joyce, Fleur soon settled into a routine, and found that motherhood came naturally to her. She doted on her baby daughter, and against all of her earlier feminist leanings, she discovered that she actually loved being a stay at home mum.

The only downside was her incontinence. It was worse than ever, with the trauma of childbirth now making her almost completely bladder incontinent. She had done all of the kegel exercises, got herself back into shape, avoided alcohol and coffee, well mostly anyway, but nothing seemed to work. Her gynaecologist had suggested surgery, but she really didn't like that idea much. To be honest, she was now quite happy wearing diapers. Wetting her pants throughout college had never been a big deal for her, and now she was wearing a diaper, it seemed even better. Nowadays, when she wet herself, at least nobody else could tell. It wasn't that she got any pleasure or satisfaction out of them, they were merely a handy tool for managing a difficult situation. Altogether, she had no real complaints at all. 

Yes, she was a bit disappointed not to use her teaching degree, but that paled into insignificance against the joy of watching her baby grow into a toddler. But slowly, an idea had begun to form. 

'I've decided to homeschool Gemma, at least for a few years,' she told her mother over coffee one morning.

'Homeschool? Do you think that's wise?'Anna asked. 

'Why not? I've got my teaching degree, and I'm sure that one on one tutoring must be better than being taught in a classroom with thirty other kids!'

'I suppose so, but it's more than that. What about socialising, making friends and things like that? It's also a huge drain on your time. You'll still need to cook and clean, and believe me, Gemma's only two now, in another couple of years you'll be glad to see her off to school, just to get some time for yourself!'

'I'm going to send her to the local playgroup. That will help develop her social skills. I'm already cooking most meals the night before, and I'll still get time to myself while she's at playgroup. Trust me, it's a win-win situation!'

Anna wasn't convinced though. 'How long for. I really do think that little kids need other kids to play with. I agree that scholastically you can teach her, but eventually she'll need to be around other kids her own age if she's going to develop properly.'

'Relax mum. It won't be forever. I was thinking until she was nine or ten, grade three or four level. I reckon by that stage, I can have her reading, writing and doing maths at a grade six level. It will give her a big head start over her classmates, and give her an advantage for the next few years. Also, if she starts regular school at age nine, it still gives her three years to acclimatise before she starts high school!'

'I admit that it sounds good on paper dear. I guess it wouldn't hurt to try. After all, if it doesn't work out, you can always send her to school then.'

Fleur smiled. 'It'll work mum. Trust me."

------------------------------------------------

Gemma wore cloth diapers during the day, but disposables at night. Fleur had read a lot of books about potty training, and had decided on a modern, new age approach. She wouldn't force her daughter to potty train until Gemma herself was ready. Too many experts agreed that forcing a child to potty train too early could have damaging, long term effects. Fleur purchased lots of different educational toys designed to develop shape recognition, colours, letters numbers, music and coordination. She read to her, sung to her, and played with her, and Gemma advanced at a strong rate. By the time she was three, she could write her own name, recognise certain words, and add and subtract single digit numbers. She could name all of the basic colours, and had developed an affinity for rock music. She could name most common zoo animals, and feed herself without making too much of a mess. At least sometimes. 

One morning, Fleur entered her room, finding her standing up in her crib, appearing to be grabbing at her nappy. Fleur lifted her three year old onto the changing table, and undid her nappy, surprised to find it was still dry. 

'Gemmy! You're still dry sweetie! Do you want to use your new potty?'

'Nappy mumma' Gemma replied, grabbing herself with one hand and pointing to the neatly stacked pile of cloth diapers with the other. 

A bit confused, Fleur took a cloth diaper from the pile, folded it, lifted her daughters legs, placing it beneath her. She had to pull her daughters hand away from her crotch as she pulled the middle section of the diaper up, and held it in place with one hand as she reached for the side section. Suddenly she felt warm wetness underneath her hand. Her daughter had her eyes closed, and seemed to be completely relaxed as she lay there peeing into the diaper that as yet hadn't been done up. 

Fleur didn't react. She merely stood there and waited for Gemma to finish, then threw the sodden diaper into the pail, cleaned her up, added cream and powder, then put another diaper and plastic pants on her. 

'That was strange,' she thought as Gemma toddled out of the room, 'it's almost as if she was waiting for the cloth diaper.' Fleurs own diaper was wet as well. Over the last year she had started wetting the bed most nights, so she quickly changed into another adult pull up, noticing that her own sheets needed changing again. With a wry grin she realised that she had wet the bed while her three year old hadn't. 

As the months marched on, Gemma started waking up dry more and more often. It didn't happen every night but perhaps three nights a week on average. But she continued to wet her nappy during the day, and showed no signs of stopping. Fleur wasn't concerned at all. Her daughter hadn't yet turned four, and lots of four year olds still wore diapers. 

Then one day, a month before her fourth birthday, Gemma ran up to her mother with an excited but slightly worried look on her face.

'Mummy. Wanna poo poo,'she announced.

'Have you done a poo Gemmy? Don't worry, I'll change you in a minute.'

'No mummy. Wanna poo poo. Now mummy.'

'You WANT to do a poo? You haven't done one yet, but you want to do one?'

'Yes mummy, now. Wanna poo.'

A bit confused, Fleur took Gemma to her room, and took of her nappy, noticing it was wet. But it was still clean though. She took the brand new potty off the shelf. They hadn't used it yet. A lot of Gemma's books had pictures of pottys in them, and Fleur had tried to explain what they were for, but it was a bit hard to explain to a three year old who hadn't yet started toilet training exactly what a potty was for. 

She sat it on the floor, looking bemused. But Gemma toddled right up to it, and sat down immediately, without any trepidation. Soon she was grunting, and within minutes had successfully moved her bowels into the potty. 

Fleur heaped praise on her daughter as she cleaned her up, putting another cloth nappy on her.

"You know you can do wees in the potty too, don't you Gemmy?"

"Yes mumma," Gemma replied, then toddled off to play with her toys. 

From then on, Gemma always tried to use her potty for doing poos. She wasn't always successful, but more often than not, she made it. She also continued to wake up dry with much more frequency, but showed no interest in using the potty to do wees in during the day. 

True to her word, Fleur refused to push her. 

 

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Chapter 4:

Gemma was now five. She was doing exceptionally well with her school work, and all the tests showed she was reading and writing at a fourth grade level. Her speech was well developed, and if you heard her talk without looking at her, you would swear you were conversing with a child of eight or nine. She had grown into a very pretty child, with long black hair, and slightly darker skin. It allowed Fleur to take an educated guess as to who Gemma's father might be. She vaguely remembered an African-American man being there on the night of the infamous orgy. She knew he wasn't a student, and was there temporarily on a holiday visa. She had no idea what his name was, or where he was from, so even if she did want to contact him, (she didn't) she wouldn't be able to anyway. 

Gemma still wore a diaper to bed, even though she hadn't wet in her sleep for over six months. The disposables had been swapped for the same cloth ones that she still wore during the day. It didn't make much sense to spend money on disposables that Gemma wasn't using. She said that she wanted to wear a diaper to bed even though she didn't need one, because it helped her sleep better. As Fleur herself wore diapers to bed, and Gemma knew about that, Fleur felt a bit hypocritical about saying no to her daughter. After all, she wasn't using them, she just felt more comfortable in them, so Fleur didn't see any real harm in her daughter wearing them. 

The biggest concern was her daytime diapers. She was still padded all day, and showed absolutely no inclination towards being toilet trained, except for number twos. She hadn't messed herself for many months, and always asked for her nappy to be taken off well before she had a messy accident. She had progressed to the toilet as well, the potty being permanently shelved after only a few months. 

It was a Saturday morning, so there were no classes that day. Gemma had been changed earlier, even though her night nappy was still dry. Fleur had made her daughter sit on the toilet for five minutes after she had taken her nappy off, but nothing had happened. Ten minutes later, freshly diapered and wearing clear plastic pants over it, Fleur noticed that her daughters diaper was sagging down, and looked very wet. 

'Gemma honey," have you wet your nappy already?'

Gemma answered without taking her eyes off the cartoon she was watching. 

'Yes mummy.'

'Why did you do that sweetie? I sat you on the toilet before.'

'I don't like the toilet mummy. I like my nappy.'

'Thats silly Gem. You do poo in the toilet, why don't you do wees in there as well?'

'Cos poos are yucky mum. Wees not yucky. Wee feels nice in my nappy."

'But you're a big girl now Gem. Big girls should do their wee in the toilet.'

'Uh-uh. Don't care. I like doing wees in my nappy.'

Fleur saw an opportunity to try having yet another discussion about the toilet with her daughter. She had tried numerous times before, but it was like Gemma just put a wall up. At least this time she was answering her sensibly. She sat down beside her daughter, but didn't dare switch the TV off, because she wanted to maintain the equilibrium of the conversation without breaking the spell.

'So tell me darling, why do you like doing wees in your nappy so much?'

Gemma shrugged her little shoulders, her eyes not leaving the screen. 'Dunno mummy. I just kinda like it. I don't like doing poos in it though. That's all yucky and smelly and it itches something horrible. But doing a wee is just nice and warm. It feels nice!'

'Gemmy. Today's Saturday. We don't have to do any schoolwork. Would you like to go to the park? Maybe get some ice cream?'

Gemma spun around, giving her mother her full attention at last. 'Oh yes please! Can we?'

'I'll tell you what. I'll take you to the park and buy you an ice cream if you agree to go without your nappy on. It doesn't matter if you have an accident, but I'd like you to try. Deal?'

Gemma held her tiny hand out for a shake. 'Deal! When can we go?'

Fleur laughed. 'Not till after lunch sweetie. I've got to do some cooking first. Okay?'

Gemma happily agreed, and turned back towards the TV. Fleur stood up, and considered her options. She wasn't wearing her own diaper at the moment, in fact, she wasn't even wearing underwear, only a nightie. She had taken a shower earlier, slipped her nightie on, thrown her wet diaper into the bin, and realised it was full. So she had emptied it into the outside bin, turned the kettle on for a cup of tea, then started pottering in the kitchen while she drank her tea. It was then that she had noticed her daughters diaper had been wet, so had talked to her about it. 

She cosidered her options. She had to change Gemma. Leaving her in a wet diaper for the next few hours just wasn't an option. She needed to put her own diaper back on as well, but she didn't feel any urge to pee yet. 

'Gemmy! Come here honey. I'll change you now, and we'll take it off again before we go for our walk, okay?'

'Coming mummy!' Gemma called, and she could hear her little feet running towards her bedroom. She lifted the little girl up, and laid her on the changing table, deftly removing her plastic pants and diaper. 

As she lifted her daughter, she had to hold her own legs together, as she had nearly leaked from the effort. She deftly removed Gemma's plastic pants and diaper, wiped her clean, then reached for the baby powder. She squeezed the bottle, but gasped as a huge cloud of powder escaped, sending up a mushroom cloud of powdered fragrance. 

Fleur gasped in surprise, inhaling suddenly, feeling a familiar tickle in her nose. She was holding Gemma's feet in one hand, but suddenly sneezed, loud, hard, and uncontrollably. When she sneezed, a jet of pee shot out, hitting the front of her nightie. She sneezed again, and another squirt ran down her bare leg. 

She felt her bladder spasming, looked around in panic, and saw Gemma's stack of neatly folded diapers. She grabbed a handful, and pushed them into her crotch, through her nightie, just as she felt the dan burst. 

Gemma sat up, naked from the waist down but completely unfazed by that, but stared wide eyed at her mother, holding a handful of her nappies against her private parts, as a big wet spot spread across the front of he mothers nightie, and pee ran down her legs.

'Mummy! You wet yourself!' Gemma shouted incredulously. 

Fleur couldn't answer, she just ran back into the bathroom and stepped into the shower, dropping the wet diapers between her feet, as she unleashed a torrent of pee on them. 

By the time she'd finished, she had to have another shower, and it was nearly ten minutes before she sheepishly made her way back to her daughters room, finding it empty.

'Gemma!' She called, 'Where are you?'

'Lounge room mum!' Came the reply.

Fleur entered the lounge room, and found her little girl sitting stark naked on the couch watching TV.

'Gemma! What in the world are you doing?'

Gemma giggled. 'You wet your pants mummy! I seen you!'

'You saw me Gem, not seen, and yes, I did. You know your mummy has to wear nappies as well. That why. So I don't have accidents and wee on the floor. That's why you shouldn't be sitting around with nothing on, in case you do too! Come on, let's get a diaper on you before you wee on the floor like I did!'

'I won't wee on the floor mummy, don't be silly.'

'What do you mean silly, Gemma-boo? Why is that silly?'

'Cos I can hold on silly! I don't have any silly accidents!"

Fleur sat down, completely bewildered now.

'Explain yourself missy. If you don't have accidents, why do I put a nappy on you?'

Now it was Gemma's turn to look confused.

'Cos I like wearing them mummy. They're fun to wear. It's much nicer to do a wee in my nappy than in the stupid toilet! I thought you knew that!'

 

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Chapter 5:

Mother and daughter walked to the shop together. It was the first time that five year old Gemma had been further than the front yard without a nappy on. Frankly speaking, Fleur didn't completely believe her daughters claims that she could in fact hold on. She certainly hadn't pushed potty training on the little girl, but it been discussed, and she had no doubt that Gemma understood what the basics where all about, and what was expected from her. 

But the more she thought about it, the more it dawned on her. Yes, she had showed her daughter how the toilet and potty worked, and what they were for, and she had clearly explained about not leaving it too late when she felt the urge to go. But had she ever actually told her daughter that she should be using it. She had showed her how, but had she told her that she had to use it?

After all, Gemma had stopped bed wetting and messing herself, supposedly just because she didn't like it, but if she actually liked using her diaper, and was never specifically told not to,well, it kind of made sense that a smart, headstrong five year old would choose to please herself unless strictly told otherwise. 

At the shop, Fleur deliberately bought her daughter a large juice, larger than usual. She then walked them the long way to the park. Once there, she pushed Gemma on the swings for ages, then instead of hurrying back, held back and watched her daughter play. 

After awhile, she watched as Gemma put a hand under her dress, and pulled at her underwear. Lately, if she had seen her do this to her diaper at home, she would've tried to convince her daughter to go to the toilet, but this time she remained silent. A few minutes later, the little girl was again pulling at her knickers. This time she stood still, and seemed to be considering something. After another minute of contemplation, she ran over to her mother. 

'Mummy, I need to do a wee. Am I allowed to wee in my knickers please?'

'No Gemmy-boo. Big girls don't do that. Come on, I'll take you home.'

'But why not mummy?' Gemma demanded. 'You let me wee in my panties if I'm playing under the sprinkler!'

'You're not under the sprinkler, are you Gem? You're in the park. You'll have to hold on until we get home.'

'But what if I don't make it mummy? What if I have an accident?'

'If you have an accident, that's okay sweetie. You won't be in trouble. But I want to see if you can hold on like a big girl!'

'Okay mummy, I'll try. But I really wish I had a nappy on!'

They were nearly home, when  Gemma asked another question.

'Mum, if I make it home, can I do a wee in my knickers then? In the backyard? Please?'

'But why would you want to baby? Why would you rather wet yourself than use the potty?'

'I wouldn't mum.' She sounded indignant. 'I'd rather wet my nappy. I like wetting my nappy. But you wouldn't let me wear one, remember?'

Fleur had to suppress a smile at her daughters indignation. She had a way of expressing herself that made her idea of using her nappy seem like the most reasonable thing in the world. 

'Tell you what pumpkin, when we get home, you can wet your knickers outside, but I need to talk to you about this, okay?'

'Alright mummy. But I don't know what's wrong. Am I in trouble?'

'No honey, you're not. But I think we need to talk about some stuff, that's all.'

By the time they got home, Gemma looked very desperate. She was bouncing around on her toes, she had a hand permanently clamped on her crotch, and she was whimpering. Fleur opened the side gate, stopped her daughter from running away, and asked her to take her thongs off. She grabbed her daughters dress, and lifted it off over her head, leaving her completely naked except for her little pink panties. 

'Do yo want to take your knickers off first baby?'

'Uh-uh' was the only reply she could muster. 

She ran onto the lawn, where she spread her little legs wide, and bent forward for a better view, watching the crotch of her panties change colour as she let go, watching the pee pour out of them and down her legs. 

When she had at last finished, she walked bow legged back to her mother, trying to keep her pee drenched thighs apart. 

'Wow! That was close! I really thought I was gonna wet myself before I got home!"

Fleur sat at the outside table, and pulled a chair out for her daughter, smiling as she watched the little girl in the wet panties climbing onto the chair. Her feet didn't reach the ground, and swung back and forth beneath the chair. If she felt any embarrassment whatsoever about wetting herself in front of her mother, or sitting there in wet panties, she didn't show it at all. 

Fleur looked lovingly at her daughter, and tried to carefully consider her words. Gemma might be only five, but she was incredibly smart, and talking down to her would accomplish nothing, nor would getting mad. 

'So what's up mummy?' She asked innocently. 

'I need to get some things straight here sweetie. Let me see if I understand this. You don't need to wear your nappies because you have accidents and can't hold on, but you like wearing them because they're fun to do wees in, is that right?'

'Yeah mum. I thought you knew that!'

'No honey. I thought you were having accidents and needed to wear a nappy.'

Gemma rolled her eyes. 'Muuummm! I'm five years old! I can hold on to my wee! I'm not a baby!'

'So why didn't you tell me honey?'

'You never asked me mummy. I thought you knew."

'But didn't you think it strange that you still wear diapers. I'm sure you know that most other girls your age don't wear diapers!'

Gemma shrugged her shoulders again, 'Yeah, but most other mummies don't wear them either. But you do. What's the difference?'

Fleur felt herself blushing. The whole "other kids don't do it" argument had just been effectively countered by her five year old. Checkmate. 

'That's a bit different Gem. Mummy needs her diapers.'

'But I've heard you say heaps of times that you were really happy that you had one on cos you wet yourself. That's the same as me. I'm really happy when I've got one on cos I can wet myself. It's fun! You know it is!'

'I don't do it because it's fun Gemma. I can't help it. I have accidents that I can't control.'

'But it is fun mum. You gotta admit that. It's way better than using the toilet or wetting my pants.' She seemed to consider something briefly. 'Mummy, before you wore nappies, did you ever wet yourself?'

A million memories instantly flooded across Fleurs mind. The embarrassment of wetting her pants in grade five, the accident on the school bus, her mother having to pick her up from Girl Guides, and of course her myriad wettings at college. It was strange, at college they hadn't really bothered her, but now, she shuddered at the thought of having a public accident. Since she had embraced wearing diapers, she had definitely became a much calmer person. While she didn't wet for fun, putting one on did bring on a sense of peace and calm. 

'Yes Gem. I did wet myself. Quite a lot. That's why I wear diapers now.'

'So wearing a nappy makes you feel better then mummy. Makes you feel safe?'

Fleur could see exactly where this was leading. She was being manipulated by her daughter, and really didn't like it. 

'Yes Gemma. They make me feel safer. But don't twist this around. They make me feel safer because I have accidents that I can't help. Not because I just like wearing them!'

'So you DO like wearing them mum?'

'Gemma, I like them because I need them. You just like them, but you don't need them!'

Gemma looked at her mother in the eyes. Not really defiantly, and not insolently either, just innocently and questioningly, 'So' she said. 'Why does it matter?'

Again Fleur was stumped. In a way, it didn't matter. As long as no one else was hurt, or anyone else knew, did it really matter.

Another thought that crossed her mind, was the fact that she actually enjoyed the bonding sensation that she got when she changed her daughter. They usually laughed and giggled, and found something to talk about that they usually might have difficulty discussing. There were always topics that could be awkward to talk about, but the barriers seemed to just fall down during a diaper change. If Gemma stopped wearing them, it would be something that Fleur would really miss. Even though her daughter was older than her years in some ways, the diaper wearing made her younger than her years, and it kind of balanced things out a bit. 

Last but not least, Gemma appeared to really like wearing them, and they made her happy. She only wore cloth, so apart from a bit of extra laundry, there wasn't any real extra expense involved. 

But she needed to make a decision, or at least a compromise, and needed to make it quickly. 

'Okay Gemmy-boo. Here's the deal. I didn't know that you didn't actually need your nappies, and I'd always decided that I wouldn't toilet train you until you were ready. Now I find out, that apparently you've potty trained yourself right under my nose and I didn't even notice. But you still like wearing your nappies, am I correct so far?'

Gemma blushed, but nodded. 

'You still wear your nappies to bed, just because you like it. You don't need it, but it makes you feel safer, and you sleep better. Correct?'

Another red faced nod from the little girl confirmed it. 

'But I'm sure you'll agree, that now you're getting bigger, it's not always appropriate for you to wear diapers, especially when we go out, or have visitors. Your Nanna Anna and Grandmama Joyce have been on my case for a year or so, wondering when I was finally going to toilet train you. Do you understand how awkward that has been?'

Gemma blushed even harder, lowering her eyes, suddenly aware of just how uncomfortable she had made things for her mother. 'Yes mummy. I'm sorry.'

'Now at the same time, we've all been very happy about your schoolwork. You're really doing very well, and you seem like a happy kid usually, am I right?'

'Yes mummy. I like doing my school stuff at home with you. You make it fun!'

'So I'll make a deal with you. This will all depend on you keeping up with your schoolwork as well as your chores.'

Gemmas eyes rolled at the mention of chores, but she was wise enough to keep her mouth shut. Besides, at her age, her chores required her to keep her room (reasonably) clean, load the dishwasher, and feed the goldfish. Even she knew that she had it easy. 

'In return, you can keep wearing your diapers to bed. In the morning, you will take them off, and wear regular underwear while we do your schooling.'

'What? But mum I ...'

'Shush Gem, let me finish. When you eventually start going to proper school, you won't be able to wear a diaper then, so consider this practice. Now don't panic. I will virtually guarantee that you're going to have a few accidents until you get used to it, so don't stress. If you wet yourself, we'll deal with it, and you won't be in any trouble, okay?'

'Yes mummy,' she replied sullenly. 

'But after school, I'll put you back in your nappy and you can wet yourself as much as you want before you have a bath at bedtime. I'll also put your panties in a box inside  the laundry door. If you want to play outside without your nappy, you can just wear your knickers and a t-shirt, and if you need to pee, you can do it in your panties, then just throw them in the washing machine and put a dry pair on. 

When we go out, like into town or shopping, you won't wear a diaper. You've proved today that you can hold on if you have to, but like I said, I expect that you will wet yourself at least once or twice, only because your so used to wearing and relying on your nappies. If it happens, we'll just deal with it with no tears.'

Gemma looked a bit confused, and Fleur realised that it was a lot for a little girl to take in, even an extremely smart little girl like her daughter. 

'Basically speaking baby girl. You have to start growing up a bit. I'm probably being a bit easier on you for three reasons. One, I wear diapers, so it's hard for me to be to harsh on you for wearing them. Two, you like wearing them, and you were honest enough to tell me, and you explained it really well. And Three, while you're being homeschooled, there's only us around to know about it, and because you wear cloth, it's not costing me anything. Those three points mean you're my baby girl, I love you, and I want you to be happy. 

'But the flip side is, you're too old to be wearing them for no reason, and you know that yourself. You need to start getting used to not wearing them, because you don't want to rely on them so much, that you'll end up needing them in a few years when you go to real school. 

'But while you're still young, and you don't mind your mummy changing you, we'll give it a go. Okay?'

Gemmas face lit up, she jumped off her chair, and flung herself onto her mothers lap, wrapping her arms tightly around Fleurs neck. 

'Oh thank you so much mummy, I love you so much!'

Fleur returned the hug, then became aware of a wetness on her lap. The only item of clothing that her daughter was wearing, was her panties, and they were drenched, and it was soaking through Fleurs leggings. She picked her daughter up like a baby, cuddled her, and smiled. 

'I think it's time I took your wet pants off and got you into a nice warm nappy, what do you say to that?'

Gemma snuggled against her mother. 

'Yes please mummy,' she giggles gleefully.

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Chapter 6:

Eight year old Gemma was playing in the backyard. Lessons were over for the day, and Fleur had offered to put a diaper on her if she wanted, but she'd refused, saying it was a hot day, and she might play with the hose and her super soaker. Fleur knew of course what was going to get soaked, but that didn't matter much. Since their initial agreement three years ago, Gemma had been diligent about keeping up her end of the bargain. Of course no kids are perfect, and she did occasionally need reminding or even threatening, but on the whole she had been true to her word. Her list of chores had grown as she had, and she now had to put the dishes away, vacuum the lounge room, and most importantly, learn how to use the washing machine. This meant that she now did her own washing, and her wet diapers and underpants were now her own responsibility. 

But her mothers home schooling was a success. Gemma was reading at writing at a grade seven standard, and while her maths wasn't as good, she was still ahead of the curve. Her handwriting was atrocious though, and hadn't improved much from when she was six. Fleur was focusing on that now, and they were starting to see a slow but steady improvement. Her mother thought that eight was a wonderful age. Her daughter had even started reading the paper, and could seriously discuss current events, but with a uniquely childish view of things. She could be relied upon to do more complex tasks, and enjoyed baking, she liked scary movies that would terrify a lot of kids her age, but would then happily play with her toys, chatting away to her stuffed animals while wetting her nappy without a care in the world. 

Fleur wasn't the type of parent who set a lot of strict boundaries. Gemma didn't have a set bedtime, and generally put herself to bed whenever she wanted to go. But she had learned very early in the piece that she wouldn't want to be tired and cranky the next day. 

The same with censorship. She wasn't allowed to watch anything with graphic sex or drug use in it, but violence or horror was okay. Fleur would warn her if the movie or show they were watching was going to be very bloody or scary, but if Gemma decided to watch it, it was on her head, and crying about nightmares would receive little sympathy. After watching "Final Destination" against her mothers advice, she had wet her night time diaper two nights in a row, the first accidental bed wetting for years, and had received little more than an 'I told you so' from her mother.

Her mother had been right about her wetting herself as well. During her first two weeks of being undiapered at "school" she had wet her pants five times, and had to grudgingly admit that her mother had been right, that if she had of stayed diapered by choice for much longer, she may have had a much harder time fully training herself when the time came. 

There had been other incidents as well. Once at the shopping mall, Gemma had been distracted in the toy aisle, and by the time she had realised how badly she had needed to go, she had wet her leggings. Thankfully they were black, and it didn't show up too badly. She had left a puddle on the floor though. That had been one of her bigger non diapered accidents, but there had been lots of minor ones as well. Fleur had watched as her daughter had wet herself while sneezing, coughing, vomiting, and bouncing on her trampoline.

These were all small mishaps, usually resulting in little more than a dribble or two, but it seemed to Fleur that the family curse of incontinence had been passed down to her daughter as well. But because of Gemmas preference for going in her pants or nappy, it wasn't always easy to tell. There were times that Gemma swore that her wet panties were caused by an accident, but her mother sometimes had her doubts.

The thing was, Gemma had absolutely no reason to lie about it, because she was allowed to wet herself at home, so if she was doing it on purpose, why would she pretend otherwise? If she wet on purpose, she was always quite forthright about admitting what she had done, before announcing matter-of-factly that she was going to change her pants, so it didn't make any sense that she would lie about it occasionally. 

Her mother continued to support her though, and even gave her permission to go in her pants while walking back from the shop one day. The car had been in the shop, so they had walked down for milk and bread, and Gemma had told her mother that she needed to pee when they got there. Unfortunately the toilets were being cleaned, and knowing her daughter badly needed to go, Fleur had led her through the car park into a grassy area, and told Gemma to simply lift up her skirt and go. Gemma had done this happily, and spent the rest of the trip walking around enjoying the feeling of her wet panties underneath her dress. She didn't know exactly why she enjoyed the feeling so much, but it did make her feel a bit "tingly" down there. 

But usually they had a routine. School would finish sometime between two to three o'clock, Gemma would pack her stuff away, then they would go to the spare room, where the changing table had been set up. Fleur would lift her daughter onto the table, take her pants off, and pin her into a big cloth diaper, with a booster pad inside it, and a pair of crinkly plastic pants. She usually only wore a t-shirt or singlet with her diaper, as they had a couple of dresses strategically placed around the house. One on the back of a dining room chair, one in the lounge room over the back of the couch, and one hanging from the inside of the toilet door. If Nanna Anna or grandmama Joyce happened to arrive unexpectedly, they would just knock as they walked in, not waiting to be invited, so the dresses were like an insurance policy that Gemma could easily just slip into quickly as required. 

There had been a couple of close calls, but so far they didn't know their eight year old daughter still wore day diapers by choice. They had seen them drying on the line before, so Fleur had been forced to admit that Gemma still wore them to bed. This was true of course, but they weren't to know that she didn't wet, but simply liked wearing them. Apart from that little glitch, they had kept their secret safe for three years. 

Even Fleur had to admit, that the rather odd arrangement was working a treat. She could see the difference it made to Gemma. Often she was quite tired and cranky when her lessons finished, but as Fleur changed her, Gemmas tensions seemed to melt away, and within half an hour, with her diaper nice and wet, she was back to being a happy, contented little girl again. She glanced out the window at her daughter, who was wearing a black singlet and black terry towelling shorts. Gemma was filling her super soaker up at the hose, and fidgeting around as the water ran. She obviously needed to pee, but was probably going to wait until she got wet before she wet herself. Fleur had noticed how her daughter sometimes enjoyed holding on before she wet. Anyway, it didn't matter. The important thing was she could now relax for an hour or so and enjoy some peace and quiet. Fleur had needed to change her own diaper after the lessons had finished, and was now relaxing with a cup of coffee and a magazine, with some music playing in the background. She had a brief respite while Gem played outside, and wouldn't have to move until Gemma ended up eventually wetting herself, then coming in for a bath and a diaper. In the beginning she had questioned her own parenting tactics, but in the end had decided that even if what her and her daughter were doing would be considered wrong by a lot of people, it seemed to be working. Her daughter was smart, well adjusted and had a very caring nature. She clearly understood the boundaries that were placed on her regarding her unusual wetting habits, and abided by them. Mother and daughter still enjoyed the bonding time that diaper changes bought with it, and as long as Gem was happy and developing so well in every area, why should she question it. She herself couldn't understand her daughters love for wetting herself and wearing diapers, but she thought that Gem would probably grow out of it once she started attending regular school. Fleurs own diapers held no special attraction to her one way or another. She needed them, so she used them. It was no different to her than putting on a thick coat on a cold winters day. She was completely blasé about her own wetting problem. Of course she wished she didn't have one, but the fact was that she did, and she had to manage it, and diapers were her tool for that. Wearing and wetting neither pleased nor repulsed her, she just dealt with it. She put her feet up and opened her magazine, all thoughts of her daughter running around outside in wet pants quickly banished from her mind. 

Gemma filled up her gun. She had recently watched "Alien" with her mother, and was now imagining herself to be Ripley, stranded on a spaceship and hunted by a vicious creature from another world. When she had watched it, she had wondered if Ripley had ever gotten so scared that she had wet herself, and she had decided that as she was now Ripley, that the answer would be a definite yes. She had been holding on to her pee for some time now, especially preparing for her big scary wetting scene, and was quite proud at how well she could now hold on. Her mother had been right three years ago. Being constantly diapered had made her control somewhat weak, but now she was having to hold on "like a normal kid" all day, she was a lot better at it, and her larger accidents were a lot rarer, but she couldn't quite shake off the little ones. It seemed that every day she would have at least one unplanned squirt or dribble as she played or sat doing her schoolwork. Mostly it was contained in her underwear, although often she was left with a wet spot on her jeans or shorts. But wetting her pants still remained a lot of fun, and she did feel safer in a diaper for some reason. 

Her concentration on alien hunting was distracted however by noise coming from the empty house next door. A truck was reversing up the driveway with a loud beeping sound, and while a part of her was happy to pretend it was an alarm going off in her spaceship, her curiosity was piqued, and she wanted to know what was going on over there first. After all, the slimy green alien with the football shaped head and big teeth wasn't going anywhere, it was just as trapped as what she was, so it would have to wait for a while. She'd kill it when she got back.

Climbing up on the fence for a better look, she watched a large moving truck slowly reversing up the drive while a man waved his arms around directing the driver. Meanwhile, a pretty lady with two kids, a little boy of about four, and a brown haired  girl around her own age stayed back out of the way. The girl looked up as Gemmas head popped up over the fence, and she smiled shyly, but returned the wave that Gemma gave her. She tugged on her mothers arm, pointed at Gemma, then ran barefooted across the lawn to stand at the fence that Gemma was hanging off.

'Hi! I'm Crystal. What's your name?'

'Hi Crystal, I'm Gemma. You guys are moving in huh?'

'Yeah, daddy and mummy finally bought a house! We've been living with my Gran for a long time, but we've got our own place now at last!'

'How old are you Crystal? I'm eight. Well eight and a half. Nearly.'

'Im eight too! Where do you go to school?'

'I don't go to school. Not yet anyway. My mummy is a teacher, and she teaches me at home. I'm probably going to start going to school next year I think. I'll be going to Rockingham primary. It's just down the road and round the corner.'

'Thats where I'm gonna go,' Crystal informed her solemnly. 'I'll tell you what it's like when I go there!'

'That'd be great. I'm a bit scared really. Mums always taught me, and I've never been to a real school.'

Crystal was intrigued by this. 'I never heard of anyone's mummy teaching them before. But staying at home all day must be real cool though. What's it like?'

'Its kinda nice I guess, 'cept I don't have anyone to play with.' A lightbulb went off over Gemmas head just then. 'Hey, wanna come and play with me now? I'm on a spaceship and I'm hunting nasty aliens. I got a spare super soaker if you want!'

Crystals eyes lit up. 'Sure! Let me ask my mum!'

The barefoot little girl in the pink dress ran back to her mother, babbling excitedly. Her rather frazzled looking mother looked up at Gemma, then smiled and waved, which Gemma shyly returned. She spoke to her daughter who was grinning broadly, then running down the driveway to appear at Gemmas backyard gate thirty seconds later. 

'Mum said yes! I was getting in the way of the 'movalist men anyway she said. It wasn't my fault! All of my toys and clothes and books and stuff are all packed up in stupid boxes! It's not my fault I'm bored and got nothin' to do.'

'Well you do now!' Gemma said happily, handing her new friend a large water pistol. 'Have you seen Alien?'

Crystal shook her head.

'Well Alien is a big scary alien monster with sharp teeth, and it's on our spaceship, and we gotta kill it before it kills us. By the way, my names Ripley. Have you got an astronaut name?'

Crystal didn't, so they decided that Commander Crystal had a nice ring to it, so names and mission decided, they set off on their quest. 

Crystal had a slight problem though. She needed to pee. She had wanted to go before they had left her Grandmas house, but her dad was grumpy and in a hurry, her snot nosed little brother had been crying, which was annoying her mother, and Crystal had been in a panic, convinced she had forgotten to pack something important. In all of the haste and confusion, with her father now sitting in the car waiting to follow the moving truck that had all their belongings in it, she had decided to wait. After all, their new house was only twenty minutes drive away. 

Once they had arrived there, Crystals need to pee had been forgotten. She hadn't seen the inside of their new house yet, and was keen to see her new room. She wanted to make sure that her room was going to be better than her brother, Tommys room, and was overjoyed to find it was. It was large, sunny, and had big built in wardrobes, something that her old room, which she'd had had to share with her brother, hadn't. 

Eventually a twinge from her bladder had reminded her of her previous need to pee, and after a brief search, she had found the toilet, but not only was there no paper, but no toilet seat either. Her parents bedroom had an ensuite, but although that toilet had a seat, once again there was no paper. 

By now the removalists were hurriedly bringing in sealed boxes, each marked with things like "kitchen,"laundry," "lounge" and so on, and try as she might, she couldn't seem to keep out of their way. She kept looking for a box that might perhaps have "toilet rolls" written on it, but there didn't appear to be one. 

She had been about to ask her dad, but he basically brushed her off, telling her to just try and keep out of the way, and warning her that the big truck was about to reverse down the side of the house, because the sliding patio doors were a lot wider for the men to carry the heavy furniture through, and he had to go and guide the truck. 

Deciding that she could wait a bit longer, she had gone to stand with her mother and "The Brat," and hopefully address the toilet paper situation later. It was then that she had made friends with this nice girl from next door, and now they were hunting blood sucking aliens together, but a sharp twinge in her belly reminded her that she still hadn't peed. 

She wanted to ask Emma, (Gemma? Anna?) if she could use her toilet, but she was a bit shy about asking that sort of thing, particularly since she seemed to have forgotten her new friends name.  Besides, she hadn't met Gemmas (Emma's? Anna's?) mother yet, and it seemed somehow rude to introduce yourself then straight away ask if you could use the toilet. She would just hold on a bit longer, she decided.

She heard a voice speaking to her, deliberately garbled as if coming through a radio headset. 'Commander Crystal, it's Commander Gemma here, No! Wait! I mean Commander Ripley here!'

(Gemma! It WAS Gemma! She thought it had been! That was one crisis averted at least!) 

'Do you copy?' Commander Ripleys voice rang out.

'Copy that Ripley. Any sign of the big monster?'

'Nothing yet Commander Crystal. Let's check beside the house, I mean the control room.'

The two astronauts snuck down beside the control room, with Crystals bladder now twitching. The gate was right in front her, and she decided that she would just simply have to go back home and go to the toilet. She'd ask her mummy to find the paper, and surely she would be able too. She would also tell her about the missing seat, just in case she didn't already know about it. While these thoughts were running through her head, she wasn't concentrating on the game, or Commander Ripley, who was staring intently at something through the gap in the picket gate. So when Ripley emitted a sudden, high pitched scream, spun around and violently grabbed her by the shoulders, shouting 'It's in there! The aliens in there!' She just wasn't expecting it. 

Crystal leaped into the air in fright, squealing loudly, her body tensing in shock, and she wet her pants. 

Both girls heard the splashing sound, and looked down towards Crystals bare feet. Pee was gushing down her legs, and within seconds, she was standing in a puddle, a look of shock on her face, and tears forming in her eyes. 

'I wet my pants,' was all she could mumble. 'I wet myself.'

At first Gemma was shocked. She had never seen another child actually wet themselves before. She had seen children who had wet their pants, but never seen it while it actually happened. But of course it was something that she was used to doing herself, so the shock factor wasn't as great for her as it might be for some people. The fact that Crystal was now crying was a greater shock than the pants wetting itself had been. Her new friend stood as still as a statue, legs apart, as tears ran down her face and pee ran down her legs. 

'I wet myself,' she repeated, almost as if she was in shock.

Gemma was confused. She didn't understand why her friend was crying. It had obviously been an accident, and accidents sometimes happened. It was certainly nothing to get upset about. After a few moments, when Crystal hadn't moved, but only repeated once again what she had done, Gemma looked at her quizzically.

'Yeah. I think you did. So? It was only an accident, wasn't it?'

Crystal was a bit surprised by Gemmas lack of a reaction. Through her experience, wetting your pants was generally considered to be a fairly major thing. She had wet herself before, but never in front of anybody, and the times that she had seen other kids wet their pants, it was always treated as a really big deal. If it was at school, teachers were called, other kids pointed and laughed, and it generally ended up with a real stigma being attached to the child, and for a while at least, nobody else would want to play with him or her. Gemma, on the other hand, appeared completely unfazed by the whole thing. She wasn't running away to fetch a grownup, wasn't backing away making a "ewww" type of noise, or showed any inclination that she was at all disgusted or put off by what had just happened. She didn't even appear interested. If anything, judging by the way she kept looking through the gate, she was still more interested in the pretend alien on the other side. 

'Why are you crying for?' Gemma  asked innocently.

'Cos I wet myself! I'll probably get into trouble now! My daddy gets mad if I wet my pants.'

'Why would he get mad? Just tell him it was an accident! You didn't mean to do it.'

'I know. But him and mummy don't like it if I have accidents. I'm eight. I'm supposed to be to big to be having accidents.'

'So don't tell them then. Your wearing a dress. They won't know.'

'Gemma, they'll know when they see my underpants. Even if they dry out in time, mum'll know.'

Gemma had an idea. 'Maybe not! What sort of knickers have you got on? Show me!'

'Why?' Crystal asked, totally confused.

'Dont ask silly questions. Just show me!' Gemma said excitedly, eager to see if her plan would work. 

Hesitatingly, and with no small amount of embarrassment, Crystal slowly lifted her dress up. Her face was the same shade of pink as her panties, and after her tears, almost as wet. Gemma bent over for a closer look. Crystals panties were plain pink, with darker pink elastic around the legs and waist, and a small pink satin bow on the front.

'Yes!' Gemma exclaimed triumphantly. 'You're safe! We can fix this! Follow me.'

She led Crystal around the house to the laundry door, which she opened quietly, peeking around to make sure the coast was clear. The music coming from the lounge room made it fairly obvious that her mother was probably relaxing in there, taking a break after finishing the days schooling. Gemma grabbed the old plastic three kilo tub that had once held washing powder, but was now filled with little girl sized panties. She bought it outside, and quietly closed the door. She sat on the back step with the tub between her feet, while Crystal stood to the side, an occasional drip falling from underneath her dress, making small round drops on the ground between her legs. 

Gemma rummaged around for a few seconds, then with an exclamation of triumph, she pulled out an exactly matching pair of panties, holding them aloft proudly. Opening the door quietly once more, she put the box back, and took a towel from a basket of laundry that had "Gemma" written on the lid. 

'Here. Wipe your legs and feet with the towel, then put these on. Don't worry, they're clean, then give me your wet ones.'

Too stunned to argue, Crystal did as she was told. With the unselfconsciousness of youth, she dropped her wet panties on the ground, stepped away from them as if they were diseased, then wiped her legs and private parts with the provided towel. Without hesitation, she quickly stepped into the fresh underpants and pulled them up snugly.

'They fit!' She exclaimed gleefully.

'I thought they would, you look about the same size as me!'

'But what about my wet ones? What're you going to do with those?'

'I'll wash them with my stuff, then give them back to you when nobody's looking. When your mum washes those ones, you can give them back to me! Problem solved!'

Crystal was amazed at the calm and casual way that Gemma handled the wet panties. She didn't gingerly pick them up between her thumb and forefinger, holding them at arms length, but rather just scooped them off the ground, opened the door, and threw them into her own washing basket. But Crystal wasn't convinced it was that easy. 'But what happens if your mum sees those wet ones? She's gonna think that they're yours, then you'll get inta trouble.'

Gemma almost laughed. 'No I won't. I usually do my own washing, but even if mummy does see them, she won't mind. She doesn't get upset when I wet myself. In fact, she even let's me!'

Crystal was incredulous. She was extremely grateful that her new friend had helped her, but she didn't like being lied too. It was like Gemma was now making fun of her or something.

'Dont tell fibs! It's nice of you to help me, but don't fib to me! Your mum wouldn't ever just let you pee in your pants! Mums don't do that!'

'Mine does.' Gemma announced proudly. 'Why do ya think I've got a box of clean knickers at the door? I'm 'lowed to pee my pants if I wanna, then I just take 'em off and put a new pair on!'

'You do not! Your fibbing to me, and I don't know why, but stop it!'

'I'll prove it then,' Gemma declared. 'Watch this!'

The little girl walked over to the grass. Her need to pee was by now very large, and she had started squirming around a lot over the last few minutes. She had planned on wetting herself ages ago, as she played aliens by herself, but then Crystal had joined in, so Gemma had decided not to do it in front of this new girl whom she barely knew. Even Gemma knew that wetting yourself in front of other people was a no-no. She had actually been starting to seriously think about going inside to use the toilet, but then Crystal had wet herself, and it had delayed that plan. What it hadn't delayed was her urgency. Watching her friend peeing had really accelerated her own desperation, and she knew that if she didn't go to the toilet very quickly, or wet herself deliberately, then she too would be the victim of a real accident. Crystals non belief of her situation now served a dual purpose. She would prove to her friend that she wasn't a fibber, as well as finally get the relief that her bladder was screaming out for. 

Gemma opened her own legs wide, just as Crystal had done. Her need to let go was so immense, that she didn't even have to convince her body to let go. As soon as she parted her legs, a stream erupted inside her pants. Her towelling shorts were fairly absorbent, so at first the initial release was contained. Even though her shorts were black, the spreading wetness was highly visible. 

A wet spot started off low, but quickly spread upwards and outwards, and she had a softball sized wet patch from halfway up the front of her shorts to between her legs, before the first leaks appeared. But when they started, they leaked heavily. She peed longer and harder than Crystal had, and her legs and feet were soon glistening in the sun. Both girls were transfixed at the sight, and didn't utter a word until she had finished. 

Only when the last few drops had fallen did she look up and grin.

'Toldya," she said.

'Whaddya mean "toldya?"' 'I bet you'll get into big trouble for that!'

'Oh yeah? Well watch this then smartie-pants!' She duck waddled over to the back door and opened it, then called out for her mother.

Fleur was laying back on the couch, coffee almost finished, magazine half read, when the familiar cry of "Muuummm", being drawn out for at least three syllables, came wafting through the house. She sighed to herself, checking the clock. Oh well. She had got nearly forty uninterrupted minutes in, that wasn't too bad really. Not wanting to get up, she called back, 'What is it? You come in here if you want something!'

'I can't,' came the reply, which could mean only one thing. Gemma was wet. She knew that the kid was going to be playing with her water pistol, so it was to be expected anyway, but she had also seen her potty dancing around, so she was willing to bet that her daughter was soaked by other stuff than water. Sighing again, she reluctantly put down the magazine, which was ironically turned to an article on potty training, and went to see what her daughter either wanted or needed.

She was shocked to find another girl, apparently the same age as her own, standing with her daughter in the yard. 

'Mummy, this is Crystal. Her family is moving in next door. We're playing aliens!'

Still taken aback, she looked at the brown haired girl with the big brown eyes and pink dress, not even noticing the state of her daughters shorts. She made an effort to smile at the newcomer.

'Well hello Crystal! That's a pretty name. I'm Mrs. Timperley.' She extended her hand, which the girl shyly accepted. 'I'm very pleased to meet you. I see you've met my ratbag daughter already.'

Crystal just giggled and nodded her head. She felt somehow embarrassed for her new friend, who she just knew was gonna get into big trouble any minute.

Fleur turned back toward her daughter, 'And what exactly is it you wanted missy?"

'Could me and Crystal have a drink of cordial please mum?'

'Of course you can sweetie, but why didn't you just come and get it? Why did you have to make your poor old mother get up?'

'Cos my pants are wet mummy. I sorta had an accident while we were chasing the alien.'

Fleur was a bit alarmed. Of course Gemmas "accidents" we're a common if not daily event, but she had wet herself in front of another girl now, and Fleur knew just how mean and judgemental other kids could be. Her first instinct was too hurry her little girl away and try to hide her shame, but it was too late for that now, and besides, Gem didn't appear to be feeling any shame, and this new friend, Crystal, didn't appear overly bothered. 

It didn't seem to make any sense creating a scene if there was no need for one. If the kids were cool with Gemmas accident, it might be safer to play it off as a minor thing, just as they would've had Crystal not been present. But she would certainly have a talk with Gem later. 

'Okay sweetie. You did the right thing not coming inside like that. I'll fetch you guys some drinks. I'll get you a change of pants as well Gemma.'

'Thanks mum, but don't worry about that. We're gonna have a big water fight in a minute, and I'm only gonna get wet again anyway!"

After Fleur had given the girls their drinks, they took them to Gemmas trampoline, where they clambered through the safety net and sat opposite each other.

'See! Toldya! Gemma said cockily.

'Wow. I'm sorry, you were right Gemma. Why does she let you do that though?'

'Cos I like it. I'm also 'lowed to wear nappies if I wanna, but only around the house after school. I'm not 'lowed to wear them when we go out anywhere. I also wear nappies to bed, although I don't wet the bed anymore of course. I just like them, that's all!'

Crystal had gone quiet. She sipped her drink, and looked at her new friend, who was sitting opposite her with her legs spread, letting the hot afternoon sun dry her wet shorts. 

'Can you keep a secret Gemma?' Crystal asked earnestly. 

'Cos I can! I kept the secret of you wetting yourself, didn't I?'

Crystal took in a deep breath, then exhaled deeply. She had a secret that she was dying to share with somebody, but up till now had never found that person. She had a feeling that Gemma was probably the perfect person to tell. She made her mind up, she would tell her new friend her big secret.

'Gemma, I wear nappies to bed as well. But I need to. I wet the bed every night!'

 

 

 

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Chapter 7:

The girls soon became firm friends. They both knew each other's darkest secrets, and they protected them, better than you may imagine eight year old girls would. Most days they played together after Crystal got home from school, and she was always full of stories about what had been going on at Rockingham primary. 

As a result, Gemma started reigning back her wetting habits. She started not wearing a diaper straight after her lessons finished, instead staying normally dressed until her friend got home. Of course if Crystal was going to be unavailable for the day, Gemma wouldn't hesitate to diaper up, but she usually waited until she found out what her playmate was doing first.

It was the same with her wetting. If she was playing with Crystal, she usually wouldn't wet herself. That didn't mean that she never did, but she usually wouldn't. If Crystal wasn't available to play with, the brakes were off, and Fleur could guarantee a soaked pair of panties or trousers when Gemma came inside, but if Crystal was there, the odds lessened dramatically. 

The girls started having sleepovers. Crystal wore Goodnites to bed, while Gemma wore cloth. If they were sleeping at Crystals place, Gemma would run home before bed just so Fleur could pin her into a cloth nappy first. 

Of course Fleur became friends with Andrea, Crystals mother, and the topic of their children's bed wetting was often discussed. Fleur of course never mentioned that her daughter never actually wet the bed, but allowed her daughter to come home the night before to get diapered, then again first thing the next day to get changed. Crystal knew that her friend didn't actually wet the bed, but thought it was just too awkward to explain to her mother, and while her mother thought that Gemma was a bed wetter, it took a lot of the pressure off Crystal, who still wet heavily every night, so Crystal saw no real reason to correct her mothers impression. 

Gemma still had real accidents occasionally, and as she wasn't diapered around her friend, she was caught out on a few occasions. However Crystal herself wasn't immune to the occasional accident, and after a few months, they had both wet themselves in each other's company on more than one occasion. It only seemed to make their bond stronger. Crystal knew that her friend still liked to wear diapers when she wasn't around, and Gemma never tried to deny it, simply stating "I like it," and leaving it at that. With the exception of sleepovers, she never wore in front of her friend, and Crystal was the same. They would happily wear their night protection in front of each other at a sleepover, but not at any other time. 

Wetting was s bit different though. While Gemma really toned it down, there were exceptions. After Crystals parents had their pool installed, both girls often played holding and wetting games while playing in their swimsuits. Just like having water fights. It was just expected that they would pee in their pants while having a water fight. They just didn't necessarily tell their parents, that was all. 

-----------------------------------------------

A year passed, and it was time for nine year old Gemma to become part of the mainstream education system. Gemma and Crystal were on the cusp of ages for certain grades, and fell into the grade four category. Crystal was there already of course, but Gemma was super pleased that she would be in the same grade as her friend, as technically, with her grade scores, she could have happily started in grade five. 

It was over the break before the school year started, that Fleur had Gemma on the changing table, attempting to squeeze her into a cloth diaper. 

Unfortunately, the time had come. Fleur finally got the pins in, pulled the plastic panties up, then lifted her nine year old baby girl to the floor.

'Gemmy-boo, stop her a minute, it's time we had a little mother-daughter talk.'

Gemma knew exactly what was coming, and had been dreading it. This talk had been on the horizon for at least a year, and yet somehow she had managed to avoid it. But it looked as if she wouldn't be able to avoid it any longer. The time had come. Knowing what was about to happen, she felt tears spring to her eyes, but she still managed to look at her mother directly, as a lone tear made its way down her chubby cheek.

'Yes mummy?' Gemma asked in a wavery voice. 

It almost broke Fleurs heart. She had been dreading this discussion, but now the time had come, and as Gem had foreseen what was about to happen, it only made it a hundred times worse. Fleur felt tears brimming in her own eyes. 

'Gemmy-boo. I think you know what I'm going to say, don't you?'

Gemma sucked in a wavery breath, the tears now running freely down her little face, but she nodded her head. 

'I'm getting too big for my nappies, aren't I mummy?'

Fleur felt  a tear roll down her cheek, but she made no effort to stop it.

'Yes you are baby. They just don't fit you anymore, and you're going to start going to real school soon. It's time you stopped wearing them. I'm going to let you wear them for one more week, then that's it. It's time to be a big girl now and put them away, okay?'

'I s'pose you're right mummy, but what about bedtime? I always wear a nappy to bed! I don't think I'll be able to sleep without a nappy on!'

'Gemmy, you haven't wet the bed in years! You just don't need a night nappy anymore!'

'But I like 'em mummy. I feel lots better with a night nappy on, even if I don't need one. Please don't make me stop wearing those ones! Please?'

Fleur sighed. Her heart felt like it would break. The only unusual thing her little girl had ever asked for, were her diapers. It had never made much sense, but a simple thing like that had made her so happy. And not just her, Fleur as well. While virtually every so called parenting expert on the planet would have ridiculed them, keeping her daughter in diapers had without a doubt brought them closer, made her daughter happier and well adjusted, and provided them with irreplaceable bonding memories. And now it was all over. It was heart breaking.

Fleur made a sudden decision. She knew that Gemma was getting too old to have her diaper changed. Even at nine. The changes in her body were starting to show. Her hips were getting wider, her waist was getting narrower, and although she was probably a couple of years away from developing breasts, the first signs were there. Gemma was going to be one of those kids who hit puberty early, Fleur was convinced of that. And when that happened, she knew that changing her daughters diaper would be not only wrong, but in a way immoral. If Gemma wanted to wear a diaper, that was okay by Fleur, but it was now time for Gemma to take control of it. 

'I'll tell you what Gem. If you want to wear to bed, fine. That's okay. But no more wearing after school or on the weekends. You're just too old for that now. And you're too old for these cloth baby diapers as well. They just don't fit you. Another thing, you're too old for your mummy to change you as well, got it?'

Gemma didn't speak, just nodded sadly. The tears had stopped, but looked ready to start at the drop of a hat if necessary.

Fleur continued. 'You have one week left. I suggest you enjoy your nappies as much as you can. Payday is next Thursday. From then on, I'll buy you some Goodnites just like Crystal wears, and you can wear them to bed. But you won't be wearing them during the day, or after school. They will be a bed time thing to help you sleep. Meanwhile, if you want to wet yourself, you will have to do it in your pants. No more diapers, got it? You're starting proper big school in a month, your baby nappies don't fit anymore, and it's time to move on, agreed?

Gemma didn't like it, but she knew it had to happen. Her diapers had been getting tighter and tighter lately, and although she hated to admit it, she had been starting to feel a bit weird when her mother changed her. She didn't understand exactly why, as her mother had been changing her for nine years, but now it was feeling a bit different. She definitely had mixed emotions. She was incredibly sad that such a large part of her childhood was being put to bed. She was relieved that she could still wear her diapers to bed, even if they were only stupid pull ups like Crystal wore, but another part of her, a secret part, also felt a touch of relief. And at least she would still be allowed to wet her pants if she wanted to. That was a biggie. 

Soon, she would be going to a proper big kids school, and she realised that deep down it was probably time for her to start growing up and acting like a big kid should. 

It wouldn't be easy, but Gemma was finally ready to try becoming a big girl at last. 

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Chapter 8:

Overall, the transition wasn't too bad. Gemma adapted fairly quickly to not wearing her diapers, and a big part of that was because she was still allowed to wet her pants after school.

Actually going to school was the hardest part. Gemma was very scared about it, and suffered a few nights of bed wetting leading up to it, but she had her new pull ups on, so there wasn't much damage. She discovered that the pull ups leaked more than her cloth ones had ever done, but her mother explained that she was a lot bigger now and therefore peeing more than she used to. The pull ups helped make her feel safe and secure when she went to bed, but at first she missed the intimacy of having her cloth nappy changed by her mother. She soon got into a routine. She could wear the same pull up for maybe three or four nights in a row before it would lose its shape and the elastic would become weak, but before she would throw it out, she'd save it for an afternoon wetting. 

It was on one such occasion that Crystal caught her. That morning, Fleur had commented that her current Goodnite had passed its use by date, but Gemma had told her not to throw it out, but that she'd use it after school. Crystal was going out with her mother somewhere, so Gemma had some alone time to deal with. 

After walking home together, the now best friends parted company outside, and went their separate ways. Gemma had gone inside, taken off and neatly folded her uniform, and put on her worn out pull up. Wearing only that and a t-shirt, she had made herself a large juice, and sat at the table to do her homework. That didn't take long, as most of the stuff they did at school, Gemma had already covered with her mother, so it was basically like revision for her. 

She was now outside, being a sneaky robber. In her vivid imagination, she had got away from the cops, and was sneaking around the house, looking for a way in. As she snuck around the side of the house, she was startled by her friends voice. 

'Watcha doin Gem?"

She squealed in shock, spinning around to find Crystals grinning head peering over the fence. 'Why are ya wearing a pull up?'

Gemma was startled at first, but once she saw it was only her friend, she lost any trace of embarrassment. They had seen each other in diapers or pull ups literally dozens of times, even just last weekend.

'Nothin' really. Just playing. What're you doing home? Thought you was going out?'

Crystal shrugged. 'Mum changed her mind. But why are you wearing a pull up? Are ya going to bed soon?'

Gemma hitched it back up. The sloppy elastic being the main reason it was considered too worn out to use again.

'Nah. This ones worn out. I just thought I'd wet it first, that's all. Wanna come over and play?' 

Crystal jumped the fence, and soon were happily playing together. Now they were explorers, deep in a foreign jungle. It didn't take long before Gemma needed to pee, so she paused from exploring the ancient temple they were in, squatted down, and wet her Goodnite while her friend watched.

'Gem, could I borrow a pair of your panties please?'

'Course you can. Which ones?'

'Dont care. Have you got those thick training pants ones still?'

'I think so. Let's check!'

The girls soon found what they were looking for in the pantie bucket, so Crystal swapped her panties for the ones she'd borrowed from her friend, and slipped them up under her dress. Within minutes Gemma was watching her best friend do a wee in her panties, then the explorers continued their adventures. 

Taking a break on the trampoline, (which was now a suspension bridge over a river filled with piranha fish and crocodiles) they sat around in their wet underwear without a care in the world.

'Gem? Do you think we're like weird or something? You know, for wetting ourselves like this?'

'I don't care Cris. I like doing it now, just like I did when I was really little. I think I'm always gonna like it. I had a little accident at school today, but nobody saw me. That's happening a lot more lately. I hope I'm not gonna be like mum, and haveta wear a diaper all the time, but even if I don't, I'd still like to wear one sometimes.'

'I agree Gem. I think we should make a deal. When we grow up, we'll make sure that we still get to wear our diapers or pee in our pants sometimes! Whaddya say? Deal?'

'Deal!' Gemma said, and they shook on it.

It was nice having a best friend who liked the same stuff that you did, especially if it was weird stuff like wetting your pants or wearing a pull up. Both girls were really happy that they had each other to share that kind of thing with. 

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Chapter 9:

As the years rolled on, the girls lost a lot of their unassuming innocence. Eventually, deliberate, mutual wetting was reserved for playing in the pool, and they stopped doing it together unless they were already wet first. They just slowly grew out of wetting themselves for fun. It didn't happen overnight, but Gemma found herself doing it less and less, especially in the backyard. 

When she first started attending real school, wetting herself when she got home was a daily occurrence, and a major stress reliever for her. For the first month or two, she couldn't wait to get home, finish her homework, then run around outside in her underwear while wetting herself. But as she started spending more time with Crystal, she restricted her play wetting to times when she was alone. There wasn't any particular reason, it just seemed more appropriate as she got older. 

She supposed that a part of it was the average students negative reaction to other kids wetting their pants. Crystal had warned her what to expect if she was to wet herself at school, but at first Gemma thought that her friend must have been exaggerating. Surely the other kids wouldn't possibly be that mean to somebody who had suffered an accident! But it only took three days for her to discover that Crystal hadn't been fibbing. 

A grade two boy, no older than seven, wet himself on the bus on his way to school. The girls heard the commotion as the students disembarked, and soon there was a circle of kids surrounding the little boy in the wet pants, pointing and laughing at him as he bawled his eyes out. Eventually one of the bigger kids, a prefect, saw what was happening and managed to break it up, and take the young boy to the school nurse.

The whole experience shook Gemma up rather badly. She was still getting used to being around large groups of kids. Although her mother had sent her to Playgroup for years, in an effort to make he daughter socialise with other kids, there had only ever been about sixty kids there, and the ages ranged from babies to twelve year olds, and the kids had tended to stick around other kids their own age. Gemma had mainly hung around within a circle of a dozen people or so. She had wet herself twice at Playgroup over the years, and both times the carers had been quick on the scene to help her change, and the other kids hadn't really given her too much of a hard time over it. In fact, wet pants at Playgroup weren't exactly uncommon. A lot of the kids were little, as in six or under, and were dropped off early before school or straight after school, so toilet visits were often skipped, and the inevitability of small children, full bladders, shyness, and tight schedules often ended up with kids needing the change of clothes that they were required to bring with them.  Gemma had seen a lot of wet pants at playgroup, although always after the incident and not during it, and most of the kids reactions were fairly neutral when it happened. Certainly nothing had prepared her for the savagery that some of her peers had shown towards the poor little boy in the wet shorts, and it had really scared her. 

One reason it scared her so much, was as she was getting bigger, her own bouts of mild incontinence had increased, perhaps not so much in regularity, but in volume of loss. When she had been much smaller, a little dribble that may sometimes occur as she ran around playing wouldn't even be noticeable, but now, if she dribbled, there would be enough escaping to show off a wet patch on her pants. Thankfully, the girls uniform had the option of shorts or dresses, so she opted for a dress, and often wore thicker, training style panties under her bloomers to absorb any little leaks. She was always careful however not to wear her training panties on days that she would have to get changed at school, as the thought of being caught wearing "baby pants" was just as terrifying as being caught wetting herself. 

So gradually, her love of wetting began to wane. She missed the closeness she had shared with her mother during diaper changes, but even became paranoid about Crystal seeing her wet herself in the backyard. They were like sisters, but she knew that if Crystal ever decided to blab about her secret, her life at school would be hell. She didn't think that that would ever happen though, because although they stopped wetting in their dry pants, one thing didn't change. Crystal continued to wet the bed, and still wore pull ups. 

Gemma still liked wearing pull ups to bed as well, although of course she didn't need them, and eventually the only time she saw Crystal wet herself was at sleepovers or playing around the pool. 

Of course Crystal was still witness to Gemmas occasional leaks, but where once before they would have laughed about it, and Gemma would have probably ended up completely wetting herself on purpose just because she could, it now resulted in a short break from playing while Gemma went to the toilet and changed her panties. But at least Crystal never blabbed, and Gemma never told anyone about her friends bed wetting, and their shared secrets helped them remain close friends.

When Gemma turned twelve, she made the decision to stop wearing Goodnites to bed altogether. The decision surprised her mother at first, but she thought that it was probably something to do with Gemma starting her periods, and finally wanting to grow up a bit more. 

Fleur was actually right in a way. Gemma started to feel a bit silly having to wear a menstrual pad to school because she was growing up, then changing into a diaper that she didn't need before going to bed, so it was decided that her pull up days were over. 

It didn't necessarily herald the complete cessation of her wetting for pleasure however, it just meant that she was a lot more circumspect about how and when she did it. Wetting herself was still a great stress reliever, and often, if she'd had a rough day at school, she would come home, strip down to her knickers, and wet herself in the shower, before actually having a shower and getting changed. 

Fleur caught onto this new trick early in the piece, after finding pee soaked panties in the bathroom, neatly wrapped in a towel, but she never let on to her daughter that she knew about it. After all, Gemma had been deliberately wetting herself since she was a toddler, and it had always worked well for her, so if she wanted to still do it occasionally, then Fleur saw no good reason to mention it. 

She was however aware that her daughter seemed to have picked up the families incontinence curse, and although it certainly wasn't as bad as Fleurs problem, or Nana Anna's problem, it was there nonetheless. They had quite a few doctors visits and tests done over the years, and tried out all the standard muscle building techniques, but like Fleurs condition, nothing seemed to work. The onset of Gemmas puberty and menstruation proved to be a blessing in disguise however. They quickly learned that simply wearing a pad in her panties was generally enough protection against the little leaks and squirts that plagued Gemma on occasion, and when they swapped menstrual pads for light incontinence pads instead, it solved all problems. Gemma was even able to finally ditch the thick, terry cloth training panties that she had been so scared about being caught with, and switch to regular panties, although she did keep her thick ones around for a few years until she finally outgrew them altogether. 

By the time she was fifteen, both her and Crystal had discovered boys. They now attended Rockingham Senior High, a mixed school, and boys were in abundance. Gemma still wore her pantie liners, but more than likely under satin panties these days, and Crystal still needed pull ups at bedtime, but all in all, they were average, well adjusted kids. 

If they happened to be hanging out with each other around Crystals pool, and no grownups were present, they would stand on the lawn and pee through their swimsuits together, laughing and reminiscing about how much they had enjoyed wetting themselves when they were only little kids, but apart from that, it was like Gemmas mild incontinence or Crystals continued bed wetting. It just wasn't discussed. 

It would only be late at night, after a day spent around the pool, that both girls would be lying in their respective beds and remembering "The Good Old Days," when they used to pee with each other for fun, and both of them would seperately but at the same time get a deep sense of melancholy about their ever distant childhood. 

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Chapter 10:

The love of boys was more pronounced in Gemma than it was in Crystal. Crystal seemed to like boys, but apart from going on a few dates, she never found a boyfriend that she was comfortable enough with to stick with beyond a couple of dates, or a few weeks, whichever came first. The girls discussed it between themselves, and Crystal was quick to place the blame on her bed wetting, telling her friend that although she had no plans on spending the night in a boys bed anytime in the near future, she just felt strange trying to get intimate with a boy, knowing she would need to wear a pull up to bed. 

Gemma herself felt no such compunctions about her own wetting problem. She lost her virginity aged sixteen. They had been at a party one night, and alcohol was involved, but she had been sober enough to remember to visit the bathroom and pull her continence pad out of her underwear before letting the boy undress her in a back bedroom not half an hour later. Her first time was mildly painful, although not as bad as she had been expecting, but it had been awkward. It was over in a matter of minutes, and she had never orgasmed. The boy in question had no such problems though, shooting his load on the second stroke after fumbling his member inside her, causing her a momentary sharp pain, and a bit of bleeding. 

Altogether she found the entire experience to be less than satisfying. Afterwards, she had found Crystal, cried on her shoulder for a while after the boy had snuck out in embarrassment, and they had gotten drunk together for the first time. Gemma ended up wetting her pants on the walk home, and wet the bed that night, giving Fleur all the clues she needed to work out that her daughter had been drinking. A tearful confrontation with a hungover sixteen year old girl ensued the following morning, resulting in a two week grounding as punishment. Gemma was just happy that her mother didn't know about her first, tragic, sexual encounter.

It didn't stop her from doing it again though, and by the time she was eighteen, she had slept with four different guys. But none of them ever developed into a proper, long term relationship. Only one of her partners had discovered her bladder problems, and he had been disgusted by it, dropping her on the spot when he found out that she wore panty liners to combat her leaks. 

At eighteen, Crystal was still a virgin. She dated occasionally, but it never lasted more than three dates at the most. If Gemma questioned her, she would either claim that there wasn't any spark there, or would fall back onto the old excuse of being too scared to bring up her bed wetting issue, which still continued to plague her. 

Like Gemma, Crystal had been to multiple doctors for multiple tests. She didn't have weak bladder control muscles like her friend did, and only rarely did she ever wet herself during the day, and if she did, alcohol was usually a significant factor behind it. She had suffered a few accidents over the years, but could count them on one hand, and it was only her night wetting that was a concern. But multiple diagnosis's had said the same thing. There was no physical problem behind it, and ruling out the regular emotional trauma suspects, such as abuse, be it sexual, physical or emotional, or disregarding any psychological trauma, it simply shouldn't be happening, and she should have grown out of it years ago. She had tried various drugs over the years, but had always found the side effects worse than the condition. Migraines, upset stomachs, depression, lethargy and general muscle soreness was all that she had experienced. Now, at eighteen, she had virtually given up on a cure, and resigned herself to wetting the bed for the rest of her life. She had swapped over from Goodnites to adult pull ups over three years ago, and while they generally contained her accidents, she didn't think that they would ever do wonders for her sex life. If she ever had one, that is. 

Together they cut a tragic pair on the dating scene, spending many Saturday nights together drinking cheap wine and watching romantic comedies together. 

It made a lot of sense for them to eventually move in together. Crystal was studying Business Administration at uni, and Gemma, who had no desire for further education, was working as a shop assistant. When a cheap, two bedroom apartment close to the Uni became available, the two young women, now aged twenty, moved out of their childhood homes, and started out on their adult lives. 

At least they didn't have to hide their weaknesses from each other. They both had rubber sheets on their beds, as Gemma would wet the bed if she was drunk enough, which it seemed she was a lot more lately, and their second hand washing machine got a good workout on most Sunday mornings. There had been times where she had been tempted to borrow one of her friends big pull ups, and she secretly liked the look of them, but asking your best friend to borrow a nappy just seemed a bit weird. 

Crystal had even volunteered the use of them before, when they had staggered in at 3am, Gemmas panties already wet underneath her skirt, the result of a long wait at the taxi rank for a cab, and she noticed that a bleary eyed Gemma had looked at the package almost longingly, and had appeared to be about to accept the offer, before shaking her head, and staggering off to bed. 

The next day, while a hungover Gemma was washing her sheets and nightie, she mumbled something about "should've worn the bloody pull up," but it was never mentioned again that day. 

Neither girl had a lot of money, and while they enjoyed their independence, their lack of extra cash and a vibrant social life started to sting after a while. They spent more time than they wanted too, drinking cask wine and sitting around watching television. It got quite depressing after a couple of months. 

One Saturday night, half drunk on cheap dry white, they started reminiscing. 

'Hey, 'member when we used to play explorers?' Gemma slurred slightly. 'We found old temples and shit, we fought Pygmys with poison arrows and stuff. Fuck me, we killed fucking aliens! We was unstoppable! Look at us now, 'nother Sat'day night drinking shit wine an doin nothin'. An I'm prolly gonna piss the bed later too. Just like you, eh buddy? Man, what happened to us?'

Crystal was fairly drunk herself, and couldn't disagree with her friends logic.

'I know, right? I remember those days! Fuck we had fun after school didn't we? They say kids spend too much time with video games and shit. But not us! We were always outside runnin' round, most of the time we'd even piss in our pants, jus' so we didn't haveta stop playin'. 'Member that?'

'Yeah. Remember how my mum just let me do that all the time, then I got you doin it? I used to give you my panties to piss in, so you wouldn't get caught! Remember that?'

Both girls pealed off into fits of laughter, remembering the stuff they used to do.

'When did we stop doin that shit Gem? And why?'

'Argh. I think it was when I started going to real school with you. Running around in my nappy started to seem kinda stupid I guess. But I miss those days Cris.'

'I do to mate. We oughta do it again one day. And I'll tell you something else as well. You really oughta wear one of my pull ups tonight. You're drunk, and you're gonna wet the bed. Save yourself the hassle, and put a bloody nappy on. Think of it as old times sake!'

The talk continued until they had drained the cask, then Gemma agreed to try one of her friends big pull ups. She wet the bed that night, but had the best nights sleep she'd had in years, and woke up on dry sheets. 

Even her hangover seemed less intense than usual.

Edited by Barry (see edit history)
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Chapter 11:

'Are you sure you won't come with me? Please?' Crystal pleaded, pointing to the clipping she had torn out of the campus newsletter. 'It's perfect for us! Look! Just read it!'

Gemma sighed, and picked up the advertisement. It was for a seminar on female incontinence problems, hosted by an international expert in the field. There was going to be talks and tips on hygiene, product displays, and contacts for various local support networks.

'No Cris. Been to these things before, and they just don't interest me I'm afraid. I know what my problem is, weak muscles, but the exercises don't seem to fix it. It's hereditary, in my case anyway. My mum and gran are both incontinent, along with my auntie. I know what products work best for me, and frankly, sitting around a room full of other women all staring at each other kinda freaks me a bit. You should go through. You might get a new clue on your bed wetting. Besides, I'm working overtime that night, and I need the money.'

Crystal was disappointed, but determined to go. She hadn't yet completely given up on one day finding a cure, and if she had to go by herself, she would. 

The night of the conference came around, and although she had tried a few more times to persuade her friend, eventually Crystal had been forced to give up,and go on her own while Gemma worked the late shift.

Gemma didn't get back to the flat until after 9:30. She was grateful that she had taken the time to pee at work after finishing her shift, even though she hadn't really felt like going. Her bus had been delayed, and standing around in the cold always made her want to pee. Now was no exception, but thanks to her earlier foresight to pee earlier, she had managed to make it home with mostly dry panties, only having leaked a tiny bit on the way up the stairs. 

As she opened the door, she heard Crystal laughing. She put her purse on the kitchen bench, and hurried through the lounge room on the way to the toilet. 

And would wonders never cease! 

It appeared that Crystal was sitting on the couch beside a man! She didn't have time to stop though, her pee hole was tingling, and she knew was only one cough, laugh, or sneeze from absolute disaster.

'Hi there! Back in a minute,' she stammered, hurrying down the hallway to the combination bath/toilet. In the end it was close, but she made it, a wet spot only an inch across giving tell to how close she had come to disaster. Washing her hands, she hurried back to the lounge, eager to meet Crystals new feller.

She entered from behind the couch, noticing at first his crew cut hair, ear piercings, and small neck tattoo. Her flat mate had a glass of wine, while her man friend had a can of beer in front of him. It looked like little Crystal had gone and gotten herself a bad boy! 

'Hi guys,' she said again, announcing her presence, 'Sorry, had to go to the loo!'

Crystal turned and smiled at her best friend, and Gemma noticed how her eyes were sparkling and how flushed her cheeks were. 

'Hi Gemmy! I've got someone here I'd like you to meet! We met at the lecture. Hope you don't mind us coming back for a drink?'

Gemma shook her head, grinning wildly with excitement. Crystals friend had been busy with his phone, and was now tucking it away into the inside pocket of the army disposal jacket he was wearing. 

'Gemma, meet Toni!' Crystal said, as Toni stood up.

Gemma stood up as well, extending her hand in greeting. 'Hi Tony, I'm Gemma, pleased to meetcha!'

She had to give herself at least some credit later, for she was pretty sure that her smile didn't falter at all. 

"Tony" got up, and offered her own hand. 

'Hi Gemma, I'm Toni,' the tough looking young woman replied, shaking the offered hand warmly. 'Crystal here has been talking about you all night. Lovely to meet you.'

As nice as she seemed, Toni was without doubt one of the manliest looking women that Gemma had ever met. 

She sat down wordlessly, and reached for the wine. 

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Chapter 12:

Dave Evans sighed. He was 23 years old, a reasonably successful self employed concreter, physically fit, healthy, at least passably good looking, and yet here he was again. 

Another Saturday night spent at home, (which happened to be a granny flat in his parents backyard,) drinking beer alone, naked except for the big diaper he was wearing, and watching adult diaper porn videos on the internet. He felt somewhat disgusted with himself. 

He actually wasn't too disgusted about the porn he was watching or the diaper he was wearing, just disgusted a bit with his life in general. As a good "granno worker," he earned pretty fair money. Being self employed gave him a lot of responsibility, but also a lot of freedom. He had the luxury of picking his own work schedule, at least to a certain degree. He was able to drive around in a brand new V8 ute, (great tax deduction!) and was doing quite well financially. 

He was a quiet but popular guy, and had a lot of friends, although only a few close mates. He had played a lot of cricket and football in his younger days, but had given that up when he started up his own business. Not only did he now work most Saturday's, but the risk of injury was too high. If he hurt himself and couldn't work, it would cost him big time. 

But the reason he was at home on a Saturday night and not out clubbing with his friends, was the same reason he was living in his parents backyard. Money. He earned a reasonable amount of it, but he was paying off a block of land, which he was going to build his first house on. By living at home and being frugal for a couple of years, he hoped to eventually build and fully pay off his house by the time he was 35. That was the plan, anyway. 

His feelings of disgust stemmed more from boredom than anything else, and it was something that only he could change.  Although only 23, he was disillusioned with the whole night club and party scene. He loved going out for a beer and a dance, but most of his mates indulged in various narcotic substances when they partied, and he just wasn't into that. He'd done his share of pingas and E's, even fired up the old glass barbecue once or twice, but the risks weren't worth it. He'd even given up smoking weed. A lot of job sites he worked on were subjected to random drug tests, and if he failed one, it was instant dismissal. Also, Dave had invested pretty heavily in the tools and equipment he needed to run his own company, so if word got out that he was a druggie, it wouldn't do his business any good at all. He'd never been a big drug user anyway, so it wasn't a hard decision to make. 

His disgust with himself stemmed from a lack of motivation regarding his social life. Of course he could afford to go out with his mates if he wanted too, and he didn't need drugs to enjoy himself, but he just couldn't be stuffed. He could go to the pub for a pint or two, but he couldn't risk a DUI, so he'd need to catch a cab, and again, he just couldn't be arsed. 

What he wanted, was a girlfriend. Someone to spend quality time with, not necessarily having to go out and get shit-faced every weekend with. A girl he could go out to dinner with, to the movies with, or simply stay home with and watch TV. 

But that came back to the diaper he was currently wearing. He didn't need it at all. He wasn't in the slightest bit ill or incontinent, nor was he a bed wetter. He never had been either. He vaguely remembered wetting the bed once or twice when he was very young, but they were just one off type of occurrences. He'd wet his pants three times growing up. Once at school in grade one, when he was six, once at the supermarket with his mother when he was eight, and once in the backseat of his dad's car aged ten, when they had gotten stuck in a heavy traffic jam after an accident. 

But he had always had a secret fascination for wetting his pants. He had been too scared to ever really try it when he was little, lest he get caught, but he spent a lot of time thinking about it. He loved playing in their pool, because it gave him the perfect chance to wet himself as much as he wanted to without any risk of exposure. As a result, he spent a lot of time playing in the pool as a kid. 

As a teenager, the desire to wet himself became overwhelming. He started doing it in private, wetting his briefs or boxers in the shower and hiding them until they dried, and as far as he knew, he'd always gotten away with it. There had been one terrible experience where he'd stashed a wet pair of boxer shorts under his bed when he was fourteen, and his mother must have found them, because they turned up washed and neatly folded on his bed with the rest of his laundry, but she had never mentioned it to him, and he said nothing to her about it, so it was never spoken about. He supposed that she must've thought that he'd had an accident, but he was just supremely thankful that she never bought it up with him. 

It was around this time that he discovered the wonders of the Internet. His family had had the 'net on for years, but there were strong firewalls and filters on the families desktop, so his early searches yielded limited results. But he received his own laptop for his fourteenth birthday, and from then on, a whole new world opened up for him. 

His first Google search had been "pants wetting," and he had been blown away by the sheer number of possible sites and chat rooms that discussed that sort of thing. Soon he was a regular visitor or member on a number of different sites, and discovered that he was far from being the only person, or even teenager, who got a kick out of wetting his pants. 

This is where he discovered diapers. He had only known about baby diapers before, and hadn't even heard of adult ones, or continence pants, and another doorway soon opened in his mind. He researched bed wetting pants, measured his waist, and found out that he could still fit into the larger sized pull ups. 

It took him weeks to gather up enough nerve to actually buy them, and to this very day he remembered the acute humiliation he felt when he rode his bike to a shop three suburbs away to buy them, and how he had stuffed them into his backpack, but couldn't zip it up, so he'd had to ride the ten kilometres home with his backpack open, and a pack of Goodnites almost sticking out the top of it. 

But he also clearly remembered that first night, laying in bed wide awake and waiting for his parents to finally go to their bed, so he could at last stand on his chair, and drag the package from the very back of the top shelf of his closet, where he'd hidden them. The memory of ripping open the packet and smelling them was still vivid, as was the memory of taking off his pyjamas and finally putting one on. It had been a snug fit, but he had managed it. 

He wasn't brave enough to wet it in bed, in case it leaked, so he dragged out the towel he had brought in with him earlier, folded it in half, placed it on the floor in front of his mirror, and stood his bare feet on it, shivering a bit with a mixture of cold and excitement. He then let go of the bladder full of urine that he had been saving up for hours, just for this very moment. It turned out to be a good thing that he had brought the towel in with him, because he overflowed it, causing pee to escape and run freely down his still hairless legs, producing a big wet circle on the towel between his feet. But the pull up had contained most of it, and the sensation of trapped warmth around his boy bits had been incredible. He had ended up laying down on the wet towel, feeling the sodden pull up squelching beneath his bum, and had frantically grabbed at the front of it, quivering with excitement as the swollen diaper squeezed around his stiff boyhood. He had squeezed and squashed and mashed the soggy pull up against his erection, until he had felt a strange, tingling sensation that seemed to start in both his toes and his belly at the same time. He'd never felt anything like this before, and at first he thought that he was going to pee again, but as he was wearing a diaper and laying on a towel, he quickly disregarded any worry about that, and continued pulling, rubbing, and stretching his private parts through the soft warm cloud that enveloped them. 

Moments later he shuddered, and his whole body stiffened up, his toes curled and his back and neck arched, as the most amazing physical sensation that he had ever experienced rocketed through his body, and his cock had pulsed inside his pull up, shooting at least four large squirts of stickiness into the saturated Goodnite.

Although it was his first ejaculation, (while being awake at least,) he knew straight away what had just happened. His father had sat him down for "The Talk" when he was twelve, and as embarrassing as it had been, his dad had done a good job and been thorough with it. He had also been having sex-ed lessons at school for years, so he was fully aware of what he had just done. He'd been having wet dreams for a couple of months now, and had woken up with sticky, stained pyjamas a number of times, (another thing he was supremely glad that his mother had never mentioned,) but he had at last discovered the joy of having an orgasm while he was awake. He had pulled his nappy down, and carefully examined his residue, marvelling at what his young body had managed to produce. 

He hid the pull up in a pre arranged plastic bag, which he stuffed into his backpack at the last minute before leaving for school the next day, and disposed of it in a trash can near where he caught the bus. 

For the next week he had performed all sorts of experiments with those pull ups. Peeing slowly. Sitting down. Lying in bed on top of carefully placed towels.

Trying to hold on long enough so he would wet on purpose was a big thing, but he wasn't ever able to do that, running out of time late in the night and eventually giving in and wetting on purpose. 

But now Dave had learned how to masturbate, he took to it with a passion. When his supply of pull ups ran out, he just wanked himself without them, or wet a pair of underpants instead. But while he always enjoyed doing it, he never came close, (no pun intended) to the intense and sublime experience of his first orgasm in the wet pull up. But he never gave up trying though.

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Chapter 13:

After his first early experiments with those pull ups, Daves sex drive took off. It was quite a while before the young lad had the right combination of money, time, privacy and nerve to buy pull ups again, and when he did, he learned to ration them out better, making the next packet last for nearly a month. Instead of using them every day, they stayed hidden for special occasions, when his parents and sisters were out of the house for a while. Even though he restricted his use of the diapers, he didn't restrict his experiments with exploring his own body. It didn't take him long to work out what made him tick. 

He continued to search for content online as well, and by the time he was fifteen, he had watched a lot of porn, a lot of it rather "different," at least by regular "vanilla" standards. 

Being an adolescent fifteen year old can be confusing, especially regarding topics of a sexual nature, but Dave was eventually comfortable enough with a few facts:

:He definitely wasn't gay.

:He liked girls. A lot.

:He liked wetting his pants and wearing diapers, as well as holding on to his pee, causing desperation. 

:He REALLY liked girls or women who wet their pants, wore diapers, and held onto their pee, causing desperation.

Apart from that, he was fairly ambivalent about a lot of things. Race, colour, weight and size were only minor things. A fat chick in a nappy could be hotter than a beauty model in a swimsuit. A black girl in wet jeans was hotter than a blonde girl tied to a bed. He liked females in general, and if they were wet or diapered, or willing to be, then that was just so much better. 

But when a kid of fifteen first starts dating, bringing up the subject of wetting and related stuff just really isn't a viable option, so he didn't. 

He was a strong, good looking, popular kid, and had no trouble leaving a string of girlfriends behind over the years. Of course he didn't have sex with all of them, and often he just casually dated for a while before realising that there was no spark there for him.

He managed to remain a virgin until he was nearly sixteen, and while his first time was pleasurable, and the girl involved had claimed to enjoy it, he had felt a bit deflated afterwards. Like most boys, he had been fixated on losing his virginity, expecting it to be like in the movies, one of the greatest things in the world, but once it happened, it just hadn't seemed as good a time as he could have by himself in a pull up. But it was nice though. 

There was one girl he dated that he got excited about. Her parents weren't home, and he went into her room and sat beside her on the bed, and they made out for awhile. As they wiggled around, he was sure that he could hear the crinkling sound of a plastic sheet beneath them, but alas, he never found out. She dumped him for no apparent reason only a few days later. He often wondered if she had been a bed wetter. 

He started a serious relationship with a girl when he was nineteen, and they dated for over six months. One day at the beach he convinced her to pee in her bathing suit for him, and she had appeared to enjoy it, laughing as she tinkled on the sand. But when he'd bought the subject up at a later date, and asked to to pee in her panties in her backyard, she had been disgusted by the idea, and they broke up not long after. 

Another girl, Alison, had been deeply attracted to him, and at age twenty one, they had gotten to the stage of planning a life together. Their sex life was great, at least from her perspective, but although Dave enjoyed it, it seemed like something was missing all the time. 

He finally managed to bring the topic up, and admitted his fantasies to her. But whilst she wasn't repulsed, she just told him that water sports was a thing that she had no interest in, and couldn't ever see herself indulging in it. Whilst Dave had strong feelings for her, and did enjoy their sex life, it seemed somewhat bland without wetting, and after a few more discussions on the subject, they parted ways amicably, and with no hard feelings. 

Diapers and wetting weren't all he was interested in of course. He wanted a smart, attractive girl who could think for herself. She had to be his intellectual equal at least, and independent enough not to be treated as a doormat. She didn't need to be stunningly beautiful, but had to be at least presentable, and obviously needed to share similar interests to his, like horror movies and rock music for example. 

The ironic thing was, there was already a girl in his life that ticked most, if not all of his boxes. She was smart, pretty, (in a butch sort of way,) she was a bed wetter, had incontinence issues which she wasn't shy about discussing with him, and they shared a lot of similar interests. She was a motorcycle mechanic, and they both had a passion for dirt bikes. 

She also shared his particular kink for deliberately wetting her pants and wearing diapers. They had shared many in-depth discussions about their particular shared interests. If circumstances had been different, she could definitely have been a great match for him, both in and out of bed. 

Unfortunately for him, while she remained a close friend and confidant, she also happened to be a lesbian. 

Dave sighed, sat back from his computer, and relaxed his bladder. The beer that he'd been drinking had no problem in flowing freely out of him, and soaking into his already wet diaper. 

He took another swig of beer, wondering to himself exactly what Toni was doing now. 

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Chapter 14:

Once she got past the butch exterior, Gemma found herself liking Toni. She didn't often "click" with people straight away, but Toni seemed nice. As rough and tough as she looked, she spoke fairly quietly, and had a definite touch of shyness about her. But that was the contradiction that made her interesting. When she removed her army coat, she revealed a half sleeve tattoo on both arms, as well as the small dragonfly that adorned her neck. Her ears, eyebrow, nose and lip were pierced, and she had a stud under her lips as well. While her hairstyle wasn't exactly a Mohawk, it had been clippered short above her ears, whilst the strip down the middle stood up in a long,bleached tangle. Gemma suspected that the motorbike helmet on the floor was probably responsible for the tangled hair. She was fairly short in stature, only about five foot tall or so, but even with her lack of height and soft spoken manner that hinted at shyness, she still brimmed with a quiet confidence.

Crystal was explaining how they had met. They had ended up sitting together during the conference part of the seminar, and had both came to the same early conclusion that it was nothing more than a thinly veiled advertising campaign for the feminine hygiene company that had sponsored the event. No new treatments or breakthroughs were being discussed, just a continuous spiel about how great the company's products were. 

Even though they didn't know each other, they had exchanged pleasantries when they ended up seated with each other, and had broken the ice with a few lame jokes about why they were there. After all, when you're at an incontinence seminar, there's a pretty fair chance that nearly every single person in the audience is somehow affected, and that means that they all know that you are as well. 

Crystal and Toni had shared a few nervous laughs together, then found themselves actually starting to hold a non-related conversation with ease before the first speaker had started his spiel. After thirty minutes it was obvious that they were sitting through a grandiose marketing exercise, and Toni had leaned over and whispered 'Fuck this. I need a cigarette and a coffee. Wanna come?'

Crystal had been more than happy to leave by this stage, and had followed Toni outside the auditorium. She only usually smoked when she was out drinking, but she accepted one of Toni's cigarettes and they stood around smoking and chatting, sharing a laugh about how pathetic the whole experience had been. Apparently they weren't the only ones who shared that opinion, as there was a steady stream of young women now exiting the building. They finished their cigarettes, then Crystal followed Toni's motorcycle in her beat up old car to a local cafe, where they continued talking over a coffee. Coffee had led to the talk of a real drink, and while Toni wouldn't drink too much whilst riding her bike, she agreed a couple of light beers would go down nicely, so after a quick stop at the bottle shop, they had arrived back at the flat only an hour ago. 

Gemma poured herself some wine, (from a bottle, not a cask!) and settled in to the conversation. Toni's sexuality was obvious to all, but they gradually learned more about her, as she did about them. 

Toni was twenty four, and a qualified motorcycle mechanic. She still lived with her parents as she saved for her own place, and had lived in the area since her family had moved there fifteen years ago. Of course the topic of the conference eventually came up, and Toni sheepishly admitted to her problems. She was stress incontinent, and a semi regular bed wetter. This gave Crystal the opening that she needed, and she admitted to her own bed wetting problems as well. 

'Wow,' Toni exclaimed, 'you just don't expect to find other girls in our age group with wetting problems! We must be like two of a kind around here!'

Gemma put up her hand. 'Three of a kind actually....' Laughing at the look of surprise on Toni's face. 

'Bullshit! You too? You're kidding, right?'

'Nup! Wish I was, but I'm serious. I'm more of a daytime type of person though, unless I'm pissed, then the bed gets punished.'

Toni was fascinated. She had never met another person in their twenties with incontinence, now she'd met two in one night! And they lived together! Amazing! She wondered if these girls might be an item, it wasn't always easy to tell. Her "Gaydar" had gone off when she'd met Crystal, but it wasn't always entirely accurate, but now she knew that her latest acquaintance lived with another girl, and not just any girl, a very attractive coffee skinned beauty who just happened to share a very rare condition with her. Well not really rare, but unusual for their age group at least. She hoped that Crystal and Gemma weren't a couple, as she had found herself instantly attracted to the brown haired girl with the big brown eyes.

The three of them started swapping stories, awkwardly at first, but after awhile with greater gusto, almost trying to outdo each other with their tales of past experiences and embarrassing mishaps. Toni was enthralled by the way that Gemma had been allowed to wet her pants and wear diapers when she was a little kid. The more they talked, the more outlandish their stories became, and what would normally have been an extremely difficult topic for them to talk about, became an extremely humourous one, and they all had to dash off to the bathroom at various stages, less they wet themselves. 

By the time the stories had turned to how Crystal and Gemma had first met, then grew up together, experimenting with their wetting activities as they went along, Toni had been able to work out that they were in fact just BFF's, and not actually lovers, and she was glad of that. They talked late into the night, and when Gemma made her good nights at around 1am, Toni and a tipsy Crystal were sitting beside each other, smiling at each other nervously, and while they both said good night, they hardly noticed her exit.

Gemma smiled to herself as she closed her bedroom door. It looked like her best friends lack of interest in a boyfriend might at last be about to be explained. 

She wondered if Crystal herself had had any previous idea before tonight that she may be gay. 

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Chapter 15:

Gemma had almost expected Toni to spend the night, but half an hour later, she heard the door close, and a few minutes after that, a motorbike taking off. 

The next morning was Saturday, and both girls slept in late. It was almost ten before they met in the kitchen for coffee. At first Crystal appeared shy and embarrassed, but eventually returned to her normal self and stopped fidgeting about nervously. 

'Toni seems nice,' Gemma ventured. 

Crystal made an effort to appear nonchalant, but couldn't stop the flush rising in her cheeks, or prevent herself from smiling. 'Yeah. She does, doesn't she? Sooo, you liked her then?'

'I just said I did, didn't I? Why, do you like her? I mean LIKE, like her?'

Crystal was glowing red enough to cast a glow in a dark room. She looked out of the window, averting her gaze while she verbally stumbled over her response.

'Well, yeah, I mean, of course, ahh, she's a nice, ahh, person I think. I mean I don't like know her real well of course, but, well, she seems sorta, well....'

Gemma punched her friends arm. Hard. 

'Can the crap Cris. You know what I mean! Don't be a dick! You should know that I wouldn't give a fuck, so don't play games. I think she seems great. Perhaps you should like invite her out for a drink or something!'

Crystal was rubbing her arm. Gem could punch quite hard when she wanted too, but she was grinning at the same time. 

'You think I should? I mean, she's obviously a lesbian, I wouldn't want to give her the wrong idea or something!'

Gemma couldn't help laughing. 'Man, you are so full of shit. Listen Cris, you don't have to pretend anything around me, you know that! If you like her, that's a good thing, and I'll be so happy for you. You're my best mate, and as long as you're happy, I'm happy. I couldn't give a stuff about who you share your love life with. So long as we stay friends, that's all I care about!'

Crystal actually had a tear running down her cheek. She leapt from her chair and flung her arms around Gemmas neck, and buried her face on her friends shoulder. 

'Thanks Gem. I love you so much!

Gemma was surprised to find a tear on her own face. 'Don't understand why you'd think any different, ya twit,' she mumbled, trying to keep the emotion from her voice. 

Crystal released her friend, and stepped back, suddenly embarrassed. Before any awkward silence had time to settle in, Crystals phone beeped. She picked it up, and smiled as she read the message.

'Its from Toni! She wants to know if I want to meet for breakfast!' Crystals voice was exuberant. 'Should I?'

'Course you should! Why would you even have to ask me for? Go for it! But you might want to change your diaper first!'

Crystal stuck her tongue out. 'Jokes on you smart arse! My pull ups actually dry this morning, believe it or not! I kinda didn't sleep much last night, and ended up getting up to pee. Twice. First dry night I've had in ages. But what about you? Wanna tag along as well?' She sounded genuine, but a bit hesitant at the same time. 

Gemma took the hint. 'Nah. You go. It's my turn to do the housework, and I need to do some washing and some shopping. You go, and see how you two get on in the cold hard light of day. You have the bathroom first, and leave any washing you want done, I'll chuck it in with mine.'

This earned her another firm hug and a tearful thanks from Crystal, who then almost ran into the bathroom for a shower. Gemma wiped her own eyes, which seemed to be leaking a bit this morning, then went and stripped her bed, (which wasn't wet) and gathered the dirty clothes that were strewn around her room, taking them into the flats tiny laundry. She picked up the miscellaneous plates, cups and glasses that were littering the lounge room, and only twenty minutes later, Crystal appeared, freshly scrubbed and smelling fresh, dressed in her newest stretch jeans, best boots, nice blouse and jacket. She was definitely better dressed than she normally got when the pair of them went for coffee. Gemma smiled to herself as her best friend almost floated out of the room. 

With the flat to herself, she wondered what to do first, shower or wash up. A twinge from her bladder answered that question for her. She needed to pee, so a shower was the obvious choice. 

She entered the still steamy bathroom, hoping that Crystal had left her enough hot water. The smells of her friends shampoo, deodorant, and perfume lingered in the air. She noticed that her flat mate had done as she had been told, and left her washing in a pile near the combination bath/shower. Gemma had the idea in the back of her mind that she would pee her panties in the tub. She hadn't done that in a while, and the timing was perfect. She had the place to herself, and was about to do laundry. 

The sight of the empty bathtub caused her bladder to twitch again, even more violently than before. The sight of the bath had almost convinced her aching body to just give in to her urge. She hissed a sharp intake of breath between clenched teeth, and jammed a hand against her throbbing pee hole through her pyjama pants, and bent forward sharply at the waist, willing herself to just hold on for another minute or two. She pulled her pyjamas down, and kicked them besides Crystals, which were balled up on the floor. But her socked foot came up against a soft, but solid resistance. Keeping one hand firmly pushed against the front of her panties, she used her foot to kick the pile of clothes on the floor around a bit, trying to see what her foot had encountered. 

It didn't take long to find. Crystals pyjamas had been hurriedly dropped on the floor beside the tub, and trapped inside her pants, was the big pull up that she had worn to bed last night. She recalled Crystal telling her that she hadn't wet last night. Keeping two fingers  jammed on her panties where her pee hole was starting to feel wet, she managed to bend over and pick the pyjamas off the floor. It was a bit difficult while only using one hand, but she was finally able to free the pull up from the confines of the pants.

She placed it on the crowded bench, and ran her free hand through the thick padding. It was still warm from her friends body heat, but was also bone dry. Without even thinking about what she was doing, she stepped into it, pulling it up over her green and black striped panties. She was about to step into the bath, but had run out of time. As soon as she had taken the pressure off her pee hole, her knickers had started getting wet, and by the time the nappy was up past her knees, a dribble had started leaking through them. She had only just managed to get the diaper up to her waist before she had lost all control.

Abandoning the idea of the bathtub, Gemma grabbed the side of the bathroom cabinet with both hands, and dragged a towel across the floor with her foot, in case of leaks. She shuddered with pleasure as the hot urine flooded into the thick padding of the diaper, and she was mentally transported back to being eight years old, and being wrapped in a thick cloth nappy, complete with booster pad and plastic pants, which had virtually guaranteed no leaks would occur, and remembered the complete freedom she had felt as she had run outside after her lessons and released the pee that she had been deliberately holding on to, completely wetting herself with the permission of her mother. 

The memory invoked a sudden pang of sadness and loss, and for the third time that morning, a tear escaped, and she emitted a silent sob for the times that had passed, as her bladder finished emptying itself, and a small, lonely trickle escaped, snaking its way down her leg, to eventually get absorbed into the top of her pink sock, but it wasn't strong enough to reach the towel on the floor. 

After she thought that she had finished, she remained in that position, with her legs spread, and tears flowing down her face as she felt such a profound sense of loss. All the memories of her mother happily changing her, asking her if she was wet, running around wearing nothing more than a t-shirt and wet panties, and of course playing with Crystal, while they sneakily wet themselves together. It was almost too much. 

Now here she was, alone in a shitty little apartment, working a dead end job, earning fuck all money, driving a car that was actually older than she was, and peeing in her best friends discarded diaper, while that friend was on the cusp of a new love life, and she was still alone. 

'Just how the fuck did I end up here?' Gemma thought.

She seemed to have at last stopped peeing, but just to make sure, she bent forward and gave a firm push with her abdominal muscles, and almost squealed with surprise as she broke wind loudly and viscously. For half a second she thought she may have pooped herself, but quickly realised it had only been gas. But regardless of what it was, it had been kind of funny, and she knew that Crystal would have probably wet her pants laughing if she had of been there to see it. Gemma herself chuckled at the ridiculousness of the situation, and raised her head, looking at her tear stained face in the mirror.

She chuckled again at her reflection, a bit louder this time, then straightened up, as the smell of her flatulence reached her nose. It almost made her gag, but she giggled instead. She took note of the entire scene. Here was a twenty year old girl, wearing a technically stolen, second hand diaper, standing in a dingy, laundry strewn bathroom, with a trickle of pee on her leg and the top of one sock, crying, and gagging on the smell of her own farts. 

Oh how she had come a long way from fighting aliens on board her own spaceship!

That was the final thought that cheered her up, she guffawed at the thought, then had a fit of giggling like she hadn't experienced in years, at least while sober anyway. 

But at least she knew what to do about the housework now. The shower could wait. She used the towel to dry her leg, then placed it between her legs, and firmly squeezed her diaper, forcing the extra volume out of it like a wet sponge into the towel. Then she gathered up the washing, and padded back to the laundry, where she filled the machine with the first load. 

Feeling better now, and wearing nothing more than a pink pyjama top, a sodden diaper, and pink ankle socks, Gemma got stuck into the housework. She washed up, vacuumed, and made her bed, and then her lunch, which she happily ate while sitting her wet diapered butt on a towel. 

It wasn't until after two in the afternoon that she regretfully decided that she should at last take her nappy off and have a shower, just in case Crystal decided to bring Toni back. It would be difficult to explain she thought. But one things for sure, she had been a lot more productive than usual while she had been diapered, and the apartment was spotless.

As soon as she took it off and stepped into the shower, she felt her mood change slightly. She didn't come even close to crying again, but that strange sense of happiness, freedom and childish innocence had left her immediately. 

That was when she first realised just how much she missed her diapers.

 

 

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