Milton Avenue.
Melissa dozed to the sound of the first-morning traffic. It was early, around six, so at least one more hour to stay in bed, before her alarm and her mother would get her up. Melissa shuffled around in her bed, repositioning the heavy duvet over her which shielded her from the cool night. Her diaper felt wet, but the pressure in her bladder stated that she hadn’t wet all the way. Which was good, she thought to herself, as she could use some extra warmth down there now. She almost giggled out loud. She gingerly moved to lie on her back, opened her legs and raised her knees.

Bellfore Drive.
Sadie stretched luxuriously in her queen size bed. She kicked off her covers and felt her skin respond to the air, precisely controlled by a thermostat. Rain or shine, or snow-wet snow on the forecast today – she slept on the nude. That is, except for her diaper, which was dry – for now. As she had taken to liking diapers so much, she had insisted on wearing them when she pleased, and her famous psychologist mother had promptly allowed her her comfort clothing, the term she used, just in case she hadn’t babied Sadie enough in the past. Sadie smiled recollecting some reading she had done on the matter, Freud and somebody or other in one of her mother’s books she had sneaked away out of curiosity. Sadie’s dry diaper crinkled as she swept her hand over it, willing herself to pee.

Melissa had been heavily dozing, a stupor no doubt induced by her empty bladder and a very warm diaper when the alarm sounded its wake-up call. After she had turned it off, a knock came on the door.

“Melissa, honey, are you up?”, came her mother’s typical morning phrase. She didn’t bother to wait for an answer and walked in swiftly, carrying a folded stack of clothes.

Melissa, who was sleepily coming to terms with existence, fished for her glasses on her bedside table.

“Moooom”, whined the girl.
“Rise and shine!”, proclaimed her mother, in another typical morning phrase.

“Rise yes, shine, I don’t know”, mumbled Melissa, sliding her glasses on and glancing out the window.

“It’s only wet snow. Not cold enough. Now go get some breakfast”, said her mother.

It was then when Melissa realized the state of her diaper. Normally wet on the front, the back of her diaper had taken the brunt when she had let herself go one hour earlier and strained as it sagged in her pajama bottoms. She waddled down to the kitchen, while raising her bottoms up as far as they would go, and tugging her pajama top down to cover her rear. She hoped her mother wouldn’t notice. It was one thing to be a bedwetter, but this had been a voluntary wetting.

As she finished breakfast with her mother, she rose from her chair and suddenly remembered her diaper, and discreetly tried to hide it from her mother.

“Wait a moment honey, let me check one thing”, the mother told her mortified teenage daughter. She did, after all, have an interest in her daughter’s bedwetting progress.

“Melissa!”, gasped her mother, “that doesn’t look like an accident!”, she scolded. “I thought you were waddling quite a bit!”

Melissa didn’t know what to say. She stood there, mouth opening and closing, like a goldfish. She felt as ridiculous as she must have looked, standing at the kitchen door, pants around her knees and a diaper sagging between her legs.

“Um, sorry mom, I woke up feeling like going, you know, to the bathroom, but it was cold, and I was tired…”, babbled Melissa, trying to say something that would make sense to her mother, mentally kicking herself for being lazy and not changing off her soaked diaper before breakfast.

“Go and get cleaned up and dressed, and we’ll talk later”, said her mother, who really didn’t know how to deal with this. She understood that her teenage daughter had mild incontinence, as the doctor had said. But she had been having her suspicions that Melissa had taken a bit too keenly on diapers. Ever since Melissa’s father had left them, she had tried to be as understanding as she could with Melissa, but how should she deal with this?