“Where are you going, little one?” the voice asked.
“I’m going to the bathroom,” Jessica replied.
“You just went and bought 100 diapers and you’re going to the bathroom?!?”
“You can’t honestly expect me to mess myself, do you? I’m seventeen years old. I’m not a baby anymore.”
“Well then you’re not wearing a diaper just like Amanda is, are you? You’re a fraud. You’re prancing around wearing a diaper hoping to look cute, not caring that your whole conception of Baby Jessie is a façade. What’s it gonna hurt? There’s no one here but Amanda. Clearly, she’s not going to know you’re too ‘old’ to be messing your diaper. Give it a try. You might just like it.”
Not wanting to be ridiculed by whatever voice it was speaking in her head, Jessica took her shorts off to be more comfortable, squatted, and braced herself. Wetting herself was one thing, but after thirteen years of being toilet trained, messing herself was another matter entirely. Try as she might, nothing happened. Finally, a thought struck her.