Tiptoeing into the house, Tabatha slowly crept up the stairs, but stopped short after hearing her mother speaking to someone on the phone. Unfortunately, in her state, with a massive load in her briefs, she couldn’t get closer to hear the whole conversation out of fear that the smell of a fresh load would waft into her mother’s nostrils. It was just enough to hear portions of the conversation while standing bowlegged on the stairs to find out that something was up.
“It’s all going according to plan,” Marlene told someone over the phone. What followed were only bits and pieces of her conversation, before Tabatha decided to run upstairs and quickly change before her mother caught her.
“She’s….diapers…at a rapid pace….only a matter of time……bladder…changes….her bowel control….keep her home.”
In her room, Tabatha’s mind was filled with confusion. Had her mother planned this terrible illness all along? Why would she do that?
Pulling off the overfilled pull-ups, Tabatha closed and locked the bathroom door and dumped the contents into the toilet. She took a quick shower and afterwards rolled the pull-up in a ball, placed it in a plastic bag and decided to hide it in the back of her closet.
It didn’t take long before a quick glance in the mirror after her shower, which told her whole story.
Staring back at her was a girl, not a teenager. Her breasts almost totally diminished and body and muscle tones now much less pronounced. Tabatha was terrified by what she saw.
Putting on her, now baggy, clothes, Tabatha marched down stairs to confront her mother and find out just what the hell was going on.
“Honey you look terrible, how do you feel?” Marlene asked not letting on that she knew what was going on.
“Mom who was that on the phone when I came home from school?” Tabatha asked.
“Oh, um,” Marlene paused. “That was Dr. Danvers. They’re still running more tests, but he thinks you should stay home for the rest of the week until they figure out what’s wrong. And I think he’s right,” she said.
It was enough to satisfy her concern at the moment. Perhaps it was Dr. Danvers, she thought. “I don’t want to be looking like this at school,” she said to herself.
Marlene placed a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and a glass of milk on the table and without hesitation, Tabatha began eating her afternoon snack.
Marlene sat down to have a discussion with her daughter, hoping it would calm her fears.
“Honey there was something else the Dr. Danvers told me and you don’t have to be alarmed,” she said. “They’re surprised and they want me to keep an eye on you because you’re clearly slowly regressing to a young child. Your body is healthy in every way, but they can’t figure out why you’re going through these changes. Until they figure out, I’ve decided to take some leave from work and help you until you get better.”
“I noticed the changes mom and even some of my friends told me they thought I looked shorter,” Tabatha responded. “I’m scared.”
Putting her arms around her daughter, Marlene gave her a warm kiss and hug and said reassuringly “I’ll take care of you dear. I know you’re not on drugs like I thought before. We’ll get though this together.”
Life was about to change in the household.
Suddenly Tabatha felt pressure start to build in her bladder and she got up quickly to go to the bathroom. Just making it, she pulled down her oversized pants and panties and a strong stream of urine emptied into the waiting toilet.
Stepping back into the kitchen, Tabatha was slightly embarrassed by her quick trip to the bathroom.
“Honey, Don’t you have your protection on?” Marlene asked sternly.
Tabatha’s face grew beet red. She forgot to put on another pair of briefs.
“But I can make it to the bathroom. I just did without a problem,” she said.
“Baby, I don’t want you to have to run to the bathroom every five minutes and hurt yourself somehow,” Marlene said.
Without hesitating, Tabatha ran upstairs to her room and put her face in her pillow, embarrassed, confused and distressed. She was loosing control of her life, and it was starting to sink in.
After an hour or two in her room, Tabatha heard a knock on her door.
“Come in,” she said.
“This afternoon I went to the store and got you some clothes that fit you better,” Marlene said, placing a few bags of shirts, pants and socks at the foot of her bed.
Tabatha said nothing back. Her head still laying on her pillow and her now diapered butt facing Marlene.
“It’s ok dear. Go through the clothes I got and if you don’t like them, you don’t have to wear them,” she said.
Shuffling through the bag of clothes, Tabatha saw that her mother found some that didn’t look all that bad. There were no Barney shirts or purple pants. Instead they were solid colors, mostly pastel pink and blue, but much better fitting – and that’s what she liked best.
Slipping on a pair of 8-year-old pants over her padded bottom, she fit in them perfectly, but staring in the mirror she couldn’t help but notice the bulge in her front and rear of that of a diaper.
She turned the mirror away and began again to sulk.
“Honey, dinner is ready,” Marlene shouted up the stairs.
A few minutes later and Tabatha got up enough courage to join her mother in the kitchen.
“Oh good, your wearing those nice pants I got you,” Marlene said. “I’ll get you some more if you want.”
“This is enough,” she said.
The meal was meatloaf and broccoli and again a large glass of milk. Staring at her daughter for a few moments, Marlene recalled her daughter when she was a toddler. She smiled for a moment, while Tabatha wasn’t noticing. The thought of having a baby girl again made her feel younger again.
“Now that you’ve finished, why don’t you march upstairs and brush your teeth. It’s almost 7 and I think you should get a lot of sleep tonight. It will do you good,” Marlene said.
Not knowing what else to do, Tabatha walked upstairs and did as she was told. Brushing thoroughly, she took down her briefs and tried to go to the bathroom on the toilet before calling it a night.
Later that night, Marlene pushed open Tabatha’s door. She looked so helpless, sound asleep in her bed. She closed it quietly and went to bed herself.
During the night, while she was in a deep sleep, Tabatha released a flow of urine, which crept into her waiting pull-up, which slowly expanded. A tiny fart released and soon, very slowly, her bowels began to escape her anus and the brown ooze crept out until it began to ball up as it hit the rear padding of her diaper. The smell wafted into the room and hung in the stale air as the bulge grew larger in her rear end.
The next morning, Tabatha’s nostrils confirmed the blob she was feeling between her legs. She slowly crept out of bed, embarrassed and knowing that she couldn’t hide this accident from her mother, she went slowly to the bathroom to clean up. Stepping out of bed however, she discovered that she shrank heavily throughout the night. The pull ups plopped to the floor and she ran to the bathroom, leaving it behind. Wiping her eyes groggily she looked into the bathroom mirror. Staring back at her was a girl the age of 4 or 5.
Meanwhile, Marlene, hearing her daughter traipsing around the bathroom, woke up and entered her daughter’s room, where she discovered the loaded diaper balled up on the floor and wet footsteps. She picked it up and brought it downstairs to be discarded properly. She decided to confront her daughter with the problem at breakfast.
Sensing the need to evacuate her bowels again, Tabatha eased her diminutive body over the toilet and tried to balance as she relieved herself. She didn’t even have to push very hard as her anus slowly opened and shit leaked out into the toilet. She had to step down to wipe herself and hopped into the shower, being careful not to slip and fall. Tears welling up in her eyes, she lost nearly all control, as helplessly she let out a few spurts of urine, which landed in the tub below.
Tabatha was smart enough to know after he shower that she should put on another padded brief incase her body decided to relieve itself without warning. The pull-up barely fit on her body, but she was able to hold it up with a pair of small panties. She went downstairs, and noticed the faint smell of bacon and eggs waiting.
“Oh honey!” Marlene exclaimed taking one look at her daughter. “You don’t look more than 3 years old!”
Tabatha didn’t know what to say. Instead she began sobbing, putting her head up against Marlene’s side. Gripping her tightly, Marlene held her close.
”It’s ok, I’ll call the doctor later. You sit up on the chair and eat your breakfast,” Marlene said.
Without warning, Marlene lifted Tabatha up by her shoulders, her legs dangling, she felt so helpless as she was lowered onto a phone book on the kitchen chair. Waiting for her tummy was a bowl of warm oatmeal. In another dish, bacon and eggs was her mother’s breakfast.
“Eat your oatmeal dear. You used to get all bound up when you were this age and I don’t want that happening again. This will keep you regular,” Marlene said.
Tabatha did as she was told, not knowing what to expect next.
To be continued….