Chapter Four

The rest of the morning of my morning with Vivian went…I’m hesitant to use the word “well” since the morning very clearly did not go well, but it went about as well as it could have after its initial crisis. By the time I got out of the bath, Vivian had my clothes in the laundry and breakfast—toast and jam, eggs, and bacon—on the table. We made polite if strained conversation as we ate; I could tell Vivian was trying to not let things be awkward, but how could they not be?

Words alone could never be sufficient to express my relief when my clothes were finally out of the laundry. I changed as quickly as I could, said my goodbyes to Vivian (throwing in more than a few apologies and words of appreciation), and did my walk of shame back to my car.

Maybe I’m misusing the phrase “walk of shame,” but what else could I call it?

“Elyse?” I called out for my roommate as I walked through the front door of my apartment, “Are you here?”

Nothing. The apartment was dead silent.

“Elyse?” I called again, louder this time, as I set my purse down on our small dining room table—big enough for four people, but not big enough to fit four people entirely comfortably—but still nothing.

I had met Elyse about a year ago, when we both first started in our doctoral program and been paired up as roommates by the graduate housing department. The apartment we shared wasn’t huge, but it was better than the dorms I had lived in as an undergraduate and while working on my master’s degree. It was also much nicer than anything else my meager stipend could afford. The apartment consisted of a large central area—which served as the living room, kitchen, and dining room—and, on either side of the central area, Elyse and mine’s bedrooms, both of which consisted of walk-in closets and private bathrooms. Like I said, much better than the dorms, and it afforded me more privacy than I had ever had while living anywhere else, a feature I had taken full advantage of over the past year—and it was exactly that privacy that I needed now.

“Elyse? Are you home?” I called out one last time, this time while lightly rapping my knuckles against her door. I waited outside her bedroom door long enough for it to become awkward, but there was no answer. I was alone.

Thank the fucking gods.

I walked away from Elyse’s door and into the living room, where I flopped haphazardly onto our couch. The confirmation that I was well and truly alone was exactly what I needed. Sure, I had privacy, but there was something about being actually alone that simple privacy couldn’t account for. I breathed a deep sigh of relief, and it felt like exhaling after I had been holding my breath for hours. I could finally relax, and, after the stress of last night and the horror of this morning, gods did I need it.

Last night was actually really fun though, despite how nervous you were. You were charming and funny and brilliant; you really seemed to impress Vivian.

Yeah! Yeah, I did!

Until you pissed the bed and ruined everything.

Don’t remind me.

As if you need reminding! How could you possibly forget sitting there with your piss-soaked panties on full display for Vivian to see?

I can’t! I can’t ever forget that, it was so…so…

Humiliating? Shameful? Mortifying? Disgraceful? Degrading?

Yes, yes, all of that, stop listing synonyms, it’s not helpful.

Hot?

…that’s not helpful either.

But it was.

I bit my lip, sucking in a sharp breath as I flashed back to sitting on that soaked bed—Vivian holding me, Vivian seeing my shame as plain as day.

It was. Only now in the privacy of my apartment could I risk acknowledging that. In the moment, I had to keep that thought far away and compartmentalized, but here, alone, I could let it creep back in. Here, I could let it take root; I could…indulge it.

I peeled myself off the couch and made my way to my bedroom, conjuring this morning’s scene in my head as I did.

“You poor thing,” Vivian was saying in my head, “another accident?”

I opened my closet door and stepped in, flipping the light on as I did. In my head, I imagined myself sniffling and nodding, too embarrassed to admit to my shame verbally.

“Maybe you’re just not ready for big girl panties at night, huh?” Vivian’s voice in my head sent shivers down my spine. “Don’t worry, it’s not your fault you can’t hold it all night, you’re just too little.”

Chewing my bottom lip absently as Vivian’s voice echoed in my head, repeating variations on the same sentiment, I knelt down at the back of my closet and pulled out a small chest I had found at a thrift store. The chest was locked with a combination lock; distracted as I was, it took me three tries to get the combination right. The hinges creaked as I pushed open the top and exposed all the accoutrements of my secret shame, my secret joy, my secretest of secrets.

“Maybe we should go back to pull-ups at night until you’re a bit bigger,” Vivian said lovingly, without judgement, as I ran my fingers against the plastic of the bag of goodnites sitting on top of everything else in the trunk. “Ah ah, no fussing dear, if you can’t hold it all night then this is the only solution!”

In my imagination, I did fuss. I whined and told Vivian I didn’t want to wear pull-ups, I wanted to keep wearing my big girl panties because I was a big girl. Vivian shushed my protests, gently but firmly, and left me sitting on the bed while she went the dresser and began digging in one of the drawers.

In real life, I was still chewing my lip as I slide one of the goodnites out of it’s package, noting somewhere deep in my brain that I would need to buy more soon. I stood up, pull-up in hand, and began to walk out of my closet when I stopped, looked back to the chest still sitting open, and doubled back. I reached down, grabbed one of my many pacifiers, this one a plain black, popped it in my mouth, and left my closet.

“Oh, sweetheart, don’t fret,” Vivian said as she turned away from the dresser and back towards me; she was holding a pull up in one hand and a pacifier in the other. “You know I know what’s best for you, don’t you? And don’t you want to be a good girl for Miss Vivian and let her take care of you?”

I nodded my head, in my imagination and in real life, as I crawled into bed.

“That’s Miss Vivian’s good girl,” she smiled that smile that made me feel electric and walked over to the bed, popping the pacifier she held into my mouth. “Now let’s get you up and changed into something more appropriate for a girl your age, okay?”

Wait, why is she putting you in pull-ups now if they are for bedwetting?

Shut up, I’m not exactly worried about the plot making sense right now.

I shook the momentary intrusion away and closed my eyes. Vivian helped me out of bed and then knelt in front of me. “You got your skirt all wet too,” she said, “I guess we’ll just have to take that off too.” My skirt flew across my room in roughly the direction of my laundry basket as Vivian unzipped it and gently lowered it, once again exposing my piss-soaked panties. I lifted my hips off my bed and slid my panties off, imaging how Vivian’s hands would feel against my bare thighs as I did. “You won’t be needing these yucky things for a while, isn’t that right, my little Lavender?”

I reached for the pull-up and shook it out as Vivian did the same. We pulled the rustling garment up my legs, settling it around my hips, and gave the crotch a few solid pats once it was in place.

“There we go,” Vivian stood up and I reached over to my nightstand, fishing my vibrator out of the top drawer. “Isn’t that so much better?”

I nodded, and a whimper escaped my throat as I placed the head of the vibrator against my pull-up and hit the power button. Even on it’s lowest setting, the vibrations spread through the absorbent padding; it was like a switchboard lighting up in my brain. I pressed the button again and the vibrator kicked into the next gear; the gasp that jerked out of my throat almost made my pacifier tumble out of my mouth, but I clamped down on it and sucked hard and fast, in time with the little thrusts my hips involuntarily pushed against the vibrator with.

“Such a good girl in her pull-ups for Miss Vivian,” she was pressing her hand against the crotch of my pull-up, rubbing it against me. “And you’ll be Miss Vivian’s little girl forever, won’t you?”

“Yes, Miss Vivian,” I muttered around my pacifier.

“Good girl,” She purred, I moaned, and, before long at all, my mind burst into sparkling colors and all of my muscles tightened, tightened, and tightened more until they released, all at once, and my whole body shook with absolute pleasure. It was too much, the pacifier fell from my mouth as I cried out, tears squeezing out of my tightly shut eyes. It seemed like it would never end—I didn’t want it to end, but I didn’t think I could take much more. My body would tear itself apart if it didn’t stop, but gods what a way to die.

But, eventually, it subsided, and I was left whole and intact. Physically anyway.

Gasping for breath, the fog of pleasure slowly lifted from my brain. I found my pacifier in my sheets and slid it back into my mouth, slowly sucking as the occasional aftershock sent shudders through my body. Warmth began to slowly fill my pull-up as I released my bladder.

Hey, you’re supposed to pee after sex, don’t judge me!