Chapter Twenty-Six

The rest of our first day at the lake house passed largely without event. Vivian said nothing about my choice of underwear, which I was thankful for. We went to lunch at the diner our temporary landlord had recommended, went shopping, and then spent a quiet evening in. We made a simple dinner—salads with grilled chicken—and settled in on the couch for an evening of horror movies.

It was almost a perfect evening. I was curled up and leaning against Vivian, drinking wine, watching scary movies (which I loved at the best of times but were only enhanced by being held by Vivian), and wearing a pull-up under my pajamas. I could think of a couple of things that would improve the evening—a sippy cup for my wine, a pacifier, a stuffy to cuddle, and thicker undergarments—but, all-in-all, it was a blissful night.

Halfway through the second movie and halfway through the second bottle of wine, however, the inevitable happened—I had to pee.

Just wet your pull-up, that’s what it’s for.

I can’t just…casually wet myself while cuddling with Vivian!

Why not?

I…well…I just can’t, okay?

But why not? That’s what the pull-ups are for; everyone here knows you are wearing pull-ups because you sometimes have accidents, so…just have an accident.

I glanced up at Vivian from the corner of my eye, but she was absorbed in the movie. How on earth would I explain to her why I wet my pull-up?

Just say you had an accident! It’s not complicated!

But…wasn’t it? She would know I hadn’t like…tried very hard to make it to the potty if I don’t make a show of it…

You’re over thinking this; she certainly isn’t going to think about it that hard. You have accidents, so have an accident. You’re the one who said you’d be able to commit to this!

I said I’d be able to commit to wearing pull-ups full time!

And that doesn’t include the occasional accident? If you don’t have any accidents, you won’t have an excuse to wear the pull-ups. Just say you didn’t notice. Oh! Or better yet, you got scared by the movie!

I bit my lip. That could work.

Gods, was I really going to do this?

I glanced up at Vivian again, but she showed no signs that she was aware of the turmoil going on in my brain at that moment.

“You okay, darling?” Vivian asked as I drew attention to myself shifting around to get into a more comfortable position in which to wet my pull-up.

I nodded, “just had to readjust,” I told a half truth.

I thought it would be hard; I thought some mental block would keep me from easily wetting my pull-up. Such mental blocks were no stranger to me. Anyone who has ever purposefully wet themselves can tell you that. Of course, I had plenty of practice overcoming them, so much so that under the best of circumstances I didn’t even have to try, but this was different. I had never wet myself while cuddling with someone, and I expected it to be hard. I expected to have to focus, to put real effort into releasing my bladder.

So, imagine my surprise when warmth began flooding my pull-up effortlessly.

Careful now, don’t flood it too much and leak.

This was much harder than getting started. After an initial burst, I had to clench down, try to slow my stream, so I wouldn’t surpass the pull-ups ability to absorb liquid. This was, again, something I was practiced at, but I couldn’t help but feel a pang of longing for my diapers, which didn’t require so much effort. Still, before long my bladder was empty, my pull-up warm, soggy, and squishy, and my pajamas, not to mention the couch below me, perfectly dry.

I sighed contentedly and snuggled into Vivian, who wrapped her arm around me and pulled me close.

Now, this is bliss.

I still missed my pacifier and sippy cup and everything else, but it was certainly getting closer to perfect.

“What did you think?” Vivian asked almost an hour later as the credits began to roll.

“Mm, I thought it was pretty good,” I said as I sat up and readjusted so I was looking at her. My pull-ups squished beneath me as I did, and I couldn’t help but savor the feeling. “The monster was kind of silly looking, though.”

“I agree,” Vivian nodded and leaned forward to pour the last of the bottle of wine into our glasses. “Sadly, I think that’s the weak point of a lot of horror films; I think it’s more effective when you never see the monster, to be honest.”

“Mhm! Whatever we imagine is always going to be scarier anyway!”

Vivian and I quickly finished off the last of the wine as we discussed the movie. My biggest complaint about the movie was that it wasn’t scary enough to provide a probable alibi for my wet pull-up, though that particular critique went unvoiced.

“Well,” Vivian said some time later, “shall we watch another one? Or perhaps there are…other activities we could get up to?” She smirked and raised one eyebrow before tossing back the last of her wine. “And what about another bottle of wine?”

I smiled even as I was biting my lip and finished off my own wine. “Another bottle of wine, for sure. And then…I don’t know…” I spoke coyly and looked at Vivian through my eyelashes, “what else could we get up to?”

Vivian chuckled and stood up, “why don’t I get us another bottle of wine and then we can figure it out.”

I watched Vivian saunter out of the room—how did she manage to look elegant and sexy even in loose fitting pajamas?

So, are you just going to keep sitting in your wet pull-up? Wait until bedtime?

I was left in a bit of a conundrum concerning my pull-up. I could just go change—in fact, I’m pretty sure that was exactly what I would do if I actually needed the pull-ups and wasn’t just a diaper-loving degenerate. However, that was also the least fun option, not least of all because I would have to slink away, which would inevitably provoke questions that I was too embarrassed to have to answer.

You can wet yourself while cuddled up to Vivian, but you can’t tell her you had an accident?

Those two things are very different.

It’s all part of wearing pull-ups full time.

On the other hand, if I waited until bedtime to change, well…first of all, I knew I’d probably have to pee again before then, especially considering all the wine and the fact that I had broken the seal already. Secondly, it was likely that Vivian would change me into my night time diaper again—the thought filled me with anticipation—which means she’ll notice my wet pull-up then and I might have to explain why I sat in a wet pull-up for so long.

Just lie and say it happened recently?

Before I could consider my options too much, Vivian returned with a chilled bottle of white wine and filled both of our glasses.

“So?” She asked as she poured, “Another movie? Or…something else?”

I smiled over the rim of my wine glass and took a sip. “Mm, well, did you have anything in mind?”

Vivian sat down next to me, crossed her legs, and sipped at her wine, seemingly deep in thought. “You know, my little Lavender,” she said lightly after a long pause as she reached over and gently stroked my cheek before pushing some stray hair behind my ear, “maybe we should just…enjoy each other’s company, what do you think?”

I smiled and scooted closer to her on the couch, pressing my body against hers, and in response Vivian wrapped her arm around me and held me close. “That could be nice,” I sipped my wine and then leaned forward to set it on the coffee table before settling back. “I feel like it’s been so long since we’ve properly…enjoyed each other’s company,” I said, using her euphemism.

Vivian reached out with the hand that wasn’t holding my body close to hers and cupped my cheek, “you’re so gorgeous, darling,” she said before leaning in and gently kissing me. I kissed back harder, wanting more, but she pulled away with a playful laugh; I made a whining protest in my throat as I bit my lip. “Someone’s eager, aren’t they?”

I let go of my lip and exhaled, long and slow, “you’re teasing me,” I accused playfully.

She gently grabbed my chin and placed her thumb on my lower lip; I shuddered and wrapped my lips around the tip of her thumb—half-way between sucking her thumb and kissing it. “Oh, darling,” she said softly, “I’m not teasing you, just…drawing things out.”

“Teasing,” I said softly, distantly—something about the way she was holding my chin made me brain go foggy, and I was quickly becoming drunk on her touches.

“Mmm,” Vivian sounded amused, “and what would you have me do, my little Lavender?”

“Kiss me?”

She leaned, shifting her hand from grabbing my chin to cupping my cheek, and kissed me, long and slow. Then with increasing intensity. I started to whine as she seemed to be pulling away, but she just laughed, bit my lip—I shuddered and gasped in surprise and pleasure—and began kissing me with newly invigorated passion. And then Vivian was on top of me, straddling me and pressing my against the back of the couch, her hair draped around me as she held my face with both hands and kissed me needfully, her tongue darting and running over my lips. One of my hands settled on her hip while the other played up and down her side before finally making its way to her chest. I played with Vivian’s nipple through her shirt, and she moaned against my mouth.

You’re making out with Vivian while wearing a wet pull-up.

I squeezed my thighs together gently, squishing the pull-up between then and pressing the wet garment against my most sensitive parts. I was making out with Vivian in a wet pull-up, and she had no idea.

Vivian ran her hand through my hair, gently at first, but then she closed her fist and gently pulled my hair. I inhaled sharply and let me head be yanked back; then Vivian’s mouth was against my neck, sucking and biting even as she maintained gentle pressure on my hair—not enough to truly hurt, but enough to give the sensation of having my hair pulled. My fingers trailed from her hip, around her thigh, to trace a line up and down the hem of her panties, gently teasing her. She rocked her hips to give me better access, but I went no farther than tracing her panty lines.

“Now who’s teasing?” She stopped sucking on my neck to whisper directly in my ear, then nipped at my earlobe. “Be a good girl and touch me.”

“Touch you where?” I said with a smirk, echoing the game she had played the last time we were making out on my couch—right before I pissed myself. “Tell me where, exactly.”

“Mmm, you’re playing a dangerous game, my little Lavender,” she warned, then gently ran her tongue around the outside of my ear—a little moan of pleasure escaped my lips. “Be a good girl and touch me,” she repeated with my force, “and maybe I’ll reward you, do you understand, my little Lavender?”

I swallowed hard and nodded, “yes, mis—” I cut myself over before I could finish the three-word phrase I had uttered so many times in my imagination.

“Hmm? What was that?” Vivian asked, clearly picking up on the extra half syllable.

I shook my head, “yes, Vivian,” I said, and complied, beginning to slowly rub Vivian’s lips through her panties—I felt her muscles tighten for a moment as she gasped, then slowly relax as she exhaled.

“Uh uh,” she spoke a little breathlessly, “you were going to say something else, what were you going to say, darling? Be a good girl now and don’t like.”

I was blushing furiously and stammered wordlessly for a moment before I could find words, “it’s just…I was going to say…”

“Go on,” Vivian was rocking her hips back and forth in time with my hand. I pressed against her clit, and she gasped but maintained her cool—more importantly, she maintained focus. “Keep going, Lavender, but you can’t distract me, tell me what you were going to say.” She was breathing slow and deep, but still had a mischievous look on her face. “Come on, now, or you won’t get a treat.”

If my face got any warmer, I was sure I was going to burst into flames.

Think of something else, what could you have been saying? Yes, miss…no, not miss, what else starts with m…my love?

“I just…uhm…yes, my love?” I ventured.

“Is that really what you were going to say?” Vivian asked with more than a hint of suspicion. “One more chance to be a good girl, little Lavender.”

“I…” I bit my lip and locked eyes with Vivian for a long moment.

Just tell her; she’s making out with you while you’re wearing a wet pull-up, how badly is she really going to react to you calling her ‘Miss Vivian’?

She doesn’t know I’m in a wet pull-up…

If only I hadn’t been so terribly horny in the moment, I might have been able to think of a way around admitting what I had said, but I was cornered. I broke eye contact with Vivian and looked away, there was no way I could say it while making eye contact like that.

“I said,” I began cautiously, “or…was going to say…uhm…yes…Miss Vivian…”

Vivian’s lips curled into a grin, “So…say it.”

I snapped my head back to look at her, my face a picture of surprise. “W-what?”

“Say it,” she repeated with a tone of finality.

“Yes…yes, Miss Vivian,” I stammered.

“That’s right, my good girl,” she stroked my cheek gently, “and you’ll do anything Miss Vivian tells you to, isn’t that right?” Hearing Vivian refer to herself as ‘Miss Vivian’ sent a shiver through my whole body.

I liked my lips and nodded.

Smiling, she slid of my lap backwards and stood up in front of me. “I’m so glad to hear that, darling, because you’re going to make Miss Vivian feel very good, aren’t you?” She slowly removed her pajama pants as she did, revealing a simple, unadorned pair of black bikini panties. I couldn’t help but blush at the disparity between our undergarments.

I nodded eagerly.

“Of course, you are,” she said as she sat back down on the couch, facing me with her back pressed against the arm of the chair. “Take my panties off,” she directed.

Shifting around so I was facing her, I reached out and hooked my fingers around the waistband of her panties on either side and began to slowly slide them down her legs. Vivian lifted her hips just enough for me to slid them out from under her, then settled back down.

“You’re so good at following directions,” Vivian praised. “Now,” she reached out with both hands and grabbed my hair on either side of my head, then pulled my head down between her legs, “I trust my little Lavender knows what to do, yes?”

Vivian’s hips bucked forward as I began running my tongue up her lips before working through her folds to find her clitoris. She moaned and arched her back as I began spelling out my name against her clit with my tongue.

“Good girl,” Vivian moaned the words, elongating them with at least a dozen extra vowels each, and began to play with my hair, alternating between gently running her fingers through it and softly yanking on handfuls.

My own parts throbbed against the inside of my pull-up, and even as I licked and sucked and let my tongue play games between Vivian’s thighs, my hand ventured down between my own and pressed the wet padding firmly against my skin. I rocked my own hips against my hand, rubbing the piss-soaked padding against myself.

Yes, Miss Vivian.

The words were burned in my head.

My good girl.

Every nerve in my body vibrated with those words.

Lost in the moment as I was, everything else faded away until it was just Vivian and me. All I knew was her taste, her smell, the sound of her breathing and her occasional murmurs of encouragement, and the feeling of her hands in my hair and the wet pull-up against my skin. Minutes passed, perhaps hours, perhaps lifetimes. Vivian’s hands tightened their grip on my hair and I felt her whole body begin to tense; she was close.

Reluctantly, I stopped rubbing my own padding and let my hand drift upwards where I plunged my fingers inside Vivian. She gasped and made a high-pitched sound as I pushed her over the edge; her whole body shuddering, muscles tensing and loosening. She held me so close to her so tightly that I thought I might suffocate, but it never even occurred to me to slow down or resist, I simply kept working my tongue against her and moving my fingers in and out as Vivian cried out.

Slowly, slowly, Vivian’s cries turned to whimpers, turned deep, slow breaths as her body relaxed, melting into the couch.

I sat up, wiping juices from my face and grinning, “I did good?”

“You did very good, my little Lavender,” Vivian laughed breathlessly, “very good.”

“Time for my treat?”

Vivian smirked, “didn’t you already get your treat?”

I pouted, “no?”

“So, you weren’t touching yourself for most of that?” Vivian cocked an eyebrow at me, and my face flushed.

“But! That was…I mean…you didn’t say I couldn’t,” I pouted, and Vivian laughed.

“Don’t worry,” Vivian sat up and pushed me back until I was leaning against the opposite arm of the couch, “you’ll get yours; I’m just teasing.”

Vivian hovered over me, her hair falling all around my face. She looked down at me, smiling hungrily. Her brushed my knee and then her fingertips were gently trailing their way up my inner thigh toward—

Your wet fucking pull-up.

Oh god.

“Vivian, I…”

Vivian’s face flashed a moment of surprise that quickly faded to concern, and her hand quickly withdrew. “Lavender? What is it? Are you okay?” She was still hovering over me but she held her body rigid and as far from me as possible.

“Yeah, I…um…”

What was I supposed to say? My pull-up is wet?

“What’s going on, darling?” Vivian asked.

I bit my lip and nodded. “I just…” Frustration welled up in my chest. The worst part was it was my fault; I could have gotten changed earlier, like when I had first wet myself.

Or just not wet yourself in the first place.

Or even put on the pull-up.

And now you’ve ruined your sex life because you wanted to pretend you’re incontinent.

“Lavender,” Vivian’s gentle voice brought me back to the moment. I looked up; her expression was soft and warm. “Darling,” she gave me a knowing smile, “I already know…”

I knew what she meant immediately, and my face went scarlet. The problem was, she thought she knew, but she only knew half the truth. I bit my lip and exhaled deeply.

Maybe…try being honest for once?

“I’m…wet?” I muttered weakly.

“You’re…? Oh.” Vivian said, confusion turning to understanding, to surprise. “Oh!”

“I’m sorry, I—”

“Lavender,” Vivian interrupted me, “were you wet when you were touching yourself earlier?”

My stomach dropped. I nodded.

Why did you nod?

I don’t know!

Why did you nod?!

I panicked!

But Vivian…Vivian was smirking. Slowly, she crept back over me, her hair washing against me, until her face was above mine. “If you don’t care,” she said as her hand brushed past my thighs, “then why should I?” She pressed her hand against my wet pull-up and my breath caught in my throat. I looked up at her with surprise and lust, my lip caught between my teeth. “I told you, my little Lavender,” she whispered, “none of this bothers me.” Her fingers rhythmically pressed the soaked padding against me, and I rocked my hips in time, my breaths quick and shallow. “And I love you.”

Everything stopped.

I looked up at Vivian, my eyes wide. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she nodded.

“Yeah.” I nodded. “I…I love you too.”

“Yeah?” Her smile absolutely lit her face up.

“Yeah!” I laughed.

And then she was kissing me, and her hand was working furiously against my pull-up, and my hips moved instinctively, and time stretched out or compressed or maybe looped back on itself a few times but then the world exploded into starlight and sound and a ragged cry was ripped from my throat as I clawed at Vivian’s back and then everything was white, then black, no, my eyes were just closed, tears poured down my cheeks as I opened them. I looked up at Vivian and a swell of emotion rose in my chest, threatening to turn into a fit of joyful sobbing, but I fought it down, and smiled weakly instead. “I love you.” I repeated.

“I love you, my little Lavender.”