Her Wetting Day

by: Sophie & Pudding

*Commissioned by: Anonymous

Premise: Florence stops at an antique shop to buy a gift on her way to a wedding.    But after the shopkeeper’s mysterious warning goes unheeded, everyone starts treating Florence differently.    Can she solve the mystery in time to save herself, or will she fully regress into a little girl?

Disclaimers: mental regression, mystical artifacts, diapers, wet, messy, memory loss

*          *          *          *          *

Author’s Note: This story is written in a style called novella roleplay.    Paragraphs are color-coded to specific characters, so it is easier for the reader to determine what each character is saying and thinking.    Though this is an unconventional format, we promise you get used to it rather quickly.    As you read, you will also notice the benefits of this style: namely, it allows the reader to get into the heads of multiple characters without depersonalizing the narrative (such as that of a third-person perspective).

• ••        *          *          *          *

Chapter 1:

I barged through the front door of the old antiques shop in a rush.    Melissa wanted me at the church in half an hour, and I still hadn't gotten her a gift.    Sure, she had a registry, but who had the time for this crap?    I was wearing my nicest tan pantsuit with my hair pinned up and my makeup on point.    Dressed up as dressed up could be.    What did she need, what did she need... a bowl?    No.    Plates?    On the registry.    Maybe like, a mirror, or a clock or something.    As I walked past an archway blocked off by a red rope, I saw a tiny wooden clock on the other side.    Elegant, old-fashioned.    Perfect.    I ducked under the rope and picked it up.    The price tag said 28 dollars.    Oh it was my lucky day.

"Ah, where did you find that?" The shopkeeper seemed a little out of place.    It was an antique store.    She was an older woman.    But there was something off about her… "I'm afraid that beautiful piece is one of our restricted exhibits. Did some ruffian remove it from the section again? My deepest apologies. Perhaps I could help you to find something more suitable?"

"I don't have the time." I treated her just as casually as I’d treat a fifteen year old girl working at an ice cream shop.    I didn’t have the patience, and nor did I care.    She’d get over it.    I had somewhere to be. "It was on the shop floor, it has a tag on it, so it's for sale.    Now ring it up - I'm in a hurry."

"I'm afraid not, for you see, this clock is cursed and the curse transfers only with financial exchange - if I were to sell it to you, you would certainly become victim to the Curse of Chronos." She sighed and shook her head, but her customer did seem very persistent. "If you're certain, you may purchase it, but please do be aware of the consequences of doing so."

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, like a shitty cursed item schtick is going to change my mind.    Such a cliché." I handed the woman my card and she let out a long exhale before scanning it into the card reader.    A minute later, I was walking out of the shop with the perfect wedding gift.

The woman looked out the shop window as the young lady got into her car. She sighed and went back behind the shops curtains, and that was that. By the time the poor girl had gotten in her car, the memories of the store had started to blur and the clock felt warm.

"You're late, Florence." Marjorie looked me up and down and put her head in her hand. "Seriously?    A suit?" "Uh, yeah?    I'm not going to conform to bullshit gender norms just because it's a wedding.    Seriously." "Whatever... Melissa's been waiting for you.    Come on.    Give me that gift - I'll put it with the others." I handed the box over to Marjorie - my best friend of ten years - and went to find the bride in her suite at the back of the church.    I wasn't in the wedding party, but I'd promised to help out with setting up.

"Just like you to arrive at the last minute, Florence." That was the difference between Marjorie and Melissa - "you arrived at the last minute" sounded a lot nicer than "you're late!" - and the former was the kind of niceness that few people could ever manage to be.

I liked Melissa a lot.    She was a friend from college, but she was more Marjorie's friend than mine.    I ran up and hugged her and told her congrats and all that boring shit.    She really did look beautiful, even if it was pathetically girly. "A pantsuit, huh?" "Well, I didn't want to show you up, obviously." She laughed.    Melissa was always easy to make laugh. "Okay, what do you need me to do?    Chairs and tables?    Place cards?    I know there's only a few hours until the ceremony so you must be pretty nervous."

"Yes, my place cards came through but I guess the amended order that I put in must have gotten lost? I wanted a colorful band over the names, like... a burst of color, and I thought maybe you could color over the names with some pastel colors? I had Marjie get some crayons earlier, just like... unwrap one, put it on its side like this," she gestured with her hand, "and shade some color over the names to make them pop?"

"Oh, uh... yeah, totally." Sort of an easy task.    But then again, I wasn't the one getting married. "Okay, I'll be in the reception hall.    If you need anything, just holler." I gave Melissa another hug and left the back room.    Coloring in name cards.    I got the easiest job of all, I bet.

"How're the cards coming along?" Obviously it wasn't Melissa because she couldn't be out in the reception hall, but even Marjie was starting to sound sweet by the time the hour had passed and she'd come to check on things.

"Easy as pie," I told her, holding up one of the cards for her to look at.    She held it to the light and patted me on the top of the head. "Looks great!" "...yeah, I guess." I flattened my hair back down and pouted.    What was that all about?    Marjorie had never patted my head before... "Um, I finished all these cards, so I'm almost done.    Guests won't be here for another hour, right?    So what else can I do to help?"

"Well, let's see..." Marjie did sound unusually nice and bright, and she put her finger to her lips in thought. "Well, how about you be my helper for a little bit? I've got to check to see that the setup company got everything right.    Do you wanna be my little helper?"

"I... um..." I looked up at Marjorie as she said that with a bit of frustration on my face.    Little helper?    What was she talking about? "I can help, sure... are you alright?    You're kind of acting weird." Maybe this whole wedding thing was getting to her.    Marjorie had wanted to get married for years now, but she hadn't found the right person.    Being at Melissa's wedding probably wasn't helping.

"I'm fine, honey, weddings are a stressful time for everybody, you know? And we want to make sure that Melissa has the best time possible since it's her special day." The way Marjie talked... it was like she was explaining this to a child.

Hm.    So it was the wedding that was getting to her.    We could talk about it later, after this was all over.    I finished the last few place cards and got up from the table, following Marjorie on her way around the church, checking off one thing after another.    It was sort of boring, though... until we walked by the church's daycare room.    Toys were scattered all over the floor and the walls were bright and colorful.    Bookshelf after bookshelf was stocked with kids' books.    There were even carpets with roads and little toy cars.    My eyes sparkled.

"Pretty neat, right? The benefactor of the church owns a toy company, so they have the most amazing daycare here. Did you wanna stop and play for a bit? It's okay, we have time, just be good when we have to leave okay?" Marjie smiled.

"I... um... what?    No... um..." I looked over at the toys and then down at my feet.    What was going on?    Why was I feeling so strange... "You guys need me for stuff, remember?    That's why I came in early?    I'm supposed to be helping out." Playing with toys wasn't helping out!

"You'd help a lot if you made sure all the toys were in good working order, you know? There might be a lot of other kids here soon and a broken toy could be a disaster. It's a very important role..." Her voice trailed off musically.

"...you think so?" I looked at Marjorie, who nodded sincerely. "Well, as long as I'm helping..." I took a few steps into the room and closed the gate behind me.    Okay, so I had to make sure every toy worked.    Which meant I had to play with every single one!    Obviously.    I started with the cars.

"Make sure the dolls are good, too, and check the princess toys as well - I know how much you like princesses." Which was a weird thing to say, or would have been, if her words didn't ring true to a very long ago hidden part of Florence's self, long before she knew gender roles, long before she was an adult.

I wasn't sure how long it had been.    I was playing with the cars for a while, checking every single one.    Then I checked the dollies.    But I was playing with the princess castle when it happened.    I felt weird and uncomfortable.    I looked down at the tan suit pants and they were dark between my legs.    I didn't understand.    I touched the fabric and it got my fingers wet.    Then it clicked.    Oh, no no no no!    I fumbled to my feet and looked down at the slacks, the huge wet spot spread down my thighs and over my ass.    I... I pissed my pants?    How?    No.    I... I had to hide these.    I had to find something else to wear.

"Oh darling, this is a wedding, not a wetting." It was Chantelle - one of the other bridesmaids. She tutted with her tongue and shook her head in the doorway, but she didn't sound cross. She came into the room and she helped Florence up to her feet, brushed her off, and smiled. "It's alright, at least you're not in your dress yet. Let's go find someone to help get you cleaned up, okay honey? No tears, it'll make your face puffy and that'll make your makeup difficult. Come on, you're not in any trouble - this happens to girls your age all the time."

I... I didn't understand.    Chantelle and I had met once, maybe twice, before.    I barely knew her!    And now she was acting like it was totally normal that I'd pissed myself in the children's playroom?    And what was she talking about?    Dress?    What dress?    Girls my age?    I was twenty five!    I pulled my hand out of Chantelle's and balled my hands into fists. "I can do it myself!"

"Oh sweetheart, I know you can. You're a big girl, and you can do a lot by yourself. But don't worry, I'm just going to help, okay? Aunt Tellie won't tell anybody, just a little help for a big girl your age, that won't be any trouble at all, I promise." And with that, she took one of Florence’s balled-up hands and held her own fingers around it, leading her out of the playroom, wet pants and all.