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Ginny’s Incontinence Procedure — Part 3
🕑 Added 2023-01-11 01:00:03 +0000 UTC
The following story contains adult content and is intended only for adult readers over the age of 18. Any characters depicted in adult situations are over the age of 18. This story is entirely fictional and has been written and shared for entertainment purposes only.
Ginny was half-way down the aisle at Walmart when it happened again.
A sudden eruption of hot piss poured into the crotch of her jeans and down her legs.
Ginny froze in horror. Her face went beet red, attracting glances from the shoppers around her. Those who happened to notice the massive dark stain rapidly spreading down the woman’s crotch and legs quickly turned back away, either in shock or pity.
Ginny was mortified as she stood there, helplessly feeling her bladder go… and go… and go…
But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t make it stop. Not until her jeans were completely soaked, her socks and shoes were drenched, and there was a small puddle of her piss now forming in the middle of the aisle.
Ginny stood there for a moment, devastated. She wanted to just break down and cry right then and there. But she took a deep breath and gathered herself, at least enough to go take care of her mess before it got any worse.
She abandoned her cart and marched toward the bathrooms, knowing by now to just walk quickly, confidently, and avoiding eye contact… despite the massive humiliating obvious piss stain on her pants. She’d already had a few such total flooding piss accidents in public by now.
She marched into the first empty stall in the women’s room, pulled her soaking wet jeans down, and yanked the flimsy ‘incontinence pad’ out of her soaking wet panties.
She held the clearly inadequate pad up in frustration and disgust. It was absolutely saturated, dripping and bright yellow with her pee. Yet, despite expanding to twice its size, it had done nothing to stem the flow of her utterly mortifying public accident.
Ginny dropped the piss-soaked incontinence pad onto the dirty public bathroom floor with a loud, wet shlorp.
Stupid, useless thing, she thought.
For a moment, she considered just leaving the smelly, gross thing there on the floor as punishment to Walmart for selling her the stupid, ineffectual product in the first place.
After all, it was so unfair for them to humiliate her like this. Selling her an incontinence pad that did nothing at all to stop yet another one of her devastating public piss accidents!
But after a moment, she got a hold of herself and picked the pad back up with a plastic bag to throw away.
Because as devastating as it was for her to admit…she knew her current humiliating situation wasn’t really the product’s fault. It was her fault for flooding her pants far beyond what anyone could reasonably expect from a supposedly potty-trained adult.
She was the one losing absolute control… and pissing herself more thoroughly and helplessly than a literal baby.
Ginny took a deep breath, pulled up her soaking wet jeans, sat down on top of the toilet…
And burst into tears.
Now it was time to cry from the weight of her sheer humiliation and shame.
* * *
Ginny gave herself a few more minutes to throw her pity-party, sobbing alone in the women’s room stall, wearing her piss soaked panties and jeans.
But then she started to calm down, catch her breath, and think through her situation.
Her accidents seemed to be getting worse. A lot worse. But it didn’t make any sense!
It had been weeks now since the procedure from Dr. Mallory. The procedure that was supposed to solve her creeping incontinence struggles.
Dr. Mallory was supposedly one of the best incontinence doctors in the state. And Ginny was incredibly fortunate to get access to cutting edge incontinence corrective surgery from her for free through the local women’s clinic.
But more and more, it was starting to feel like the benefits of the surgery—which she definitely noticed in the first few days post-surgery—had all but disappeared.
Now, it seemed she was having bigger, less predictable, more humiliating accidents than ever before.
For example, at least before the surgery, when she would have an ‘incontinence incident’, the cheap Walmart panty pads worked fine to contain the leaks. And when they didn’t, it was nothing like what she was experiencing now—with her jeans dripping and turned a full shade darker with piss, due to her bladder abruptly releasing its entire contents.
But when Ginny brought up the fact that her incontinence seemed to be getting worse during her procedure’s follow-up appointments, she had been told that it was in fact nothing to worry about.
“Oh, don’t worry, darling. I promise that’s perfectly normal. It’s just the brief rebound incontinence period some patients experience post-procedure,” Dr. Mallory’s nurse, Nurse Sunshine, had explained during their appointment. (Ginny hadn’t been given the chance to see Dr. Mallory herself during her two follow up appointments so far, despite requesting to do so both times.)
“For now, your standard incontinence panty-pad, the kind you’re used to wearing already, should be more than enough to contain any incidental leaks, while your body finishes adjusting to its new surgically assisted full-time continence.
“I promise, before you know it, you’ll never have to touch another peepee pad again. And you’ll finally know what it’s like to achieve the freedom and dignity of true adulthood that only full-time continence can provide,” the nurse explained in a tone that was clearly meant to be encouraging.
Ginny shyly nodded in response, not typically one to be bold enough to argue with a medical professional. But privately, she deeply bristled at the implication that her minor incontinence issue had made her less than a ‘true’ adult up until now. She was self-conscious enough about her embarrassing little potty issue!
Then, to make matters worse, Nurse Sunshine added, “Just think about it like you’re in potty-training again for a couple more weeks, that’s all. I know you’re eager, but you’ll get your ‘big girl’ shorts soon, I promise,” she said in a joking tone, clearly trying to lighten the mood.
Ginny forced the meekest of polite smiles in response to the nurse during the appointment. She knew the nurse was just trying to be playful with her little ‘joke’.
But inside Ginny, the nurse’s words cut Ginny like a knife. Everyday, Ginny felt more suffocated with shame and humiliation about the infantile nature of her accidents. The last thing she needed was her nurse joking about it in such an explicitly babyish way!
* * *
Now, sitting alone in a stall in the Walmart bathroom, her face wet with tears, her bottom drenched with pee, Ginny was more frustrated than ever.
They hadn’t listened to her!
That stupid nurse was wrong, the panty pads weren’t enough at all! Ginny told her her accidents were getting worse, but the nurse didn’t listen! She said the accidents would only be small.
But now look! Because of them, Ginny was now drenched in her own pee in a public bathroom, humiliated beyond imagination, stinking like a pathetic, helpless baby…
And it was all their fault! Ginny fumed. This was all their fault! This was all their fault…
Right?
Suddenly, Ginny’s anger went cold. And she was quietly forced to consider a different possibility…
But what if it wasn’t actually their fault? What if the side effects from the surgery actually were minor and temporary, like the nurse said. What if the incontinence surgery was still helping normally as planned, and yet the only reason Ginny was still having humiliating, babyish accidents… was Ginny. And her pathetic, babyish failure to learn how to use the potty like a big girl.
What if this was all actually Ginny’s fault, after all? And she actually deserved every bit of the public humiliation and physical discomfort of her currently pee-soaked jeans…
Ginny shook her head, trying to dismiss the train of thought.
After all, she knew it was ridiculous. How could it be her fault? People can’t control when they have accidents. It didn’t matter if you were 2 years old, 22 years old, or 92 years old. That’s why they’re called accidents!
And yet…
Ginny was suddenly forced to recall a barrage of uncomfortable memories from her life over the past several months, since the surgery. They were sudden memories of a very specific phenomenon she had started to experience more and more…
It was the phenomenon at various times from the past several months, where Ginny suddenly experienced an urgent need to go pee during the day… but decided to hold it instead of going, because she was just too lazy to get up and go to the bathroom.
Or at least, that’s how an outside observer might classify Ginny’s behavior in these moments.
Of course, ‘lazy’ was not a very charitable description of the reason behind Ginny’s behavior, even if it was technically accurate, in a way.
Because the issue was, ever since Dr. Mallory’s continence surgery, Ginny felt like she had to go pee all the time now.
Yet, oftentimes, when she ran to the toilet in response to a sudden dire quaking in her bladder… barely any urine actually left her body, no matter how badly she just felt like she had to go.
Upon noticing this phenomenon after her surgery, Ginny’s first and most obvious suspicion about the cause was that perhaps she had contracted a UTI. She’d been told often enough from her older friends growing up that needing to pee all the time was the first symptom of a urinary tract infection. Something a sexually active woman needed to always be on the lookout for.
But when Ginny brought this phenomenon / potential symptom up at her first follow-up appointment with Nurse Sunshine, they thoroughly tested her for any signs of infection, and she was totally fine. They even tested her again at her second appointment, just to be sure, and she was still totally fine.
In fact, during that first follow-up appointment, Nurse Sunshine dismissed Ginny’s concern and explained to her that the frequent need to pee she was experiencing was merely another temporary, harmless side effect of her body’s surgical recovery.
“It’s actually a totally normal psychological reaction to your body regaining genuine continence after such a long period of you letting yourself slowly get more and more comfortable with peeing your pants,” Nurse Sunshine explained to Ginny, causing her to privately bristle again at the seemingly unintentionally belittling comment.
“You see, your brain has been getting a bit lazy about getting you to the bathroom on time, because it knows your bladder is probably not going to hold up its end of the deal, anyway. But now that your brain knows you can actually hold it, if you want to, it’s on high alert for any signals you may need to go.
“Don’t worry, you’ll adjust over time, just like your other temporary side effects. But for now, I know it’s a little inconvenient to have to go to the bathroom a little bit more often than usual, but so long as you continue to just use the potty like normal whenever you feel the urge to go, your brain and bladder will adjust just fine,” Nurse Sunshine explained.
But to Ginny’s immense frustration, in the weeks that followed, she found that Nurse Sunshine’s assertion—that she would only need to use the potty a ‘little’ more often’ than usual—was the understatement of the century.
The reality was, with how frequent and intrusive her bladder urges were now, she discovered that actually following her nurse’s advice, and going whenever she felt the urge, would mean running to the bathroom literally every five minutes of the day, all day!
It wasn’t long before Ginny felt like she had no choice but to start ignoring the urges in her bladder. After all, most of the time she found that when she actually got to the toilet, she barely actually needed to pee, anyway! She told herself that it must just be an overactive bladder, that she needed to just train herself to ignore. What choice did she have? She couldn’t live in the bathroom!
But as Ginny sat in the stall of the Walmart bathroom, she reflected on her choices involving the potty so far that very day…
First, she sat on the toilet right after waking up. And to her frustration, even though she climbed out of bed early because she felt like she really needed to pee, only the tiniest trickle left her crotch, leaving her frustrated and hardly ‘relieved’ from the abdominal urge sensation that had propelled her out of bed.
A little while later, right before she left to go to Walmart, Ginny sat on the toilet again and experienced the same lackluster trickle. She was starting to get frustrated with her bladder seemingly jerking her around for fun.
Especially because she experienced the same exact lackluster peeing experience again just five minutes after that, when she sat on the toilet again before leaving, just to be extra sure her bladder was empty before she would be stuck in the car.
Then, less than an hour after that, right as Ginny walked through Walmart’s front doors with her cart… she was struck by a sudden pang of urgency in her bladder even more intense than all the others that morning.
But at this point, Ginny decided her bladder was being ridiculous. There was no way she really needed to pee again that bad!
Besides, she could see that the women’s room in the front corner of the store looked crowded at the moment, and she hardly liked using germy public restrooms at all if she could avoid it. Let alone using one for no reason, because her bladder was imagining it was full again.
So Ginny took a deep breath and did what she’d been doing more and more often lately, out of what felt like necessity. She decided to stand up to her bladder seemingly crying wolf. She just doggedly ignored the painful cramp in her bladder until it gradually faded away while she did her shopping…
And that turned out to be just fine!
… Until it didn’t.
Because of course, before she even made it to the other side of the store, Ginny abruptly and helplessly flooded her pants right in the middle of the cereal aisle.
It just so happened to be one of the heaviest, longest pisses in her life. And it was certainly her most humiliating accident yet as a supposedly full-grown adult.
* * *
Ginny buried her face in her hands and burned with fresh humiliation and shame as she finished mentally retracing the exact moments that had led her there that day, hiding in the Walmart bathroom stall, drenched in her own pee, still too red-faced with shame to even leave the bathroom and show her face in the store crowded with strangers who likely watched her have her humiliating accident not long ago.
Thinking back on the morning, she was admittedly baffled about how her bladder could have gone from dribbling with nothing all morning, to becoming a sudden geyser, erupting at the very worst moment possible in the middle of her shopping.
But it didn’t matter.
She felt powerful waves of shame and regret as she realized, if she had just gone potty when she first felt the urge when she walked into the store, instead of defiantly holding it, she would have spared herself her devastatingly humiliating public accident.
Upon self-reflection, Ginny really didn’t know whether she chose to ignore her bladder’s pleas out of laziness, stubbornness, stupidity, or something else altogether.
After all, the nurse had explicitly told her to use the bathroom whenever she felt the urge. Could she really blame anyone else for her utterly humiliating accident, when she was the one who explicitly ignored her nurse’s directions?
But ultimately, Ginny knew the exact reason why she ignored her nurse’s advice hardly mattered, either.
Because ultimately, she knew it really was the sort of behavior you would normally only see from a toddler refusing toilet training. Blissfully playing with their toys while holding a painfully full bladder, until their Mommy finally forces them to go sit on the potty and relieve themselves. Because they’re just so juvenile, they would truly rather pee their pants, than interrupt what they were doing for a 30 second potty break.
Ginny felt a wave of unspeakable humiliation and shame as she realized that’s how she was behaving, only as an adult.
She cringed and burned red from head to toe with fresh embarrassment as she felt forced to come to terms with the fact that she was probably a lot more responsible for her pathetic, worsening incontinence than she ever could have bared to admit.
Suddenly, Ginny heard someone else entering the restroom.
It was two people, actually.
Almost on instinct, Ginny pulled her legs up on the toilet seat, like she was a teenage girl again who didn’t want to get caught crying in the bathroom at school.
Then, it took Ginny a moment, but when she heard enough from those who walked in to realize what was happening, she blushed even brighter red.
It was as if fate had just sent them in to toy with her. Mock her. Force her to face the topic she had been consciously and subconsciously avoiding for weeks now, out of a mixture of horror, shame, and dread…
“Oof, that’s a stinky one! Come on, let’s get that bottom cleaned up and changie-wangied,” she heard the woman coo to her daughter.
It was a mother coming into the bathroom to change her toddler’s diaper.
The irony wasn’t lost on Ginny for a moment.
* * *
As Ginny sat on the toilet, trapped, forced to overhear the woman change her daughter’s diaper in the next stall, Ginny was forced to confront the reality that her soaking wet panties meant she belonged on the changing table just as much as that child still in the early stages of potty-training.
Similarly, Ginny new her pathetic accident meant that, objectively speaking, she equally deserved to still be wearing…
Ginny shuddered.
Diapers.
Adult diapers.
It was far from the first time the notion of adult diapers entered her mind. Some part of her subconscious had been grappling with the idea ever since she had her first peepee accident as an adult, not too long ago now.
But ever since her first accident inherently raised the possibility in her mind—based largely on foggy memories of commercials for products like Depends adult diapers for old people on daytime TV—Ginny could hardly imagine the concept without suffering immediate chills of humiliation and repulsion. She could hardly imagine a greater embarrassment at her age, than to literally wear diapers like a pants-pooping baby.
And yet, as Ginny stared down at the drenched, absorbent panty pee pad still in the plastic bag at her feet, she reflected on how angry she was at the nurse for recommending something so insufficient for her accidents.
But what did Ginny want the nurse to recommend, instead?
Because of course, Ginny knew that if the nurse had recommended what Ginny likely needed, but what Ginny had long-feared most… Ginny would be livid with humiliation and embarrassment.
After all, as Ginny’s accidents first began getting slowly worse and more frequent, the idea in the back of her mind of being forced to wear diapers again, went from objectionable and absurd… to downright horrifying. Eventually becoming her number one nightmare scenario regarding her worsening incontinence. Every time she was forced to imagine it, just the idea of being forced to wear diapers again like a baby made her want to shriek in terror.
In fact, it was a major reason Ginny was so motivated to seek out advanced treatment for her minor incontinence in the first place. And why she agreed to the surgery with Dr. Mallory, despite the procedure potentially being very involved for her level of accidents at that point so far. Because the idea of having to depend on diapers at her age, for any reason or length of time, was one that kept her up at night.
Ever since she was a kid, Ginny hated being talked down to, or being treated like she was less mature than she was.
She always felt this pressing desire to have the world take her seriously. But perhaps it was her short height, round face, and cute features, but she conversely always felt that no one ever took her seriously enough.
The idea of needing to wear crinkly, babyish, diapers again felt to Ginny like it would be a permanent sentence of infantilization.
If she was wearing diapers, what right or ability would she ever have to convince anyone to treat her with the respect of an adult ever again?
While she sat there on the toilet ruminating about her greatest incontinence fears, she was forced to listen to the Mom loudly annunciating and explaining every step of the change to the child, from pulling the soiled diaper away, to wiping their stinky mess up with baby wipes, to powdering them and taping them into a new diaper.
And the whole time, Ginny felt forced to imagine the utterly humiliating, infantilizing experience of having to be subjected to the same experience herself, should she also be forced to rely on diapers again.
But the truth was, as she sat there with her legs starting to itch from being drenched in pee for so long, her bottom squishing with cold sogginess still, her piss stench worsening to the point that it was even starting to bother her, and worst of all, her bladder twitching yet again like she might have another accident any moment…
Ginny knew she was out of options.
She just couldn’t bear to subject herself to another public pants-wetting like she had suffered that day. She knew the incontinence surgery was supposed to be solving her problems soon. That what she was going through now with her worsening accidents was supposedly temporary…
But she also couldn’t escape the gnawing fear that her worsening incontinence was actually her fault, not a temporary side effect of the procedure. And if that was the case, if she really was just too dumb to use the potty properly like a big girl, what hope did she have of ever not wetting herself again?
The question had far too many terrifying implications for her to consider too deeply at the moment.
The bottom line was, whatever the cause or solution to her problem was, in the meantime, she needed… ‘protection’.
She needed diapers.
Adult diapers.
Humiliating, crinkly, unspeakably embarrassing, adult diapers.
As she heard the Mother finish her daughter’s diaper change, followed by the two leaving the bathroom, Ginny wiped her runny nose and teary cheeks on her shirt, and stood up, desperately trying to summon the courage to do what she knew must be done.
Because the best part of all about her current situation, was that she was going to have to go buy the diapers right now, still wearing her absolutely piss soaked pants.
Because she knew she needed to get those diapers now, before she even left the store that day. Because those diapers were going to be the only way she’d be able to leave the house again anytime soon, without the terror hanging over her head of potentially humiliating herself at any moment with another public pants-wetting.
As Ginny took a moment in the mirror of the once again empty bathroom to wipe the snot off her face with toilet paper, she tried to comfort herself…
They’re just temporary, she told herself.
Temporary diapers.
Diapers.
She was about to go buy diapers.
As she left the bathroom, she still couldn’t help but start tearing up again in humiliation and defeat.
* * *
Ginny’s face burned red and her pee-soaked pants squished and dripped as she shuffled toward the aisle across the store. The one she knew all too well nowadays, due to where she also bought her panty pee pads. The aisle tactfully labeled ‘personal care’.
As her heart pounded from the intense public exposure she felt while on her mission, her mind also raced, trying to make sense of the implications of voluntarily putting on a diaper this long after the surgery that was supposed to cure her incontinence.
Would she tell the nurse she needed to start wearing diapers again when she saw her for her next follow up?
But then again, how could she hide it?
But what would they think?
Maybe they would finally see something was wrong! Maybe the Doctor would finally be motivated to help her somehow with additional support once they saw firsthand how bad her problem had gotten!
How could they not, right?
And yet, what if things took a turn in the opposite direction…
What if this ‘development’ was what showed the nurse and doctor what Ginny feared most…
What if it proved to them that Ginny wasn’t peeing her pants because she had a medical issue.
What if it was proof that Ginny’s accidents were caused by what Ginny was beginning to fear more and more…
A maturity issue. Ginny’s pathetic inability to just learn how to potty like a big girl.
Ginny turned a corner and her racing thoughts came to a halt.
She was suddenly standing before a wall of them.
Diapers. Adult diapers.
And she knew she wasn’t leaving the store until she picked out a pack to take home and start wearing.
“Can I help you, miss?” an elderly store employee asked, snapping Ginny out of her momentary stupor.
“Oh, uh…” Ginny stammered.
“You must be looking for menstruation care. Other end of the aisle,” the older woman joked. “These are all just adult diapers.”
“No, no…” Ginny murmured. “These are what I need. I need… some diapers.”
The elderly woman’s eyes widened. Truthfully, Ginny was just as surprised by her own honesty. As if she was forcing herself to get this over with by just admitting it out loud
“Oh, I’m so sorry. I just assumed, because you’re so young, I mean… do you need any help?” the elderly woman asked.
“Umm….” Ginny murmured, still visibly dazed. Her eyes poured over the wall of endless adult diaper varieties, making her feel small, overwhelmed, and ever-more babyish. Just the sight and smells of all the crinkly plastic in front of her made her start to blush.
She had been able to buy her panty pee pads before just fine. But now… now that she was faced with actual, full-blown diapers… it all just felt like too much for her little head.
“Here, let me help. Do you know if you need heavy or light protection…” the elderly employee started to ask, stepping closer. But then she looked down.
“Oh! Oh my, I just noticed your accident. I’m so sorry, dear, it looks like you really soaked your pants and panties, huh! Here, let me help you get the heaviest protection we’ve got. It’s clear whatever you’ve been relying on before isn’t doing the job.”
Ginny stood there, paralyzed with embarrassment, as the elderly employee picked out one of the bulkier packs of diapers.
Ginny looked down and blushed bright red as she read the words, EXTRA protection pull-up adult diapers. For heavy urinary and bowel incontinence.
“Do you need anything else?” the employee asked again as Ginny stood there, still in shock.
Ginny just slowly shook her head no, too mortified to speak.
“Don’t worry, dear, accidents happen. I’m sure no one’s noticed. The important thing is that you’re getting the protection you need, that’s what matters,” the woman said in a gentle voice with a hand on Ginny’s shoulder. “The self-checkout’s down on the end that way, if you want to avoid being seen by a cashier buying diapers with your accident.”
“Thank… you…” Ginny managed to mutter as she finally started making her way toward the self-checkout, diapers in hand.
She had abandoned the rest of her shopping when she had her accident, and she hardly cared about the other things she came to the store for, now. She knew she just needed to get home with the new protection in her hands.
Ginny made her way through the self-checkout with trembling hands.
Then, as she was finally making her way toward the store’s exit… she froze.
She gasped as she once again felt a sudden painful cramp in her bladder.
Part of her wanted to just start running. To make a break for her car, and just get out of there before she suffered anymore humiliation.
But right as she took another step forward, she stopped herself… and remembered what happened earlier.
After all that, did she still not learn her lesson yet?
Despite how badly she wanted to flee, Ginny forced herself to turn around…
And march herself toward the women’s restroom.
* * *
Ginny pushed the door open of the stall she had already spent so much of her time in that afternoon…
And sat on the toilet, holding the big package of diapers on her lap.
She let out a heavy sigh as a long, slow…
Trickle… Trickle… Trickle…
Left her bladder.
Then she sighed again from frustration. Once again, not much pee left her, and her relief felt not nearly as significant as she hoped.
She stood up, pulled her wet panties and pants up, and looked down at the toilet with a frown.
Worse yet, she suddenly felt the urge return to her mid-section! Like she had to pee again!
Finally, Ginny knew there was only one solution to this.
She angrily ripped open the package of diapers, pulled one of the thick, padded, adult pull-ups out, pulled her pants and panties all the way off, and slipped the crinkly adult pull-up back up around her waist.
Then, to Ginny’s shock, before she could even get her pants back up around her waist—
Hisssssssssssssssssssssssssssss
She stood there, frozen, with wide eyes…
As she felt her bladder totally emptying its contents into her diaper.
She stood there helplessly as she felt the crinkly padding begin rapidly absorbing the involuntarily flood of piss pouring out of her, into her new protection.
And by time it was done… Ginny could hardly move. She was simply too stunned.
As she reached down, and felt the fresh, hot squish of the sopping wet padding against her hand and groin…
She started burning bright, bright red.
What was going on? What was wrong with her? She barely puts her first diaper on in 16 years… and she immediately soaks it like a toddler?
Did this mean she really did need diapers?
Suddenly, she heard the bathroom door open from others coming in once again. She hurried to pull her pants back up over her soggy diaper and leave.
Funny enough, as she left the stall, she saw it was the mother and her toddler again. They were back again for the toddler to use the potty. Presumably so she didn’t have another accident… like Ginny.
And to Ginny’s mortification, she realized she was holding the diapers out plainly in front of her for them both to see.
“Look, Mommy!” the little girl said. “I told you she wears diapers! I saw her go peepee in her pants in the store before and everything! I told you big girls go potty in their pants and wear diapers, too!”
“No, no, that’s not true, honey, that woman is much too old to still be peeing in diapers. Big girls don’t pee their pants. Those must be diapers for a little one she’s taking care of,” she heard the mother say to her daughter as Ginny raced out of the bathroom.
Ginny burned bright red as she charged out of the Walmart with her new pack of diapers in her hands, and the fresh diaper between her legs freshly hot, squishy, and soaked with peepee between her legs.
The mother was right, she thought. Big girls didn’t wear diapers and pee their pants.
But Ginny did.
Ginny knew the wet diaper now sagging between her thighs officially meant she wasn’t a big girl anymore, after all. She was really just a pathetic baby.
And so far, it seemed there was absolutely nothing she could do about it.
TO BE CONTINUED…
IN PART IV
