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Witness Protection - Part 3
🕑 Added 2022-10-07 13:17:54 +0000 UTCCaroline had to pee. She squirmed a little in Mrs Jackson’s lap, pressing her thighs together as far as her thick diaper would allow. It wasn’t far. She tried to focus on the inane soap opera that was playing on the old-fashioned TV set, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to hold it forever. Sooner or later, she was going to wet her pants. The thought filled her with disgust.
Mrs Jackson smacked her thigh. “Stop wiggling, Betsy,” she said. “Incontinent girls don’t do the potty dance. When they need to pee, they just go. They can’t hold it.” Caroline let out an inarticulate whine of protest, but Mrs Jackson just smacked her again. “Don’t forget we’ve got the barbecue party to go to soon. If you make tinkle now, I can change you before we go. You don’t want to spend the whole party walking around with pee-pee pants, do you?”
Caroline gritted her teeth. She didn’t want to go to the stupid barbecue party at all. She had no interest in ‘making friends’ with any of these people. It was bad enough that Mrs Jackson had insisted she sit in her lap. Come get some sugar, baby, she’d said. We’re all huggers round here. Sit in Momma’s lap, that’s a good girl. Caroline hadn’t even put anything on over her diaper yet. The massive, babyish thing crinkled with every movement, and she wouldn’t have been able to forget about it even if Mrs Jackson hadn’t been constantly prodding and patting it. Don’t you just look sweet as honey?
“Do you need a red bottom, Betsy?” Mrs Jackson asked warningly.
Doing her best not to burst into tears again, Caroline shook her head and started trying to focus on relaxing her bladder. Wetting herself would be disgusting, but better to get it over with now so she wouldn’t have to walk around stinking of piss later. For a moment her potty training got in the way, screaming at her that she wasn’t sitting on a toilet, but over the last couple of hours of mindless soaps she’d grown increasingly desperate to go, and now the dam broke. Oh God, she thought, as warmth blossomed beneath her crotch. Oh God, oh God, oh God. Hot pee-pee flooded her diaper. The thick, thirsty padding whisked it away, but not so fast that Caroline couldn’t feel it sloshing about in her pants. “Ewww!” she whined, as the wetness spread beneath her bottom, and the smell of urine reached her nose. “It’s so gross!”
Mrs Jackson smiled as she cupped the front of Caroline’s diaper and felt the heavy warmth. “It certainly is,” she said. “A grown woman still wetting her diapers. Yuck!”
Caroline’s cheeks flushed even more than they had been already. “But… but…” she stammered indignantly. I couldn’t help it, she almost said. Except she could, of course. But Betsy couldn’t! It wasn’t fair to talk to her like that!
“Oh don’t get so fussy!” said Mrs Jackson, playfully, bouncing her on her lap and making her wrinkle her nose in revulsion as her pissy pants squished against her tushy. “You’re a twenty-four-year-old in a wet diaper, Betsy. You’re not above a little teasing, a few points and laughs.”
Caroline was furious. Was this how they treated people with disabilities here?! But then, she was pretty sure she’d laugh if she saw someone her age wearing a giant diaper. Certainly if one of her friends became incontinent, there was no way she’d keep associating with her. It would be so disgusting…
“Now come along Betsy-wetsy,” Mrs Jackson teased, patting her soggy bottom and scooting her off her lap. “We’d better get you changed before we head out.”
Betsy-wetsy?! Caroline got to her feet and groaned as her diaper drooped heavily with the weight of all her wee-wee.
At that moment, there was a knock on the door. Caroline barely had time to look up before Mrs Jackson had strode over and flung it open. “Jordan!” she said happily. “Come in!”
Caroline’s mouth dropped open in horror as Mrs Jackson helped the old man from next door up into the trailer. She looked around frantically for anything to cover herself with, but there was no time. She put her hands between her legs in a totally vain attempt to conceal her soggy, sagging diaper. “M… Momma!” she squealed, looking furiously as Mrs Jackson.
“No need to be shy, Betsy,” the woman said dismissively. “Jordan knows all about your potty pants problems already.”
The old man grinned at her again, and his eyes crinkled with amusement as they flitted down to her Pampered crotch. “Nice to meet you, Betsy,” he said. “I was quite surprised to see you show up at your Momma’s without one of them there diapers on your cute little tushy, but I could hear what happened afterwards.” He chuckled. “First day back with Momma and you already got yourself into trouble, didya?”
“With the way she’s been behaving, it’s only a matter of time until she finds herself over my knee,” said Mrs Jackson, and the two of them laughed.
“Anyway Eileen,” said Jordan, “I only came to let you know they’ve already got everything set up down on the field. If you don’t hurry, they’ll be out o’ hot dogs!”
Mrs Jackson checked her watch. “Oh Lord, is that the time already?!” She turned to Caroline. “We’d better get going, Betsy!” Mrs Jackson took her by the hand and tried to lead her out the door.
Caroline dug her heels in. “But… wait!” she spluttered, blushing and glancing at the old man. “What about my… my… I need to change first, remember?! And I need to find something to put over them!” The denim short shorts she’d came in had no chance of being tugged over the enormous bulk of her new baby pants.
“I’m sorry, sugar,” Mrs Jackson said sympathetically, slinging a thick pink bag over her shoulder, “but we don’t have enough time to change you right now! I don’t want to miss the food, and that diaper will hold for now. It’s not even messy yet. As for something to go over them, you don’t need to worry about that. It’s plenty warm out, and you can think of it as an appropriate punishment for turning up without a diaper on earlier.”
Caroline could see Jordan smirking out of the corner of her eye. “No!” she shouted. “I’m not going out there in-”
Mrs Jackson delivered a hard swat to her bottom. Even through her thick padding, Caroline winced at the blow. “Ow! Stop! I don’t… Owie!” Mrs Jackson smacked her again, aiming for her soft upper thighs, where the tiniest bit of her bare bottom was exposed. Caroline jumped forward, only to feel another spank land on her ass.
“Get that cutie-patootie moving, young lady!” Mrs Jackson instructed, continuing to smack Caroline’s reddening heinie and forcing her to toddle bow-legged out of the trailer, following after Jordan, squealing indignantly all the while and trying to block the woman’s blows with her hand. “You’ve had a bad attitude about your diapees ever since you arrived, Betsy!” said Mrs Jackson, as she forced the younger woman down the step and out onto the grass. “Come to think of it, making you keep your diapers out is probably for the best. That way everyone will know what you’re wearing, and they’ll be able to report back to me if they ever see you running around in panties again.”
“No!” Caroline wailed, tears of shame and fear filling her eyes yet again. “You can’t!” But all that earned her was another spank to her bum cheeks.
Old man Jordan just chuckled merrily, as if he were amused by the sight of a misbehaving child being disciplined by her mother, and not an adult woman getting a sore bottom for the crime of not wanting to waddle outside with nothing but a soaking wet diaper below the waist. Caroline wanted to glower at him, but she couldn’t bring herself to look up into his laughing eyes. Instead she looked meekly down at her feet, her eyes wet and her lower lip trembling.
“There we go!” said Mrs Jackson, once Caroline had stropped struggling. “That’s better. We don’t want any grumpy little girls at the barbecue, do we?” She kept hold of her hand and started leading her around the trailer and down along the grassy path, heading towards the other end of the trailer park, and the field beyond from which the sounds of shouts and laughter were issuing.
It was hard to walk properly with the thick, saturated padding pressing her thighs apart, but Caroline had no choice but to stomp along beside Mrs Jackson, with the old man on her other side, and her droopy diaper wobbling between her legs.
