How Humiliatingly Helpful!

Thanks to an anonymous patron for commissioning this next installment in the saga of Henry, Amy, and Corinne!

***

It's not fair! None of this is!

I'm staring up at the ceiling resentfully, willing myself not to fall asleep. That's what Corinne wants, after all. She was the one who just tucked me here into bed like some little kid, stroking my hair and telling me that another nap would do me good. "Just relax. Get some rest. That's exactly what you need, dear," she told me, with a knowing glance down at my plaster-bound left ankle and right arm. "You can go back to your coloring books after nap time, okay? Now close your eyes and take your nap like a good girl for me!"

God, I hope she was joking with that "good girl" bit. But given the way she and Henry have been treating me these past weeks, I'm not so sure that she wasn't.

I squirm uncomfortably at the memories that fill my mind, dancing before my vision in all their embarrassing detail. The first morning I'd awakened to find myself lying amid a tangle of sheets soaked with my own urine. Corinne helping me into my first adult diaper before bed, and the relief that melted down into silent shame at waking the next morning to find the sheets dry, but the garment between my legs heavy and discolored. The wry toleration on Henry's face when he would catch me crinkling to bed, and the feeling of his hand awkwardly patting my bulky bum, and his tentative assurances that I was okay, that it was probably just a temporary thing…

Oh, but it hasn't been.

I reflexively try to turn over, but fail – wincing not merely from the pain of my injured limbs but also at the unwelcome memories. Memories of those first inadvertent dribbles into my panties. The pull-ups Corinne helpfully provided, and her sweetly sympathetic voice as she would ask if I was still dry. That nightmarish day when I completely and catastrophically lost it: messing my pull-up, bawling in a veritable mental breakdown, and leading Henry and Corinne to put me into not only another diaper that evening, but zipping me into the most embarrassing set of special-needs clothes – complete with an unreachable zipper and padded mittens "to keep me safe"…

I've never, ever wanted to relive that evening: that feeling of utter helplessness, the shameful knowledge that I'd been forcibly locked away in soft security and rendered unable to do even the most basic of tasks for myself. And yet, here I now am: helpless once more in my thick plaster casts. Dependent on Corinne and Henry to feed me, to help me around, to bathe me, even to keep me clean and dry…

Like I said: it's not fair!

Deep down, maybe I do know that Corinne isn't to blame for my fall. She wasn't the one that broke these stupid bones. But somehow, it just all seems to work in her favor, doesn't it? She now gets to order me around more than ever, acting all strong and smugly maternal, conferring with Henry on what I need and on what I can and can't do…

I swear, it's like she thinks I'm some kind of child.

Down between my legs my gaze drops now, unwillingly taking in the gentle swell of the diaper hidden beneath the blanket. Speaking of a child, right? I mean, I guess this all-in-one onesie thing she helped me into this morning isn't too infantile – just super handy for buttoning close around my stupid casts.

And I also suppose that the diapers I've been wearing round the clock now aren't just for babies – as Corinne is wont to reassure me whenever she's changing me. They're simply a necessary solution to the fact that I can't walk to the bathroom on my own right now. Not to mention the fact that I'm still waking up wet virtually every morning. There's no need to be embarrassed of them, she tells me with that sweet smile of hers. Just relax and enjoy how nice and soft they are. Just use them for their intended purpose… as often as necessary.

Well… sure. I guess at this point I don't really have a choice, do I? Though, look: even though I may not be able to help peeing now and then, I'm sure as heck not gonna use them for, you know… the other one. No way. My tummy may already be getting all gurgly, but I'll hold it. I can wait until later, when I can ask Corinne to help me use the toilet like a real adult…

As if anyone would think I'm not an adult!

Yawn. Whatever. It's still not fair. Not fair at all. I'll just have to wait… ask her… after she comes and gets me…

***

Blinking awake. Ugh… I. I fell… asleep?

Ordinarily it has been Corinne's voice waking me. You know: "Amy? Honey, it's time to wake up. We don't want you getting out of your sleep schedule…" It's been her, too, slipping her fingers down beneath the blankets, probing underneath my onesie and diaper to check how wet I am even before I've fully wakened…

This time, though, the shade-darkened room is still empty. And as I squirm awkwardly free from the rumpled blanket, I, um… Well, even without Corinne's verification I can feel that my diaper is already soggy.

I did that before falling asleep, I tell myself. Surely. I'm definitely not starting to wet the bed even during naps now. Nope, of course not. No way I'd ever do that.

"Corinne?"

No response to my plaintive call. I call again, louder this time. "Corinne?! Where are you?" I struggle to reach a sitting position, but with my heavy, plaster-imprisoned right arm, it's virtually impossible to grapple the stupid pillows into submission. "Co-RINNE! I need you!"

Still no response. I'm casting about the room, looking for my phone or anything I can use to reach her. But there's nothing: just the stuffed kitten she's been tucking me into bed with lately, and the muddle of blankets, and my own silly self in my stupid onesie and stupid plaster casts and stupid, stupid diaper…

Ugh. I really need to go!

But no one comes, and after another minute of calling I fall silent. If she hasn't heard me by now, she's simply not here. Where on earth could she be? Out getting groceries? Cleaning the garage? Over at the hospital on an emergency call?

Oh, crap – if she's at the hospital, she might not be here for hours. And Henry won't be home for- for… I dunno. Wait, what time is it, anyway?

While all the while, my gut is growing ever more painful. Two whole days of refusing to make a mess in a diaper means that I'm, well… a bit full. Ordinarily I'd love nothing more than to flee to the safety of the bathroom and let it all out, of course. But now… now that I'm well and truly stuck here in bed, stuck letting the minutes drag by like hours…

"Corinne," I whimper once more, as a sudden wave of cramps attacks my gut. "Please- Corinne? Anyone?!"

But again, all I hear is the deafening silence of the room… and in my memory, the lilt of Corinne's sweet assurances. No need to be embarrassed… Just relax… Use them… No, no, I insist, pushing away such humiliating thoughts. No, I'm not- I'm never going to do that in my pants- Never, never-

Not again.

I writhe in place, but I'm nowhere near strong enough to rise and drag my cast-encumbered self to the edge of the bed, let alone all the way out to the bathroom. I'm trapped here in bed: awash in sweat, whimpering softly now as the waves of cramps swell, and ebb, and return stronger than ever. Deep in my gut I can feel the pressure building, and the audible gurgling within is truly terrifying. I can bite through it, I tell myself. Just wait a bit longer- A tiny bit longer. Corinne will be here any minute. I can just let a tiny bit of this out. It's just gas, just a bit of gas-

"No-oooo!"

The first muffled toot sounds from between my legs… and it's the beginning of the end. I can't control the churning anymore, and I freeze, paralyzed, at the nauseating sensation of a heavy explosion beneath me, followed by the mushrooming, sticky feeling of my own mess rushing inexorably out of my bum. It's such a relief… and yet, ugh, such- such a humiliating- disgusting-

"Hhhnnngghhh-!" Despite my revulsion, I can't even bite back the moans and grunts of relief escaping my lips. "Uuuuhhhhhnnnnn…" It's a purely visceral, primal reaction: the deep-seated relief of elimination, of allowing the sickening pain and pressure to escape my poor belly at last…

It's the pathetic, wordless grunting of an infant… lying there mindlessly and helplessly filling her diaper.

That realization strikes me at the same time as the smell. And so, as if to add insult to injury, my bladder releases once more and the tears descend. I can't even- I can't fight anymore. I can't help the broken cries for Corinne that emerge between my sobs. I don't know what else to do. All I can do… is weep.

Which only makes the situation that much more humiliating.

I'm lying here, helpless and alone, trapped in a onesie and these awful casts. I woke up in a soggy diaper – and then, as if that wasn't enough, I went and filled it like an idiotic baby. I've messed myself, and now I'm bawling and calling for Corinne like a pathetic, smelly little toddler who wants her Mommy to come change her…

Then, at long last, footsteps. The door opening. "Amy? Oh, baby, what's the matter?"

Of course it's Corinne. Now she's here: looking more confident, mature, and attractive than ever in that form-fitting dress of hers. Not a sign of anything thicker than panties underneath her sexy skirt, of course. She's just so curvy… so feminine… so utterly adult… and yes, so very unlike me.

And behind her – is that… Henry? Of course it is! He's looking all concerned, troubled… hesitantly glancing at Corinne as if she's the answer to everything. "Oh, god. She didn't- Amy, did you really-"

The shock and ill-disguised disgust on his face makes me bawl all the harder.

I survive the next minutes somehow, though I don't exactly know how. With screwed-shut eyes, and heaving sobs, and snot-nosed whimpers of despair. Corinne cleans me up – I can't deny it. She's a nurse, and she knows exactly how to deal with such messes, I guess. "Shh, baby," she soothes, her voice as soft and strangely comforting as the cuddly kitten she just thrust back into my arms. "It's okay. There's nothing wrong, honey! Just hang onto Miss Fluffles for me, okay? We're just gonna get you cleaned up and in a nice, fresh, clean…"

Diaper. The word echoes through my mind, accompanied by the crinkling in my ears and the sensation of the powder, and lotion, and cottony bulk being swaddled once more around me. This is me now. I'm a diaper-wearing, bawling, pathetic little mess. Henry must think I'm such a loser… so dumb and messy and babyish. Why else would he just be standing back there, shifting awkwardly, looking on as Corinne buttons up my onesie once more, pulls me gently upright, and gives me a consoling hug?

"See? All better now!" she enthuses, and I stare and sniffle remorsefully over her perfumed shoulder, watching Henry's expression twist into a wry, tentative smile. "I'm sorry, baby – I was just out fetching Henry from work. Don't worry, we're here with you now, okay? Here, let's go out into the living room. I'll settle you down on the rug while we get supper ready, okay? That way you can color some more in your coloring books! Won't that be fun?"

Will it? Truly? I don't know anymore… but I don't really have a choice. And so I sniffle brokenly and allow her to help me up… and waddle, still sniffling, toward the open door.

No, none of this humiliating situation is fair. But there's nothing I can do about it, is there? They both do care about me, I guess. And they really are being helpful, much as I might hate to admit it. So… well, for now I guess I might as well play along.