Accidents and Diapers at Granny’s

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.

I stood there, naked, in the middle of my cousin’s old nursery. Before me, my Granny was holding a diaper. An adult-sized diaper.

She was actually going to do it. She was actually going to make me, a grown girl, wear a disposable diaper.

“Come on, dear, butt on the changing table,” she said, patting the plastic changing pad.

I stared, frozen in abject humiliation and horror. I still couldn’t believe this was happening.

This whole stupid thing started just a few weeks ago, shortly after I arrived at Granny’s for the summer.

One afternoon, not long after I arrived, I just happened to have a little weewee accident in my pants because my little cousin was tickling me! It wasn’t super big, but there was a noticeable wet spot on my skirt and the couch, which was extremely embarrassing. I hadn’t wet my pants like that since… well… since before I could remember.

Fortunately, Granny didn’t seem too upset about the situation as she grabbed a towel for me and discreetly walked me back to my room to change. Or at least… she didn’t seem upset at first.

But then, after I got all cleaned up, she happened to ask me, “Do you have trouble making it to the potty on time a lot, dear?”

“No, of course not!” I said. “This is the first time this has ever happened!”

At the time, she seemed to be satisfied with my explanation. But then, a couple weeks later, Granny unexpectedly sat me down to talk one evening.

“Hon, I notice you need to go to the bathroom to go pee a lot during the day. A lot more than most girls your age. And usually, I see you sprinting there. As if you’re worried about making it on time,” she said.

“So?” I said defensively.

“I’m just worried you’re another accident waiting to happen, dear. Remember when you frantically needed us to pull over last week, on our drive to the zoo, because you urgently had to go to the bathroom half-way there?” She asked me.

I blushed and shrugged, trying to hide my rapidly increasing embarrassment.

“Well,” she continued, “Have you thought about ever wearing… protection? Like a pull-up. You know, just in case. I’d be happy to pick some up for you.”

“What?! Of course not,” I blurted in horror. “No, don’t worry, Granny, I’m fine, trust me. I’m not going to ever have another accident. That was just a one time thing, I promise.”

She nodded and seemed to accept my answer.

But after the conversation, I was still mortified, even quietly outraged, that she would even dare suggest such a ridiculous, demeaning ‘solution’ for what wasn’t even an actual problem in the first place. A pull-up?? Like I was some frickin’ toddler in potty-training??

It was true, of course, that I did need to go pee a lot during the day. And at night… I usually woke up at least once or twice to go pee, as well. In fact, I probably needed to pee at least a dozen times a day, but I never bothered to count.

But so what! I thought. Who cares if I needed to pee a lot? Is that a crime now? Suggesting I wear a frickin’ diaper like I was some sort of stupid baby… how could she? I’m an adult and I can make it to the bathroom just fine!

But as angry as I was, I figured it would be best if I just let it go and forgot about it. After all, the issue had been settled. I surely wouldn’t be hearing about it again.

Or at least… that’s what I thought at first.

But then, in the following weeks, I began to notice my Granny starting to make subtle comments or give me concerned looks whenever I needed to go to the bathroom to pee.

Things like, “Couldn’t hold it all the way through dinner tonight, huh?” when I would leave the table to go relieve my bladder mid-meal.

Or comments like, “Oh, again already? I thought you just went,” when I would mention needing to go to the bathroom while we were out at the mall.

Even when I only started to need to go, and I would become a little fidgety, like during a movie we were all watching, Granny would say utterly humiliating things like, “Are you doing the potty dance, dear? Do you need to go peepee?”

I was suddenly growing terribly self-conscious. I knew she wasn’t being intentionally mean. But I was starting to feel horribly embarrassed in front of my Granny and cousin whenever I needed to go to the bathroom at all. And I was growing more and more resentful about this idea my Granny had, that I was some baby who couldn’t hold their weewee as well as a normal adult.

So in response… I started holding it more, vowing to go to the bathroom a lot less every day.

It was terribly uncomfortable. My bladder now almost always felt painfully full. And more and more, I now found myself sprinting to the bathroom at the very last moment possible, only making it to the toilet to pee just in time.

But as painful as it was, I was utterly committed to my campaign of always holding my pee as long as I possibly could. After all, my dignity was on the line! I was determined to show Granny she was all wrong about me. I could hold it just as long as any other adult.

Then one morning… my little scheme backfired, and it all finally blew up in my face.

I was playing with my cousin in the back yard. At that point, I had been subjecting myself to near constant bathroom denial for a few weeks. And Granny was there, so I was especially motivated to hold my pee as long as possible, no matter how painful and full my bladder got.

After a few hours, Granny finally called us inside. I knew this would probably be a ‘good’ time for me to finally go to the bathroom without being subtly ridiculed.

But it was only when I stood up… that I suddenly realized just how much of an emergency my need to pee was!

I walked bow-legged back toward the house, struggling with all my might to suppress the discomfort of my bladder’s overpowering fullness. It felt like a massively over-filled water balloon was jiggling around inside of me… and every step made it feel like it was on the verge of bursting!

And yet, despite my unprecedented discomfort, I was still desperate not to show any signs of the ‘potty dance’ in front of Granny, knowing she would immediately spot it and embarrass me for it.

When we got inside, I quietly turned to go to the bathroom…

But my cousin suddenly ran ahead of me to go first!

“Please… wait…” I meekly muttered as I struggled to run after her while also desperately struggling not to pee my pants. But she closed and locked the door without even hearing me, leaving me out cold in the hallway.

I closed my eyes and let out a painful, quiet groan. I was just going to have to hold it till she was finished. This was the only bathroom in the house!

Just one more minute… one more minute… one more minute… I muttered over and over again, desperately trying to avoid wetting myself like the toddler I was trying so very hard to prove I wasn’t.

It felt like an eternity was passing. What was taking so darn long??

I squeezed my legs shut, pressed my hands to my crotch, and broke out into an involuntary, desperate potty dance.

“Ants in your pants, dear?” Granny suddenly asked from behind me, startling me and amplifying the embarrassment and pressure of the situation ten-fold.

“I’m fine!” I said through gritted teeth.

Finally, just when I felt like I was truly about to burst…

I heard the toilet flushing and my cousin washing her hands.

The second she started to open the door, I barged forward, nearly knocking her over.

“WAIT!” My cousin suddenly screamed at the top of my lungs.

“Huh?” I said, spinning around.

“The toilet’s clogged,” she said. “Sorry.”

I froze. A feeling of utter despair washed over me. “No…” I muttered.

“I’ll go get Granny,” my cousin said. “Granny!”

I looked down upon the closed lid of the toilet, utterly mortified. My bladder spasmed with the most painful twinge yet. I knew I was out of time. I didn’t have a choice. I was just going to have to pee in the clogged toilet.

I flung the lid up… and froze in horror.

The toilet was full to the very brim! There wasn’t any room for me to pee in the toilet at all!

I gasped, stepped back and felt like I was about to faint.

“What are you doing?” A voice suddenly came from behind me. I jumped, once again startled by Granny standing right behind me, now holding a plunger.

And that was the last straw. The dam between my legs… finally broke.

“Sweetie? Are you okay?” Granny asked me as I stood frozen before her, my face bizarrely blank, my gaze a thousand yards long.

Then, she realized it. She realized it nearly the same moment I realized it, when I suddenly felt a hot gush of steamy wetness dumping into my panties and spreading across my thighs.

“Oh… oh dear!” Granny said, looking me up and down in shock and horror.

Mortified, I looked down, then looked back up. But even as I stared my Granny in the face… I still couldn’t stop it. I still couldn’t hold back the flow.

It was like a river was pouring out of me, turning my jeans dark blue from my crotch to my ankles. It then poured like a torrent onto the bathroom floor, rapidly forming a large, expanding yellow puddle beneath my bare feet.

I squeezed my eyes shut, totally helpless… as it still just kept going and going.

I couldn’t make it stop, and the truth was, at this point… I didn’t even want it to. The relief from the pain of holding it was like a wave of indescribable ecstasy, taking control of my whole body, forcing me to take deep breath after deep breath, bearing down even harder, so my poor, aching bladder could eagerly and desperately squeeze out every single last drop of my long-held pee.

Finally, at long last… I was finished. My bladder was totally, utterly empty.

I took a deep breath, slowly opened my eyes and returned back to reality.

Granny was still staring at me. But in her face was no longer shock. Or disgust. Or horror.

No. Worse than all of them. It was just… disappointment. Knowing disappointment.

Granny sighed and shook her head. “I knew I should have trusted my instincts about you and your potty-training. Or rather, your lack-thereof. Now, it looks like I have two messes to clean up in here. Only one of them excusable.”

I burst into tears.

Waves of utter humiliation, embarrassment, and regret now poured over me. My soaking wet jeans were already beginning to turn cold from my salty pee. I could even detect the acrid scent of my accident wafting upward from the puddle at my feet.

I was disgusted and ashamed and mortified with myself. I could hardly even process what I had just done, even while still soaking wet with the evidence of it from my crotch down.

Granny grabbed a towel and laid it on the floor. “Stand here in the corner and be quiet, dear,” she said gruffly, pulling me over to the towel. “I’ll help you get cleaned up and changed in a minute.”

“It’s… it’s okay. I can clean up and change myself, Granny…” I whimpered.

“No dear, you can’t,” she said. “You can’t do it yourself, because I’m going to be changing you into a diaper. You need to be in diapers, dear. I’m sorry, but that’s what happens when you’re not potty trained. You’ll be wearing a diaper all the time from now on, so long as you’re under my roof.”

Her words washed over me as I glanced over my shoulder, watching her wipe up my huge puddle of pee. I then pressed my hands down to my sopping wet crotch. Finally, slowly, I began accepting the reality of what had just happened. Of what I had just done.

I burst into a fresh wave of my loudest sobs yet.

Because deep down… I knew my Granny was absolutely right.

I needed diapers.

* * *

I stared in horror as Granny unfolded the large, disposable diaper before me and patted the changing table.

She had pulled all my wet clothes off in the bathroom and walked me down the hallway, buck naked, down to the nursery. The one that my little cousin had outgrown a long time ago… yet was now apparently perfectly suited for me.

“Butt on the table, dear,” my Granny beckoned. “Don’t make me ask again or it’s a spanking.”

I gulped and took a trembling step forward. I still couldn’t believe this was happening. I still couldn’t believe I was about to be diapered like a baby!

Growing impatient, Granny finally grabbed me beneath my armpits and lifted me up onto the changing table, making me squeak in surprise. She was shockingly strong for her age!

I watched with a trembling lip as she first took out the baby wipes, then began methodically, thoroughly wiping down every inch of my thighs, my tummy, my legs….

Then my crotch, my butt cheeks… and my pussy and butthole.

“Eep!” I squealed as she began vigorously scrubbing my privates with the cool baby wipes.

“Hush now. Granny wouldn’t need to clean your peepee area for you if you didn’t make a big stinky peepee mess in your pants,” she scolded.

Her harsh, humiliating, and painfully true words immediately stifled any more protest that I could have possibly mustered.

She then began dumping loads of baby powder on my crotch and thoroughly rubbing it in to every crease and crevice. The sweet, infantile scent of the baby powder seemed to send me back in time… laying on the changing table, I felt myself mentally and physically surrendering further and further… like I was truly becoming a baby again beneath my Granny’s deft, firm, diaper changing hands.

Finally, Granny laid the massive disposable diaper under my bottom, then grabbed my ankles to raise me up while she slid it beneath me.

“I bought this case of extra-thick diapers in your size when I began to suspect you weren’t as potty-trained as you were pretending to be,” Granny explained as she wrapped the diaper around my waist and taped it up tight. “I suppose that was pretty smart on my part, huh?”

I looked down at the absurdly thick, crinkly padding between my legs and burned bright red. I suddenly felt more babyish than I could have ever even imagined was possible.

“Alright, dear, all finished. Good girl being so good for Granny while she changes your diapers!” Granny giggled as she helped me sit up. “Now you’ve had a pretty rough morning, haven’t you, hon? Why don’t we get you down for a nap.”

She helped me to my feet and started walking me toward my cousin’s old crib. By time I realized what was happening, I was still too dazed to argue. I was still just too utterly distracted by the unbearably crinkly, disposable, baby-like adult diaper I was now wearing. It made me look ten times more like a baby than I could have ever even feared.

“Upsies!” Granny cheerily said as she helped me up onto the mattress of the crib.“Now, let’s get you nice and tucked in and cozy, huh?”

I stared blankly as she laid me down, tucking the blankets around me, and shutting the blinds. But then suddenly, I realized she was about to leave. And a familiar, specific, undeniable, physiological urge snapped me out of my trance.

“Granny, wait!” I suddenly blurted.

“What’s wrong?” She asked.

“I uh… uh…” I hesitated, blushing bright red.

“Huh?” She asked.

“Well… I uh… uh…” I still couldn’t bring myself to say it. At this point… it felt like the most embarrassing thing I could have ever said in the world.

Finally, Granny smirked. “Aw, I bet I know what my little girl needs. You have to go peepee again already, don’t you?”

My eyes widened and I gave a sheepish, desperate nod. My cheeks burned even redder as I realized just how pathetic it was that I already needed to pee again, after just making such a massive wet peepee mess on the bathroom floor only a few short minutes ago.

Granny nodded, then grinned. “It’s okay, dear. I’m hardly surprised. That’s why I bought the maximum absorbency diapers. I know by now, of course, that you’re a heavy wetter. So just go ahead, and go.”

“You… you want me to pee in my diaper? Instead of taking me to the toilet?” I asked in confusion and horror.

Granny smiled and placed her hand on my shoulder. “Yes dear. That’s what that diaper’s for. I want you to use it.”

“But… but… why?” I asked.

“Because, hon,” she explained. “No one should have to suffer like you do when it comes to using the potty. Constantly needing to run to the bathroom at all hours of the day. Always fearing you won’t make it. Struggling in non-stop pain to hold it, no matter how bad you have to go. I know exactly how uncomfortable you’ve been in the past few weeks just trying to maintain a semblance of a normal, adult potty schedule, against all odds.”

“You… knew I was desperately trying to hold it all the time? How?” I asked.

“Granny pays more attention than you realize,” she winked. “And the point is, now we both know, controlling your bladder like an adult just isn’t going to be possible for you, no matter how hard you try. It’s clear now that you just have a tiny little baby bladder. And that’s perfectly okay. You can’t help it.”

“But that also means accepting that you’ll never be able to get fully potty-trained like other girls your age, no matter how hard you try. So that’s why I’m here to make it better, hon. To put you back in diapers, so you can finally be freed of your constant bladder-related pain, discomfort and anxiety. So just go. Go ahead and empty your weewee into your thick, crinkly diaper. That’s why it’s there. It’s there for you.”

“Granny… I… I don’t know what to say…” I whimpered.

“Shhh….” she said, raising my chin for me to look into her shining, gentle eyes. I suddenly succumbed to an indescribable wave of warmth, love, and total trust. It was unlike anything I’d ever felt before. “Just go, sweetie. Just go. Granny’s got you.”

I nodded my head and nervously closed my eyes, not sure if I even could. Granny then wrapped me in a giant, warm, hug, and began gently massaging my bladder.

“Just go, sweetie. Granny’s got you. Just let go. Just let go of all that weewee into your thirsty diaper,” she whispered and cooed again and again, melting me in her arms.

Finally… it happened.

Hissssssss

I was peeing. I was peeing in my diaper! I was peeing in my diaper while my Granny held me close.

“Good girl!” she cooed as she pressed her hand against my rapidly warming diapered crotch. “I knew you could do it! I knew you could be a good girl for Granny and go peepee in your diapee!”

I whimpered with pleasure as I blissfully and freely drained my otherwise nearly always aching bladder. As the last of my fresh urine disappeared into my thirsty diaper, so did the last of all my adult tensions.

I realized my Granny was right. She was so, so right. It felt so much better now for me to be able to trust my diapers and just let my pee go freely non-stop, as my little baby bladder so desperately wanted to do at all times.

Suddenly, I was crying again. But they were tears of unimaginable relief, joy… and love. Pure love. I realized my Granny hadn’t given me what I wanted. But she had given me exactly what I needed. I needed diapers. And I needed her.

Granny continued holding me close for a long time, making me feel more loved than I could remember ever feeling before.

Then, she finally laid me back in my crib, tucked me in, and gave me a kiss goodnight for my afternoon nap.

As I rolled over and felt the soft, warm, wet diaper between my legs, I took a deep breath, and released my bladder yet again, relishing in the incredible gift of comfort and freedom I had just been given.

I realized just how incredibly lucky I was. Because I realized that I loved my Granny… and I needed her.

And I realized that I needed my diapers… and now, I even loved, them too.

THE END.