Melissa's Re-Potty Training - Chapter 2 (Patreon)

The first day of Melissa's potty training began full of anxiety. She sat at the dining table, staring blankly into space, while Helen prepared lunch. Each clink of the dishes sent a shiver down her spine, reminding her of what was around her crotch. The pull-up wasn't as uncomfortable as she thought it would be, but it was definitely not something she liked. She had kept it dry so far, though it had not even been an hour yet.

Helen entered the room carrying a tray laden with fries, nuggets, and fresh salad. She smiled gently at Melissa, attempting to alleviate her discomfort. Next to the girl was her younger stepsister, Amelia. At four, she looked like a mini version of Helen herself. It was obvious she was destined for popularity, unlike Melissa, and somehow, even if Amelia had always been nice to her, she always resented her.

"Mel is potty training with me, Mommy?" asked Amelia as she grabbed a handful of fries.

"That's right, hun."

Melissa tried to smile back, but it seemed forced.

Helen noticed her discomfort and quickly added, "Don't worry, sweetie. We'll take it slow, and I'll be there to help you every step of the way."

Feeling slightly more reassured, Melissa nodded. "Thanks."

As they all sat down to eat, Melissa couldn't help but notice the subtle shift in Helen's behavior. Helen seemed to genuinely want to help her, but she wondered why.

"It's time for the potty," Helen announced once everyone was finished with the meal.

Helen gave them no time to argue as she grabbed both their wrist, pulling them towards the living room, where a plastic potty awaited.

"Is that really necessary?" asked Melissa in shock.

"It's just part of the process. Show me you can use the plastic potty, and you can move onto the toilet. It shouldn't be difficult. Should it?"

Before Melissa could continue arguing, she was interrupted by her stepmother.

"Who wants to go first?!" asked Helen again with a devilish smile.

Amelia raised her hand.

Within minutes, the younger of the three had done her business like a professional.

"I'm a big girl!" said Amelia, smiling from ear to ear, "I'll be potty trained first!"

Those words weighed heavily in Melissa's mind. The little brat was as competitive as her mother. It had been cute a few years ago, but now, she was just annoying. Melissa felt her rage growing stronger, fueled by the constant tease. But she fought back against it. After all, Helen was only trying to help. And Amelia needed the encouragement.

"Yes, you are," said Helen, "But I think Melissa will surprise us too, right Mel?"

Melissa nodded.

Despite her frustration, she decided to give it a try. If nothing else, she owed it to Helen since she helped her when nobody else did. Taking a deep breath, she lowered herself onto the seat of the tiny plastic potty. In contrast to Amelia's confident demeanor, Melissa felt vulnerable and exposed. However, knowing that she must prove her mettle, she closed her eyes and focused on relaxing her muscles.

But nothing.

A minute passed.

And then another.

She pushed harder.

Nothing.

She pushed again, and a loud fart echoed in the room. Melissa blushed as her stepmother and stepsister giggled.

One more minute passed.

Another.

And nothing.

"Alright," said Helen, "I don't think it's going to happen."

"No, wait!" said Melissa, pushing harder now, "I can do this."

"Honey, you're going to give yourself a stroke if you push that hard. It's okay. You didn't make it this time. Let's just try again later."

"I made it in the potty, Mommy. I'm winning!" said Amelia, happy as just a kid could be.

But as Melissa pulled her pull-up and pants back up, she couldn't help but feel pathetic and like a failure. She was twenty-two, and she couldn't even control her body enough to pee.

"You'll make it next time. It's okay. It's the first time you've tried. I'm sure you'll make it," said Helen, and for the first time since Melissa met her, she actually felt as if her stepmother cared about her. Perhaps this potty-training idea wasn't that bad after all.

With her first time on the potty a failure, Melissa had nothing left to do but wait. She was to call for Helen's help if she felt the need to go, but the thought of having to ask for help to pee was too embracing to even consider. Her idea was to just keep going with her day and pee if she felt the need.

And so she did just that.

"Potty time," said Helen an hour later as Melissa worked on her resume. It wasn't looking that good, but she wasn't twenty-one yet, and she needed the money if she wanted to go out that summer with her friends.

"One minute," said Melissa, staring at a blank page. Maybe tomorrow, she could try again. It's not as if she was in dire need to get a job. If only being an adult wasn't that difficult.

She stood up and went straight to the living, where Helen and Amelia were waiting beside the plastic potty.

"Your sister's dry," said Helen, "What do we say?"

"Congrats," said Melissa, pretending to care enough to form a smile.

Helen approached Melissa with a gentle demeanor, almost motherly, "Now, let's check our big girl."

"What are you...?!"

Helen's finger found their way to the elastic band of Melissa's pull-up. The young adult blushed, trying to get away but failing.

"My dear," said Helen, removing her fingers from Melissa's crotch, "You're wet.

"What? No. I'm not!"

Melissa rushed her hand to her padded crotch only to notice it was bigger and warmer and obviously full of urine. It couldn't be. She didn't feel it. She was a big girl. She should be able to make it to the potty. Her eyes turned watery, and her knees began shaking.

"I'm sorry," she said, fighting back the tears.

Helen embraced her with no hesitation. A warm embrace. The sort of touch only a mother could provide during times of distress, and for a second, Melissa felt less of a failure.

"It's okay, honey," Helen said, patting her back carefully, "That's what your pull-ups are for. You'll make it next time."

It sounded familiar – like some of those truisms parents tell children to encourage them. As much as she despised admitting it, her stepmother's kind words did help. Perhaps Helen was right. She might very well make it next time. It was just one accident. She would make it to the potty next time. There was no way she would lose the race for potty training against her younger stepsister.

But then she woke up the next morning, tired as always... and wet.