Melissa's Re-Potty Training - Chapter 3 (Patreon)

Chapter Three

The Brand New Deal

Panicking, Melissa jumped off her bed.

Her pajamas were soaked, and when she removed them, she knew her new pull-ups were not enough to deal with her heavy wetting. Hesitant. Worried. Hopeless, she rushed to hide her wet pajamas and removed her soaked sheets. She could still keep it a secret. No one needed to know. If she was smart, her stepmother would never find out.

Opening her window to let the air vent out the smell, she stopped when she noticed she was peeing again. The urine left a puddle right where she stood, and before she could do or say anything, the door to her room opened.

Melissa froze as her stepmother walked into her room.

“Melissa, would you like some pancka…?”

Helen stood there by the door, mouth opened and in shock.

Melissa looked back, helpless. How could she explain such a thing? That’s when something changed in Helen’s expression. It shifted slightly, subtly turning from shocked to pity.

“It's okay,” Helen said in a voice that was severe, yet mellow, “It was just an accident. Nothing to worry about.”

Melissa remained silent, her throat feeling impossibly constricted. She wanted to defend herself. Save any sense of dignity she had, but words didn't come out of her mouth. No. She broke right there and then, sobbing like a toddler who had failed to make it to the potty.

"Don't cry," said Helen, rushing to her stepdaughter, "It's okay. It was just an accident. It happens to everyone."

"I'm sorry.”

"It's okay. It's okay. We'll fix this. Okay?"

For a second, Melissa felt better. But the warmth around her crotch and legs turned cold quite fast, and the uncomfortable feeling against her damp skin reminded her of her failure.

"Go take a shower. I'll deal with everything else here."

Melissa obeyed. Not because she felt ready to clean herself and face the consequences of her accident but because she couldn't bear crying again in front of Helen. They had never seen eye to eye, and feeling so vulnerable with someone she didn't trust was almost impossible to cope with. When she closed the door to her bathroom, she got naked and into the shower. She sat there to cry as the warm water washed away her tears.

Inside the room, Helen started clearing things up.

Removing the wet sheets from the bed to look at the damage. The mattress could be cleaned. That wouldn't be a problem, but it wouldn't endure more accidents like that. Pull-ups were definitely not working as expected. And the thought of putting her nasty stepdaughter back in diapers crossed her mind for a second. Amelia was doing so well at potty training that having Melissa fail wouldn't be the worst-case scenario. If only her husband was still around to help her manage Melissa's immaturity. The girl wasn't responsible for anything. She was always out, drinking and partying and spending away his money. And now, she was also wetting the bed.

Helen sighed as she finished with the cleaning. Maybe Melissa needed some reeducation. Perhaps, if she could do with her what she did with Amelia, they could finally be a happy family.

Back in the bathroom, Melissa stepped out of the shower, wrapped in a thick white towel, hair dripping water down her shoulders. She turned her gaze to the mirror just to see her reflection blurred by the steam.

She still had some baby fat around her cheeks, something that always made her look younger than she was. It was something men tended to like about her, at least the older men. But she hated the idea of not being seen as sexy. Helen was sexy. She wasn't cute or nice. She was sexy. And perhaps Melissa was also jealous about the attention her stepmother got when they went out together, which could be why she avoided doing so.

A knock on the door interrupted her train of thought. It was Helen coming inside with clothes laid neatly over her arm. In between those clothes, the pull-ups she had been forced to wear on a daily basis now.

"Get dressed, sweetie. We need to talk," said Helen, giving Melissa the clothes and leaving the bathroom.

The word 'sweetie' rolled through Melissa like acid. It cut deep within her heart. She had never received any positive comments from her stepmother. Not until she started wetting herself, that was. Why?

"I'm waiting," said Helen from the other room.

Putting on the pull-up, shirt, and socks, Melissa left the bathroom. Outside, in her room, over her bed, Helen waited for her. She was smiling, probably not kindly, but with some level of compassion in her eyes. Melissa didn't know what to do or say, so she said nothing. She stood in front of her stepmother, hoping she would not talk again about her accidents.

"I can see the mistake we made," said Helen, commanding Melissa to sit next to her with her hand, "Pull-ups might be okay during the day, but there's no way they can hold an entire night of wetting.”

Melissa blushed, "It was an accident. It won't happen again.”

"But that's not true. Is it?"

"What do you mean?”

"It's only been one day since we started this little project. However, it seems you're not putting much effort into it." Melissa tried to defend herself, but Helen continued, "Look. I don't want to be the bad guy. I truly don't, but we need to take this with the severity it deserves.”

"What do you mean?”

"Until you can prove you won't wet the bed. You're wearing diapers every night."

"What?! No! I'm not wearing diapers. That's for babies!"

“Adult diapers are for adults. Adults just like you who have problems with making it to the potty.”

Potty? Diapers? Why was Helen talking as if she was a kid who couldn’t understand the severity of the situation? No. She needed to put her foot down. It was her life. She wasn’t going to let her stepmother degrade her any further. “I’m not doing it!” She said, stomping her feet on the ground and frowning, trying to be dominant and menacing, but ended up looking like a toddler throwing a tantrum.

"Look. We can't have you ruining the mattress anymore. And I bet it's a horrible feeling waking up in a soaked bed. Diapers won't cure you from your bedwetting. But they are the responsible choice. At least until you manage to stay dry during the night. And you don't have to wear them during the day. Just your pull-ups," said Helen, holding Melissa's wrist with the touch only a caring mother would, "What if we make a deal?”

"Another one?”

"An update to the old one.”

Melissa didn't say anything, allowing Helen to continue. "If you make it a week in a row without any incidents. Potty incidents. You can go back to pull-ups.”

"An entire week?"

Helen chuckled, "It shouldn't be that hard for someone your age. Should it?”

"And what if I don't make it?”

"Then it's diapers. At least while you're living here, it might be your house, too, but you can't be ruining sheets and mattresses all the time. When you get your money, you can move out. You can do whatever you want with it. But until that day comes, you live under my rules.”

Melissa felt impotent at the words spoken by her stepmother. She knew, deep down, Helen was right. Waking up in a puddle of her own urine wasn't the best way to start her day. She also didn't want her room to stink the way it did that morning. And her clothes and sheets were gonna get ruined if she did nothing. But diapers seemed like an overreaction. Then again, she had tried drinking less water and avoiding any diuretic-like meals and drinks. She's tried waking up every few hours, but that only made her grumpy the next day.

"Melissa, I need your answer."

She sighed, nodding, "I'll try it."

Helen smiled, "Good. We'll do it tonight. Now, let's get some breakfast, and we can continue with your potty training. Amelia is excited about it. She thinks she can master potty training before you.”

Melissa blushed, looking down, hoping the day would be different than the previous one. But it wasn't. Five times, she was taken to the potty, and she couldn't manage a single tingle of more than a few drops. She did, however, soaked her pull-ups five times that day. Amelia, on the other hand, was nailing it every single time, and knowing her little step-sister was winning the race for potty training was taking a toll on Melissa's spirit. To make it worse, that night, after dinner and before going to bed, she was met by Helen in her room. She was sitting there with a big, fluffy diaper spread over the bed and a bottle of baby powder in her hand.

"It's time, Mel," she said, pointing at the diaper, waiting for her stepdaughter to take the first step.

Melissa hesitated, biting her lip. The moment had come – either accept defeat or choose the path ahead. With trembling hands, she reached for the diaper and unfolded it, but before she could start the humiliating task. Helen stopped her.

"Do you know how to put a diaper on?”

Melissa shook her head.

"If you don't do it right, it won't matter if you're wearing one. It will leak."

"What are you...?" Melissa was taken aback by Helen's hand pushing her over the bed, removing her pants and pull-ups in a matter of seconds before the young woman could react. Tears welled up in Melissa's eyes as her stepmother spread baby powder all over her most private parts, yet she remained silent, submitting to Helen's authority. When she was done, Helen held Melissa against her ample bosom, comforting her with her gentle touch until her stepdaughter stopped sobbing.

"It's okay. You don't have to wear them forever. I'm sure you'll be out of them in no time," said Helen, smiling gently, "Now. It's time to rest. You don't have to worry about wetting your bed anymore."

Helen turned off the light and closed the door before leaving the room, and Melissa, alone.

It was done.

Her stepmother had won. She was wearing a diaper. And the feeling of its thickness wasn't as disgusting as she had hoped. It forced her legs apart, but besides that, it kinda felt like a pillow in between her legs. It was soft and warm as it hugged her crotch. And as she kept trying to find reasons to dislike her new underwear, her eyelids, getting heavier by the second, closed.