Daily Free-Write December 14, 2020 (Patreon)

He scratched his belly and heard a loud crinkle. He instantly remembered he was in diapers now and felt self-conscious. Had they really become that normal to him that he forgot? 

Remy didn't like that. He was in the middle of the food court with his friends. He didn't want to be in diapers at all around them. But it wasn't like he had a choice. What if he had an accident?

"Rimo? Rimo? Earth to Rimo!" 

He snapped out of it when he heard Lizbet calling out his nickname. 

"Huh? What? What'd I miss?" 

"We were just talking about what was better. Hot chocolate or hot cocoa. What do you think?" 

The gave him the eyes, and raised her eyebrows. It was her signal for 'I know your anxiety's kicking in... stop spacing out and socialize!' 

"Oh, uh... yeah. Wait, what's the difference?" 

His friends laughed. If Lizbet was the group health and happiness monitor, he was the spacey comic relief. 

"You doof," she said, smiling and shaking her head. "Beto. Break it down!" 

"Okay, so check it. Word on the street is, hot chocolate is made from melted chocolate, and hot cocoa is made from cocoa powder. Now, in my opinion-"

"Hold up, hold up," said Lisbet. "Let the boy decide for himself. He's the tie breaker so no influencing his decision."

All this talk of drinks made Remy feel like he had to pee. He began to squeeze his legs together and squirm in his seat. 

"Uh... well... I guess hot chocolate? Cocoa is really bitter." 

"Yess" said Lisbet.

"Noooo..." said Beto. "It's like the pure cocoa, man. None of the additives. You just add sugar and milk..."

"The boy has spoken, Beto. You lose. Better luck... hey... why you gettin up, Rimo?"

"Uhh... gotta go to the bathroom," he said, grabbing his bag and standing to go. "Be right back!" 

"Hey, Rimo, I can watch your bag for you man," said Beto.

Lisbet just shook her head at Beto and signalled for him to drop it. 

"O-okay, man, see you in a sec." Beto said, before mouthing "what?" to Lisbet. 

Remy was already halfway to the bathroom, but unfortunately his bladder gave out as he pushed the bathroom door open. He stopped for a second, legs shaking as he filled his diaper. He moaned a bit in relief as the pressure on his bladder eased. Then he finished entering the bathroom and headed for the large handicap stall where there was more room to change.

"Damnit," he said to himself quietly. "This stupid tracker." 

He opened up his pants to reveal a soaked diaper with a small device blinking red on the front. It already registered he was wet. He got the alert on his phone and knew it was being sent to his Mom and his case manager as well.  

He got a text message from his mom.

"You're wet, honey. Are you headed to the bathroom yet?"

"Already changing," he replied.

He was always quick to reply to her. There's nothing more embarassing than getting a public phone call from your mother about your wet diapers. 

He sighed and took off the device. He now had five minutes to change and place it on his next diaper before the alert went off on the device. He opened up his bag and grabbed the wipes. When he untaped his diaper he found he was still peeing a bit, and narrowly avoided peeing all over his pants.

Crap. This was bad. He was becoming less and less aware of what his bladder was doing since he had been made to wear diapers like this.

He lowered the diaper to rest on his pants and sit open between his legs while he wiped off any pee. He didn't even get to keep his pubic hair. Why did his mom have to follow all the case manager's insructions to the letter? It wasn't fair. At least he got the choice of shaving himself. He remembered seeing what happened to the more difficult cases - they lost all their choices and just got led around by the hand everywhere like a little kid. The didn't even get to feed themselves, much less shave themselves. 

His diaper area was clean (Had he really just thought of it as that?), so the next step was to toss the diaper into a plastic grocery bag and put on a fresh one. He backed up to the wall with the new diaper between his legs, opting to forego the babyish smelling powder. His phone buzzed. Another text message.

"Don't forget the powder. If you get a rash I'll do all your changes myself." He rolled his eyes and shook some powder into his diaper as well, using the diaper itself to rub the powder in as he had been taught. The smell brought back many happy memories for him, but he didn't want to admit he liked it even to himself. 

"Stupid diaper. Stupid powder. Stupid..."

"Hey dude... you in here?" 

Shit it was Beto. 

"Y-yeah, man," called Remy in a shaky voice, "be right out. I'm almost done." 

His hands were now shaking. He didn't dare move for fear the sound of the plastic might give him away. But then again, he only had a few minutes left to change and time was ticking." 

"I was just checking," said Beto. "You know... in case you needed help. You been in here a while." 

Crap. How long had he been in here?

"Y-yeah, man, no prob. I'm just finishing up."

"Okay, man. Uh.. hey wait.. what's that noise?" 

Shit. The alarm had gone off. Rimo pulled his phone under his pocket and fumbled it. It slid under the stall. 

"Shit. Shit. Shit." His hands flew to his head. This was a disaster. He took a breath. Okay. He could get out of this. He just had to stay calm. "Uh, B-Beto, c-c-could you slide that b-back to me?"

"Dude. You sound like you're about to cry. Open the door."

"N-no. I c-c-can't do that." said Beto, his eyes beginning to tear up.

"Open it or you won't get your phone." 

Beto gulped and scissor stepped to the stall door. He flipped the latch and positioned himself to be behind the door so he could just grab the phone and close it without exposing himself. Beto just pushed the door open and walked in, closing it and latching it behind him. He looked down at Remy.

Shit. Shit. Shit.