✅ My Sister's Problem

17. Commands

Author's Note: I'm building up my buffer again. I'm expecting to have the next 2 chapters finished before bed tonight, so if you're supporting me on Patreon it might be worth your time checking the document again (and I'm sorry that there's been so little to read in advance for the month so far).

I came out of the bathroom blushing brightly. My face felt like it was on fire, just because of what I was wearing. The fact that my underwear was on show somehow bothered me more than the absorbent qualities of that underwear; although from the ads I'd seen, I guessed that the SleepSafe company cared less about trying to look like 'big kid' pants than their rivals did. I wondered if some other ones might have helped Lindy to accept them more; the only reason Mum had chosen them was probably the Manitoba flag on the packaging; she always felt obliged to support their businesses since the economic upheaval of secession.

Lindy was sitting there on the foot of my bed, fiddling with some of my stuffies. I tried to remember the names of the toys, but it was a little vague now. I hadn't really paid attention to them in so long, and now the thought that they might be lonely drifted across my mind for a moment. I would have to make sure they all had names and identities again, and I was sure that would enhance the feelings of childishness that somehow felt so good lately.

"Good girl," Lindy smirked. "Now, come and sit down."

She had her phone raised again. She really thought of it like a weapon. Like she needed to be able to hit 'send' in an instant, or I might tackle her and delete the photos or something. I wished she could just understand that I wanted to support her; that I wasn't looking down on her for a problem I had caused; and that I would do whatever she asked even without blackmail. Within reason, at least. Wearing diapers for bed was fine by me, and I would have carried on getting them for as long as I could even without Lindy's insistence. Wearing just a diaper was weirdly embarrassing, even though the only person likely to see my legs was my sister.

Not using the bathroom... I didn't know if I'd go that far or not. I wanted her to be happy, but I already needed to pee. Before morning it would be unbearable, and I was sure that I would be forced to wet myself before Lindy woke up. This would mess up my sleep, and I'd probably be irritable all day tomorrow. But if that's what it took to reassure her, I thought I might give it a try.

I was sure that before I actually slept, I would be turning my computer on again to search online about probably the weirdest thing I had ever wanted to look up; the possible hygiene implications of wetting yourself. It was gross thinking about all those bacteria swarming about on my skin, and it was something I'd been taught to avoid at all costs since before I could remember. But maybe, just maybe, if it made Lindy feel better I could put up with it for one night. Was holding my pee to the point of pain more or less risk that lying there in a wet diaper waiting for my sister? I didn't know. Normally for any kind of question I'd search on my phone, but I knew that wasn't the best idea. Like when I'd searched for research on the trick with the bowl of water, I couldn't use my phone. Mum had been very firm when she bought us phones of our own that we would have them set up as child devices; so she could examine my activity whenever she wanted, including all of our web searches. On my computer, at least, I could remove things from the history without Mum being alerted to each deletion.

I couldn't think about this now. I just wanted to get to bed, and get as much sleep as possible before I had to make that decision. Lindy stood as I sat down, raising her arm to keep her metaphorical weapon pointed in my direction.

"Good girl. Now, tell me what a baby you are. You're the one who really needs these diapers, aren't you?"

"Yes," I nodded. It was barely a struggle now, to say the most humiliating things. After last time she tried blackmailing me, I'd realised that the words meant nothing. They weren't true; I knew that and she knew that. But they made her feel better, and that had to be a good thing. It was worth it to help my sister get over what I'd done to her. "Yes, I'm a little kid who loves my SleepSafe pants. They look like big girl pants, but I need them in case I wet the bed." Lindy giggled at my ad-lib, and I could tell she was finding it hard to keep up the confrontational attitude.