✅ A Dose of Humiliation

29. Resolution

I woke up late. That was no surprise; the night before had been pretty late. After a lot of thoughts about whether or not it could possibly be a good idea, I'd decided that I needed to call Josh. I needed to let him know what was going on with me, so my disappearance wouldn't be making him worry if he'd said or done the wrong thing. So after a couple of hours to psyche myself up for a difficult conversation, and a significant dose of vodka to steady my nerves, I'd made the call. Josh wasn't upset; he didn't blame me for leading everyone on last time we'd properly spent time together. He was just there to tell me he was having a great time, and that I could join him whenever I wanted. I'd said that my parents had me under lock and key; and that it was probably a good thing before I did something I would regret.

I might have told him about the Punishment Pill. I'm pretty sure I mentioned that the thing they'd given me had been responsible for the way I woke up at Lin's party, to which he was entirely sympathetic. I might have mentioned the Refine thing, and my personality being overwritten. But it was hard to bring it up, because he was clearly at some rich kid's house with friends, and I didn't want to bring the mood down. I felt bad even talking to him like that, because I was taking his attention away from his friends, and from somewhere he should be having fun.

I'd finally gone to bed around two in the morning, after a great couple of hours I could barely remember. I think a lot of that time might have been spent touching myself while Josh and Garth told me what they would be doing to me if I'd managed to get to the party. I think we'd turned it into a video call at some point; I had no idea if that was going to show up on my phone bill.

When I woke up, the first thing I saw was an empty bottle lying on my nightstand. The second was a sudden feeling of nausea that sent me running to the bathroom. I found my phone when I stepped on it, lying in the middle of the floor and with the battery almost gone. It was only when I got back to my room that I realised my diaper had leaked in the night. Well, that was only to be expected when I'd drunk so much. Looking on the bright side, I'd actually been wearing one. After the amount I'd drunk, I wouldn't have been surprised to find I'd just passed out. Vague memories tormented the back of my mind... had somebody laughed when I told them about my punishment, and asked to see me in a diaper? Had I actually got changed on cam, so everyone could see? That was the kind of thing I would never do in a million years, but it had seemed hilarious at the time. Even funnier when I realised I wasn't quite sure how many people had been on the other end of the phone, or who it could have been.

"Fuck," I muttered, as I realised just how easy it would have been for some very embarrassing images of me to end up being circulated among the cool kids. I didn't remember what had happened clearly, but I knew that I could be in a lot of trouble without even noticing. "Fuck," I repeated the word for emphasis as I stuffed my sheets into the washing machine. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

"Language!" Dad's voice called from the kitchen. He was still bitter, and I could see why even if it wasn't rational. He'd spent his life pulling himself up, fighting for every promotion, aiming to be a white-collar worker with a perfect suburban family. He wanted the neighbours to like and respect him, to have no fear of poverty, and to be welcome in the kind of stores that say the customer is always right. And just a couple of months ago it had looked like he had what he wanted; a few more years in an office, and then a comfortable retirement to be a pillar of the community. And now... now he was missing the happy family dinners, I couldn't bear to face him for that long, there were no smiles at all in our house, and we were just waiting for social services to show up and separate our family. With the spectre of jail hanging over him, Dad must feel like his dream had suddenly turned into a nightmare. No wonder he was finding it hard to cope with the change. And I was at the centre of all those problems; he would be reminded of that every time he looked at me. It wasn't rational, but I'd be the first to admit that our brains aren't as good as we think at doing the logical thing.