The Pantswetter

Lydia walked down the street holding her Mum’s hand, trying to ignore the pointing and laughing from passers-by. Her twenty-one year old body was crammed into a too-tight Hello Kitty top, a modest white skirt, and matching tights. Her black buckled shoes clacked loudly as they hit the pavement, drawing even more eyes in her direction. To complete the look, her blonde hair had been done up in a pair of childish pigtails.

She could feel herself blushing furiously. Her regression sentence mandated that she dress as if she were no more than four years old, and her Mum had embraced the court’s decision enthusiastically, picking her new outfit from the complementary wardrobe straight away so she had something to walk home in.

A group of girls fell about laughing as they passed. “Awww!” one of them cooed, mockingly. “What a cute toddler!”

“Isn’t she adowable?” another teased in baby talk.

A third made kissy faces at her, eyes glinting sadistically.

Lydia scowled and gripped her Mum’s hand more tightly, but her mother just tittered. “You’d better get used to being treated like that, sweetie,” she said, as they walked on past the girls. “Until the end of your regression sentence, you’re just a silly little girl. I know it’s embarrassing, but hopefully it will teach you not to deal drugs!”

Lydia looked down at the ground, gritting her teeth. She hated everything about this. She’d only wanted a little extra money to help pay for nights out at university! But there were no college parties in her future now. Even if she hadn’t been kicked out, there was no way her Mum would let her do something as grown-up as go out drinking, not now she had full authority over her again. For the next three years, in the eyes of the law she was nothing but a helpless child. There was only one silver lining – the white cotton undies that hugged her bottom under her skirt.

When the judge had told her she was forbidden to use the toilet for pee, and was to poo in it only, Lydia had felt like she was going to be sick. It was bad enough having her toileting habits discussed out loud for the whole courtroom to hear, but the thought of having to spend the next three years of her life wearing oversized Pampers, filling them with pee multiple times a day, taking them off only to go number two before having them strapped right back onto her bum, was enough to turn her stomach. If her Mum hadn’t whispered in her ear that she wouldn’t be making her wear nappies, Lydia thought she would have fainted in front of the judge. She supposed she ought to be grateful to her mother for that, even though it was suspiciously out of character… She wouldn’t have expected her Mum to go against the law, even though there was hardly any chance of being caught.

Finally, they made it home. Lydia was relieved to be out of the public spotlight, and more urgently, she needed to pee. She’d needed to go all morning, but she knew the staff at the courtroom would have just offered her a diaper if she’d asked for the bathroom there. She tried to make a bee-line for the toilet, but her mothed pulled her back, her grip tightening.

“Where are you off to, sweetie?”

“The toilet,” Lydia replied, trying to pull away again. “I need to pee.”

“Silly girl!” her Mum laughed. “The judge said you’re not allowed to use the toilet for pee-pee, remember?”

“B-but…” Lydia spluttered. She felt like she’d been kicked in the stomach. “But you said I wouldn’t have to wear nappies!”

“That’s right, sweetie,” her Mum nodded. “No nappies for my little girl. The judge didn’t say you had to wear them, after all. He just said you’re not allowed to use the potty when you need a wee.”

“But that doesn’t make any sense!” Lydia said, huffing with frustration. “What do you expect me to do? Am I supposed to just pee my pants whenever I need to go or somethi-”

“That’s right, baby!” her Mum interrupted, smiling brightly. “Clever girl!”

Lydia stared at her mother with mounting horror. Was her Mum really suggesting she spend the next three years wetting her knickers without any protection? “But… but I can’t just…” She didn’t even know what to say. How could her Mum not see how insane this was?! “I’ll make a mess everywhere!”

“Uh-hu,” her Mum agreed, nodding, “but that’s okay. You were always making puddles for Mummy to clean up when you were little, and it’ll be no different this time.” She looked positively thrilled by the idea. “I’ll have to get used to washing your wet pants again!” she added, beaming. “Not to mention ironing your tights and skirts. Oh, and hanging your sheets out to dry after you wet the bed!”

Lydia was looking at her mother like she’d lost her mind. This was worse than being in nappies! There was a determined, almost hungry expression in her Mum’s eyes. She was clearly delighted by the prospect of having a twenty-one-year-old pantswetter for a daughter. Her wayward little girl back home, dependent on her Mummy once again.

“But I have to pee like four times a day!” Lydia whined, trying to get her mother to understand how awful it would be, how often she’d need to be cleaned up.

“Then you’ll wet your pants four times a day, little missy,” her Mum said, simply.

“Mum, please…” Lydia begged. She was clutching between her legs with her free hand. The need to pee was growing stronger by the second, but the thought of just letting go in her pants was disgusting.

“Mummy said no, sweetie,” said her mother, sounding a little more stern. “No more toilets for you, young lady.”

“Please just… just let me wear nappies then!” Lydia cried, her face scarlet. She was bouncing from foot to foot now, doing an absurd potty dance. “I’d rather wear nappies if the alternative is peeing all over myself! At least it’s more private!”

“I’ve made up my mind, baby,” her Mum said firmly. “As much as I’m sure nappies would fix your behaviour, I think being a big girl who always wets her knickers will put you in your place even better!”

“No!” Lydia squealed, and then she let out a gasp. Her potty dance stopped abruptly, and she pulled her hand away as a dark, wet patch blossomed on the front of her skirt. A stream of pee trickled down between her legs, puddling on the floor between her feet. More pee ran down her legs, soaking her tights and pooling into her shoes. “Ewww!” Lydia cried, tears spilling from her eyes as she soaked her white cotton undies. “Ew! Ew! Ew!”

Her Mum was watching with a wide smile. “Mummy’s little pantswetter,” she declared affectionately, stroking her daughter’s hair. “Did you have an accident, sweetie? Do you need Mummy to clean you up?”

Lydia burst into tears and nodded her head.

“There, there, baby girl,” her Mum cooed. “Don’t you worry about a thing, okay? It was just a little accident. Mummy will take care of everything.” She began to strip away Lydia’s wet clothes, in a routine they would be repeating multiple times a day for the next three years at least – and perhaps, if Lydia’s bladder control had weakened enough by the time the end of her sentence came around, for many more years beyond.