I can't believe they put a diaper on a fox :O

✨The Sleepover Secret: Part 1 ✨

but that’s not the only part of the punishment. in the nursery there’s a baby monitor linked to the bedroom. to add to the littles punishment, they also get to hear the special buzzy time the c/g gets to have.

you should start edging in your diapers.

you should start edging in your diapers.

you should start edging in your diapers.

you should start edging in your diapers.

you should start edging in your diapers.

you should start edging in your diapers.

you should start edging in your diapers.

you should start edging in your diapers.

you should start edging in your diapers.

rushing to the bathroom you barely make it in time to spill your guts in the toilet, everything from the previous night coming back up like all the words you said desperately to her. the way you apologized over and over, the way you asked if she hates you, you could tell in her look of course she did. she was furious. she had to be. bile and beer and shitty 12am fast food all make their second appearance and you continue to heave, nothing left to get rid of. you start to sob.

you hear a soft knock, rhythmic, on the bathroom door. fuck, you woke someone up. you hear her voice from the other side of the door.

“sis are you alright?”

you choke back sobs, “i-i’m fine, i just… got a little sick is all…”

“can i come in?” she says, calmly.

“no no it’s…. it’s fine i can deal with it myself.”

she opens the door anyways, comes in to see you crumpled on the floor, you look up at her for just a second before hiding your face again. no need to show her you’ve been crying, that’s manipulative, you think.

“oh sis…” you hear her say, comforting tone overtaking everything.

“i’m sorry,” you sniffle, “im sorry im sorry i know i fucked up im sorry-“

“hey! enough sorries,” she cuts you off, “what’s happened has happened ok? you’re in no state to talk about it now, just… let me take care of you, ok?”

“no!!” you push her away, “that’s what got me in this mess i can take care of myself!”

she comes back, slower this time, a hand softly rubbing your back.

“hey… i’m taking care of you because i want to, sis… there’s no need to hurt yourself any further, don’t martyr yourself for my sake.”

“but i-i don’t d-deserve it,” the sobs are returning in full force.

“this isn’t about deserving it, you’re my sister and you’re in pain… now come on… let me take care of you… please?”

so you relent. she picks you up off the floor, instructs you to rinse your mouth out, you brush your teeth for good measure. she walks you back to your bedroom and tells you to wait while she gets water. you always feel cold and clammy after throwing up, and the sheets have dried enough to feel like a soft, warm place to land. you lay there waiting for her return.

she’s carrying a glass of water, a couple pills she instructs you to take, and tells you to drink small sips of water. she looks satisfied with herself, pets your head just a little, softly. you expect her to leave now, she fixed you, time to go back to your thoughts. instead she tells you to scoot over.

“what? why?”

“you’re not sleeping alone tonight sis, i’m not letting you.”

“we’re too old for this,” you weakly protest, “it’s not right.”

“hey, i want to,” she replies, “i wanna take care of you, what are sisters for, right?”

she lays down next to you, opening her arms for you to snuggle into, and you oblige. she’s warm and soft, her skin against yours, normally you’d worry about this much contact with your sister but tonight you need the comfort. she wraps her arms around you tightly, rubbing soft circles on your back. you cry again, unable to hold in the emotions.

“thank you,” is all you can get out.

“hey, it’s no problem, sis. i just love you is all.”

“i love you too, baby sis,” you say, half delirious, already falling asleep in her arms, “i love you.”

✎…

⋆｡.•☆°•.*:+｡.◦°◦˖✧:✿:✧˖◦°◦.｡+:*.•°☆•.｡⋆

pygmy girls like me don’t need to potty train,

we’re too little for all that 🐐

⋆｡.•☆°•.*:+｡.◦°◦˖✧:✿:✧˖◦°◦.｡+:*.•°☆•.｡⋆

ᴋᴇᴇᴘ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴇɴᴛꜱ ʀᴇꜱᴘᴇᴄᴛꜰᴜʟ

& ᴘʟᴢ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ ᴏʀ ꜱᴛᴇᴀʟ ᴍʏ ᴘʜᴏᴛᴏꜱ

⋆｡.•☆°•.*:+｡.◦°◦˖✧:✿:✧˖◦°◦.｡+:*.•°☆•.｡⋆

MATCH ME!! @onesiesdownunder

⋆｡.•☆°•.*:+｡.◦°◦˖✧:✿:✧˖◦°◦.｡+:*.•°☆•.｡⋆

✨ SPOIL ME ✨

http://throne.com/thebabiestghoul

You wiggle on the bench while you sit at the kitchen table, pencil clutched in your hand, trying your best to focus on the math workbook sitting in front of you.

Your partner's challenge for you had seemed easy enough: Prove your maturity by drinking the full contents of your favorite sippy cup (your small Stanley tumbler) twice over and finishing 25 pages from the 4th Grade math workbook they got you before using the bathroom.

You're an adult.

You've been potty trained for decades.

You've held your bladder for numerous road trips.

You're a college graduate with a career that involves playing with spreadsheets all day.

Nothing about this should be hard.

But, just 10 pages in, your bladder is screaming out for release.

You can't seem to focus on the numbers in front of you, having to erase and redo equations over and over again.

Your partner smirks at you from where they lounge on a nearby couch.

"Are you ready to give in and admit that you're just my sweet little baby? Or are you still determined to make a puddle on our nice, hardwood floors?"

You blush and try your best to refocus and ignore their comment. You're not going to give in that easily.

They had promised that if you won this little challenge, you'd get to do whatever you wanted with them tonight. You couldn't wait to see them bent over the bed, haughtiness gone, as you gave them the paddling they deserve.

A sudden twinge of your bladder and a sudden light dampness between your legs serves as a sudden reminder of the consequences of losing this little bet. That is even more motivating.

You do your best to clamp down on your bladder and refocus.

Five pages later, you are coming to terms with the fact your battle is lost.

One hand is pressed firmly between your legs, as the numbers on the page look like nonsense now. All you can focus on is keeping yourself from soaking your already damp underwear.

You feel a hand on your back as your partner leans over you, pointing at an answer from the start of the page.

"Uh oh, sweetie, I think you need to check your answer here."

You turn to look at your partner's soft, but condescending face to protest, but even that little amount of movement is enough to put you over the edge.

A loud hiss is followed by the patter of pooling urine dripping off of the bench and onto the floor beneath you.

"Oh no," your partner sighs, satisfaction rolling off of every word, "Did someone have an accident? Maybe you aren't such a *big kid* after all."

You sit perfectly still horrified by the situation you've found yourself in.

Your partner's hand rubs your back soothingly as tears start to form in your eyes.

You haven't wet yourself since you were an actual child. How could you have lost so thoroughly?

"Oh, baby," your partner coos, gently urging you to stand, "Don't cry. I've known this whole time what a sweet little thing you actually are. It's not your fault the world had you so thoroughly convinced you were actually an adult."

Your partner is radiating comfort and control now. In this defeated state, it feels impossible to resist them.