Mommy’s little bedwetter: ch. 1
Emma finally has it all. A high-paying, high-stress job; nice home, nice things, and a woman she is madly in love with. Emma has worked hard to move forward from her traumatic adolescence and teenage years. It wasn’t easy being a young Emma Swan for a multitude of reasons, one of them more embarrassing than the others.
A former chronic bedwetter, messer, sometimes little wetting accidents in her panties at school during test finals and study hall, Emma Swan needed… additional support.
In the form of bedtime diapers.
When Emma begins to need additional support again she finds more support and love that she could have ever imagined in her girlfriend, Regina, and they begin to explore MDLG (Mommy/little girl) regression dynamics.
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Emma felt air halt in her lungs, almost as though it were hardening to bronze, she caught a glimpse in the antique mirror leaning against the wall, so ashamed and embarrassed of herself she couldn’t process it.
The same mirror that she had watched, mere weeks ago, enthralled, as Regina kissed and nuzzled around clean blonde pubic hair, tongue parting ribbon slick cunt lips; humming, kissing, sucking at her little clit as though Emma were a ripe persimmon.
That night, Emma had watched herself in the mirror’s reflection, slit-eyed, panting, a woman who had it all: a high-pay, incredibly high-stress career; nice home, nice things, a beautiful dark-haired woman between her thighs to share all of it with — hopefully for the rest of their lives.
It had only been nine months, officially, but Emma had never felt safer, more secure, more in-love before Regina Mills. Emma knew it on the first real date, felt it in her heart, thumping and swelling and giddy before the starters had even made it to the table.
Now, Emma couldn’t bare the sight of herself in the reflection, it was enough to make her bottom lip wobble with shame. A decade passed from the therapy through her teenage years that finally helped her overcome her condition. All the excruciatingly embarrassing doctor appointments. The shame and humiliation of not being able to do normal teenager things; no dates, or sleepovers with friends, no freedom or curiosity to watch scary movies late at night, because up until the age of nineteen she needed… additional support.
Here she was again, twenty-nine years old, needing that same additional support.
That was the word her last and best set of foster parents used. Instead of diaper, or pull-up, to try and make the proverbial medicine go down easier. Emma Swan, for all of her life until the age of nineteen, was a severe bedwetter, sometimes messer, sometimes prone to wetting her panties at school during test week or study hall, whenever there were peek stresses in her life, which of course made her the butt of every joke; a gushing, growing puddle of piss coming to a trickle between her feet whenever someone startled her for a prank, her bladder emptying between her two cupped hands pressed hard to her privates to try and stop her shame, but always she would sob, and always a growing group of witnesses would laugh, and always she would be taken by the hand to the nurse’s office to wait for her foster parents to come collect her.
It was a hard life to be Emma Swan, a miserable one, and so for prolonged periods of her adolescence and teenage years, she needed to wear…
Emma came back to herself, shook her head in uncertainty that she could do this again, all these years later, and rushed out the words, “I don’t like this, Regina. I don’t like how it looks. I don’t like it, and I don’t want to wear it.”
“The things we need are rarely things we like or want,” Regina hushed, slipping a red-painted manicured finger around the snug waist to make sure it wasn’t too tight. Satisfied, Regina brought her fingers away and softened her tone, “You’re okay baby. I promise, it’s going to be just fine, people backslide in lots of different ways. You have nothing to be ashamed about.”
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