🏹 Simon's holidays
Part 6: Training
⚠️ This is a work of fiction
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After returning home, I ask Dad if I can take off the diaper.
Yes, but don't tear it. You'll need to put it back on for your training.
I rush to my room and undress again to remove the diaper without tearing it. In my haste, I accidentally tear it a little, maybe by about a centimeter, but it won't prevent me from putting it back on. I place it in a corner of my room and get dressed again.
What a day! I recall the various events, and it's been a long time since I've had such an emotionally intense day. I can't imagine what next week will be like.
I quickly go through my homework before asking Dad if I can play video games.
Yes, but before that, I want us to establish a program. A program for what? I want you to show me that you can pee in your diaper, and I want you to do it by the end of the week. The sooner you succeed, the sooner you can... have an extra 30 minutes of video game time. Really? I'm so happy to hear that. Yes, as soon as you can pee in your diaper, I'll allow you to have one hour of video game time per day instead of 30 minutes.
That's motivating, even though the thought of peeing in this darn diaper grosses me out a bit.
So, if I manage it tonight, starting tomorrow? That's right, but the rule of doing your homework first doesn't change. No problem with that. And this pee has to be a complete pee, not just a few drops. Also, it must be a pee that you decide to do yourself. If it's an accident, it doesn't count! How could I have an accident and wet my diaper without doing it on purpose? I haven't had one of those in years. Maybe so, but I prefer to clarify the rules now. Sounds good to me!
I quickly rush off to play on my console, thinking that soon I'll be able to play an extra 30 minutes, and later on, play on my new console. I'm thrilled.
Minutes pass, and a slight urge to pee slowly emerges. I finish my gaming session but don't feel like putting the diaper back on right away.
I go to see Dad in the kitchen, and he's preparing dinner. Without explaining why, I pour a glass of water and drink it. I repeat this action a second time.
Why are you laughing? Are you mocking me? Of course not, and don't get so upset. I'm just smiling because I see you drinking those two glasses of water, that's all. I have the right to be thirsty. Absolutely, yes, you do have the right.
About 45 minutes later, after returning to my room to read some comics, I feel an enormous urge to pee. I figure it's time to put the diaper back on and pee in it.
I don't bother to put my boxers and jogging pants back on. I push slightly to pee, but nothing comes out.
After several attempts, with more or less force, I give up and rush to the toilet. I lower my diaper in front of the toilet, and my pee starts flowing on its own, without any effort. I then flush and leave the bathroom.
I don't understand why it's flowing here and not in my diaper. I head to the bathroom, and after undressing, I take a shower.
Dad enters the bathroom when I'm done.
You could knock, I say. But you seem pretty agitated. So, did you manage to do it or not? Seeing your dry diaper on the edge of the bathtub, I deduce that you didn't. Congratulations, Sherlock Holmes, nice investigation. And no, I indeed didn't manage to do it, and I don't understand why. I think your brain doesn't comprehend what you're asking it to do. It's been trained for 10 years to release your bladder in front of a toilet, and for it, peeing in any kind of underwear is not allowed. So, what should I do? It will take some time and a little help. You'll try again tomorrow, and I'll assist you; I have a few ideas. That's why I wanted you to start early; I suspected it might go this way.
That night, I go to bed feeling a bit perturbed by everything that's happened. I don't sleep very well, and it's hard to get up in the morning.
After a fairly typical day at school, I'm more determined than ever to succeed in peeing in my diaper. When I think about it, there are only 8 days left until I get my new console.
Ready to try again? Dad asks when I get home. Yes, I am. Then I suggest you put on a diaper and come have a drink. I bought some iced tea, which contains tea and is diuretic, meaning it makes you want to pee. However, I think you shouldn't wait to have a very strong urge before going in your diaper.
I do what Dad suggests: I drink, and in less than two minutes, I return with my diaper on and my daytime pants over it.
I think you'd be more comfortable just in the diaper. No way! Then put on your pajamas.
I want to stack the odds in my favor, and for now, Dad seems to be giving me good advice.
I come back very shortly after, wearing my pajamas.
Now we just have to wait, Dad says. But don't forget, try to pee as soon as you feel the urge, without waiting too long.
We sit in front of the TV on the couch, and as the minutes pass, a slight urge emerges. I try to pee as Dad advised. It doesn't work.
He suggests that I stand up, bend my knees a bit. I obey and try, but it's still not working.
It's incredible how my brain resists, and that I can't seem to control it.
Try closing your eyes and imagine yourself in front of a toilet, he tells me.
So, I close my eyes, visualize our toilet, lift the lid, and start urinating.
And there, I think it's working. It comes out slowly, but it comes out. I then open my eyes and lower my pajamas.
A tiny stain has formed on the diaper.
I did it! I say all cheerful. You're on the right track, but no, Simon, as per our agreement, you haven't succeeded. It needs to be a complete pee; right now, it's just a few drops.
No matter how hard I try, nothing more comes out.
It's a good start. We'll try again tomorrow, Dad says. Tomorrow, I have my handball practice; I'll be back a bit late. You'll be home around 3 PM, and you won't leave until 6 PM, so you'll have time to try again. I won't be there, but you don't need me. Okay, I say. You can try sitting on the toilet tomorrow; I think it might help.
Later in the evening, as I lie in bed, I reflect on all of this. It seems completely crazy and unreal. As someone who doesn't know what to study, I think the brain must be a fascinating subject for research. Understanding its mechanisms must be intriguing.
The next day, when I return home from school, I can't wait to try again. I've been thinking about it all day.
I undress, put on a fresh diaper, and just wear my pajama top. Dad isn't home, so I don't mind if my diaper is visible.
I drink, and now all I have to do is wait. When the urge arrives, I do what Dad suggested: sit on the toilet. I try to relax, and it works. I manage to wet my diaper. It's not completely soaked, but it's already much wetter than yesterday, and I no longer have to go.
The sensation is incredibly surprising. The diaper has swelled a bit, but nothing has leaked, as if my pee had vanished like magic.
As for my feelings, I'm torn. Part of me is disgusted to have this pee on me, to have peed on myself like a baby, and another part finds it comfortable and warm. I don't actually feel wet.
Dad's idea was good, but now I need to be able to do it without having to sit on the toilet. So, I decide to keep my wet diaper; I still have some time before I have to leave for my practice.
I lie down on my bed and start reading. In less than 15 minutes, a new urge comes. The two glasses I drank earlier are taking effect.
Without hesitation, I stand up, slightly bend my knees, push, and my pee comes out. I did it!
This pee means that I'll have more gaming time per day, and that's super cool.
I quickly remove my diaper in the bathroom and use a washcloth to clean up. Then I get dressed to head to my practice.
On the bus ride, I reflect on what I've just done, my satisfaction at successfully peeing in a diaper voluntarily at 11 years old... If my friends only knew...
On Friday night, it's Dad who picks me up after practice.
I saw the wet diaper in the bathroom; how did you do it? First, sitting on the toilet, and then standing. You're getting there. Why just "getting there"? Can't I increase my console time yet? I did what you asked. I want you to be able to do it in front of me or others, like when you'll be at the center next week. So I'll have to do it again? We'll do that tomorrow; it will be more relaxed. By the way, the diapers, you throw them away, don't leave them lying around!
Grrr, I thought I was done, but it's not the case. Well, it's just one more day, but still. And especially, I'll have to pee in my diaper in front of Dad; it will probably be a bit more challenging.
The next morning, it's 9 AM when Dad enters my room and opens the curtains.
Why do you do this? Let me sleep! It's the holidays!
I hate it when he does this; why doesn't he let me sleep? It's the weekend.
If I let you sleep too late, you won't be tired at night, and you'll go to bed even later. I don't want you to shift your schedule, especially because you'll have to get up on Monday, and I'll need to take you to the center early because I have a bit of a drive to work. Let me have another 10 minutes... Okay, but not more. I remind you that you must absolutely manage to pee in your diaper today. Yes, I know...
Twenty minutes later, and after Dad grumbled, I finally get up and have breakfast. Like every morning, I have my bowl of cereal, and Dad serves me a glass of juice.
Put on a diaper when you're done, and then get dressed. Also, wear your shorts today; it's already hot. Why a diaper? Because you need to get used to wearing one and using it.
I've committed to wearing a diaper and going to the daycare, so I have no choice. It's with a bit of resignation that I go to my room and put on that diaper. I put a pair of boxers on top and find some loose-fitting shorts. I choose black to conceal what I'm wearing underneath.
For the top, I find the longest t-shirt I have, but it's not much longer than the one from Wednesday. Looking out the window, I can see that the sun is already shining brightly, and indeed, it's hot. I can't imagine wearing a sweater.
Fortunately for me, my shorts come up high enough on my waist, and my diaper is not visible.
Are you ready? Dad shouts from downstairs. Yes, I'm dressed. Then come down.
I arrive at the bottom of the stairs and see that Dad is wearing his shoes, ready to leave the house.
Where are you going? Where are we going? He corrects me. We're going grocery shopping for the week, so we have something to eat. But you usually go without me, I say disappointed. Yes, but today is different.
I understand that he wants me to be with him to see if I can wet my diaper, in front of him and in public. It suits me; I'm almost sure I can do it, and if I succeed, I can have an hour of console time today.
So I pretend to grumble, but it's just for show. Three minutes later, we're in the car, heading to the shopping center we went to on Wednesday.
Don't forget, Simon, as soon as you need to go, let your pee flow. You've already told me, yes, I reply with a sigh.
We grab a shopping cart and head into the mall, then the supermarket.
As we browse the aisles and add products to the cart, I feel a slight need to pee. I have a package of pasta in my hands that I'm about to put down when I think it's the right time. I push gently. It comes out, not fast, but it comes out. Shortly after, it starts to flow more strongly.
I'm surprised at how smoothly and discreetly this is happening. There are plenty of people around us, and no one pays attention to me. I just peed myself, or more precisely, in a diaper, and no one notices.
It's warm, and it's swollen. I try to see if it shows by leaning slightly and looking at my butt, but it's not noticeable.
What's wrong? Dad asks. I... did... Did you succeed?
I nod, and Dad smiles at me.
We finish shopping, and we'll check this at home. We'll buy a new pack; it's better.
Right away, we head to the diaper aisle. Like last time, I feel uncomfortable being seen here, especially because today I'm wearing a diaper, which is wet, by the way.
Like a can of vegetables, Dad grabs a pack and places it in the shopping cart. Well, at least that's quick. We have everything we need, and we head to the checkout. It's quite crowded, and since we have a shopping cart, we need to go through a checkout with a conveyor belt.
Dad empties the cart and puts our purchases on the belt. One of the first things placed on the belt is one of the last items we put in the cart: the diaper pack. Even though there are no diaper designs on it, I don't like that it's so visible.
I see a boy at the same checkout as us, but he's ahead. His mom is paying, and he looks in my direction. His eyes shift from the belt to me and vice versa. I can see him laughing; he's understood, for sure. Fortunately, I don't know him, but it still makes me very uncomfortable. He's definitely making the connection between these diapers and me, and that I wear them.
Fortunately, his mom and he leave quickly. It's soon our turn, and that's good. A new little urge to pee comes, and I do as I did earlier; I let it flow. It's even quicker, and my crotch warms up again. It's incredible how quickly my brain has learned to let my bladder empty now.
A few minutes later, our purchases are back in the cart, and Dad pays. So, we head to the car. I feel like my diaper has really expanded since the second pee, to the point of spreading my legs apart.
When I sit in the car, my diaper crushes and acts like a cushion. It's both comfortable and uncomfortable.
Once back home, after starting to put away the groceries, Dad asks me to come over to him.
How many times did you pee? Two, why? Because your shorts are a bit puffier than earlier. Can I lower them to check? Um... yes, I reply a little embarrassed for him to see me in a wet diaper.
Dad then pulls down my shorts, and I turn my head to avoid his gaze. I also don't want to see myself dressed in that wet diaper. My gaze then falls on the pack of diapers we just bought, which is placed on the kitchen table.
You indeed managed to wet it; that's good. I didn't think you'd do it so quickly and easily. I'm much less worried about next week now. You can take it off. Dad, I say, still glancing at the pack of diapers. I think you got the wrong size.
Dad looks at the table, then gets up to take the pack in hand. He asks me to fetch the other pack, and I return a few seconds later.
I did go too fast. The two packs look very similar, but the size is different. The old one is for 8-15 years old, and this one is for 4-7 years old. Well, it's not too bad; we have them in advance. Although, considering the weight indicated on the packs, the new ones might fit you.
Dad then tears open the pack to take one out and hands it to me.
But it's too small, I say after a quick examination. Try it on; we'll see. It will give you some more practice. By the way, now that I succeeded, can I have an hour of console time each day starting today? Certainly, that was our agreement.
I rush to the bathroom. I undress, remove my wet diaper, and put on the clean one. To my surprise, I put it on without any problems. It's true that the others were a bit big, and this one is finally more suited to my weight.
Without putting my clothes back on over my diaper, I grab the wet diaper and return to the kitchen to throw it in the trash.
It fits you very well, Dad tells me. How do you feel in it? I'm good, it's fine. Well, I'll leave you; I'm going to play my console.
I'm so happy to finally be able to play longer. My friends, with whom I play online, used to get annoyed every time I had to leave the game in the middle.
In fact, it's only when I stop that I realize I haven't put my clothes back on over my diaper.
A short while later, I head to the bathroom to take a shower. After removing my diaper, I clean up. I'm relieved to get rid of that pee, even if I can't see it, it must be stuck to my skin.
Dad and I have dinner, and I go to bed feeling a bit anxious about Monday.
Sunday flies by. Between playing on my console and hanging out with friends, I don't have much time to dwell on the upcoming week.
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