Going Twinsies
Date Published: January 28, 2015, 2:45pm
Written By: Whetoric
Author Notes:
Just felt like knocking out a short story. I know I need to get better at developing stuff in a short amount of time. Hopefully you guys enjoy this.
Going Twinsies
I don’t know why my bladder decides to act up whenever I’m excited. It might be psychosomatic. Regardless, the first time I distinctly remember it getting me in trouble was the first time I went to Kirsten’s house.
She was my first crush, the love of my life, well, at nine years old anyway. I’d asked her to be my girlfriend but she’d said we were too young. At least, in response to my request, she invited me over to her house to play. My mom dropped me off about eleven on Saturday and I was jumping off the walls like I had ants in my pants. I was so excited.
She answered the door excitedly, brushing her little sister aside, grabbed my arm, and led me upstairs. The floor of her room was strewn with My Little Pony toys, Barbies, and lego blocks. There was barely any room to walk but she guided me around expertly, using the open patches of carpet to walk. I followed in her footsteps.
“See, and this is my rock collection.” Kirsten added as she pointed out everything she had. I hung on every word, my heart beat fiercely at the closeness to her, my hand in hers as she dragged me around.
I couldn’t believe her room was so messy. Mom made me keep mine pretty clean. It didn’t faze me, however, Kirsten’s room was no reflection on her exquisite cuteness and perfection. After receiving the full tour of her house, we ran into the backyard, playing in a playhouse back there.
She insisted we play house and I wasn’t one to argue. She was the mommy and I was the daddy coming home from work. It was fantastic. I wished we really were a mommy and daddy. Ever since she had taken my hand to guide me inside, however, my bladder had been bursting at the seams. I was sure it was just nervousness though; I’d gone to the toilet before we’d left the house.
Besides, I didn’t want her to think I was a baby that had to go potty every five minutes, so I just held it. I walked around the playhouse, talking about pretend bills and our kid in school. I had to keep pacing though, or I felt like I’d have to grab myself. I knew it’d be embarrassing to have to do that in front of Kirsten.
“You okay?” Kirsten asked, perhaps noticing my discomfort.
“Yeah,” I replied happily, casually allowing my hand to brush against my penis. That took the edge off my desperation.
“Can I play?” A voice sounded from the house entrance. Kirsten’s little sister poked her head through the door hopefully.
“No!” Kirsten shouted, shooing the younger girl.
“I’ll tell mom!” The younger girl shouted back.
“Fine!” Kirsten said. “But then you’re the baby so you have to do whatever me and Stephen tell you.”
Kirsten’s little sister nodded submissively, entered the playhouse, and laid down on the floor, making “goo” and “gaa” sounds. By this point, I was practically hopping from foot to foot as I did my laps around the playhouse. I was beginning to think that I actually had to pee; that it wasn’t just nervousness. I didn’t know where there toilet was, however, and that made me nervous.
“Daddy, daddy, pick me up!” Kirsten’s little sister demanded from the floor. She wasn’t too big, so I might be able to do it. Without thinking, I strained down, hoisting the younger girl in my arms to show off to Kirsten. The strain made me release something else.
As I held her little sister, I realized I was flooding my pants. Hot piss streamed into my undies and down my thighs. I shook with embarrassment, barely holding Kirsten’s little sister, not knowing what else to do as the puddle formed beneath my feet on the playhouse floor.
Kirsten stared at me in surprise, she cocked her head a little so she could look under her sister and see my wet pants.
“Did Stephen pee his pants?” Kirsten’s little sister asked, surprised.
“Yeah…” Kirsten said back, surprised, still looking at me with a blank expression.
“But, you’re a big boy?” Kirsten’s sister said as I set her down. I felt tears coming to my eyes, the wetness stinging.
“Maybe they’ll dry…” I suggested pathetically.
“I’ll tell mom; she’ll help!” Kirsten’s sister suggested, running out the playhouse and inside the house.
“Wait! Megan!” Kirsten said, chasing after her a few feet. It became clear there was no way Kirsten could catch her in time. She stopped and looked back at me.
“I’m sorry,” I said, a couple of tears slipping out.
“You’re gonna get in trouble,” Kirsten said sympathetically.
“What do I do?” I stammered, worried.
A few moments later, Kirsten’s mom came trudging out of the house, Kirsten standing in front of the playhouse and me standing guiltily inside.
“Kirsten, where’s your friend?” Ms. Weaver demanded.
“He’s inside…” Kirsten admitted.
“Come out here, Stephen.” I heard. I sheepishly walked out of the playhouse, the wet spot obvious across the front of my pants.
“Why didn’t you use the potty?” Ms. Weaver asked.
“I, I didn’t know where it was…” I said, trying anything to think of an excuse.
“How old are you?” She asked.
“Nine.” I said, hanging my head.
“That’s far too old for a boy to be wetting his pants.” Ms. Weaver tsked. It was at that point I realized what she was holding in her hand. It was a pull up. My eyes widened in worry. “Alright, take those wet things off and I’ll put them in the wash. You can wear this.”
“No!” I said suddenly, angrily. My eyes darted to Kirsten, who just looked embarrassed for me. Ms. Weaver had on a very stern expression. It frightened me. Finally, whimpering, I undid the button to my jeans, and let them fall with a plop to the floor. Then I pulled off my yellowed undies and tossed them in the pile as well. I pulled my t-shirt down, covering myself as well as I could as Ms. Weaver handed me the pull-up.
Quickly, I turned around and stepped into the pull-up, faster than Kirsten or her sister could move to see my stuff. At least I hadn’t had to suffer that humiliation. I pulled the papery garment up my legs, guiding it into place. It was a little tight, but completely wearable and kind of comfortable.
There were princesses on the front, which certainly made me feel kind of pathetic. Ms. Weaver grabbed my clothes, picking them up.
“Since you didn’t make a fuss,” She said patiently, “I’ll throw these in the wash and we don’t have to mention anything to your mom. Kirsten, get your friend a towel so he can clean-up the playhouse.”
Kirsten ran inside and, a few minutes later, me and Kirsten were cleaning the floor of the plastic playhouse. I, whilst wearing nothing but my teenage mutant ninja turtles t-shirt, and a girl’s pull-up. Kirsten kept glancing at my pull-up, which embarrassed me even more. Once we cleaned up the puddle, we returned the towels to Ms. Weaver, and she sent us off to play again.
This time, Kirsten checked and saw that Megan was watching T.V. Quietly, she snuck me past the living room, down the hall, and towards her sister’s room. Inside, her sister’s room was a larger train wreck than Kirsten’s room, smelling a bit of pee, probably due to the pile of used pull-ups in one corner of the room.
“Megan still wets the bed,” Kirsten explained as she saw me looking at the pile. Finally, we reached what Kirsten was looking for: Megan’s pull-ups. “I’ll wear one too, don’t tell, okay?”
I nodded as Kirsten pulled her panties off from under her floral-print cotton dress and pulled up the pull-up carefully, maintaining coverage from the dress. She smiled as she finished changing, patting the pull-up before she tossed her panties on the floor.
“We’re twins!” She declared, raising up her dress so I could see her pull-up.
“Won’t you get in trouble?” I asked.
“No one will know,” Kirsten replied, waving away my worry. “Want to go to the park now?”
I looked down, disdainfully at my exposed pull-up, Kirsten followed my gaze.
“You could borrow some of my clothes.” She suggested. Without thinking, I nodded and we went back to Kirsten’s room.
Kirsten was having fun looking through her closet as I sat on the bed. She picked through stuff, until finally she grabbed two hangers and presented them to me. On one was a blue sundress, complete with a daisy on the front. The other was a pink skirt with a matching top.
“I already have a shirt,” I suggested, annoyed at the options.
“They have to match!” Kirsten demanded.
“But, I’m a boy.” I stammered.
“No one will know.” Kirsten said, grinning.
Against my better judgment, I let her talk me into the blue sundress. I threw my ninja turtle shirt on her bed and changed into the dress, pulling it over my head. I was a tow-head, and mom had it cut in a bowl-cut so maybe, just maybe, I could pass for a tomboy.
Kirsten eyed me appraisingly. Her long, auburn hair made it clear she was a girl. It was one of her features I really liked. Finally, after considered, she grabbed some earrings off her desk and clipped them to my earlobes.
“Oww,” I said, annoyed.
“Now no one will know!” She declared, surveying her handiwork.
In the mirror over her dresser, I looked at myself in surprise. The tiny studs, as much as they stung, definitely made me look like a girl. In addition to the blue dress, the pull up snug between my legs was making me feel really weird. Did I like dressing this way? I didn’t know.
Before I had any time to consider it, however, Kirsten had dragged me downstairs.
“We’re going to the park!” She yelled.
“Okay!” Her mom’s reply rang back.
The “park” was a very small grassy area with a little play spot directly across the street from Kirsten’s house. There were a couple of older kids playing badminton but it was a pretty small area. Kirsten guided me over to the slides and soon we were chasing each other around the play equipment.
Try as I might, I could not forget that I was wearing her dress. It was a weird experience. I was, on the one hand, incredibly worried someone would realize either that I was a boy, or that I was wearing a pull-up, or both. On the other hand, since both me and Kirsten were wearing pull-ups and dresses, it made me feel super close to my crush. Also, I could tell Kirsten was having a great time and that made me happy.
We crawled up the tube slide together when Kirsten grabbed my leg, the two of us stopping in the secret enclosure.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“I’m gonna go potty.” Kirsten said, giving me a huge grin. Initially, I thought she meant she was going to go home, but the vacant expression she took a second later made me realize what she meant. “I wet my diaper.” She announced with a fake lisp, giggling madly.
“You did?” I asked with disbelief, even though I knew I had witnessed it.
“Yeah. You go too.” She demanded.
I did, indeed, have to go. I’d held it so much the last time that my bladder had already refilled a bit. Of course, last time I had gone entirely out of desperation. This time, I was nowhere near involuntary release.
“I don’t have to…” I said, embarrassed.
“Come on, I did it.” Kirsten egged me on. “Then we’ll be twins again.”
I looked up and down the tube. No one was around. My pride as a man warred with my desire to please Kirsten. Kirsten won out. I pushed but my pee refused to come out.
“Nothing’s happening.” I said ignored.
“You gotta try harder.” Kirsten suggested. I turned over, so instead of being seated in the tube I was now on my hands and knees. I pushed with all my strength.
I was rewarded with a medium stream of pee, which I expected, and a warm mass exiting my bottom, which I had not expected. It was only a single piece, but I felt it push past my butt cheeks as I pushed. I immediately tensed my butt, cutting off the poop, but still feeling it sticky and gross on my bottom. I didn’t know what to say now.
“Did you do it?” Kirsten demanded.
“Yeah,” I replied. Desperately worried she would notice. I could already smell it a little, or so I thought.
“Show me.” Kirsten demanded, motioning to my dress.
“No way.” I said, incensed.
“I’ll show you.” She promised. We nodded and, simultaneously, pulled up our dressed to reveal our wet pull-ups. We giggled. Kirsten sniffed the air, “Did you fart?” she asked.
“No,” I said truthfully. She left it at that and we returned to playing. We pushed each other on the swings, and then we played on the monkey bars. It wasn’t too long though before Kirsten’s mother was out on her front lawn, calling for us. Kirsten nodded and we ran back to her place.
“I was wondering what she let you borrow,” Ms. Weaver said, chuckling, as she saw me in the dress. “is she your girlfriend now?”
Kirsten blushed. “No, he’s my boyfriend.” She said, then blushed profusely when she realized what she’d said. Ms. Weaver just laughed as she turned to me.
“Your mom’s going to be over to pick you up soon. I thought you might want to change back into your clothes.” I nodded appreciatively, following her inside, Kirsten following right behind us. We got to the laundry room, my undies and pants clean and neatly folded on a shelf.
“Did you use the pull-up?” Ms Weaver asked. “I can help you clean up if you did.”
“I can do it.” I said, gulping, as the poo was still smooshed between my butt cheeks. No way I could let Kirsten know I had done that.
“It’s alright, let me help.” Ms. Weaver said politely, “I don’t need to mess made.”
I froze. She was going to find out, she was moving closer to check me.
“I pooped a little.” I said, frazzled, unsure why I admitted it. “I just was trying to pee, cause Kirsten did, but I pooped. I’m sorry!”
“Oh,” Ms. Weaver said, chuckling. She raised the dress behind me and check the back of my diaper. “It’s just a tiny bit, don’t worry so much. I’ll help you clean up.”
Humiliated, I let Ms. Weaver guide me to the bathroom. She ripped the tapes of the pull-up, wiped my bottom, and handed me my clean clothes. I took them gratefully.
“I’m sorry.” I said pathetically. “Thanks for not telling my mom.”
“Don’t worry about it honey.” Ms. Weaver said, patting me on the head. “Kirsten has her fair share of accidents so I understand - don’t tell her I told you that though.”
I nodded. Kirsten’s secret was safe with me. My mom came to pick me up and all I could think about was hoping that Kirsten would have me over again. I hoped she’d still be my girlfriend. I also decided I wouldn’t mind wearing pull-ups and dresses again if she wanted to.
When I walked out of the bathroom Kirsten was waiting for me. She said I should come back the next weekend too. Before we could say anything more there was a ring at the doorbell and my mom was there. Kirsten raised her dress, showing me her wet pull-up one last time before running off to her room.
It wasn’t that I didn’t have more times in pull-ups with Kirsten before she moved; but there was never one as defining as that first time I played at her house.
The END