(Finished) Flint -- (Author) FreezMilo

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Author: FreezMilo
Timestamp: Feb 8, 2025 at 1:32 PM
Content: 1
The most exciting part of going to the supermarket for little Flint was visiting the baby products section. His attention was always tested by the many shiny, colorful plastic packages of diapers. They seemed like treasures waiting to be plundered by a passing pirate.

He and his mother often stopped by that aisle to stock up on shampoo and body oil. These were essential products for his hygiene, no doubt about it, but diapers were just as essential in his mind. If he had been able to choose between getting some random hair shampoo or a pack of diapers in his size, he would obviously have gone for the latter without a second thought.

Today, as always, Flint stared unyieldingly at the packages of various brands in a rainbow of colors. To him, the most beautiful mosaic in the world was on his left, and like an art expert, he could have spent hours studying it without moving an inch.

Too bad his mother didn’t share the same enthusiasm. “Flint! Come on, let’s go! We don’t have time to stand around!”

His mother was right, after all. Their shopping trip was dragging because of him, and he didn’t want her to scold him again. He thought it might be easier if she only knew how much he longed for those products used by newborns and preschoolers. So he ran to catch up with the cart, his gaze still fixed on the diapers, now a distant mirage.

I wish I could wear one!

Later, Flint and his mother stopped for a bite at a fast-food place not far from the supermarket. Though he wasn’t a fan of that kind of food, he cleaned his tray without leaving a crumb. The medium-sized burger was hard to swallow, and the fizzy drink only made it harder. Next time, he’d choose something smaller, paired with a bottle of water.

His mother, meanwhile, struggled to finish her burger and ate all her fries. She admitted with a tired voice that she’d eaten enough and added that they’d head home after one last stop on their errand run.

“Where are we going?” Flint asked in the car.

“To a friend of mine’s house,” his mother replied.

“She’s not your friend?” the boy asked, confused.

“Sort of,” his mother said, caught off guard. “Let’s say she wants to help me out when I need it. I wanted you to meet her, so when I drop you off with her or she picks you up from school…”

Flint interrupted, incredulous. “What do you mean she’ll pick me up from school?”

His mother gave him a look through the rearview mirror before calmly replying, “In the coming days, I’ll be working a few extra hours. I’ll be coming home late, and Dad won’t be back from overseas for a few weeks. That’s why we’re going to see her now.”

“Can I know her name, Mom?” he asked with sincere curiosity.

“Her name is Mary Greenwich. She’s very kind and well-mannered, so I expect you to behave impeccably.” She added sternly, as though she was ready to scold or punish him on the spot.

Flint got the warning loud and clear, nodding toward the mirror that reflected his intense blue eyes. While they maintained eye contact, he began asking more questions about the mysterious Mary Greenwich. Their conversation ended when he turned his gaze to the right. “Wow! Is that where Ms. Greenwich lives?”

His mother chuckled, amused. “I wasn’t joking when I said she inherited a big house from an uncle!”

Whoever that man had been, he must have worked hard to afford a place like that. It was a modest house — wide, two stories tall, with an unusual feature on the left side: a small tower with three windows, one overlooking the road. A small awning served as a divider between the two floors and supported the geometrically shaped construction.

“I didn’t know houses could have towers,” Flint admitted as he got out of the car.

“I said the same thing the first time I saw it!”

The voice expressing that sentiment of loving surprise was an elderly one. Clear and soft, but with a deep note from age.

Mother and son turned toward the gate to find the source of the voice. Behind the low wall stood a woman in a gray-and-dark-green apron, wiping her gloves blackened with time.

Mary Greenwich had a pleasant face with a few wrinkles and a pointed nose that could easily be mistaken for a witch’s. Her red curls brushed her pale cheeks, hiding much of her cheekbones but not her bright smile.

“Samantha!” she exclaimed with enthusiasm, then glanced curiously at the child. “I didn’t think you’d come so early in the afternoon. The gate’s open, come in!”

They moved inside to the kitchen. Ms. Greenwich prepared two cups of coffee and offered Flint a glass of fresh water, which he gratefully accepted and said was enough.

“If you change your mind, don’t hesitate to tell me,” she said, then turned her attention to Samantha. “What should I know about this little rascal?”

Flint blushed in embarrassment, quickly realizing the older woman was talking about him. Smiling, he looked at his mother, staying silent so as not to embarrass her.

“He only has afternoon school on Tuesdays and Thursdays. On those days, he finishes at 4:30 PM. Otherwise, it’s 12:30 PM,” his mom explained succinctly. “As for his appetite, he eats everything and isn’t allergic to anything.”

“That’s fantastic!” Ms. Greenwich was thrilled with the last detail. “I know a lot of recipes that might excite his taste buds. Is there a dish you really love, Flint?”

Flint cleared his throat, taking a moment to think. All meals were the same to him; he didn’t have a real favorite. “No, not really, Ms. Greenwich. Do you have one?”

A crescent-shaped smile appeared on her face. “I adore lasagna. Do you like it?”

Flint nodded sincerely. In a hesitant and cautious tone, he replied, “If my mom makes it… well… it’s not my favorite.”

The hostess mockingly recoiled in indignation. Not seriously, but in jest. Maintaining the playful tone, she said, “Then I’ll have to teach you a thing or two about making real lasagna!” His mother burst out laughing in relief.

At some point, Flint felt the need to use the bathroom, which annoyed him deeply. If only he weren’t wearing those boring underpants — if only he had a diaper on — he could’ve gone without anyone noticing. Everything would’ve been easier, and he wouldn’t have missed a word of the thrilling conversation.

Mary Greenwich raised her left eyebrow when he asked for the bathroom. Ironically, she replied, "There’s no bathroom in this house. If you want, I can give you a diaper, and you can do it there." Then came loud laughter, but only he didn't laugh. Part of him had believed her, but he had to surrender to the harsh reality of the situation. She added, becoming serious again, "Go up the stairs, turn right, and go straight. It’s the door at the end of the hall."

His mother intervened: "Remember to flush and wipe yourself well down there."

The first floor was monotonous: dark doors surrounded by the white walls and black skirting boards at the bottom. While there was life outside, inside here, a boredom reigned that could kill anyone who ventured into it.

Flint first went left, toward the room with the tower. He pushed open the door, and disappointment immediately spread across his face: an unfurnished room with only dusty boxes. Stealthily, he entered with his heart pounding wildly — God help him if Mrs. Greenwich or his mother caught him loitering in there. What would his mother do if...

His eyes caught something unexpected, something decidedly unusual for a room like this: a package of diapers. They were DryNites pull-ups for girls aged 6 to 8 years. Why does Mrs. Greenwich have these DryNites packages? Does she have daughters? Or granddaughters?

He studied them from every angle, and the urge to take one and put it on began to pulse in his veins. Even though they weren’t technically actual diapers, these pull-ups had a certain allure. The princely design on the front, the soft pastel pink colors, and the tear-away bands were different from those on regular diapers. I have to take one. She’ll never notice.

He looked around and spotted a similar bag in the distance, moving toward it to inspect it. Part of him wanted to scream with joy — he was holding a pack of DryNites pull-ups for boys aged 9 to 12. It couldn’t be true, what his eyes were telling his brain. Moreover, it was half-open, so taking one would be easy.

Now or never! You're coming home with me too!

In the bathroom, he quickly took off his pants and underwear, not wasting a second to slide his feet into the two openings and pull them up to his waist — the heart of those special pull-ups. Plastic, but soft and reassuring. He shivered for a brief moment before his lower regions started feeling the usual warmth he got from regular underwear.

He enjoyed every second. An embrace, even though it was just him in that little room.

He did his business in the toilet, scrubbed his soapy hands thoroughly, and dressed as if nothing had changed. Now he could go back to his mother and Mrs. Greenwich. He flushed the toilet.

He hid the pull-ups, still faintly smelling, in the front pocket of his hoodie and left. No one would ever smell that stench, not even if they were glued to him.

Walking with that "diaper" on was almost like walking with a normal pair of big-kid underwear. The front part, designed to absorb pee, pressed the little thing against his skin as if it were pulling it. It was a tolerable pain, as long as he stayed still, everything would pass.

In fact, as soon as he sat next to his mother, Flint was finally able to relax. What were the chances of finding an open package of diapers, stealing one, and putting it on without any adult noticing?
---
Mary Greenwich noticed something unusual in the room behind her. The door was wide open, but nothing seemed to have been shifted even a millimeter or moved out of place. The last time she had been in there, she had taken out some nighttime diapers for little Greg, her nephew.

The pack of DryNites was open, and it appeared to have been moved recently, as if someone had taken one and tossed the rest back where they’d been found. No, it couldn’t have been him; he hated being forced to wear protection to avoid wetting his bed. Besides, she hadn’t seen him since last Christmas, the last time his family had invited her to spend time together.

She counted the unused diapers: four. Last time, there had been five — one was missing.

Her mind rewound to just a few hours earlier, when Samantha’s son, Flint, had gotten up from his chair to use the bathroom on the same floor as the other room.

She did the math — Flint should have taken only four or five minutes to return to her and his mother. Instead, he took eight.

When he came back, he seemed nervous, though relieved at having emptied his bladder. His back was straight, his smiles were strained, and his eyes darted around the room. Not to mention that the front of his pants looked slightly bulkier and smoother than they had when he first arrived.

That’s where the missing pull-up had gone. A flood of questions overwhelmed her, with no answers that could justify such a sneaky and nonsensical act from a nine-year-old. What had driven him to commit such a theft? Why a diaper, of all things? Why had he put it on, knowing he risked being caught by her or even his own mother?

She picked up the pack of DryNites and carried it out of the room. She decided to store the diapers elsewhere to keep them from collecting dust and potentially becoming a health hazard for any child who might need them.

A nine-year-old who still wants to wear a diaper… that’s a new one.

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Author: FreezMilo
Timestamp: Feb 8, 2025 at 1:33 PM
Content: 2
“Well, what did you think of her?”

His mother sat at the other end of the table, sipping hot tea from a pale pink cup. Flint could tell from her curious expression that she was eager to hear his thoughts about Mrs. Greenwich.

He set his pen down on the notebook, pausing the homework he could have finished hours earlier before running errands with her. Regardless, the homework had to get done, and when didn’t matter much. He would have still come home wearing a diaper. He’d be in his room staring at it in the mirror in absolute silence if he had gotten ahead of things earlier!

“She seemed… very confident,” he replied hesitantly. “Also nice and funny.”

His mom brought the cup to her lips and took a sip. “Good, very good. I’m glad to hear that. So you’re telling me I can feel at ease if I leave you in her care.” She quickly moistened her lips with her tongue. “I didn’t ask you, but was it hard to find the bathroom?”

That question didn’t faze him—at least, not at first. He gave a vague answer, telling her that before he went to the bathroom, he’d approached the door to the “tower room” and, seeing there was no toilet inside, turned back and found it. He added jokingly that if he had been wearing a diaper, he might have just gone right then and there without anyone noticing.

He braced himself for her inquisitive look fixed on him and, following that, a barrage of questions that would make him regret his little comment. The fear faded when he saw his mom laugh softly, and then he joined her.

“Thank goodness you don’t wear them anymore,” his mother replied happily. “You were impossible to keep still and change. Not to mention when you had to go to the bathroom—you did everything you could to avoid it.”

Flint chuckled, amused. It was partly true that potty training had been the most difficult task his mom had ever faced. Days when she had to give up, days when she celebrated small victories, and joyful moments when he managed to stay dry for an entire day. His heart warmed—not for those past years, but for the diapers he had worn and felt on his skin. The same sensation he felt at that very moment.

“Mom!” he exclaimed, embarrassed, blushing more than he needed to. “I’m grown up now and wear big kid underwear!”

“I know, which is why I’m so happy that you’re my little man!” she replied affectionately. “I still have to prepare myself for the day I see you with a beard. I’ll make sure you don’t wear it the way your father does!”

“What’s wrong with it?” he asked, slightly offended. Flint liked his dad’s beard: dark red, long like a Viking’s, and carefully groomed.

“It’s awful to look at!” she joked, pretending to be annoyed. “I don’t even know what his chin and neck look like anymore!”

While his mom prepared dinner, Flint worked hard to finish all his homework for the next day and convince her to make spaghetti Bolognese instead of her “lasagna.” He wondered if she was doing it on purpose, as punishment for sharing his opinion. He hadn’t insulted her in front of a stranger! Why make him suffer through the ten, almost eleven, longest minutes of his life?

Once dinner was ready, his mother ordered him to go to the bathroom to wash his hands.

As he entered the bathroom, Flint remembered he had a diaper under his pants and hadn’t gone to the bathroom since he’d come home. The last time he’d peed was at Mrs. Greenwich’s house. Could it be that…?

Without letting useless paranoia get to him, he pulled down his pants and stood on the toilet seat. The horizontal mirror in front of him revealed his blue DryNites, sagging down. Another thing that terrified him was the white patches with a yellowish tint.

Flint couldn’t believe his eyes: he had peed and hadn’t even realized it! He had wasted, as if nothing had happened, his only diaper because of his carelessness and naïveté. I’m in big trouble! Hours earlier, he had promised himself he would never use it, and now he had to pretend nothing was wrong to avoid raising his mom’s suspicions.

A few moments later, his thoughts and fears scattered in all directions as he saw the small red mountain rising on his plate. He grabbed his fork, twirled it in the pasta, and devoured it. Juicy, soft, and slightly spicy. She had probably added a pinch of seasoning to enhance the flavor.

“Is it good?” his mom asked as she placed her plate on the table.

“Delicious, Mom!” he replied enthusiastically and started working to clean his plate until it shone.

“Eat slower, speedster!” she scolded him gently. “I don’t want you to choke!”

Luckily, that didn’t happen. Flint took thirty, almost forty, seconds to gobble it all down. He would have eaten another plate if there had been more spaghetti to devour. His mom finished her portion, saying she wouldn’t add spices the next time she made them.

At one point, Flint grabbed his plate and cutlery and placed them in the sink next to the gas stove. Instinctively, he glanced at her and noticed she was watching his pants. He decided to act indifferent to her focused and suspicious look and returned to his seat. His heart raced wildly, and the fear of her asking him questions crept into his mind.

His mom shook her head quickly, drank the last drop of water in her glass, and squinted at him.

Flint had the impression she was pointing a sword at his throat. Every time he got into trouble, his mother gave him that look before scolding him with a firm, decisive, booming voice. All he could do was sit in his chair and let her do the rest.

His mom straightened her back and leaned against the chair. In a hesitant voice, she asked, “Flint, why is your… uh, butt big?”

The boy dragged his gaze downward with immense difficulty, only now realizing that the front was also more prominent than usual. If only his body had warned him…

“W-what, Mom?” he stammered. “What do you mean big?”

She sighed, tired, and rested a hand on her forehead. She needed to get him to talk—scaring or judging him would end the conversation for good. She reflected for a moment, then said, “I’m not sure. It looks wider and… flatter. I don’t know if I’m explaining myself.”

Flint swallowed nervously. In his head, he cursed the DryNites he was wearing. He nodded but said nothing.

She continued in the same tone. “Today at the supermarket, I saw a mom and a little boy—maybe three or four years old. I want you to focus on him for a moment. He was wearing a hoodie and jeans. Just below his small waist, the jeans took on a defined shape: at the front, there was a sort of rounded point going down, and at the back, a kind of curved cushion from top to bottom.

“Now let’s talk about you. Right now, your pants have those same shapes. I want to ask you one more question before finishing this conversation: do you know what the boy I mentioned was wearing under his pants?”

Flint tried to stay calm but failed. He was breathing anxiously, knowing his mother was close—if not about—to uncover the wet diaper stuck to his skin. Stammering, he replied, “A-a… a d-diaper.” He felt tears forming, but he wasn’t ready to release them.

“Exactly,” his mother said firmly. Her tone grew darker as she concluded: “I’m certain, no—sure—that you’re wearing one right now. I don’t need you to tell me, I know. I have two questions: why are you wearing one, and where did you find it?”

The tears started to fall relentlessly, streaking his cheeks. He had been caught, his secret brought to light, and he had done nothing to keep it away from his mother’s inquisitive gaze.

All this for a stolen diaper. Stolen!

The first thing Flint did was close his eyes in shame. Seeing his mother’s disappointed and disgusted face hurt—a lot. It burned more than the cuts on his knees from a few days earlier. He felt vulnerable, defenseless, with a thousand eyes on him. A defendant on trial.

His voice broke. Nothing could hold him back now. The weight on his shoulders had to be let go; he had resisted long enough. “I found it in a room at Mrs. Greenwich’s house… There was an open pack, and… and I took one. Mom, I’m sorry.” Sobbing, he covered his face with both hands.

His mother let him cry for a few minutes in complete silence, then asked him in a calm, reassuring voice, “Did you… did you use it, sweetheart?”

Flint re-established eye contact with her, then nodded sincerely.

“Go take a shower,” she said in the same gentle tone. “I’ll take care of that thing, okay?”

He nodded again, stood up, and walked slowly toward the door. A whirlwind of emotions filled him, along with a deep sense of confusion. His red, teary eyes met hers. Through a sob, he asked, “Y-you’re not… mad?”

She smiled at him and gave a small nod forward. “Go,” she was telling him, “go clean yourself up.”

Flint left the room, wiping his eyes with the sleeves of his hoodie. He learned that actions have consequences.---
It had been years since she last tucked him in. Samantha felt her heart warm as she wrapped her son under the blankets, just like when he was much smaller. After all, he was her baby, and he would still be even when he turned eighteen, twenty-five, or forty.

Flint, however, saw that moment differently. He avoided her gaze every time their eyes met and ignored the questions she asked him.

“Did you dry your hair?”

Silence.

“Did you brush your teeth?”

More silence.

“Did you go pee?”

This question, however, made him blush, and he turned toward the wall.

Sitting at the side of the bed, Samantha looked thoughtfully at her son for a brief moment. She didn’t understand why he was giving her the silent treatment. From her point of view, he should have been mortified and apologizing to both her and Mrs. Greenwich for stealing that diaper. Why are kids so stupid sometimes?

After two minutes, the silence started to get on her nerves. “Flint, turn around.”

“No,” he replied firmly.

Samantha raised her voice, making it harder. “Flint, you can’t ignore me forever. When Mom says something, you need to listen and do what you’re told. Whether you like it or not.”

Annoyed and feeling a twinge of guilt, the boy turned back toward his mother. “Can you let me sleep now?”

“No,” she said decisively, “until we clear this up, you’re not closing an eye!”

Flint huffed and sat up. He stared his mother straight in the eyes and began speaking with a voice both sincere and hurt: “Clear up what, Mom? I stole a diaper, I put it on, and I used it! It made me feel good, okay?! I liked not worrying about going to the bathroom and having underwear I could play with without ever stopping!”

“You liked wearing a diaper?” she asked, surprised. “Flint, you’re nine years old! Kids your age don’t wear diapers! Do you hear yourself when you talk?”

“Yes!”

“Don’t you think this excuse makes no sense?”

“Yes!”

Samantha’s eyes widened, and she was at a loss for words. “What?”

“It does make sense!” Flint replied, tired, then he sighed. “At least, it does to me.” He paused briefly, glancing around. “Do you know why I get so mesmerized when we pass the diaper aisle at the store? Because I like them; I love the little drawings. They’re cute and beautiful! Plus, I can pee in them without stopping and going to the bathroom.”

Samantha ruffled his curly hair. It was the first time he affirmed his feelings so clearly, and it frightened her. It was undeniable proof that Flint was growing up far too quickly. It had taken her months, almost a year, to teach him to use the toilet; now he was telling her that he wanted to go back, to regress.

Moreover, Flint wasn’t a spoiled child and always behaved well. A model student, always polite and well-mannered with everyone, especially adults. She was raising him well, but maybe too well. But was she raising him the right way?

She questioned herself but found no answers.

“Listen,” she spoke gently and tucked the blankets around him again, “I know growing up is hard. Before long, you’ll start experiencing new things and becoming a grown-up, just like Dad. Today has been a... long day, full of surprises. We’re both tired, and it’s better to talk about this tomorrow. Calmly and honestly. Close your eyes and have sweet dreams. No matter what happens, I’m here. Always.”

“So, you’re not mad because I peed in a diaper?”

“I’m afraid I am, young man,” she chuckled. “Now try to sleep. It’s late, and you have school tomorrow.”

“Okay, Mom. Will you pick me up?”

“No, tomorrow you’ll be with Mrs. Greenwich all day.” Samantha kissed his forehead and turned off the lamp on his nightstand. “Goodnight, Flint.”

As she walked away, the boy’s voice made its way through the dark and reached her ears: “Goodnight, Mom!”

“Sweet dreams.” It was the last thing she said before she gently closed the door.

I wonder if Mary is awake right now, Samantha thought. Some advice wouldn’t hurt.

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Author: FreezMilo
Timestamp: Feb 8, 2025 at 1:34 PM
Content: 3
Amidst the mass of smaller and larger children around him, Flint tried not to get swept away by the wave of joyful screams that nearly drove him insane. He covered one ear to stay alert, scanning for Mrs. Greenwich.

Two buses were parked in their designated yellow horizontal spaces, half-faded against the dark gray asphalt. Several groups of peers began cutting across his path mercilessly, causing him to stagger left and right until he finally stopped at the curb, in the invisible space separating the two buses.

Great, now I’m stuck here! He didn’t need to turn around to confirm his unfortunate situation. The intermittent chatter continued to torment his eardrums, so he covered the other ear as well. Finally, he turned back and watched the herd of kids disperse to the sides.

Four minutes later, Flint finally decided to search for Mrs. Greenwich. Most of the children had boarded the school buses, and the road was back to being somewhat manageable and accessible. Was it too much to ask for people to leave calmly without turning into wild beasts to reach their parents or the bus?

"Is it like this every day?" he asked her as soon as they met.

"If you survive this every day, you’re a legend!" he replied, catching his breath after the short but intense run he had made to reach her. "Mom hates picking me up from school because of this."

"What about taking the school bus?" Mary Greenwich raised an eyebrow with her warm smile.

"It doesn’t pass near my house," Flint admitted bitterly. "Mom says there aren’t enough kids in our neighborhood who need the bus."

Lunch was delicious. Mrs. Greenwich’s lasagna Bolognese far surpassed his mom’s, and his taste buds were unprepared for such a long and incredible journey. Flint would have eaten more until he burst.

Before clearing the table, Mary stopped him from taking his dishes to the sink. "We’ll clean up later; I want to show you something and make you a proposal."

Flint remembered the first floor of the house well. To the left, there was the tower room with a ton of boxes where he had found the diapers; to the right, two rooms and the bathroom. One was her bedroom, and the other had been locked when he walked past it the day before. (He had wanted to investigate, but his thoughts had been on the plastic underwear he was clutching in his hands.) They stopped in front of that door.

"It’s locked," he commented offhandedly. "Did you want to show me a locked door?"

The woman laughed, amused. "No, silly! What I want to show you is behind the door. This morning, your mom called me and said you wet the diaper you secretly took yesterday, which gave me an idea."

She turned the brown handle and gently pushed the door open. Behind it was a dark, empty room with four bare walls, dimly lit by the light coming through the window.

Flint looked disappointed. He stood at the threshold for a few seconds, then returned to the bare hallway. Why did her house have a completely empty room? What did this have to do with his desire to wear a diaper again? What was going on?

"Here’s my proposal," she began with a confident tone. "I’ll let you wear a diaper when you’re here if you help me reorganize the room across the hall. It’s been like this for too long, and I’d like to turn it into something useful. Like an office or..."

"Or a playroom!" Flint eagerly interrupted, his eyes bright and intensely fixed on her. "You could put a changing table there! What an idea! An office with a play area and a changing table! What do you think, Mrs. Greenwich?"

He looked between the empty room, the tower room, and back to the empty room three times. He squinted at her as if trying to see her better. She seemed conflicted, or there was something about his idea that didn’t entirely convince her. For a moment, Flint thought he had gone too far and let his imagination run wild.

"Don’t... don’t you like the idea?" he stammered.

"It’s actually a great idea," Mary replied slowly, running a hand over her chapped lips. "I’m afraid I don’t have a changing table. But the rest is doable."

"Can’t it just be a table?"

"What?"

"A changing table is just a table with diapers and cleaning supplies on it, isn’t it?" Flint reasoned aloud. "If you had to change me, for example, where would you do it?"

Mary thought for a moment. "In the bathroom. Where are you going with this, Flint?"

"Until you get one, a table works fine as a changing table."

She shrugged, still unconvinced. "Well, it’s only temporary, after all. So it’s decided: a room for relaxing and changing diapers!"

Flint looked perplexed. "Relaxing? Wasn’t it supposed to be for playing?"

Mary smiled. "Of course, it’s for that too! What do you say we get to work? Lots of boxes mean lots of work to do!"
---
Half an hour later, the two had moved half the boxes, stacking them to avoid taking up the little space the room had. At the start of the project, Mary told the boy the boxes were light, and if one fell, he wouldn’t have to worry about breaking anything, fragile or not. This reassured him greatly.

Flint couldn’t help but notice a sealed package of DryNites for girls on top of a half-empty box. It must have been the same package he had touched the day before. The crinkling, rustling sound of the packaging felt like a joyful melody to his ears. When would she let him wear one? After they finished organizing the room? During the break? As soon as he asked her?

Now they were in the kitchen, having a drink but mostly resting for a moment. The clock on the wall showed exactly 3 PM. Flint guessed that if they went back to moving the remaining boxes immediately, they’d finish by 5 PM. Would that turn out to be correct?

And not only that—the contents of those boxes captured his attention in a way he never expected to experience in his life. The thrill of opening one of the many packages of diapers hidden inside was impossible to ignore, like the incessant ticking of the clock in the room.

"What are you thinking about?" Mary asked curiously, breaking the silence.

The question caught him off guard. The gears in his brain jammed at that moment, and all his thoughts converged on Mary’s question. She must have seen him so lost in his world that he wasn’t paying attention to anything around him.

"I’m thinking about a lot of things," he replied cautiously, without taking his eyes off the little container. He thought about the open boxes, then the DryNites he had brought home. "Why do you have packages of diapers in those boxes?"

"Before I retired, I was a child psychotherapist. My work focused on kids who still wore diapers. Kids who needed help managing their emotions and their... their needs," Mary replied in a somber voice. "I didn’t want to throw them away, nor did I want to donate them to a daycare or hospital, so I kept them."

Flint imagined children like him and older kids wearing diapers. Was he the only one in the world who wanted to wear them, even though he didn’t really need to? Why did he have this desire? Were there others like him?

"I-I..." he stammered uncertainly and then stopped.

"You what?" Mary encouraged him gently. "Whatever you want to tell me or ask, I won’t judge you."

The boy took a deep breath and drank some water. Come on, Flint... One. Two. Three. His cheeks turned a deep shade of red. "I-I’d like... I’d like to wear one."

Mary frowned, as if she didn’t understand. "Could you be clearer, please?"

"I’d like to wear a diaper," he admitted nervously. "Please?"

Mary’s usual warm and reassuring smile appeared on her face. "Do you want one now or later? I was planning to suggest it after we finished organizing the room."

Flint opened his mouth in surprise, then closed it as if to think. He jumped up from his chair and said, trying to contain the joy coursing through his veins, "What are we waiting for, Mary? Let’s go finish organizing that room!"
---
"Which one do you prefer?"

Flint's heart was racing, and he struggled to believe what had just happened in the past hour. The boxes were gone, toys were scattered everywhere, and an armchair had been placed in the corner that everyone outside mistook for a tower. Before they sat down on the floor, Mary laid out a soft mat and pulled some items from a box left at the room's edge, which Flint quickly realized were hygiene-related products. Alongside them were two blue diapers.

"They look identical," Flint observed, puzzled. "The superhero is the same on both. What's the difference?"

"The first one is a classic diaper, and the other is a hybrid between underwear and diapers," Mary explained, pointing first to the one on the left, then to the one on the right. "Since you've already tried the second type, I'd suggest the first one this time. That way, you can compare the pros and cons of both."

Flint gave her a questioning look. "Isn't that the kind they put on babies and toddlers?"

"More or less," she replied with a hint of humor. "Diapers weren't designed for a specific age group, but for people who struggle to tune into their body's needs."

"Am I one of those people?"

A brief silence followed. Flint could sense a moment of hesitation in Mary Greenwich's expression. Her strained smile made him slightly uneasy for a few seconds, until she started speaking again in her usual reassuring tone: "For many, wearing diapers again is a way to feel secure and achieve inner peace with themselves. The reasons vary from person to person. Why do you want to wear one?"

"I like the designs, and I don't have to worry about getting up and going to the bathroom," Flint admitted with complete honesty. "And also, feeling wet on my skin is like being in a pool."

"Interesting," Mary remarked, nodding thoughtfully. "I think I understand which diaper you'd prefer: the one with tabs. It absorbs more and fits better to your body. What do you say?"

Flint jumped to his feet, overjoyed. "Yes! I want it!"

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Author: FreezMilo
Timestamp: Feb 8, 2025 at 1:35 PM
Content: 4
Flint turned around, surprised. "What, Mom?"

She let out a small nervous laugh as she removed her brown trench coat. Once she had hung it on the coat rack, she approached him and knelt down to his level. Her face was caught in an expression of uncertainty, but she smiled nonetheless. "Do you need to be changed, sweetheart?"

So, his ears hadn’t deceived him. His mother had just asked him, for the second time, if he was wearing a diaper and whether he had wet or soiled it. Flint wondered when was the last time she’d asked him such a question. Years ago, probably.

He shook his head, hesitating. "No… No, Mom."

"Are you sure?" she asked, suspiciously. "I won’t be mad if you had an accident. I just want to make sure you’re clean. I hate when you walk around with a dirty diaper for more than a minute."

Flint thought carefully before speaking. He’d spent the afternoon sitting down doing homework, running back and forth, and drawing under Mrs. Greenwich’s watchful eye. A glass of water and thirty minutes of fun had been the perfect ingredients to claim three clean diapers—four if he counted the one he was wearing under his jeans.

It had to still be dry.

"Really," he replied sincerely, "I don’t need to be changed. I don’t even have to go!"

"Let me take a look then."

His mother unbuttoned his blue jeans and carefully slid them down to the floor. Then, she lifted his sweatshirt slightly and examined the diaper. She was surprised to see he was wearing one of those white-and-blue diapers she’d seen in the supermarket flyer days ago. The yellow line on the front, serving as an indicator, was still pristine.

"Good job, my little boy!" she praised him proudly, as if he had won a prestigious award. "If you feel the need to run to the bathroom and don’t want to have an accident, come find me. I’ll take it off for you and put it back on afterward. How does that sound?"

Flint raised an eyebrow. Instinctively, he pressed his lips together. He found it strange to hear his mother offer to help him as if he weren’t capable of sitting on the toilet and doing his business. Besides, he wanted with all his heart to wear the diaper and use it for its intended purpose. Keep dreaming, Mom!

"O-okay," he pretended to be unsure. "And what if I have an accident and don’t notice?" He wanted to hear her say that. He wanted confirmation that he had officially returned to wearing diapers.

"Don’t worry," she reassured him as she pulled his jeans back up to his waist, "I’ve changed you and cleaned your bottom countless times. Diapers are also used by people who forget the bathroom even exists."

Flint etched that sentence into his mind. Even if it wasn’t his case, accidents could happen. But would he really forget the existence of the bathroom if he started wearing diapers again?

"Before I forget," his mother resumed with a teasing tone, "there’s a little surprise for you in the car. Do you want to see it now, or would you prefer I show it to you before bed?"

What kind of question is that, Mom? Of course I want to see it now! His embarrassed expression turned into a wide, excited smile. "Now, Mom! Please!"

"Then go to the living room, sweetheart," she said, pleased. "Since it’s a surprise, I want you to cover your eyes and wait until I say so!"

Flint obeyed. He jumped onto the couch with his palms over his eyes. The metallic creak from the couch caused by his padded bottom landing didn’t distract him from staring into near-total darkness. All he had to do was wait for his mom. I can’t wait to see what she got me!

She returned a few minutes later, accompanied by a plasticky, heavy sound.

Flint’s ears perked up immediately, and it didn’t take him even a moment to realize that the surprise was what he had been longing for. He didn’t need confirmation—at least, that’s what his racing heart told him.

"Now, you can open your eyes!"

The warm light of the chandelier disoriented him for a moment, and a blurred blue rectangle sat in the center of the rug. Flint squinted, then focused.

It was the pack of diapers he had seen at Mrs. Greenwich’s house!

Instinctively, he covered his mouth with his hands and let out muffled squeals of joy. It’s really them! Flint jumped off the couch, ran to hug his mother, and showered her with endless kisses. The happiness he felt didn’t need words.

"Thank you, Mom! Thank you!"

"Don’t thank me," she said, surprised. "I just want you to be happy, and if… if wearing diapers makes you happy, I don’t see why I should oppose it." Her voice wavered, as she hadn’t imagined saying those words all at once.

"So I can wear them all the time?" he asked hopefully. "Right?"

"More or less," she replied, lifting him onto her shoulder. "As long as you behave at home, do well in school, and get good grades, I’ll buy them for you and put them on you."

Flint’s eyes lit up. "Will you put them on me for school too?"

His mother shook her head firmly. "No, absolutely not! Only at home with me or with Mrs. Greenwich. Those are my conditions—what do you say?"

Flint glanced back at the pack of diapers, this time hesitating about what to say. He thought for a moment. The conditions were fair and reasonable, so refusing such an offer would have been foolish. And he wasn’t foolish.

"I say they’re perfect!" he exclaimed. "Thank you, Mom… Thank you! I’ll be the best kid in the world!"

She couldn’t help it; she burst into a loud laugh. "Just being good is enough, little rascal. And being good doesn’t cost a thing."

Flint smiled and, like a good boy, agreed with her.
---
As soon as they finished clearing the table, his mother announced, slightly tired: "I’m going to take a shower."

"Okay, Mom," Flint replied, heading toward the kitchen door. "Can I play video games?"

She glanced at the clock, her expression turning sad. "Maybe another night, Flint. It’s nine o’clock, and you’ll have to go to bed soon. Why don’t you grab that coloring book and color something?" She furrowed her brows and pressed her lips together.

Flint sighed, disappointed. Now that he was wearing a diaper, he wanted to take full advantage of it for a long gaming session without ever pausing to go to the bathroom. He wondered how many races he could complete, how many tournaments he could win, and how many new characters and vehicles he could unlock. In an hour, maybe even thirty minutes, anything was possible! "So that’s a no?"

Before disappearing, his mother shot him a firm "yes." Seeing her, Flint felt the blood in his veins freeze suddenly. Mom has decided, and I can’t change her mind.

He found himself on the living room carpet, lying on his stomach, coloring a forest with rigid, geometric lines. The trees were made of rectangles, including the trunks and canopies. The only part that didn’t fit with all those straight black lines was the grass, curves ending in sharp points. If he had drawn it himself, he probably wouldn’t have made such a mess.

I’ll make this tree blue and that one red. He grabbed the blue marker and put it to paper, then did the same to the one next to it, but with red. It’s coming out great!

Ten minutes later, the white page had given way to the colors of night, autumn, and spring; the sky was as dark as space, filled with countless fine white dots. Flint had colored an untouched natural world on another planet, where the typical green pigmentation had been completely replaced by blue and light blue. For obvious reasons, he called his drawing: "The Blue World."

He heard footsteps approaching behind him, like small drumbeats. He set the marker down and looked over his shoulder. His mother, her hair still wet, was bending down next to him, her gaze fixed on the colored page of the book.

"Did you color all of this?" she asked, amazed at his work. "It’s beautiful, sweetheart!"

"Thanks," he replied, relaxed. "Do you want to know what I called it? The Blue Planet."

His mother raised an eyebrow. "But it’s a forest, Flint. Why planet?"

He smiled proudly before answering. "This is just part of the planet. I read in the anthology book that planets in space are typical settings for science fiction stories. I read one at school where a group of scientists landed on an orange planet like Mars."

"Instead of making it that color, you chose blue, didn’t you?"

Flint nodded. "Do you like it?"

It was her turn to smile. "Do I like it? Sweetheart, I love it!"

His cheeks flushed; without realizing it, he had made his mom happy and done what she’d suggested. If it was so easy to be a good kid, it must be just as easy to make people happy. At least, making them smile didn’t take much.

"But tell me something," his mom suddenly started, "when was the last time you went to the bathroom?"

"Um… today at school," he answered, surprised.

"Not even at Mrs. Greenwich’s?"

He shook his head. "No, not even once."

His mother chuckled for a moment, then looked at her son’s big bottom, raising his pants slightly and studying the back of the diaper. White and spotless. She had expected to see something else but was relieved that, for now, it hadn’t come to that.

"Mom, what are you doing?" Flint blurted out, annoyed. "Why—"

"I’m checking if my little boy needs a clean diaper." Unbothered, his mother helped him to his feet, slipping her hands under his armpits and then turning him until their eyes met. "I bet this little rascal has gone pee," she said teasingly, pulling down his pants.

Flint was struck by an immediate wave of embarrassment that painted his face red. Instinctively, he covered the diaper with both hands. Why was his mom checking it without explicitly saying so? He felt slightly betrayed and vulnerable.

"Just as I thought," she teased smugly. "My little Flint had a pee-pee and didn’t say anything. Good thing I know my little rascal!" She imitated the clucking of a hen, which made him burst out laughing.

Flint glanced down at the diaper he was wearing: swollen, yellowed, and with no line left to indicate it was dry. Oops! I guess… I forgot to go to the bathroom! Hahaha!

Suddenly, his mother grabbed him by the legs and hoisted him onto her shoulder like a sack of potatoes. "Next stop, a clean diaper for Flint! All aboard, young man!"

He kept laughing the whole short trip to his bedroom. He couldn’t wait to feel the dry, secure embrace of a nice, clean diaper against his skin.
THE END

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Author: FreezMilo
Timestamp: Feb 19, 2025 at 12:00 AM
Content:

BedwetterChad365 said:

What a great story I enjoyed reading it

[End of quote]

Thank you so much!