Lost

You're walking home from work. The night is still, and the air is cool. Hardly any cars are out tonight, but the same cannot be said for the people. Bigs and Littles alike pass you by on the streets. Some reek of tiredness, while others smell of loaded diapers.

You can’t tell who are padded up, and who aren’t. It’s common for Bigs to wear diapers to increase their efficiency at work. Some speculate that it’s a ruse for so-called ‘Diaper Lovers’, but many shrug it off as another peculiarity of modern society. After all, everyone does it.

After a while, you reach a more quiet part of town. You sigh, and feel pressure building in your lower stomach. If you were a Little, then you would have just filled up your diapers right there, but you weren’t. Being a Big means acting slightly more mature, after all.

Your eyes dart around, and you see the low-rise buildings giving way to dark alleys and back-way routes. Some establishments are still open, so you stay away from those. You don’t want anyone to watch you go potty. You wish you had a Little’s confidence.

You feel your tummy rumbling. Your legs grow weak as you run to a dark alley, lit by dim bulbs. A dumpster provided for good cover, for both your smell and your figure. You undo the buttons on your jeans and sprint to the blind spot. You lean against the brick wall, and...

...before you know it, the front and bottom of your crotch is surrounded in warmth. It’s soothing. As it swells up, you pull down your pants more, to let it all sag out. Even in the dim light, you can see white turn into bright yellow, and blue lines appearing.

You stop thinking for a moment. You let go. BRAAAP! Your bottom feels heavier now. And your tummy feels a lot better, too. You sigh, gently rubbing the front of your padding. Sweet relief. And to make it better, no one was watching. Or so you thought…
You hear shuffling footsteps nearby. You stay in the blind spot, smushing your diaper as you pull up your pants. Sobbing comes from the alleyway, and you can tell it’s from a Little. Oh dear. Your caretaker instincts kick in.

Stepping into the alley once more, your packed pamper showing a bit, you see a lady in a yellow dress, clutching a small teddy bear. Her clothes did nothing to cover up her diaper, which had a flower print. She was barefoot, sucking on her thumb anxiously.

You approach her slowly, and she turns to you. The Little lady runs to you, and starts hugging you tightly. “I--I’m scawed.” She quietly says, as you pat her back gingerly. You notice she has a backpack. There’s a nametag on it. In scrawly crayon, it spells out “Sally”.

You ask her where her house is. You hold her tight, and tell her you can bring her home. “I--I dunno.” She trembled, shaking her head. You look at the nametag, flipping it. On the back, some other information about her was printed out.

It definitely matched. Hair, blonde. Eyes, blue. Age, 24. Prisoner 19256. You blinked. There were rumors of criminals being ‘rehabilitated’ into Littles, but you shrugged it off as hearsay. Well, the ‘hearsay’ was staring you right in the face. And she was peeing herself, too.

You stroked her hair. You told her it was gonna be okay. Your hands reached her bottom, and you felt a warmth that matched your own diapers. You patted her pampers, and the sobbing stopped. She simply sucked on her thumb, neutralized. “I...I peed.” Sally was a little shocked.

It was her first accident, you figured. You told her to look at your pants, and pulled up your shirt, revealing the top of your heavy diapers. You told her it was okay. Everyone does it. She smiled, and you wiped the tears from her cheeks. Time to walk home, you say.

She pats your stinky, padded butt. “I fink we should get changies, too.” You smile at her, and hold her hand. She holds yours back, and you tell her to follow closely. “What if I gotta potty?” She asks you, tilting her head.

You tell her she’s a big girl, and she can go potty whenever she wants. As long as it’s in her diaper. You give her damp padding a hefty pat. She sheepishly nods her head, and you two walk home in the silent autumn breeze, warming yourselves with your diapers.