Leslie

Chapter 3
Part 3

Chapter Description: Leslie? Or Lessie now? This isn't fun for Leslie anymore... But the rest of us are enjoying it just fine >;3

It had been 13 days since the last shift, and Leslie still wasn’t used to this new set up. She still had her independence, she was still an adult; she just couldn’t control her bladder anymore. For some reason, now Leslie Moore was incontinent at 21 years old. No longer was there the question of “how sexy will I be today? Spunky boyshorts, or maybe tease the boys with my g-string?” but had become “Do I want more protection in my Cruisers, or do I want to make changing easier with my Pull-ups?” and she was still conflicted about how she felt.

Part of her was humiliated; she was an adult, she didn’t need diapers! But on the other hand, nobody else was here with her, and it wasn’t rare to find her feeling herself through the padding and enjoying it immensely. It was a strange prediciment (maybe that was an understatement), but this whole “diaper” thing wasn’t too bad when she was at home. The problem was the “going out” part. But she really couldn’t do anything about it until the next shift.

Well hopefully I can fix this as a kid, she thought grimly. She tried not to think about what would happen if it stayed like this.

This particular morning brought a pleasant surprise. When Leslie groggily opened her eyes, she was back in her little room, bright sun pouring in through the windows. She reached groggily to feel her Goodnite (a common practice since this past week), only felt something less comfortable and less arousing: wet fleece. She sat up and tossed her blanket black, exposing the big yellow circle in the middle of her white pony sheets as well as the big red patch in her pink sleeping pants. She was confused and started to tear up (feeling less bad about crying as a 6 year old), and then began bawling, wailing for her mommy.

Her mother came in with a worried expression, “Lessie, baby, what’s the matter? Oh, oh dear...” She said when she saw the spot, “Oh dear, let’s get you cleaned up, boo..” She picked Leslie up at that.

“But mommy! I... I... I’s suppose ta be a big giwl!” cried Leslie, calming down slightly. Her mother hushed and rocked her.

“It’s okay baby, it’s okay... You’ll get there. This was just an accident, you’re still a big girl. It’s just... Well, your body just isn’t used to being a big girl yet.. It’s okay though, Lessie, it’ll pass.” assured her mother. These words made Leslie go quiet, deeply confused. “All better, baby? Here, lemme put you down so I can get your bed stripped before this stains too bad...” And at that, Leslie found herself on the ground.

Surrounded by HUGE furniture.

“Mommy, I go change?” Leslie forced out. It was hard to speak, her tongue feeling sort of alien to her. Inside her head though, her thoughts were racing, going crazy with fear and panic at why everything was so big and about the things her mother said.

“Sure, baby. Maybe you should wear your Pull-ups today, just in case, okay Lessie?”

Leslie hesitated, then sighed to herself. “Otay, mommy.” Her voice was so high. She was pretty much already sure what was going on.

She went to her bathroom (somehow already knowing that the bright pink plastic package awaited under the sink), and found a stool up to her sink. She climbed it, and at the top got a good hard look at 2 and ? year old Leslie.

What is going on?! she thought, I spend two weeks as a diaper-clad adult, and then I shrink even MORE than usual? This whole shrinking thing makes no sense anyway, but for God’s sake, this is getting ridiculous!

She pulled off the pants and the underoos (Hannah Montana, letting her know that it was still the present day, she was just a baby now), and tossed them in the hamper. She then pulled a Pull-up out from under the sink and put it on. At least this felt a little more natural now, except for the “being a baby” part. In keeping with the typical pattern of these excursions back into childhood reverting to normal after a change, Leslie braced herself to become an adult with some sort of bladder issue at any moment.

But that moment never came. She expected any room to suddenly be normal sized and styled like her apartment, but it never came that day.

Nor did it come the next day.

Or 12 days after that.

Or the next 5 days after THAT.

Leslie had now spent 383 days as a 2 year old child in her entire life, and she did not enjoy it. She struggled to speak, to eat, to walk. Everything was so uncoordinated and strange to her. She used sippy cups, she wore overalls, she watched baby’s television programs. She was scared that this was her fate now, that the shifting had stopped for no reason, that she was doomed to grow up in this day and age now.... But on the plus side, her diapers were limited to nighttime use.

The irony, Leslie thought periodically, that 2 ? year old Lessie is better potty trained than 21 year old Leslie.

But every night, as baby Lessie lay down to sleep, sucking on her paci sometimes, the inner Leslie would feel such an amazing tingling feeling she thought no man would ever be able to make her feel.

She awoke on the 19th day bright and early, ready for The Wiggles and her bowl of oatmeal as had become the custom, but her bright pink walls were now a muted beige. She shot up and saw her reflection: 21 again! She was ecstatic! She WASN’T doomed to be a baby! What a joyous day!

Leslie reached down to her waistband on the sweat pants she had apparently worn to bed last night, and noticed a flatness to it. She swung out of bed and heard nothing! No crinkle, no diaper! She jumped up and down in happiness and celebration, but this was short lived when she felt heavy wool slapping her thighs. She looked down to discover her tan sheets and gray pants were indeed very wet.

Great, she thought flatly, well it was probably just cause of the shift. Whatever, I’m done with Goodnites and Pull-ups and diapers for the time being, that’s for damn sure! This didn’t start till I wore those Goodnites, so I think it’s about time I stop wearing for a bit till I can figure out just what the hell reality is playing at....

The next day, Leslie woke up as an adult again. And also wet.

The day after was the same story.

And the next day.

And the next day.

And the next day.

And even the day after that.

“Well, goddammit,” Leslie confided to her cat while changing her bedding for the 6th day in a row, looking up at the ceiling hopelessly, “I think I’m actually a bedwetter again.” She shot a glance at the open closet on the far side of the room.

That first pack of Goodnites was sitting there.

Mocking her.