The Weekend Visit, Part 55

Ever the manipulative girl, Kate didn’t answer right away. To pretty much every adult, she was an innocent angel; she only showed her true colors to friends and relatives closer to her own age.

In the silence, I tried to voice my own opinion, only to be shut down right away. I wasn’t the one who had been asked; Kate was.

I was pretty sure I knew what she was going to say after pretending to deliberate. After all, she wouldn’t have brought up the idea of me staying if it wasn’t what she wanted. It didn’t fully make sense to me. Why would Kate want to remove herself from my embarrassment? She was clearly amused by everything, save for when she acted all bossy and serious in response to my whining. Then again, she’d be able to get away with a lot less while our parents were around; maybe she was banking on Aunt Miranda, who had no patience for my immaturity.

Kate didn’t keep me or the others in suspense for very long. She glanced towards me for a moment, then addressed our parents. “Annie should stay here. She’s already tried and failed to get out of diapers at home. I think a new place will be good for her.” Kind of an echo of what our aunt said, but from a girl who knew me better than someone I hadn’t seen in years until this weekend.

From there, it was only a matter of figuring out the details.

Aunt Miranda talked about how the twins were going to be counselors for a day camp, and that I had already been invited along. She conveniently left out the part about how the plan was for me to attend as a camper, rather than assisting Luna and Lilah with their responsibilities. Our mother asserted that I should have told her about my accidents as soon as they became a regular occurrence. Kate reminded me that I needed to let someone know as soon as I needed to use the bathroom. Same thing with the diapers. “When you have an accident, make sure you tell someone immediately. We don’t want your diaper rash getting worse!”

Every time I found the courage to say something in my defense, it just sounded like I was an immature girl making excuses for my behavior. Between the fact that I had showed up in used diapers and Kate sharing with everyone that I had developed a bit of a rash from the hike, there was no convincing anyone that I didn’t need protection 24/7 until I could prove otherwise.

Our parents eventually pointed out that they still had a long drive ahead of them, and that Kate should go grab her bags. Just Kate; not me. Even so, she took my hand and said that I could come along and help her pack the last of her things. “Do you need to use the bathroom, Annie?” she asked, “You’re going to have to start asking your older cousins to take you while you stay with them.”

“No.” I shot my sister a frustrated glare, not knowing that it looked more like a bratty pout thanks to my current image. Without my nice outfits and mature enhancements, none of my usual gestures or expressions landed the way they were supposed to.

Kate just sighed. “I thought we talked about your attitude.” She gave an apologetic look to the others, then walked me out of the living room and back towards the stairs.

Reluctantly following her, knowing full well that making a scene would further prove that I was having trouble acting my age, I bit my tongue until we were in the guestroom we had been sharing all weekend. Then I exploded on her. “KATE.” Every time I had been shushed and cut off over the last ten minutes or so was another emotion I had bottled up; now that it was just the two of us, I needed to get everything out. “This isn’t fair! I don’t need diapers! I’m, like, not a little girl! This was just, like-” A dare? I hesitated, not quite sure how to proceed. It was still difficult to argue about all of this, now that I had used my diapers so many times. “This isn’t fair!” I reasserted, after drawing a total blank.

At first, Kate didn’t say anything. She just gave me the same disappointed look our mother had throughout most of the conversation downstairs. Then, after successfully making me feel self conscious about my totally justified outburst, she simply said, “Annie. How old are you?”

“I’m twelve-” the words slipped out of my mouth before I could stop them. Catching myself before saying the whole thing, blushing furiously at how responding with those phrases was yet another bad habit I had picked up over the last few days, I tried to correct myself, “I mean-”

“That’s right, Annie,” Kate smirked, “You’re twelve. As long as you’re in diapers, and acting like an immature brat. Do we need to go look in the mirror again? Last I checked, only self conscious tweens pad their bras and pretend to be older than they actually are.”

But, I was nineteen! Mortifying as this weekend had been, three days wasn’t enough to actually convince me I was as young as Kate was insisting I was. At the same time, I couldn’t bring myself to assert the truth. Diapers aside, I vividly remembered my reflection; I definitely looked more like a middle school girl than a college student. “But, like-”

“Annie, shush.” She stepped forward and pressed a finger to my lips, using her gaze to demand my own before belatedly reversing everything I had yelled about a minute ago. “You do need diapers. You are a little girl. Yes?”

Constant accidents all weekend, including wetting the bed last night and using my diapers on the hike. And physically, yes, I was quite little as I had to look up in order to maintain eye contact with my sister. With nearly no resistance, I gave a small nod of my head.

“That’s right,” Kate said, “You need diapers. You’re a little girl.” Then she wrapped her arms around me, pulling me in for a warm embrace. Lowering her voice now that she was positioned right next to my ear, she murmured, “Listen to your big sister, Annie. You need diapers. You’re a little girl.”

This time, I merely nodded against her shoulder, eyes watering at how Kate was comforting me for something that was entirely her fault. Well, kind of her fault. Well- I could only think so much as she repeated the phrase again and again as she held me. I was too flustered and confused to think about how this was a rather blatant and immature form of conditioning.

“You need diapers, Annie,” Kate said, “You’re a little girl. Say it, brat.”

“I need diapers,” I said, barely louder than a whisper. The padding between my thighs felt noticeably bulky as I forced the words out. “I’m a little- I’m- I’m a-” And then my emotional dam burst in an entirely different way. Completely unable to help it, I started crying.

“It’s okay, Annie,” Kate said. She held me tightly as I sobbed into her shoulder. “This is what you deserve. You’re a little girl. A diapered little brat. Right?”

Instead of nodding or weakly responding, my body decided to release more than just tears. Out of nowhere, I started wetting myself.