Friday, 9 January 2015

6 - Christmas Lunch (Picture Story)


It had taken all of her willpower not to throw a fit when her father told her to go play in the yard, but somehow Tara had managed to restrain herself. They had degraded her enough already. She wasn't going to give them the satisfaction of making even more of a spectacle of herself. She wouldn't.

She'd barely said a word to her cousin, and the little she had said hadn't been wrong. This was so unfair!

Her predicament had begun earlier that afternoon, following a few choice comments she was currently regretting. It was Christmas Day, and every year Tara's extended family gathered at her grandparent's house (dad's side) to get re-acquainted with each other on the few days leading up to and including December 25. They all lived busy lives and were scattered all over the country nowadays, so everyone made an effort to get together for the one time of the year it perhaps mattered the most. It was a tradition that had been instated pretty much as soon as Tara's father and his two siblings had all left home. In Tara's seventeen years on the face of Mother Earth, her family had yet to miss a single Christmas at Gramma Jill's. They went up there for two or three days, went home Boxing Day, and that was that. The mere thought of missing those few days was sacrilege.

Well. It was sacrilege to her father.

If Tara was perfectly honest with herself, she hated the Christmas gatherings. In fact, she despised them. It wasn't that she didn't like her aunts or her grandparent; she got along quite well with all of them on the rare occasions she saw them. It wasn't the fact that it was a four hour drive to reach Gramma Jill's house, either, or that the turkey lunch her Gramma prepared every year was consistently terrible. It wasn't losing two or three days of her life that could be better spent doing pretty much anything else. It wasn't even a matter of her being anti-social. She lived on her phone's IM app.

No. It was May.

Tara had three cousins; two on Aunt Cassey's side (both considerably younger than her at 11 and 13) and one on Aunt Linda's. Linda's daughter, May, was sixteen, which you would think would be a godsend to a seventeen year old girl. She had company! Someone to socialise with! Someone to keep her sane in the face of the drudging, inescapable boredom that was tucked away in every nook and cranny of her grandparents' house! What could go wrong?

May was a retard. That was the problem. The first time Tara had used that term, back when she was too young to really comprehend the associated connotations, her father had not only physically cringed, she had been spanked.

"I don't ever want you to refer to your cousin that way again," she had been told sternly as she stood with her nose pressed in the corner of the living room, pants around her knees and sniffling weakly. "It's rude. How would you like it if I referred to you as 'the brat' all the time instead of Tara?"

She got the point, but that didn't make it any better.

May had been struck by a car while playing in her front yard at the age of five; after emerging from a week-long comma, she had just never developed any further mentally. She was perpetually stuck as a five year old in a maturing adult's body. Tara's father had tried to explain the scientific logic behind it to his daughter once, but it hadn't made any sense to her and she gave up quickly. Synaptic connections? Huh?

So why did she hate May? Shouldn't someone take pity on such an individual?

Well, it was because Tara was expected to play babysitter for those two or three days the family got together while the adults socialised, and quite frankly, May creeped her out more than the most disturbing horror films ever could.

There were lots of things about May that Tara found quite offputting - the full-blown temper tantrums when things didn't go her way, the babyish babble of a vocabulary, the obsessive interest in Dora the Explorer. Those were weird, but at the end of the day...well, whatever. Offputting was the worst they were. She could live with those for a few days. What she couldn't live with were the diapers.

May wore gigantic, comically-oversized diapers - whether it was because of the accident or for some other reason, Tara didn't know, and if she was honest, she didn't care. What she did know was that she had never seen diapers like that anywhere else in her life. They looked big enough to use as parachutes. Aunt Linda had never made her change those things, she was considerate enough not to leave her with that particularly duty...but she had certainly seen the her cousin fill them plenty of times, and she had seen them being changed too. That alone was enough to make her stomach heave and her gorge shudder. Who in their right mind actually wanted to experience something like that?

Not her other two cousins, that was for sure. Rachel and Dewey left May solely to her.

She had been patient. She had been calm. She only had to put up with her unfortunate cousin a few days a year, and really, it had only started to get really unnerving and bizarre as they got older and May developed into a young adult with the body to match. She tried to convince herself it really wasn't that bad. Every year, Tara did her best to entertain the girl. She played with the dolls. She joined in on the tea parties. She watched Dora. She did what her family wanted her to do and reassured herself with the fact it was only for a few days a year.

Year by year, though, she got a little less understanding. A little less supportive.

A little more frustrated.

A little more resentful.

Last year, she had finally cracked it at her overgrown infant of a cousin when she was asked for the umpteenth time to re-watch a certain episode of a certain cartoon. It was a moment that had been years and years in the making, and when it finally came, it came. There was screaming and tears. No, she would not watch anymore Dora the Clueless Fucking Moron of an Explorer. She would not play pretend with the dolls either. She would not. She was so over this!

For her efforts, her dad had spanked her for the first time in years, complete with a "Grow up, Tara!" thrown in for good measure. She wasn't sure which part of the reprimand was worse. She was the one who was meant to grow up? Had he not seen his fifteen year old niece crawling around on the filthy carpet, naked except for a My Little Pony singlet and a wet, sagging diaper drooping down around her knees?

This year, though, Tara had managed to contain herself...or so she thought, at least. She had been nice, she had played with her cousin's stupid dollies. She had watched the cartoons. She had done everything that was expected of a good little babysitter such as herself. It wasn't her fault that May hadn't been able to put up with her comments that were, really, the objective truth.

She was a drooling idiot, for example. It wasn't Tara's fault her cousin couldn't take a joke.

Unfortunately, May didn't quite see it that way, and had quite literally gone crying to her mummy.

"You said what to my baby?" Linda had thundered at Tara, her eyebrows practically merging together into a taut caterpillar of barely restrained fury. May sat awkwardly in her lap, sucking her thumb all while watching her older cousin with red-rimmed eyes; a bad comedy was blaring on the TV behind them, inserting it's sliver of joy and merriment into the conversation that quite frankly didn't need it.

"I was just teasing her," Tara had answered innocently. "We were playing. That's all it - "

 "You don't say things like that to a five year old and call it 'just playing,'" was the furious retort. "My word, 'just playing?' How can you - "

"She's sixteen!"

"I've had quite enough of this," her aunt said with a shake of the head. "You've been absolutely horrible to my daughter for years now and I'm sick of it. I understand she can be a handful, but I'd have thought you'd be a little more supportive. She's your family, Tara. You need to be taught a lesson, I've had enough. Wait here."

And with that, she'd placed May on the floor at her feet and left the room with no further comment.

"You in trouble now," May said with a slight giggle. The prospect of seeing her mean cousin get her dues had apparently banished any misery she might have felt all at once - her tears vanished and her face brightened in the blink of an eye. "Does your daddy spank you?"

"Don't you have a diaper to fill?" Tara had shot back, infuriated by the absurdity of the situation...and the very real possibility he might do exactly that. He had last year, hadn't he? The thought of him spanking his 17 year old daughter was incredulous...but when you got down to it, was it really that different to him spanking his 16 year old daughter?

She fumed quietly to herself while she waited for her aunt to return. So what if she made a few choice comments about her cousin's condition while they went about their annual Christmas routine? Surely she was owed a few choice comments after so many years of putting up with it quietly.

Linda was gone for a frighteningly long time, and when she finally came back, she had Tara's father with her.

She paled. "Dad, I - "

He was shaking his head. "I'm disappointed in you, girl," he said flatly. "I thought I got through to you about this last Christmas. I can totally understand not wanting the job, but to mock her? For this? What is wrong with you?"

 She tried again. "We were just playing and - "

He went on, heedless of her protests. "I don't want to hear another word from you, Tara. Stop. Linda and I want to propose something to you. I quite like it, and if you don't...well, too bad. You can say no, but if you do, you're going to be grounded all holidays. Got it?"

She had two months of holidays ahead of her. He couldn't be serious. "What? No! You can't just - "

"Do you want to hear it?" her dad cut her off.

She hesitated. "I guess..." she cautiously, sulkily agreed. Her disbelief with the way the day was shaping up grew. She was going to be punished? For this? Really?

In the end, though, how bad could it be? Surely it couldn't be worse than sitting in her room for so long with no phone, no friends, no TV. If it was a spanking, it'd be over in fifteen minutes and no one would have to know. It couldn't be that bad...

It was, though, because that was how Tara Fields spent Christmas Day in a diaper and an outfit straight from her cousin's wardrobe.


She could feel the eyes of her younger cousins drilling into the back of her head as she sat on May's play-mat; she didn't need to see through the back of the stupid hat she was wearing to know they were watching and laughing when they thought she wasn't looking. I guess I'd do the same in their position, she grudgingly thought to herself. I do look pretty ridiculous.

It didn't make the situation any more bearable. Cheeks burning, she tried to block the thought from her head as she got to her feet and hurried away. She could go around the side of the house and then she'd be out of sight. She could suffer quietly by herself there, and right now, she wouldn't have it any other way.

When her dad had first proposed the idea ("How about you spend some time in her shoes and see what it's like?" was how he'd phrased it), she had naturally given him an instant no. Nuh uh. No way. He could not pay her to do that, and she had told him exactly that in no uncertain terms. She was not wearing her cousin's clothes and using her cousin's diapers! She was 17, and unlike some of the people present in the room, she was well and truly above making a total fool of herself in such a way!

"Fine then," her dad had said with a shrug. "I honestly could not care less either way. You can spend the next eighty days holed up in your room. Don't think you'll be going anywhere that's not the toilet."

Cue moment of stunned disbelief.

Cue session of horrified begging.

Cue understanding of the fact she wasn't going to win this particular debate.

Cue the seven stages of grief.

When her aunt had gone away to fetch the outfit she would be wearing, Tara had expected her to come back with the worst of the worst. May had some truly horrific clothing in her wardrobe - there were onesies and overalls and frilly dresses and all manner of things that were social suicide for a seventeen year old. For all she knew, her aunt was expecting her to crawl around in a diaper and that was it. God knew May did that often enough. What Linda had actually returned with was almost bearable, if you ignored the hat and the diaper. The rainbow shirt she was given was something she could actually see herself in on a day-to-day basis; she couldn't say the same about the opaque tights that were going to show off her...her...'underwear,' but hey. She wasn't going to have to flash her boobs. That was something.

It got worse, though.

May had been harassing her mum for sweets earlier that morning, and Linda finally gave in not long after handing a disgruntled Tara her outfit. She gave her daughter a lollipop, apparently as some sort of payment for having to go through the 'meanness of [her] bigger cousin'. Tara had heard the conversation as she changed in the back room, and that alone had made fume, but it got worse when she returned to her family. After the obligatory "you look so cute in that outfit!" session that made her want to break teeth, Linda had decided that "we treat all the little children in this family equally," and proceeded to give the 17-year-old a lollipop too.

So now she was stuck sucking a fucking lollipop like a little kid, on top of everything else.

That was really it though, once that was done with. She'd been told that she was going to wear what she was wearing for the rest of the day, that her toilet was now taped between her legs...

...and then she had been promptly placed outside on May's play mat and forgotten about.

Well. Mostly forgotten about. Her younger cousins were having a ball seeing Mean Ol' Tara reduced to the level of their handicapped cousin.

Thankfully, she was under no obligation to put up with their not-so-subtle stares and giggles. She rounded the corner of the house and promptly collapsed on the grass, sprawling out on her gut and perfectly content to just lie there wallowing in her own misery. She could feel tears stinging at the rims of her eyes, and she angrily forced them back down with nothing more than raw willpower. She wasn't going to cry. She refused to. With absolutely nothing else to take her mind off the situation, Tara examined her prize, just as she had done repeatedly since she'd first been dumped on the lawn. What else was there to do?

The lollipop was the abnormally large kind, the sort that's meant to fill the entirety of your mouth and leave you gulping down sugary, technicolor drool by the tongue-load for an hour or so. They were something she generally associated with snot-nosed brats just like her cousin, and seeing as that was something she was actively trying to avoid right now, it became the focus of all her frustration. The only reason she hadn't chucked the damn thing yet was because she didn't know if her aunt and her dad were expecting her to eat it. It wouldn't be smart to piss them off anymore than she already had.

Seeing as she was in no rush to be seen by anyone, she was quite content to hold onto it and just stay clueless on this particular matter.

She sighed dramatically -

Woe is me, dear lollipop. Woe is me.

- and got comfortable in her grassy hollow, hoping no one would come looking for her and that she could just chill in the sun till the time came to leave. It was lucky that this was their last day at Gramma Jill's; if she'd been expected to put up with this for any longer than tonight, she thought she might scream.

The hours passed, and she remained undisturbed. Eventually, though, Tara came to the horrifying realisation that she had yet another problem, regardless as to whether or not she had company. It crept up on her slowly, gradually becoming worse and worse till she could no longer deny that she was about to be in a world of trouble.

She had to pee.

It was mid-afternoon, and the sun was beginning to cast long shadows across the lawn as she sat there pouting and squirming. This wasn't fair. It wasn't fair. What kind of father dressed their daughter up like an over-sized baby and made them piss themselves? What did she do to deserve this?

You bullied a mentally handicapped girl. 

She pushed the thought away. Now was not the time for guilt! It was the time for self pity and figuring out what to do!

Her bladder twinged, informing her that now was a very good time for that, in fact.

Ideally, she'd go beg her father to let her out of the monstrosity between her legs. Her free hand that wasn't holding the lollipop absently meandered it's way to her crotch and began to kneed the plastic there as she considered the idea. Maybe he'd let her. She wasn't particularly confident about that, but...maybe. If she showed up looking incredibly sorry for herself and made it clear that she had learnt her lesson, it was possible she might win him over. He wasn't a monster.

She was in the process of getting to her feet when she realised why that wouldn't work.

Linda.

He would be with Linda, and there wasn't a snowball's chance in hell Linda would hear a word of it. Not after she'd bullied the woman's precious 'baby.'

"Fuck," she said out loud and fell back on the grass. Her hands returned to the bulk between her legs and began to press into it yet again, not without a distinct edge of urgency. She hadn't done her business since early that morning. She was overdue.

So what am I meant to do, then? 

She could...'use' it.

Excuse me? She most certainly can not.

Her bladder was throbbing.

Tara had been spared the indignity of having someone else dress her up (although she had been assured she would not be responsible for her changes), and she knew there was absolutely no way she could remove her diaper without her dad knowing she'd done so. The tapes at her waist were strictly the one-time-only sort, and if she undid them there was no way she could get them done up again. Taking her diaper off was pretty much openly admitting to the fact she had peed somewhere other than where she was expected to. As it was, though, actually doing it in the freaking thing between her legs horrified her even more than the thought of her dad punishing her. Peeing on the grass was a revolting, horrific idea, but...hey. It could be worse.

She had her leggings halfway almost to her ankles when her dad spoke up from behind her.

"And what do you think you're doing, little miss?"

WheretheFUCK -

She shrieked and spun around. Where the HELL had he come from? She hadn't heard a thing!

Self preservation kicked in a moment later, and she hurriedly yanked the tights back into place in record time and fell flat on her butt. Again. She hadn't been attempting anything, no sir. Just stretching her legs!

Her dad stared down at her, and she smiled back innocently. Reassuringly.

It must have looked as fake as it felt, because he was shaking his head.


"Dad, I can - "

He crouched down till his face was level with her own. "Can you?" he said flatly. "Because it certainly looks like I caught you taking your diaper off to pee on the grass."

Perish the thought! 

"On the grass?"she said with a nervous teeter. "What do you take me for? A puppy?"

"So what was it?"

Well," she stammered. "You see, I was - "

"I've just decided that I actually don't care," he sighed. He was rubbing his temples. "Save it. Do you really think we haven't been keeping an eye on you? That you could just head around the corner, out of sight and out of mind?"

Yes. "Of course not!"

"Your cousins have been keeping a close eye on you," he went on. "And they've been telling me you've been doing the horizontal potty dance for the last little while."

Those bastards.

She shot a dirty glance in the direction of the main yard, not really expecting to see anything...and yet, she did. She saw her cousin Rachel's ponytail whip around the corner, undoubtedly milliseconds behind what had undoubtedly been the little girl's spying face.

"Those bastards," she muttered out loud.

Her dad's face tightened. "What was that?" he said. "I'm sure that WASN'T what I think I heard, because if it WAS, you can be sure - "

This wasn't going to achieve anything.

"Ok, ok," Tara sighed. She glared at her father. "I'm sorry, ok? Yes, I was trying to take this thing off so I could...you know, pee. Can you blame me?"

The expression on his face told her that he definitely could.

"Please let me use the bathroom," she said weakly. "Please. Don't make me do this. I'll do all the house chores for a year, you can ground me, you can...I dunno, you can even spank me, just don't - "

"Let me put it this way," he interrupted. "The sooner you do it, the sooner you get changed. How does that sound?"

"Dad." She was almost begging. "Please, I can - "

She trailed off under his relentless stare. His face was stony.

Her bladder twinged menacingly. She winced, and he raised an eyebrow. "That bad, huh?" was all he said.

She didn't answer. The grass suddenly became very fascinating.

It was in the awkward moment of silence that followed that they realised simultaneously he had won.

"Should I give you some privacy?"

She felt like crying. "Can you?"

He nodded slowly, then smiled reluctantly and gave the top of her hat a gentle pat. "You're a good girl, Tara," he said. "Even if you can be a total asshole sometimes."

She wasn't sure how to react to that. "You were leaving?"

His smile turned rueful. "Indeed I was."

There was an audible pop from his knee joints as he stood up properly, making him grimace. "Come see me when you're ready," he said. He sounded almost gentle. "We won't prolong your suffering any more than we need to."

She nodded silently. She just wanted him to leave.

He left.

The moment he was out of sight, Tara let go. Peeing in a diaper was the absolute last thing she wanted to be doing, but there was no point delaying the inevitable. She closed her eyes (perfectly aware that tears were beginning to leak out of them), lifted herself off the ground into an awkward crouching position...and peed.

It had taken a fair bit of willpower to hold it in up till then, but it surprisingly took just as much willpower to let it out. 17 years of potty training went hand in hand with her reluctance, and for a moment she wasn't sure she'd be able to do it...

...and then she did, and it was all over. The soft hiss from between her legs tapered off to nothing, and the only sound was that of her ragged breathing as she tried not to bawl. God, she was close enough to that.

The first thing that struck her was how warm her unspeakables had suddenly gotten. She didn't have the faintest idea what the capacity of this thing was, but it felt full to the point of leaking. That would be the cherry on top to round off a perfect day. The soft, suddenly wet padding rubbed up against her skin without inhibition, and she dully realised that if it was allowed to do that for very long, it would begin to itch. She needed to get changed, and fast. The last thing she wanted was a case of diaper rash, of all the things.

This is fucking disgusting.

She was crying for real now as she got to her feet, leaking big, fat tears down her cheeks and onto the grass below. It was hard to tell at a glance with the tights in the way, but if you looked closely it was pretty obvious that the diaper between her legs had been used. The fabric hid it slightly, but the discoloured patch at the seat of her underwear was certainly there. The dirty green-yellow patch might as well have been a beacon to the distraught girl.

Rachel and Dewey are going to see that.

The thought only doubled the efforts from her tear ducts. Her younger cousins were never going to let her live this down. She had next to nothing to do with them, just on account of them being so much younger than her, but every Christmas now they'd snigger at her behind their hands. You didn't have to talk to someone to have them make you feel like shit.

Kinda like you did to May?

She ignored that particular voice.

I'll run, she decided. The patch on the front of her diaper grotesquely continued to capture her attention and drive home that this was real. She was wearing a wet diaper around her waist. She shuddered as she tore her gaze away from it and made sure the coast was clear. It seemed to be. Fast. I'll just fly around the corner before they can see me and have the damned thing changed before they realise what's going on.

What else could she do?

She didn't wait. Tara gunned it.

As it turned out, the coast wasn't clear. Both Rachel and Dewey were waiting literally just around the corner, their backs pressed against the wall to ensure they remained out of sight and physically muffling their giggles with their hands. Her flight took them by surprise and didn't give them the opportunity to say anything to her, but Tara nontheless felt a distinct lance of hate as she blew past - not frustration, real hate. What the hell gave them the right to mock her like this? Jesus, they were kids. They didn't understand what she was going through, let alone know enough of the situation to judge her. What the fuck was their -

Then they were behind her and she was inside the house, and the world shrank to the scene before her on the living room carpet.

May was lying flat on the floor, sucking her thumb absently and watching her older cousin with large, curious eyes. She was naked from the waist down, and Aunt Linda was kneeling between her legs with a bunch of baby wipes in one hand and her daughter's leg in the other.

That was standard operating practice.

What wasn't SOP was the second changing mat set down beside May.

Tara's father was sitting on the couch, clearly waiting for his daughter to make her dramatic appearance. He looked up as she did just that and offered her a small smile. "Ready?" he asked.

Tara couldn't take her eyes off her cousin's behind. That...that was...and she was about to have that done...by...

She wordlessly turned her attention to her father.

"Sooner the better," he said cheerfully. "For both of us. Don't think I'm looking forward to changing my grown-up daughter's pissy diaper."

There was a giggle from behind, and she spun around. Rachel and Dewey were both standing at the door, their faces alight with mischievous glee. They had followed her.

She turned back to her father. "Can you get rid of them?" she whimpered softly. She hardly wanted an audience.

He didn't answer - he just took her by the hand and pulled her towards the changing mat. "Lie down," was all he said. "It'll be over before you know it."

"Over!" May parroted with a giggle. The fact that her aunt was touching her bare privates didn't phase the girl at all - she was having the time of her life, in fact, and blew a wet raspberry at her cousin. It turned her giggle into a delighted peel of laughter. "You like me now!"

Don'tcrydon'tcrydon'tcry.

She had managed to stem the tears somewhat on the way here, but they began to flow anew as she lowered herself down on the changing mat beside May. 'Flow anew' may have even been an understatement - it began like that, perhaps, but even before her father had knelt down to pull down her tights, she began to bawl.

This isn't fair.

She looked up into her dad's face, hoping against hope for mercy.

She found none. "Good girl," her dad said proudly, and got to work.

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