I Wish It Was Me

The Bet Pt.5

After that, Riley told herself she was going to make an effort to put a stop to this before it got any worse. Unfortunately, she had no idea how to do that... As a youngest child, with no babysitting experience, she had no memories of helping potty train anyone, much less herself, and she wasn't about to check out any books about it and have those in her records, or let Charlotte see them around the house and know how much this bet had gotten to her. She found information online, of course, but it all contradicted each other, with everyone convinced they knew the best, most reliable way.

Meanwhile, it was becoming more and more rare for her to make it through that three hour class... Sometimes, she'd notice her need to go, and hold it as long as she could before wetting herself, and sometimes she'd notice herself feeling a little less comfortable, and adjust her position, only to feel the squish of an already sodden diaper.

The end of summer classes was a huge weight off of her shoulders, because during a regular semester, she had no classes that stretched on as long as that. Surely then, with more frequent breaks, and the return of more students to the campus, to make it harder for anyone to pinpoint the exact origin of the crinkling when she was in the bathrooms, she could turn this around, get it fixed before Charlotte figured out what was going on.

Her bladder was used to emptying at the same time in the morning, now, however, and, even though her class then wasn't nearly as long as the summer one, and she could use the bathroom beforehand, it somehow always felt the need to go again, seemingly as soon as the lecture began. At first, she'd, rather cockily, thought it would be a nice challenge, that, since she only had to last an hour, she would build her bladder muscles back up by making sure she lasted the whole period before going to the bathroom after. If she had one or two accidents the first few weeks, that was fine, but, by the end, she was positive she'd be dry every day.

She didn't succeed a single time. By the end of each class, her diaper was wet, whether she did it on purpose or not. Sometimes, it happened almost right away, and the rest of the period was spent with her wiggling in her desk, trying to figure out if she'd gone a second, or third time, if she was close to leaking. She not only failed her potty training goal, which she'd set for herself, she came close to failing the class itself, because it was so hard to concentrate on anything else.

There was no way Charlotte couldn't know what was happening, too... She had to notice Riley was going through significantly more diapers. It wasn't only that class Riley was using them in, of course, and it was happening more and more often, to the point where, like it or not, she had to start changing at school... She couldn't wait for her lunch break, when she could go back home, she had to hide in a bathroom stall until she was totally alone, then untape her diaper, clean herself up as quickly as she could, and tape a new one on before anyone overheard - it was far louder changing than just getting the diaper off to use the toilet - and pray she could dash to the trash can and get rid of the evidence before someone walked in and caught her.

She was slipping at home, too... Where, before, she'd only go if she was so busy she forgot she had a bathroom to herself, to not have to worry about any of that, now she was starting to have genuine accidents if she got too engrossed in TV, or homework, and not realize she'd gone until after the fact. It didn't help that their AC broke, and she spent what felt like an eternity walking around the place in only a shirt and diaper, too hot for any pants, or even a skirt, over it, before it was fixed. More than once, she'd discovered she'd peed herself by looking down and seeing a wet spot, rather than feeling it, or getting any real warning.

Even worse than that, however, were the mornings she woke up wet. The first time or two, she told herself she'd forgotten to change before getting into bed, but, eventually, when it started to happen even during naps, when she'd sprawl out on the sofa after classes, she knew she had to accept the truth: she was a bedwetter.

She wasn't sure why that hit her harder than her daytime accidents... Perhaps because she'd never been a bedwetter as a child, even had some memories of teasing other girls at sleepovers when she found out they were. Maybe it was because she was so sure, if she found the right trick, she could get her daytime wetting back under control, yet she knew bedwetting was far more difficult to cure, since she had no conscious power over it. Even if she discovered the perfect method for re-potty-training herself, she was probably going to be in diapers at night for a long time after this bet was over.

Please

Everyone who reblogs this will get a personalized hypnotic erotic GIF based on what I see on your profile.

Everyone who reblogs this will get a personalized hypnotic erotic GIF based on what I see on your profile.

Saw this in a deactivated Tumblr and will pick up the gauntlet, .I will create the animation, post it on my blog and tag you. Feel free to put any kinks you want to share or any suggestions you need re-enforced in the tags or as a reblog text. I will do my best to do this based on my time.

ATTENTION ALL LITTLES WHO WANT TO MAKE FRIENDS! 🎀🍼😋

reblog this post to find friends and help other littles find friends too! 

Someone do this to me pleas

Sorry I've not been very active you can pm me always

He doesn't let fags anywhere near His cock. He has plenty of chicks to take care of that. but He finds it funny to watch a pathetic queer loser slobber all over His feet after He's been walking around barefoot all day.

He’s even got the neighbors 23 year old son checking in with Him through text message several times a day to make sure His feet are clean enough. He usually just ignores the text, only responding when His feet are truly filthy; and in those instances the fag rushes over eagerly to devour the filth from the bottoms of His massive feet.

It all started as a joke. The little fag couldn’t stop staring whenever He’d kick His feet up on the porch, and the Man was starting to notice it. After noticing the fag’s staring a few times, the Man called out jokingly one tipsy night “why don’t you come over here and kiss them since you’re so captivated by them”

And the rest was history. He knew He had the bitch by the balls when he first walked up the stairs and leaned in to kiss His big, stinking feet. It wasn’t sexual for Him, but He did enjoy it in a non sexual way. Once the Man had the fag’s brain hooked on His feet, He ordered a small, cheap chastity belt off the internet and demanded the bitch put it on if he wanted to continue being allowed to worship. The fag, desperate to secure his place at His addicting feet, put it on without a second thought, and the Man kept the keys.

He never really told the fag, but He had absolutely zero intention of ever letting him free from his metal cage. It was so effortless, stealing the young fag’s sexuality from him at age 18, and then constantly dangling His feet in his helpless face. The bitch had asked a few different times to have it taken off, if only for 10 minutes, but the Man insisted that if He took it off He would have to move away and never let the fag see His feet again. He had complete control of his mind, making him stay at home living with his parents where it’s cheaper so that he could send more of his paycheck to Him. The fag lived on a very strict budget, ensuring that he could send as much money as possible to the Man next door who kept a close eye on his finances. It was the perfect win- extra money for doing nothing, the thrill of controlling another man, and there was something particularly amusing about watching his eyes glaze over whenever he would lick His feet. It was the only ‘sex’ the fag would ever know, and boy did he enjoy it!

The Man knew he would own this faggot for as long as He wanted to, and his parents didn’t seem to mind him living at home, so there was no foreseeable obstacle anywhere in the future. The Man smirked when His phone lit up beside Him on the table. “New Message from Forever Virgin”

‘Sir, may I please offer my cleaning services to You and Your perfect Feet?’ He clicked the reply button and lit up a joint, eagerly waiting for the sick little fuck to come in and serve his filthy purpose at the bottoms of His cruel and taunting feet.

helensissy91@gmail.com

In a few hours when I get home

reblog…

It you're a little boy please reblog so I can follow you!!

I’m severely lacking in boys on my dashboard :( so I guess that means daddies can reblog as well