Sam & Jenny - Part 2

Sam took Jenny by the hand, and led her into the house. “Would you like to take a bath while I run your wet things though the washing machine?”
Jenny sniffed, wiped a tear from her eye with the back of her hand, and nodded meekly. So Sam led her upstairs and into the bathroom and began to run a bath, adding copious amounts of bubble bath. The sound of the water gushing into the tub was almost enough to make Jenny lose control and completely wet her knickers a second time, but she fought hard against the urge and just about managed to hold on. A couple of short leaks escaped, and she felt the pee gently dribbling down the inside of her thigh, but it was such a minor accident that Sam didn’t even notice it.
When the bath was full of steaming, bubbly water, Jenny took off her bra and her sodden knickers and stepped into the tub. Sam stooped to pick up both pieces of Jenny’s underwear and disappeared through the bathroom door, calling “I’ll just pop these in the washing machine” over her shoulder. When she had gone, Jenny sank down into the warm, soapy water, and promptly peed the remaining contents of her bladder. She knew she oughtn’t to do this – that she ought to wait until she had finished bathing and then use the toilet properly, but her bladder wasn’t willing to play that game and she hadn’t the strength of will to fight it. Not today. Not now. Normally, she would have been dreadfully upset to lose control in the bath in this way: but she was still so utterly mortified about her earlier accident that she really couldn’t care less about one more minor, private humiliation.
She lay back in the bath, her eyes closed, still sobbing gently, and replayed the events of the afternoon in her mind. She counted the opportunities that she had had to say “Can I just use your loo please, Sam: I’m bursting for a wee.” There had been seventeen of them! Seventeen opportunities to ensure that she wouldn’t wet her knickers, and she had fluffed every single one of them and ended up peeing herself like a little girl twenty years her junior. How pathetic was that? And she cried some more.
Sam came back into the bathroom. “Don’t cry, Jenny,” she soothed. “Accidents happen from time to time. Everyone has them, you know. And nobody need even know about it except us two. Once your pants are washed and dried they’ll be as good as new.”
“How soon will that be?” asked Jenny. “I really ought to be on my way as soon as I can. I haven’t even started to think about my supper yet.”
“Ah,” said Sam. “There’s a slight problem there. You see, the drying cycle on my washing machine has broken down, so your pants and bra will have to hang out on the line to dry overnight. Don’t worry, though. I thought you could stay the night here with me. After all, you’re hardly in any state to be sent home, are you?”
Jenny thought about this for a while. “What about Marcus?” she asked. “Won’t he mind?”
“Marcus need never know about it,” said Sam, conspiratorially.
“But you said he’d be back about six!” protested Jenny. “He’s due back any minute. He might even find me still lying here in the bath.”
“Actually,” corrected Sam, “I said he was usually back at about six. But he’s in Singapore on business right now, so I don’t think we need worry about his coming back home tonight, do you?”
“Oh,” said Jenny, and lay back in the bath to ponder the significance of this new piece of information.
“Now,” said Sam brightly. “You get out of that bath and towel yourself dry, and I’ll find you some fresh pants to put on. I don’t think my normal pants will fit you, but some of my Baby Sam things should fit. After all, the plastic pants did. You don’t mind, do you?”
Jenny shrugged. She didn’t have much choice in the matter. Her own underwear was in Sam’s washing machine and wouldn’t be dry until the following morning. So it was a case of wearing some of Sam’s baby things, or going without underwear altogether. And she wasn’t exactly keen on the idea of going without, so that was that.
Jenny got out of the bath, and was still toweling herself dry when Sam reappeared and handed her a pair of knickers. They were candy pink flannelette, with a picture of a teddy bear on the front.
“Marcus sometimes insists I wear the training pants over a nappy,” explained Sam, “so they ought to fit you OK.”
Jenny regarded the knickers skeptically for a moment or two, then shrugged and pulled them on. They were only a pair of knickers, after all; and nobody was going to see her wearing them except Sam. And Sam had just admitted that SHE wore them with a NAPPY underneath – so she was hardly going to think it odd that Jenny was wearing such a garment. The fit was pretty good, too, and the feel of the flannelette against her skin strangely reassuring– just what she needed after her humiliating experience earlier that afternoon. She looked around the bathroom for the rest of her clothes; but they weren’t there. Her knickers and bra were in the washing machine, of course (why HAD Sam washed her bra as well as her knickers, she wondered) and her dress was still down on the patio by the swimming pool.
“Sam,” she said, “could you be an absolute angel and fetch my dress for me? I think it’s still out by the pool.”
Sam hesitated, as though she were wondering whether to say something or not, and then turned to go.
“What is it?” asked Jenny.
“Well,” said Sam, “I was just wondering about something. But I’m not sure it’s fair to ask you.”
“Ask me what?”
“Well,” continued Sam, “it’s like this. You look really cute like that in my teddy bear training pants. And when I play games with Marcus, I only ever get to be Baby Sam. I never get to play mummy. So I was sort of wondering whether, well, I suppose I was thinking that perhaps you might like to try on some of the other clothes rather than have your dress back.”
“Try on some of the other clothes?” asked Jenny, a little dubiously. “Like what?”
“Well,” explained Sam, “there’s a romper suit that would probably fit you. And then we could play Baby Jenny. And I’d get to be mummy for once.”
Jenny was torn between conflicting emotions. One part of her mind screamed “NO! DON’T DO IT! IT’S WEIRD! WRONG, WRONG, WRONG! SICK, SICK, SICK!” But the other part of her mind said “Why not?” She was feeling a little bit emotionally fragile right now; but the training pants felt warm and reassuring, and being looked after by “mummy” might feel warm and reassuring too. Might be just what she needed tonight, in fact. And “mummy” was her old best friend from college days, after all, not some unbalanced stranger she’d never met before.
The second part of her mind was certainly getting the better of the argument, but there was one thing that was still worrying her. Something that Sam had said earlier about the games she played with Marcus; something that made her fear further humiliation. Because she didn’t think she could take any more humiliation, even if Sam was the only one who knew about it. Indeed, she doubted she could take any further humiliation today even if it was entirely private and nobody but herself ever knew about it.
“If I agree to be Baby Jenny for you,” she finally said, a little hesitantly, “you won’t make me wet my knickers again, will you?”
“Oh Jenny, Jenny, Jenny!” exclaimed Sam in a mummy voice, smothering her with an enormous hug and holding her tight against her bosom. “I know you’re upset that you had an accident, and of COURSE mummy doesn’t want you to have another accident. We’ll work together to make sure your pants stay dry for the rest of the day. You just tell me the moment you think you need a wee, promise?”
And Jenny, already beginning to slip into role, nodded her head and said “Pwomise!” before sticking her thumb into her mouth.
“Now Jenny,” said Sam, “what would you like to wear for the rest of the evening? Shall I fetch your romper suit?”
Jenny nodded and took her thumb from her mouth. “I’d like that.”
So Sam dressed Jenny in her romper suit, which was lemon yellow with little white bunny rabbits on it, then took her down to the kitchen to cook her tea which consisted of fish fingers, baked beans and oven chips. Then, when Jenny was sitting at the table with her tea in front of her, Sam asked: “Would you like some Ribena to drink with that?”
Ribena! Jenny hadn’t drunk Ribena in something like twenty years; and she’d never really liked it even then. But realising that the role–play probably required her to want to drink the stuff, she nodded enthusiastically. She was, however, a little taken aback when Sam placed an enormous spouted plastic cup on the table in front of her. It must have held about a pint and a half of the sweet blackcurrant cordial.
Sam registered Jenny’s surprise, and explained: “It’s a normal child’s drinking cup, scaled up to take account of the fact that you’re a little bit bigger than the average child.”
“Oh,” said Jenny.
“Now come along – eat up all those baked beans and drink all your drink, or you won’t get any ice cream for after.”
So Jenny played her part, and ate all her food, and drank up all the Ribena, and Sam rewarded her with a huge bowl of ice cream. As Jenny began to tuck into it, she also began to feel the first early warning signals from her bladder, telling her that she might need another pee soon. She knew from past experience that, after trying to hold on for a long time, she normally needed to go again soon afterwards; and all that Ribena she had just drunk couldn’t be helping. And she remembered that she’d promised to tell Sam the moment she felt the need to wee again; yet at the same time, she knew that if she asked to go to the toilet now her ice cream would start to melt while she was away.
She tried to think in role. What would Baby Jenny do? Tell mummy she needed the toilet, or eat the ice cream? Put like that, it was a no–brainer: Baby Jenny would eat the ice cream. Even though she’d had an accident earlier in the day and didn’t want to have another one? Yup– even though she’d had an accident earlier in the day and didn’t want to have another one.
“Jenny like ice cream!” she declared, smugly, and tucked in.
By the time she’d finished the ice cream, she was beginning to feel distinctly uncomfortable in her bladder. Now was probably the time to tell mummy that she needed to go wee–wee. But mummy was busy clearing the dishes from the table. Mummy wouldn’t want to be disturbed now. So Baby Jenny slipped off her seat onto the kitchen floor, and crawled over to the basket on the floor by the radiator where she started to stroke the sleeping cat.
“Does Jenny want to help mummy wash the dishes?”
Baby Jenny liked to help mummy. Baby Jenny nodded enthusiastically, and scampered over to the sink.
“Do you want to wash, or wipe?”
“Jenny wanna wash!” And she plunged her hands into the warm dishwater. Which immediately made her feel MUCH more desperate for the toilet. Indeed, she very nearly started weeing there and then, and only just managed to hold it all back. Oops. That wasn’t meant to happen, was it? Still, there were only a few more dishes to do. She’d finish the washing up, and then tell mummy that she needed the toilet.
As Jenny stood doing the last few dishes, her urge to wee grew more and more intense. She crossed one leg over the other and squeezed her thighs together, and she bit her lip in intense concentration as she struggled to keep control of her bladder. She bit so hard that she tasted blood, which made her whimper a little.
Sam heard her whimper. “Jenny darling, what’s wrong?”
“Jenny need wee–wee.”
Sam looked at her friend, and was immediately struck by her posture. Legs crossed, thighs clenched; bending forward slightly at the waist. She was absolutely desperate. “Jenny,” she remonstrated, “you promised to tell me the moment you needed a wee. And look at you! You’re absolutely desperate, aren’t you?”
Jenny nodded. “Sowwy, mummy. I didn’t mean to leave it so late.”
“Well, run along quickly before you have another accident. Can you manage on your own, or do you need me to come and help you?”
“I can manage,” said Jenny.
“Well, run along then, Jenny dear,” said Sam, giving her a quick little pat on the bum. “Quickly!”
Jenny scampered off to the toilet, cramming both hands into her crotch as she did so to control the strong urge to pee, which overcame her the moment she started to move. Halfway there she thought she’d left it too late and was about to wet herself. She stopped dead and wrapped one leg around the other, and squeezed hard. She bobbed up and down a couple of times, and the urge eased a little. She held tight with both hands and scampered on.
It wasn’t far to the toilet, and to her intense relief Jenny was still dry when she arrived– but there wasn’t much time if she was to avoid a second, humiliating accident. She closed the door and locked it behind her, hobbled over to the toilet with faltering steps, and went to lift her skirt.
Only she wasn’t wearing a skirt. Or a dress. She was wearing a romper suit. And she hadn’t paid any attention when Sam had put it on her, so she hadn’t the faintest idea how to take it off again. She was gripped by a momentary panic, which saw her lose control for long enough that she felt a dribble of pee escape into her knickers. The flannelette knickers were absorbent, however, and it didn’t run down her leg or soak through to mark the romper suit. She managed to hold the rest of her pee back, but she realised she didn’t have long.
Crying in anguish, she turned round and hobbled back to the door, opened it and yelled “MUMMY! MUMMY! MUMMMMEEEEEE!”
Sam came running. “What’s the matter, darling?” she asked, just as Jenny finally lost the battle with her over–filled bladder. For the second time that day Jenny felt the pee escaping from her despite everything and gushing into her knickers. Felt the warm sensation between her legs as it soaked into the candy pink flannelette. Then, a moment or two later (and this sensation was new) felt the warm rivulet of pee trickle and dribble its way down the inside of her thighs, down the stretchy fabric of her romper suit, wetting her knees, her calves, her ankles, her feet and finally pooling in a puddle which spread around her feet.
“I’m sowwy mummy,” sobbed Jenny. “I couldn’t undo my womper suit, and I couldn’t hold on any longer. Is mummy vewy cwoss with Jenny?”
“No darling,” soothed Sam. “Mummy isn’t cross with Jenny.”
“But Jenny’s had another accident.”
“I know darling, I know. And Jenny wouldn’t have had another accident if she’d told mummy as soon as she needed a wee, would she?”
Jenny shook her head sadly. “But my ice cweam would have melted.”
Sam tutted. “Which is more important to Jenny, ice cream or dry pants?”
“Jenny want to be dwy.”
“Then Jenny will have to try just a little bit harder, won’t she?” said Sam reproachfully.
Jenny nodded, and started sobbing again.
“Come along, sweetheart. Don’t cry about it. Let’s get you cleaned up, and let’s just try a little harder to keep dry in future shall we?”
Jenny nodded, but still she cried.
“I’ll tell you what,” said Sam, “would you like some more ice cream?”
Jenny perked up at this and nodded enthusiastically.
“Well,” said Sam, “you stay dry until bedtime, and you can have another bowl of ice cream. How does that sound?”
Jenny stopped crying and nodded even more enthusiastically, so Sam took her up to the bathroom and ran another bath for her. She took away her wet clothes and mopped up the floor of the downstairs toilet, then returned to the bathroom with a pair of white floral print flannelette training pants and a pink flannelette nightdress with a teddy bear on the front, which matched the knickers Jenny had been wearing before her latest accident. She helped Jenny out of the bath, toweled her off, and offered her the new knickers.
“Now,” she cautioned Jenny, “these are very special flowers on these pants. They never need watering. So don’t water the flowers, will you?”
“No mummy,” said Jenny, pulling on the new knickers and feeling the same warm, reassuring glow she’d felt when putting on the last pair of knickers that Sam had given her.
“Now, I’ve brought your nightdress,” said Sam, “but you don’t have to go to bed just yet. We can go downstairs and watch television for a bit. Would you like that?”
“Yes mummy,” said Jenny.
So Sam slipped the nightdress on over Jenny’s head, and led her down to the lounge. To Jenny’s surprise, there was a shelf full of videos of children’s television programmes, and they settled down to watch Bagpuss together. Sam sat at one end of a large leather settee, and Jenny snuggled up beside her.
After about half an hour, Jenny began to feel a familiar twinge in her bladder. It brought the memory of her two accidents flooding back into her mind, and she blushed and had to fight to stifle a little sob. How COULD she have wet her knickers twice in a day? Then she thought of ice cream, and of her promise to Sam.
“Mummy,” she said.
“Yes darling?”
“Jenny need wee–wee.”
“Well, hurry up and go then.”
She jumped up and scampered off to the toilet. Unhampered by the romper suit, she had no difficulty managing by herself, and when she was done she pulled the chain and ran along back to join Sam in front of the video. They watched another episode of Bagpuss, and then Sam said: “It’s time for bed now, Jenny. Have you earned that bowl of ice cream I promised?”
“Yes mummy,” said Jenny, a little too enthusiastically.
“You’re still dry are you?”
“Yes mummy,” she beamed.
“Show me.”
Jenny proudly lifted her nightdress up to show Sam her knickers, and Sam slipped a hand between Jenny’s legs and felt the gusset to ensure that it really was dry. Jenny enjoyed the sensation as Sam gently felt between her legs, and silently willed her to continue. But as soon as Sam was satisfied that Jenny’s knickers were dry, she stopped feeling and led Jenny into the kitchen where she gave her another big bowl of ice cream, which Jenny wolfed down with enthusiasm.
When Jenny had finished the ice cream, Sam led her up to the main bedroom and turned back the cover of the double bed. The room was scented with lavender. Jenny inhaled deeply, held her breath for a moment or two, and then breathed out. “Mmmmm … that smells lovely,” she murmured.
“Now Jenny,” said Sam. “Would you like me to put you in a nappy, just for tonight?”
Jenny was a little shocked by the suggestion. Then she remembered the games Sam played with Marcus, and realised that this question had probably been inevitable right from the moment she had wet her jade green cotton knickers down at the swimming pool. “No mummy. I’ll be alwight without.”
“Are you sure?” asked Sam. “You have had two accidents today already. We don’t want you wetting the bed as well, do we now?”
“I won’t wet the bed, mummy.”
“Alright then. I’ll trust you tonight. Now you run along and go to the toilet just to be sure, and I’ll go and make you your bedtime cocoa.”
Jenny went to the toilet, but her bladder was pretty empty and she didn’t have to pee very much. Then she returned to the bedroom and climbed into the big, inviting double bed. Sam appeared in the doorway a moment or two later, carrying the most enormous cup of cocoa she had ever seen. Ah yes, she realised: the issue of scale. She was still playing Baby Jenny, so the cup of cocoa had to be oversize, just as the Ribena had been.
“Would you like me to read you a bedtime story?” asked Sam.
“No thank you, mummy” said Jenny, who was beginning to feel a little bit drowsy already, such was the soporific effect of the lavender with which the room was scented.
“Well, drink this down then, and sweet dreams,” said Sam, handing her the mug.
Jenny drained the mug, and then settled down into the warm, inviting bed. Sam took the empty mug from her and kissed her lightly on the forehead. “Night, night, Jenny dear.”
“Night, night mummy.”
Sam switched off the light and tiptoed out of the room.
To be continued…
By: Indigo