The rest of the week passed with a strange new normal. Every night Becca soaked her Pull-Up, waking up in a warm, heavy, crinkly mess that left her secretly throbbing. During the day she stayed dry, too nervous to push her luck at school again. But by the weekend, the craving had grown too strong.
She and her mom went to the busy mall for some shopping. Becca wore a pair of snug blue jeans and full-cut panties, already feeling the familiar pressure after drinking a large soda and two bottles of water.
They were sitting in the crowded food court when Becca decided it was time. She shifted in her seat, squeezing her legs together dramatically.
“Mom… I really have to go potty,” she whined, loud enough for nearby tables to hear. She stood up, pretending to desperately hold it as she bounced on her toes. “I don’t think I can make it…”
Before her mom could respond, Becca pushed.
What started as an attempt to release a little pee turned into something much more. A thick, heavy load suddenly filled the seat of her panties. She froze mid-push as her bowels emptied completely, the warm, firm mess bulging noticeably into her full-cut panties and pressing against the tight blue jeans. At the same time, a hot spurt of piss escaped, darkening the crotch of her jeans.
Becca’s face turned bright crimson. She stood up fully straight, legs slightly apart, feeling the heavy load settle heavily in her pants. The smell began to rise almost immediately.
Her mom looked up, concerned. “Becca? Are you okay, honey?”
“I-I’m fine,” Becca lied quickly, her voice small. She tried to act normal, but the unmistakable earthy odor was already spreading in the busy food court.
Her mom’s expression changed. She stood up, stepped close, and discreetly tugged out the back of Becca’s jeans, peering down inside. The sight of the thoroughly soiled panties made her sigh in deep disappointment.
“You pooped your pants?” she said, not quite shouting but loud enough that several people nearby glanced over. “In the middle of the mall? What is wrong with you?”
Becca’s eyes filled with tears as her mom grabbed her wrist and started pulling her through the crowded mall. The load squished and shifted with every step, the bulge in the seat of her jeans obvious to anyone who looked closely. The wet spot on her crotch was visible too. Heads turned. A few people wrinkled their noses at the smell. Becca wanted to die from humiliation, but her pussy was pulsing with intense, shameful heat.
Her mom dragged her into a general store inside the mall, quickly grabbed a large pack of Huggies diapers and a pack of baby wipes, then marched her straight to the family restroom.
Inside the spacious bathroom, her mom locked the door and pointed to the baby changing table.
Becca whimpered and obeyed, lowering her soiled jeans and heavily messed panties. The smell was strong as her mom lifted her onto the changing table like a toddler. Becca lay on her back, legs in the air, face burning as her mom thoroughly wiped her clean with the baby wipes.
“I can’t believe my nineteen-year-old daughter is still messing her pants in public,” her mom lectured sternly while cleaning her. “You’re supposed to use the potty like a big girl. Clearly you can’t handle it.”
Becca kept her hands over her face, pretending to cry from embarrassment, but her nipples were hard and her pussy was slick with arousal. The position — lying on a public changing table while her mom wiped her bottom — was mortifyingly arousing.
When she was clean, her mom slid a thick Huggies diaper under her, powdered her generously, and taped it snugly into place. The diaper was loud and bulky, forcing her thighs apart.
. She pulled a short pleated skirt out of one of their earlier shopping bags and slid it up Becca’s legs, letting it fall over the thick diaper.
“There. Much more practical,” her mom said. The skirt was short enough that the bulky Huggies diaper peeked out noticeably with even the slightest movement, the waistband clearly visible above the hem.
Her mom took her hand again. “We’re finishing our shopping. And you’re staying in that diaper — and that skirt — until we get home. Maybe this will finally teach you.”
Becca waddled out of the bathroom behind her mom, the loud crinkle of the Huggies clearly audible with every step. The short skirt did almost nothing to hide the obvious padded diaper underneath. Her face stayed flushed deep red the entire time, but between her legs she was aching with desperate, secret horniness.
She couldn’t wait to get home.
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