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MidReal Story
The Daddy Experiment
Scenario:The woman woke up late for work so she scrambled to get ready, she realized she put her uniform over her nightime diaper.
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Daycare Worker
She is a caring employee at the daycare center where Emily attends. She is dependable,gentle,and supportive. The daycare worker comforts Emily when Samantha accidentally leaves her at the center. When Samantha searches for her child and becomes anxious,the worker provides crucial information about Emily's whereabouts and helps calm Samantha down by staying in touch through phone calls as Samantha searches for her daughter.
Jared
He is a dedicated father and husband to Samantha. He is supportive,caring,and attentive. Jared carefully takes care of their baby,Emily,while Samantha is at work. Despite his own busy schedule,he ensures that Emily's needs are met and even brings her to the daycare center where Sam accidentally leaves her. Jared remains calm and reassuring when Samantha panics and searches for Emily throughout the city but fails to contact him.
Samantha
She is a working mother dealing with the challenges of balancing work and taking care of her baby. She is overwhelmed,humorous,and determined. Samantha struggles to get ready on time,leading to her wearing a diapered onesie under her work uniform. Her day becomes even more challenging when she accidentally leaves her baby,Emily,at the daycare center. Overcome with worry,she searches frantically throughout the city to find her child but eventually returns home,exhausted and tearful.
I woke up late.
I had to get ready super fast so I could make it to work on time.
I was so fast that I didn't even realize I still had my diaper on until I was at work.
Well, not a diaper per se, but a diapered onesie.
They were made for people like me who still wet their beds.
It wasn't something I liked to admit, but it was true.
I had been a bedwetter until I was ten years old.
I still had accidents from time to time, but my mom said it was nothing to be ashamed of and that lots of people still had accidents when they were adults.
She said her brother did, and he was forty-five years old.
I didn't know if she was telling the truth or just trying to make me feel better, but either way, it worked.
I wasn't embarrassed about my problem, and I was glad I could buy special underwear to wear at night.
It made me feel normal.
I didn't think anyone at work knew about my problem, and I wanted to keep it that way.
Luckily, none of them saw me change.
I did it in the bathroom stall, behind a locked door.
I hurried into the employee bathroom, my heart pounding in my chest.
I locked myself in the largest stall and quickly took off my uniform.
I then took off my onesie and stuffed it into a plastic bag that I had brought with me.
I put my uniform back on and tried to smooth out any wrinkles that I might have made when I took it off.
The fluorescent lights above flickered and buzzed as I stood sideways in front of the metal partition that separated the stalls.
I ran my hands down my sides, feeling for any bulges that might give away my secret.
The thick padding of the onesie created a subtle but noticeable bulge around my hips.
I tugged at the hem of my shirt, trying to let it hang looser, but the fitted cut of the uniform worked against me.
Just as I was about to give up, I heard footsteps approaching outside the stall.
"Hello?" a voice called out.
"Is anyone in here?"
"It's just me, Sarah," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady.
"Hey, I thought I saw you rush in here," Sarah said, her tone curious.
"Are you okay? You seemed kind of flustered when you came in."
I gripped the edge of the sink, my reflection staring back at me in the mirror.
My cheeks were flushed red, and my hair was a tangled mess from my hasty arrival.
Sarah's footsteps stopped right outside my stall, and I could feel her presence through the thin partition.
"Just feeling a bit queasy," I replied, wadding up the onesie and shoving it deep into my work bag.
I quickly zipped it shut and prayed that she wouldn't notice anything out of the ordinary.
My hands were shaking slightly as I smoothed down my uniform again, trying to appear nonchalant.
"Are you sure you're okay?" Sarah asked, her concern evident in her voice.
"You look a bit pale."
"I'll be fine," I said, forcing a weak smile onto my face.
"Just need to splash some water on my face."
"Okay," Sarah said hesitantly.
"If you're sure you're alright, I'll head back to the floor. But if you need anything, just give me a shout."
"Thanks," I replied gratefully, relieved that she didn't press further.
As soon as she walked away, I unlocked the stall and made my way to the sink.
I splashed some cold water on my face, trying to calm my racing thoughts.
What if Sarah had seen something?
What if she suspected?
The questions swirled in my mind as I dried my face with a paper towel. "Hey," Sarah called out from behind me.
"I can cover your shift for the morning if you want to go home. You don't look so good."
"No, no, I'll be fine," I replied quickly, not wanting to draw any more attention to myself.
"Thanks for offering though."
"Alright," Sarah said, seeming to accept my response.
"I'm just going to wash my hands real quick before I head back out there."
I nodded in acknowledgment as she walked over to the sink next to me and turned on the faucet.
While she was distracted with the running water, I grabbed my bag and slipped out of the bathroom unnoticed.
I leaned against the break room wall, trying to calm my racing heart.
My fingers trembled as I rummaged through my bag, searching for the aspirin I kept there.
As I dug deeper, my fingertips brushed against something unusual near the bottom of the bag.
Curiosity piqued, I pulled out the object and examined it closely.
It was a small, almost imperceptible seam in the fabric of the bag.
I ran my thumb over it, wondering if it was just a defect or something more.
Suddenly, a tiny zipper caught my eye.
I hadn't noticed it before, and I was certain it wasn't there when I bought the bag.
My heart skipped a beat as I realized that this must be some sort of hidden compartment.
With trembling hands, I unzipped the small opening and reached inside.
My fingers closed around a thin, rectangular object that felt like paper.
I pulled it out slowly, my anticipation building with each passing second. As soon as I saw what it was, my breath caught in my throat.
It was an envelope, yellowed with age and bearing a faint scent of old books.
The paper felt brittle to the touch, and I could see that it had been sealed with a wax stamp long ago.
The handwriting on the envelope was unfamiliar yet somehow familiar at the same time.
It looked similar to my mother's handwriting, but shakier and less confident.
I turned the envelope over in my hands, studying it from every angle.
Who could have written this?
And why was it hidden in my bag?
My mind raced with questions as I carefully opened the envelope and pulled out the letter inside.
The paper crackled as I unfolded it, revealing a message written in elegant cursive script.
As I began to read, my heart pounded in my chest with excitement and trepidation.
But before I could finish reading the letter, the break room door swung open and my supervisor walked in. "Hey," she said with a smile.
"I saw you were back from your break. Do you have a minute?"
"Sure," I replied quickly, stuffing the letter back into its hiding place and zipping up the compartment before she could see anything suspicious.
"What's up?"
"Just wanted to go over today's assignments with you," she said, pulling out a clipboard from behind her back.
"We've got a few new projects coming in this afternoon, so I want to make sure everyone is on top of their tasks."
I nodded and followed her back to my desk, where she began going over the day's schedule.
As I sat there listening, I couldn't help but feel a little nervous.
My stomach was still churning from my earlier discovery, and I kept glancing down at my bag, wondering what other secrets it might hold.
The supervisor seemed to notice my distraction and shot me a curious look.
"Are you okay?" she asked, her voice low.
"You seem a little...off."
"I'm fine," I replied quickly, forcing a smile onto my face.
"Just a little tired, that's all."
She nodded and went back to discussing the project deadlines, but I could tell she wasn't entirely convinced.
As we continued talking, I suddenly became aware of a strange sensation around my waistband.
It felt tight and constricting, as if something was pressing against my skin.
I discreetly reached down to adjust my uniform, only to realize with horror that the waistband of the onesie had ridden up above my pants. My heart sank as I realized that a small portion of the onesie's fabric was peeking out above my waistband.
I quickly tried to tug my shirt down to cover it up, but not before I caught the supervisor glancing in that direction.
Her eyes widened slightly as she took in the sight, and I could tell she was trying not to stare too obviously.
I felt like I was going to die of embarrassment as she continued talking about the project details, all while sneaking glances at my midsection.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she finished her explanation and turned to leave.
But just as she was about to walk away, she paused mid-sentence and looked directly at me.
Her eyes were fixed on my waistline once again, and this time there was no mistaking her gaze.
I froze, my heart pounding in my chest as she lingered in the doorway.
Her eyes were fixed on my waistline where the onesie peeked out, and I could feel her gaze burning into me.
She cleared her throat and spoke in a hushed voice, "Samantha, are you wearing a...diaper?"
My face burned hot as I tugged at my shirt, desperately trying to cover the telltale white fabric.
The words caught in my throat as I considered lying, but the evidence was right there.
Other employees walked past the office, their voices drifting in through the open door.
My supervisor stepped inside and quietly closed it behind her.
I took a deep breath and met her concerned gaze.
"Yes," I whispered, my voice barely audible.
"I have a medical condition."
My fingers fidgeted with the hem of my shirt as I explained my lifelong struggle with bedwetting.
This morning's rush had left me no choice but to wear the onesie to work.
My supervisor sat down in the chair across from me, her expression softening.
She shared that her daughter had dealt with similar issues throughout college.
While she spoke, I gradually relaxed my death grip on my shirt, though my cheeks still burned with embarrassment.
"Thank you for telling me," she said gently, her eyes full of understanding.
"If you ever need any accommodations or just someone to talk to, please let me know."
I nodded, feeling a wave of relief wash over me, grateful for her kindness and discretion.