COVID 1 & 2

1
Harper’s eyes shot up toward the TV. She felt ice grow in her veins. Her brain dedicated its entire focus onto the news cast above. She shifted her weight on the floor to get the perfect view.

“We know, can this virus get any worse? Again, the CDC reported yesterday that isolated cases of Coronavirus are causing temporary loss of bladder and bowel control. Luckily, nearly all of those cases saw their control return after a couple days.” The anchorwoman said on the cast. “If you’re experiencing any of these symptoms, contact your primary care doctor immediately.” She finished before moving on to other COVD-19 news.

Harper was in complete awe. Her brain was oddly quiet at first. A couple seconds later though, she couldn’t stop an excited smile from growing on her lips. For Harper, a life long AB/DL, this was a dream scenario. A real-life virus that made you incontinent? She’d dreamed of feeling completely helpless in her diapers ever since she was taken out of them.

But of course, there was one snag in her plan. Getting COVID wasn’t exactly a great idea. The incontinence would be incredible, but that’s only if she was one of the ‘isolated cases’ the news talked about. She could easily be one of the millions who were A-symptomatic, or even worse, develop the dreaded lung issues. It was simply too big of a risk for the high reward. Still, an opportunity like this comes around once in a hundred years. Harper wasn’t going to waste it. She let her weight fall onto the hands behind her back as she pondered. There was a way to get what she wanted here.

“Wait…” Harper thought to herself. The plan materialized quickly in her mind. “I don’t need to actually….” Harper said, as she spread her legs. It only took a slight push from her body. She’d peed in plenty of diapers to be comfortable with wetting herself. The warm, dark, wet patch started slowly growing around her vagina. “… get the virus. I could just, play pretend…” Harper muttered, she felt hot excitement raise the hairs on the back of her neck. Before she got up to tell her parents, she relished in the warmth. Peeing herself released a flood of happiness into her brain. Harper didn’t hold back. She let every drop pour out of her heavy morning bladder.

She got up onto her knees, then stood up. Harper grabbed her mask off the kitchen table and wrapped it around her mouth. Standing up caused a secondary flow of pee to dribble into her soaked pants. Harper looked down at herself before calling for her mother. Thick dark streaks of pee cascaded down the inside of her pants. A small puddle had formed where her butt previously sat. She bit her lips so you couldn’t tell she was smiling from around her mask.

“MOM!” She yelled out, doing her best to replicate a scared tone. “Come down here! Quick!” Harper yelled out. A split second later she heard the sound of footsteps frantically race down the staircase.

“I’m coming, Harper!” Margret’s voice rang out from the stairs. Her feet rumbled down the stairs like a drum. She appeared at the bottom of the stairs with a frantic look. “What’s wrong, Sweetie?! You….. Oh…” Margret said, trailing off at the end once she saw the state of Harper’s pants. “Harper, what happened? Why are your pants soaked?” Margret said, trying her mental best to rationalize why her daughter was in wet pants. She peered at her daughter’s pants for a few more second before coming to her own conclusion.

“Harper… don’t tell me you have…” Margret said in disbelief.

“I think it’s COVID, Mom. I didn’t even realize it was happening until it was too late. I was already soaked.” Harper said in a fake woeful tone. Inside, she was delighted at the wet pants clinging to her legs. Margret took a couple hesitant steps backward. She pointed at her daughter’s pants.

“I heard about this last night on NPR… people are losing control of themselves from the virus… You said you had no idea? You just started peeing yourself? Did you also… um…” Margret said, almost too embarrassed for her daughter to get the words out.

“No, I don’t think I pooped myself.” Harper said, pretending to feel the back of her butt for any mess. “Damnit, I could have gotten away with that one too?!” Harper thought, kicking herself for not going all the way. Margret nodded and pulled a cellphone out from her pocket.

“Get in the bathroom and clean yourself up. I’m going to call your doctor while I head out to get you some diapers. It looks like you need them. Stay in your room. We have to find out who you’ve infected in the house. Margret said, as she continued to back up the stairs. Harper nodded, feeling excitement and waves of horny pleasure take over her body at the mention of ‘get you diapers.’

***

2

Harper’s life changed overnight. The doctor confirmed that if she was having those symptoms, than it had to be COVID. They didn’t even waste a test on her, there was no need if she was showing those symptoms. They told her to self-isolate in her room until she regained control of herself, and didn’t show any symptoms. Her parents had surprisingly tested negative, even though they were in such close proximity to Harper. They had to isolate themselves from their daughter though and reduce any contact to zero. Every meal and diaper pack was placed at the front of her door. In response, and dirty plate and can of trash bag of used diapers were placed back out for her parent’s to deal with. It was the life for Harper. Complete privacy and supplies to live out the babyish lifestyle she’d always dreamed of.

She didn’t hold back. Harper had wanted this her entire life. The moment Harper taped herself into a diaper, she stopped trying to hold it all together. The slightest pressure in her bladder and bowels lead to warm messy accidents. That’s what the world expected her to do anyways. She had a complete pass. It was literally too perfect of a situation to pass up. Her parents anticipated a stack of dirty diapers in front of Harper’s door every couple days, and she was happy to supply them with it. It wasn’t her fault. She was “Victim” to a novel virus that was raging across the globe.

Harper leaned into the baby lifestyle hard. Her parents didn’t go into her room, so she busted out all the stuffies and baby clothes she’d previously hid. Her TV was practically locked into the little kids channel all day long. Harper let her brain sink into little space from sunrise to sunset. She didn’t need to be anywhere. Her bathroom was taped around her waist. Her food came from outside the door. Harper could let boring adult thoughts and worries drift away from her. Harper spent so much time in little space, babbling and playing with herself, that it became difficult to mentally hoist herself out of that mode when she had to interact briefly with her parents from behind the door. She accidently let it slip once when she called Margret, “Mommy” one time when asking for a new pack of diapers.

Harper didn’t want to go back to be big again. Wetting and messing herself was fun, but she wanted to be out of control. She wanted genuine accidents. To do that, she’d have to stay in diapers for a long time. She also loved how little she had to use her mind recently. All she did was let babyish impulses dictate every action and thought she had. No more dumb adult worries or cares. It was addicting, to the point where it was the only way she wanted to live. She formed a simple plan after two weeks of her new baby life: Just keep playing baby. No one knew what this virus did to people’s brains. Her parents would think it was just the virus effecting her. People continued to have no sense of smell after the virus passed, so why couldn’t that mean COVID continued to disable the parts of her brain the controlled her bodily functions and higher-level thinking? The doctors would be none the wiser. They didn’t know how this virus affected people in the long term anyways.

Harper doubled down. She started letting those childish slips become gradually interwoven into her everyday speech. “Thanks for the food, Mom and Dad.” Became, “Fanks, for munchies Mommy and Daddy.” “I need more diapers” turned into “Need mo’ diapies, Mommy.” Her parents worried about their daughter’s apparent detreating mental state. They pleaded with the doctors for answers, but Harper’s plan had worked to perfection. They told them the virus was too new to understand the long-term effects. “Brain Fog” had been a common long-term symptom in other patients. If Harper was starting to act like an infant, then it was likely the virus messing with her brain.

She was in the clear after that. It was easy to play baby in the first place, but with a medical pass from the doctor, Harper stopped going back into adult mood all together. Weeks turned into months, and her genuine control went from strong to non-existent. Harper kept her bodily muscles on “Off” 24/7. Overtime, wetting and messing herself became purposeful, to easy, to surprising, then ultimately completely unaware. Little space became her regular mental space. She didn’t need to be smart or big anymore. The world didn’t expect her to anyways, so why pretend to be what she’s not?

It culminated to the point about 8 months later when the pandemic was winding down to an end. Friends and family wanted to see Harper, but she’d been oddly distant. Harper decided one final post would completely seal herself into a life of babyhood. The old Harper would have been hesitant at first, but the new Harper didn’t think about repercussions or consequences that much. She was so used to acting on every emotional impulse, that she just grabbed her phone and snapped the picture. She tried looking pouty so people didn’t think she was doing this on purpose. She didn’t even have to check the state of her diaper, she knew it was probably heavily used anyways.

“COVID make me wear diapers and silly. Sorry everyone, not potty trained anymore.” Harper wrote on her Facebook. She uploaded the picture, and posted it. “There.” She thought, before mindlessly dropping her phone like it was one of her toys. “That’ll make everyone go bye-bye.” Harper thought, as she picked up one of her pacifiers from the ground. She popped it in her mouth, and let her brain sink back into back into infantile heaven. Just the way the world expected her to now.