What Money Cannot Buy

KatherineB

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And now for something completely different: let me know if you have any feedback. I will try to update regularly.

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What Money Cannot Buy
Chapter 1

Christina tapped her feet impatiently, as she stood outside her school, waiting for her ride home. Usually, the average-looking preteen would surround herself with her entourage of friends, who admired her every new expensive toy, trying to be in the “clique” of girls graced with acceptance into Christina’s inner circle--after all, she was the richest girl in school. But not today. Christina stood away from her friends and kept looking at her fancy watch, muttering under her breath at the delayed arrival of her chariot.

Usually, when her ride arrived, which, usually, was her mother’s personal driver in one of her mother’s latest European sport-car acquisitions, she would try to play it up, making flirtatious eye contact with all the boys who were usually hanging about trying to catch her attention (of course, before leaving on their skate-board or getting picked up in some lower-class vehicle like a BMW or something). She wasn’t really interested in anyone right now, but she enjoyed playing to her desirability, and would make sure to give her bouncy locks an extra fling in their direction before closing the door to the car. Today was different, however, and when the car arrived, Christina nervously got in and shut the door, noticeably without the usual ceremony.

“Everything alright young lady” asked George, the driver, sensing something was off-kilter.

“Yes, George,” Christina replied. “Just get me home.”

George had been driving Christina to school since her first day of preschool. He enjoyed this part of the job--he and his wife had always wanted children, but were unable due to his wife’s health. He used this time to satisfy, a little bit, his love for children by connecting with Christina, finding out how her day had been, etc. . . She always occupied a little place in his heart. He knew she was a special person, despite the fact that her arrogant, chilly mother was starting to rub off on her. The remainder of the ride was silent, except that George would now and then whistle a bit to himself. Maneuvering through the crazy city traffic in a car that was worth more than his house was both joyful and stressful, and the whistling subconsciously calmed his nerves.

Unfortunately, for the girl in the passenger seat, it only seemed to heighten the sense of urgency she was experiencing at that moment.

********************************

Waiting in Christina’s house today, as every other day, was Miss Teri. Teri was a single woman in her mid twenties who was well-paid by Christina’s mother to keep things in order about the house in her absence; which was most of the time. Though she cooked and cleaned, her main responsibility was the care of Christina. Teri had felt from the beginning that this constituted “upbringing” in reality, but since, as I already mentioned, she was well-paid, and was also given a wing of the house to herself for free, she played along. Besides, she felt that Christina was a special girl, despite her mother, whose influence it was not too difficult to keep the girl away from--being she was almost never actually around to be influential. Despite this, and perhaps it was genetics, or perhaps the lack of a stable, prominent parental figure, the girl was copping an attitude as of late. Teri was always trying to give the girl the guidance she needed, though sometimes it seemed that the only influence the girl’s mother gave was to undo this.

As Teri meditated on this, she heard the door open, heard a bag being roughly tossed on the floor, and heard feet quickly approaching the kitchen. “Hey Christina, how was school?”

“Good,” the girl responded, with a note of annoyance.

“Have any notes today?”

Christina handed Teri a note from her pocket. Teri looked it over. “1U 0B,” she observed from the note. “Hmmmmm” she thought to herself. “Ok, lets go.” she indicated to Christina, leading the way down the large hallway and into the girl’s room, the girl following with a note of impatience.
 

Soccerbaby

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Very interesting start. Please write more fast though I hate cliff hangers.
 

KatherineB

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If this plot seems far-fetched, I actually based it on a news article. I won't give details, so as not to spoil the plot. If you have questions, ask away, and I welcome your critiques. Enjoy!

Chapter 2

Earlier the same day, Monica Whiting made her way out of the quaint little private cafe situated in the observation deck of the imposing Providential Building, a modern skyscraper that housed Providential Brokerage Co. Inc., the brokerage firm at which Monica was a senior broker. The building felt like home to Monica; she lived for her work, and her absorption and commitment had earned her the seven-figure income she enjoyed. She was very shrewd, and could maneuver a deal in her sleep. As she made her way to her floor--oh yes, she was in charge of the entire brokerage department, which encompassed an entire floor of the massive building--she thought of how wonderful she felt at that moment; how successful she had been to have achieved all this in a mere eight years, and to have everything she ever wanted: money, power, and her quaint little cafe in her big skyscraper to shut out all the noise.

As she made her way back to her office, her secretary handed her several messages, which she glanced over on her way to her desk. She got to the last one: “School nurse. Christina complaining of stomach pain. Probably just needs to have BM. Sent back to class for now. Will advise if gets worse.” Monica rolled her eyes. She wondered why the nurse even bothered to call if there wasn’t really any problem. At any rate, it was Teri that would have to deal with it anyway. . .since getting away from the office was just not possible for someone with her responsibilities.
“I just don’t see why everyone has to make such a fuss over Christina.” Monica mused to herself. “I mean, I know she has her ‘issues,’ but besides that she really isn’t really that special. Not enough that they have to bother me at work anyway.” She tossed the note, and went back to her world where money was her prime focus.

Money was important, you see, for with money, you could purchase things like people, who could fix all your problems for you--problems meaning responsibilities--for instance her own flesh and blood who occupied so little space in her list of priorities. Noise: that’s all that was to the empowered woman she had become! Though somewhere deep down she knew she owed the girl more than just a big house and expensive education. If she thought about it long enough, she would have figured out that the damage was already being done, and that the girl was already showing the effects of being snubbed by her mother--but she made it a point to never think about it long enough to see this. In the time it took you to read the above paragraph, Monica had already completely blocked out everything about her daughter and was engrossed, once again, in her race to the top of the corporate food chain.

***********************

Reaching her bedroom, Christina hastily began removing the bottom half of her school uniform, first kicking off her shoes (without first unbuckling them) then pulling at her plaid skirt and blue tights.

“Christina Whiting, you will put a hole in those tights! Be more careful. What is the rush anyway? You know your mother wants to see you in your uniform at dinner. Goodness!”

“Change me.” The young girl replied.

“I will, if you would hang on a few seconds. Why don’t you unpack your homework and I will get the supplies.”

Christina groaned impatiently, but obeyed. For the past five years, since Teri had taken the job as Christina’s “nanny,” this was one of the routines they had developed, though usually Christina was not as assertive. This time, the girl was at the end of a rope, and just needed things to happen more quickly.

Teri knew precisely what was going on. She had gotten to know the girl and all her little idiosyncrasies, including the one where her neglecting [email protected]#$%^&* of a mother never put forth any effort at all to potty train the poor child. She at first thought it odd, when she applied for the job, and after meeting the otherwise normal-seeming Christina, that Monica Whiting had asked if she had any experience with children with disabilities. She at first accepted the line she was given that Christina was unable to be trained, but soon she came to realize that the only disability the girl had was her mother, who was too absorbed in her career to put forth any effort with her own child. Teri had even made several attempts to train the girl herself, but these efforts were subverted at every turn by Monica, who insisted the girl was disabled and pushing the matter on her was not to be tolerated. Still, she persisted in subtly trying to encourage the girl, even though by now she was entirely set in her ways. Teri figured the girl was, by now, irreversibly incontinent with her urine, but she did know that she had full control of her bowels, and this was the cause of most of the tension between the two.

Christina wore a youth pull-on brief to school, mainly for concealment. The school was paid enough so that the more frequent changes were well masked, and so far there had been no incidents past the fourth grade, when Christina stopped wearing full-size diapers to school. Christina never had bowel movements at school, and thus it was very easy for Teri to scope out the girl’s regularity, or lack thereof, by what happened at home. Generally, Christina’s pull-up was wet enough that it would be changed after school, and regular youth fitted briefs were used instead, to cut back on changes. Today, however, Christina’s pull-up was barely wet. Teri recognized that the girl was probably needing to have a bowel movement, and that she would not do so in her pull-up. “I dunno, Christina, your pull-up isn’t that wet. You want to just keep it on awhile?”

This was out of the question for Christina. She had always hated the pull-ups. They did not feel secure enough to her for the task of releasing her bowels, and she would hold her bowels indefinitely until she was put in a diaper. All she could think about at this point was getting a diaper on so she could relieve the intense pressure that had been making her belly ache all day. Of course, this was also something she felt embarrassed about, and this was manifesting itself as frustration, as she didn’t want to just come out and admit her need.

“Come on, please just change me.” She had unclothed her bottom half and made her way and laid down on the bed, pleading with her eyes for Teri to just change her.

Teri wanted to use the opportunity to make inroads towards training the girl. “Don’t think I don’t know what’s going on! I know you haven’t filled your diaper in three days. You want me to take off a perfectly dry pull-up, then have you ruin a fresh diaper just because you want to be picky?”

“Please, come on, my belly hurts!” Christina whined, pressing onto her abdomen.

“Why are you holding it in the first place? Wouldn’t it be better to just sit on the potty and let it come out there?”

“No!” Christina said firmly. And that was that. Teri knew if she pushed the girl too hard, there would be a backlash from Mommy, so she acquiesced to the girl and changed her into a diaper.

“I’ll leave you alone a few minutes, and then we need to get your uniform back on.” Teri said, walking out and closing the door behind her. She actually felt bad for the poor girl, and realized she was being held back by forces beyond her or Teri’s control. She braced herself for the mess she knew was coming, though it was a labor of love.

Christina got up quickly from her bed, now donning only her school blouse and her thick, plastic-backed diaper. She felt secure now, and the pressure was increasing sharply as it prepared to be evacuated. “Not yet,” Christina told herself. She found her teddy bear on her bed and grabbed it. She looked around her room. She had a few favorite spots where she would “hide.” One of her favorites used to be under her bed. That one had fallen into disfavor as she had grown. Sometimes, she would go in the closet, leaving only a crack open so she could peer out. This time, she felt drawn to the corner in back of the leather rocking chair that Teri would sit in sometimes. She knelt down behind it, just peering out a little, but allowing herself to take in the enclosed space and feel shrouded by it. She put her thumb in her mouth and rubbed her teddy bear on her cheek. Suddenly, she got an urge to do some pushing, which she obeyed, now being completely in her zone. She bent forward a little, clenching and trying to get leverage. Finally, the mass moved out of her distended belly and into her newly distended diaper.

She knelt there a few minutes, taking in the feeling of relief. She unconsciously began to empty her bladder, the contents of which were soaked up by her thirsty diaper. Finally, she got up and walked to the door, opening it and calling to Teri. She noticed the extra-large bulge and tried not to disturb it when she laid down on the bed.

“All ready kiddo?” Called Teri who now entered the room.

Christina laid there on the bed, still sucking her thumb and rubbing her teddy on her cheek. Teri got a new diaper out of the package, and a package of wipes. She always took note of the slight regression whenever this happened. She knew it would be over in a minute, and she would soon be dealing with a snappy preteen again. She untaped the diaper, and she couldn’t believe the unusually large bowel movement she was presented with.

“Oh, honey, you were holding this inside your belly all day. Poor sweety!.” She gently patted the girl’s abdomen, afterwards cleaning the girl and putting her in a fresh diaper. After the last tape was placed, she placed her hand gently on the girl’s tummy. “I want you to promise me that you won’t hold any more of these in your belly, OK? You could get very sick, and I mean more than just the belly-ache you had today. Just push them right out, OK?”

The girl nodded, mostly to avoid the argument. She figured if she could just wear her diapers all the time instead of those stupid pull-ups, this wouldn’t be a problem. Teri helped her sit up, and Christina put her tights back on, and her skirt. She didn’t know why her mother insisted that she wear her uniform to dinner, since most of the time Monica had some excuse to not be there anyway. As it would turn out, tonight would be no different, but not for the usual reason. . .
 

KatherineB

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Well, after a week, I can see there is no interest in this story, so I probably won't waste my time coming up with more chapters.
 

selv14

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KatherineB, the story forum doesn't work that way. People read your stories, but not all of us actually respond to your thread. Maybe it's considered rude, but the thing is that people do read your stories. Just that we haven't come round to telling you our thoughts yet.

Please do continue this story, it has great potential. You have a way with words, and your stories are a pleasant read - no writing errors and stuff. I for one would like to find out more about Christina and what happens to her henceforth. Write for yourself, not for others. I'm sure you'd like to see your idea in text.
 

KatherineB

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I understand, and thank you for the kind words. It has been challenging for me to write this longer story, and I guess I was disappointed that there was no feedback.
 

KiwiBoi

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It was good - a lot of the time people on forums won't reply to a thread in a subforum such as 'stories' for the simple reason of not wanting to provide useless notifications for those who are subscribed, or else just to generally prevent the thread becoming clogged, unless they have criticism. Lack of criticism is a good thing. :)
 

babylock1

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Sometimes having too many postings (interruptions) between chapters of a story detracts from the continuity.
My preference is to read the story with as few (or none) of these as possible.
At the end a discussion/critic of the merits of all the things that make a story what it is can be noted and perhaps
if warranted an edit or rewrite can be made.
Now while I like a 'Quickie' a story that is short and to the point of my passion never the less a story that
is composed of several chapters and proceeds along at a pace to keep me riveted is a work to be appreciated.
Often hear (or read) 'The Suspense is Killing Me' ! So tally forth keep me riveted "Carry On in Diaper Mode" !
 

aldl4811

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Christina's story is written very well, you are writing something intriguing and we are looking forward to it continuing.
 

Existential

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Just read this now.... while I didn't have this same problem when I was a kid, I can relate to wishing you felt more safe and nurtured as a child.

Sending you hugs & prayers for consolation.

existential
 

DLChad34

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I do hope you continue writing this story is interesting to read i'm just giving you my own :twocents:
 

kingdark

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For what's it's worth I think the story has great potential. It isn't the 'usual' at all. So I would really like to see how it would end eventually.
 
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