"Bad news, Dad," you say as you come out of the bathroom, once again wearing the spaghetti-stained clothes from before (not the diaper, though--you're going commando), and carrying your suitcase. "A soda can broke in my bag somehow, and got all my clothes way to dirty to save."
"Ooh, that's a bummer," your dad replies. "Just throw the suitcase in the dumpster. You can borrow a few of my clothes for the weekend."
You throw away the clothes your mom gave you, and resume dinner with your dad. Soon, after dinner and a game of catch, you go to bed, almost forgetting about the suitcase. After a full weekend of bonding activities, however, you've completely forgotten about it.
When your mom picks you up Sunday morning, she looks you up and down, and glares at you while you sit down in the passenger seat. She ignores you the whole way home.
Arriving at your house, you rush up to your room to get online, but your surprisingly strong mom grabs the back of your collar and stops you.
"You didn't wear them at all?" she sighs as you turn around. "Really, JoJo? Your brother and I have given you chance after chance, and we keep raising the punishment, but you still ignore us?"
"I'm not going to wear that stupid diaper, or any of those stupid girly clothes!" you protest.
"I knew you were going to say that. Andrew?"
Your older brother comes out from around corner and grabs your arms, holding them up.
"If you won't wear this diaper voluntarily," your mom says as she pulls a diaper from her pocket, "then we'll make you."
As Andrew holds your arms up and your mom stands on your feet, your mom pulls down your pants and underwear and puts a diaper on.
"I'll just take it off again, you know," you protest.
"Not with these," your mom replies. Out of her pocket she pulls a pair of thumbless mittens, with thick padding. She puts them on your struggling hands, and ties them on with silk ribbons.
"And, to silence that potty mouth of yours, I have this." She clips what seems to be another pacifier on a necklace around your head, but this one is much tighter, only fitting around your cheeks, forcefully keeping the large rubber pacifier in your mouth.
Andrew leaves the room, leaving only you and your mom. You try and yell at her, but the pacifier keeps getting in the way of your tongue.
"I'll give you clothes to match after lunch this afternoon," she says. "It's 11 now, so you can do whatever you want until lunch at 1. Except take that stuff off, of course."
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