Regressive Ad Campaign: Part 4



By Sage Ann

This story is set in the incredible world created by AlteredStates14. Her universe is brought to life not through traditional written narratives, but through a powerful collection of images—advertisements, media articles, and other visual artifacts—that vividly capture everyday life in her setting.
All images associated with this story are her original work. Please consider supporting her so we can continue to explore and enjoy more of this fascinating world.
You can find her work here:
 https://www.deviantart.com/alteredstates14
Another author has also written a story based in this universe from a different perspective. You can find it here:
 https://www.deviantart.com/fatherfish/art/Pampers-and-Propaganda-1028729633



Kalie woke to the sound of muffled crying from across the hallway. Morning light sliced through the blinds in thin, dusty beams, casting her room in the half-light of dawn. She lay still for a moment, ears straining to confirm what she'd heard—the unmistakable hiccup of her sister's tears. It wasn't the first time Mary had woken upset, dreams sometimes leaving her younger sister tangled in both sheets and emotions, but something in the particular pitch of her distress pulled Kalie from the warm cocoon of her bed.
Her bare feet met the cool floorboards, each step creating a familiar creak as she crossed to Mary's door. She knocked softly before pushing it open an inch.
"Mary? Everything okay?"
The fifteen-year-old sat huddled at the edge of her bed, shoulders hunched into a protective curl. A dark stain spread across her sheets, the unmistakable evidence dampening the air with a faint ammonia scent. Mary looked up, her green eyes rimmed red, panic flickering across her face like a trapped animal.
"Don't—" Mary's voice caught. "Don't tell Mom."
Kalie slipped inside, closing the door with a soft click. "Hey, it's okay. It happens." Her words hung awkwardly, an optimism she wasn't sure either of them believed.
"Not to fifteen-year-olds." Mary's hands twisted in the hem of her sleep shirt, pulling it down over her knees. "This is humiliating."
Kalie sat beside her sister, careful to choose a dry spot on the mattress. The gesture wasn't lost on Mary, whose cheeks burned brighter. "Remember when I got food poisoning at Aunt Jen's wedding?" Kalie offered. "That was way worse."
"That's different." Mary's voice was small, her fingers now plucking at a loose thread in her shirt. "This is... this is like I'm a baby."
Before Kalie could respond, a soft knock preceded their mother's voice. "Girls? Almost ready for breakfast?"
Mary's eyes widened in panic, her hand shooting out to grab Kalie's wrist with surprising strength. Kalie squeezed back reassuringly before calling out, "Just a minute, Mom."
Too late. The door opened, and their mother stood framed in the doorway, still in her bathrobe, hair twisted up in a messy knot. Her eyes took in the scene—the stained sheets, Mary's tear-streaked face, Kalie's protective posture beside her sister.
"Oh, sweetheart." Their mother's voice held no trace of disappointment or disgust, only a gentle understanding that made Mary's shoulders slump.
"I don't know what happened," Mary whispered. "I didn't even dream about water or anything."
Their mother crossed the room, pressing a cool hand to Mary's forehead. "No fever. How did you sleep otherwise? Any stomach problems?"
Mary shook her head, unable to meet her mother's eyes.
"These things happen sometimes," their mother said, straightening up. "Kalie, would you mind helping your sister clean up? You can throw the sheets in the washer, and I'll run them when I get home from work."
Kalie nodded, relief washing through her. Their mother's calm reaction confirmed what she'd already thought—this was just one of those things, embarrassing but ordinary. Nothing sinister.
"You've got about forty minutes before you need to leave for school," their mother added, already backing toward the door. "Take a quick shower, Mary. I'll put some toast on for both of you."
When the door closed, Mary exhaled slowly. "That wasn't as awful as I thought it would be."
"Told you." Kalie stood, tugging gently at the corner of Mary's sheets. "Come on, disaster zone. Let's get this stripped."
Together they peeled away the damp sheets, Kalie taking care to bundle them in a way that contained the wet spots. Mary stood awkwardly to the side, still in her soaked pajama bottoms, arms wrapped around herself.
"Go shower," Kalie urged. "I'll take care of this."
Mary hesitated, her long brown hair falling across her face like a curtain. "I don't know why this happened. I didn't even drink anything before bed."
"Bodies are weird," Kalie said, trying to sound worldly and knowledgeable despite being only two years older. "Remember when my eye started twitching for like three days straight last year?"
A ghost of a smile touched Mary's lips. "You looked possessed."
"Exactly. And then it just stopped. This is probably the same—just some weird glitch." Kalie hefted the bundle of sheets. "Now go. Shower. You smell like a swimming pool."
Mary's hand shot out, shoving Kalie's shoulder, but the tension had broken. "Jerk."
"Love you too," Kalie called as Mary gathered clean clothes and shuffled toward the bathroom.
In the laundry room, Kalie stuffed the sheets into the washing machine, measuring detergent with practiced movements. Their mother had always insisted they learn to do their own laundry from an early age—"I'm raising independent women, not laundry clients," she'd joke. Now Kalie felt grateful for the knowledge, sparing Mary the additional embarrassment of their mother handling her soiled sheets.
When Mary emerged from the bathroom, hair slicked back and skin pink from hot water, Kalie was waiting with a piece of toast smeared with Mary's favorite strawberry jam.
"Eat fast," she said, glancing at the clock. "We've got fifteen minutes."
Mary accepted the toast, taking a small bite. "Thanks. For... you know."
Kalie nudged her sister's shoulder. "That's what I'm here for. Someone has to help you through your various humiliations."
"You're not funny," Mary said, but a smile tugged at her lips.
As they grabbed their backpacks and headed for the door, their mother called from the kitchen, "Have a good day, girls! Mary, drink water but maybe not too much before bed tonight, okay?"
Mary winced, but nodded. "Okay, Mom."
Walking down the driveway, Kalie noticed her sister's expression—a mix of frustration and lingering embarrassment. "Hey," she said, "by tomorrow, this will just be a weird thing that happened once. You'll see."
Mary sighed, kicking at a stone on the sidewalk. "I guess. It's just... I feel like I should have more control than that, you know? I'm not a little kid."
"Our bodies do all kinds of strange things," Kalie said, feeling wise beyond her seventeen years. "It's probably just stress or something."
"Maybe," Mary agreed, not sounding convinced.
Kalie watched her sister walk ahead, backpack bouncing against her shoulders, and felt a surge of protectiveness. Whatever had caused this odd incident, she was sure it was nothing to worry about. Just one of those things. By the time they reached the school, Mary was already laughing at something on her phone, the morning's embarrassment fading into memory.