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Rose writes

Damp Member
  • Posts

    22
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About Rose writes

  • Rank
    Damp

Personal Information

  • My pronouns are..
    she/her

My Kinks

  • I'm into..
    Bedwetting
    Diapers
    Cuddling
    Humiliation
    Hypnosis
    Public humiliation
    Spanking

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  1. They didn’t seem happy! They were having very animated conversations in Korean as she blithely tried on pair after pair of pants to find one she really liked. She was plus-sized-ish, and Asian clothes tend to run small, so that could have been why she felt like she needed the try on session. It was still bizarre. I’m not so into watching other people wet, unless I’m trying to imagine myself in their shoes, so my main feeling at the time was confusion.
  2. This is from an excerpt of a longer story I wrote (fan fic, but whatever). You don’t need to know the characters. Jeremy is a guy and the Squip is an evil computer that lives inside his brain and has some control over his thoughts and physical actions. ———— “You are behaving like Jeremy 1.0. I thought we’d fully upgraded you. Perhaps not.” “Perhaps not,” Jeremy peevishly agreed. He braced himself, expecting an electrical shock. It didn’t come. In fact, his punishment didn’t come until early the next morning. His alarm went off at five AM, as it had been ever since he got the Squip. The expectation there was that he’d get up and work out for two hours before driving to school. It wasn’t unusual for Jeremy to make a groggy attempt at hitting the snooze button. What he was too sleepy to realize was unusual was that the Squip let him. The alarm went off a second time. Once again, Jeremy hit the snooze. In the back of his mind, he was aware that he needed to go to the bathroom, and badly, but the last thing he wanted to do was get out of bed. “If you need to use the bathroom, then do,” the Squip suggested, in a light, soothing voice that didn’t rouse Jeremy in the least. Jeremy was used to obeying the Squip, and that’s just what he did. At the Squip’s suggestion, he relaxed completely. Within seconds, a wet patch had formed on the front of Jeremy’s boxers. There was a jolt within Jeremy. Awareness! He blinked, rubbing his eyes. This wasn’t right. “Hmm,” murmured the Squip. “There is a bit of Jeremy 2.0 in you. But, as you said earlier today, Jeremy 1.0 isn’t quite gone yet. Jeremy 1.0 wants to sleep, doesn’t he?” In response, Jeremy yawned. The Squip began to gently stroke his hair, lulling him back to sleep. Jeremy drifted off, and though he didn’t quite lose consciousness the wet spot grew. As he wet the bed, all Jeremy was aware of was a comforting sensation of release, and a pleasant warmth that started at his crotch and seeped down his bottom and up his back. The sense of well-being was profound and humbling. Yes, he was having an accident, but he couldn’t help it. Yes, the Squip was watching and judging, but there was nothing he could do to win the respect of the super computer, so why even try? There was nothing wrong with peeing himself. Jeremy was a pro at that at this point. “Yes,” the Squip whispered. “You are enjoying this. How pitiful. You know, deep down, you enjoyed the day in Michael’s car as well. You could have held it a little longer, but you didn’t want to, did you? You knew there would be no consequences from him, and in a way it felt good to embarrass yourself. It felt good to be less than nothing. Water seeks its own level, as they say.” Jeremy sighed in his sleep, his bladder now completely empty. He felt like he was in a trance, half-asleep and half-awake, aware of what he’d done but still untroubled by it. In fact, all he could feel was pleasure. Within a few seconds, he’d had another kind of wet dream. The next time Jeremy’s alarm went off, as he reached out to hit snooze, he was overcome with a confused feeling that something was wrong. He sat up, panicking a little inwardly. The boxer shorts and tee shirt he’d worn to bed clung to him. He shivered. “You wet the bed,” the Squip informed him. “Turn on your light.” Jeremy reached out for his bedside lamp. The damage of what he’d done became fully apparent. He was sitting in a gigantic wet patch. His mattress, blankets, and sheets were saturated. The inside of his boxers were not only wet, but sticky and slick in a way he’d been familiar with before the Squip. The feeling of peace and pleasure fled, leaving only shame behind. Jeremy pushed the blankets off of himself and hid his face. “What?” taunted the Squip. “Don’t you want more? At this point you might as well mess yourself as well. I believe you have to go.” Jeremy shook his head pleadingly. “Will you trip Michael Mell at school today?” “I don’t know,” sobbed Jeremy. “I don’t want to.” A pressure formed in Jeremy’s stomach. A revolting smell rose up around him as his bowels released into his wet shorts. “Do one hundred push ups.” Jeremy got up, heading for his door. He’d shower, then do as the Squip commanded.
  3. I was in college. i was friends with this Korean exchange student. Let’s call her H. There were a lot of Korean exchange students who generally stuck together, and they didn’t like H. According to her roommate she’d pooped the bed, apparently. Anyway, since H was ostracized from the other Koreans she generally hung around with me and my friend Meg. H acted like Meg hung the moon, and was more casual with me. Anyway, I went into New York City with H one day. It was our first time hanging out without Meg. We went all over the place. At one point H said she needed to go to the bathroom and said we should order something from McDonald’s so we should use theirs. She ordered two extra large sodas, one for each of us, but drank them both because I don’t like soda. She checked out the bathroom, but said it was too dirty and that we should go to Korea town. We ate at a restaurant there ( I had very tiny octopuses!), and she was complaining about needing yo use the bathroom, but she vetoed the bathroom at the restaurant just like she had at the McDonalds. Neither bathrooms looked remotely dirty to me, but whatever. We went to several cute stationary shops that she suggested, and I was engrossed in all of the adorable notebooks and things, when suddenly she tapped me on the shoulder, and gestured at her pants, which were suddenly saturated with urine. Her English wasn’t really good enough to say much about it, but she didn’t need to, because it was obvious. She said she needed new pants and wanted to show me her favorite clothes shop. She walked in and had a conversation with the owners in Korean, with lots of blushing and gesturing at her wet pants. They got a pair of new pants that looked like they would fit her, but she insisted on trying them on. She tried on several pairs of pants (with her wet legs and crotch) before she picked a pair she liked, while the shop keepers looked on in horror. She never really seemed embarrassed among me or the shop keepers, but constantly made me promise to never tell Meg. I totally did tell Meg. I feel guilty about that, but what’s done is done. Meg never made it known that she knew, at least. These days, I can’t help wondering if H did the whole thing deliberately somehow. I guess I’ll never know,
  4. Just for fun. Imagine you met a genie, who offered to grant you three wishes, but they all needed to be omo related (or at least somewhat omo related) What would you ask for? Mine would be - 1. To wet the bed, not every night, but often enough to worry about it. 2. To receive some teasing / mockery for it… 3. To find a partner who is somewhat dominant and into seeing others wet, but doesn’t wet themselves (Obviously I’m selfish and want all the fun for myself.).
  5. Thanks so much for digging it up! I enjoyed the validation. I’ll have to write more. If you like my writing, you can find more of it here: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StOrY1/pseuds/StOrY1
  6. I’m adding one — Genuinely, I prefer accidental scenarios to deliberate ones, but there is one deliberate one I love. Somebody (A) accidentally wets the bed one time, and their partner (B) is very sweet about it, comforting them and cleaning them up. Some time passes, and B hits a period where they’re incredibly busy at work, and not quite as attentive. A remembers the attention and pampering they received when they wet the bed, and feigns another accident. They’re massively embarrassed about it and feel like they’re giving up their dignity in doing it, but they enjoy B’s response.
  7. Accidentally —- About seven years ago, I guess. It was a very annoying one! I’d just started renting a new apartment. I had a brand new bed with new bedding and a new mattress and everything. I’d just gotten my room set up and decorated the way I wanted, and it was so clean and perfect— a huge upgrade over where I’d been living before. Anyway, I had a rather drunken night out on the town, and ended up wetting the bed. A genuine accidental bed wetting is my gold tier fantasy scenario, but I was so hungover that I didn’t get any pleasure out of it at all. Plus, the stain on the mattress never really went away, and my landlord charged me for it when I eventually moved out (I blamed it on my cat).
  8. When it comes to wetting things, bed wetting is my absolute favorite to read about or imagine. Here are some things I really like. Feel free to share yours. - The idea of being totally unconscious and having zero control. - Vague unconscious or barely conscious discomfort (in the form of a full bladder) fading into warmth and release. - The embarrassment upon waking and realizing what’s happened and being absolutely unable to go back and change it. - I love the possibility of being made fun of for it, but not too meanly. - The helplessness of going to sleep realizing you’re probably going to have an accident and there’s nothing you can do about it. - I love the idea of being forced into diapers to deal with repeated bed wettings, and being told that you can go back to regular underwear if you keep them dry for a week. Imagine successfully getting through six nights dry, only to wake up on the seventh to a sodden diaper, knowing you failed. - Occasional bed wetting, with a partner who knows certain things tend to trigger accidents. Being warned about having a glass of champagne at a special event, because that will surely result in an accident, laughing it off and insisting that that won’t happen, and then having it happen.
  9. I was surprised where everything tended to go when I tried diapers (lying down). I’d thought that any leaking would happen around the legs and that most of the liquid would pool at the back. However, most of it went to the front, and leaks happened primarily at the front waistband (and then trickled down the sides, if significant). In jeans and standing up, I find that my legs and thighs are the wettest part. Sitting, it’s the backside.
  10. “Heeeey! (Y/N)! Is that it? Did you finish your last test?” Your roommate offers you a grin and a double thumbs up as you plod exhaustedly into the room. You ignore her, flopping face down on the bed with a groan of exhaustion. After one week you’ll graduate from college. Right now, having pulled two consecutive all nighters to finish up your senior thesis and study for your physics final, the only thing you want is to sleep. Your roommate crouches at the end of your bed, shaking you playfully by the shoulder. “Come on,” she says. “You can’t pass out without a celebratory drink.” “Watch me,” you mutter, but you know it’s no use. You sit up, rubbing your eyes and pushing your hair (greasy from a week of being too busy to shower) out of your face. You’ve never been awake for this long before. Robotically, you take the beer that your roommate thrusts into your hand. You down it in three huge gulps, hoping that’ll make her go away. Instead, she hands you another beer. “How was the physics final anyway?” “I swear to god, I think I was hallucinating,” you complain. Actually, you still feel that way now. The beer in your hand is dream-like. It’s more like something that is happening to you rather than something you’re actively doing. It’s like, the mouth that is opening is yours and the throat the beer is going down is yours, but what do you really have to do with that in the grand scheme of things. “I’m sure you aced it like you did everything else,” your roommate says. “Seriously, in the last four years I haven’t seen you screw up anything.” You shrug. “I guess I screw up as much as anybody else,” you say, swallowing back a burp. “Like fuck you do. Have another beer.” The third beer is the charm that gets your roommate to leave you alone. You curl up in bed, not bothering to take off your shoes. You’re just so tired! All you want to do is sleep, yet it’s hard for reasons your exhaustion numbed brain can’t figure out. You shift back and forth in bed, aware of a growing pressure and discomfort in your lower belly. It’s almost an urgency, but you’re way too sleepy to feel urgent about anything. Somehow you drift off, only to be awakened a short time later by a pang in your bladder. What? you think groggily. Then: Oh, never mind. The discomfort resolves itself. Your dorm room is usually chilly, but you grow warm. The comfy warmth starts at your crotch, and seeps down your thighs and up your back. You’re awake enough to know that this will be a problem, but not awake enough to care. You were a bed wetter late into your teens, but now you’re twenty-four, and disbelieving that your body is betraying you like this. Oh well, it feels nice to relax and let your body do what it wants, especially after fighting it to stay awake as long as you did. This is probably just a stupid dream. No way you’re really wetting the bed as a college senior. As though from far away, you overhear your roommate and somebody else giggling. Whatever. You fall fully back asleep before you finish peeing. Even a soaking wet bed isn’t enough to keep you from sleeping like a rock for the next six hours. When you open your eyes, the light is off and somebody has laid a blanket over you and your wet jeans. You shiver. Your head hurts. Your priority should be to clean yourself up, but all you really want is to be warm so you can sleep. You sigh in discontent, and take the laziest way out— you deliberately wet yourself again. It’s not like things can get worse, and at least now you’re warm enough to go back to sleep. You’ll face the consequences tomorrow. Said consequences come in the form of a drenched mattress, skin that is sticky with piss, and a roommate who smirks at you as you sit up and survey the considerable damage you did to yourself during the night. “I take back what I said about you never screwing up,” your roommate says, not unkindly. You hide your face in your hands, unable to meet her eyes. Your face is hot with embarrassment, though the rest of you is cold with last night’s stale urine. “Was... was anybody else here?” you ask, thinking back to the laughter that you either heard or dreamt you heard. “A few people,” your roommate admits. “But don’t worry about it. Nobody hates you or anything. Honestly, I think we were kind of relieved.” “Relieved?” you ask. “Yeah. You’re like our resident super-human, with your grades and everything. Now that we’ve seen you wet the bed, we know you’re just a normal person who makes mistakes like the rest of us.” You’re not sure what to think of that. All you know is that, as you stand up to take your walk of shame to the bathroom to clean up, you feel humbled, stupid, and small. Your drenched jeans cling to your skin, and you decide never to screw with your sleep schedule so badly again. One accident you can live down, but it’s not something you want to make a habit out of. Or is it? It had felt nice to stop struggling and just let things happen for once. —— That’s all! Also posted on AO3. Receiving feedback motivates me to write more.
  11. Susan sniffled, or at least she tried to. The congestion in her nose and throat refused to give way. She wiped at the beads of sweat on her forehead with the sleeve of the flannel pajama top she’d been wearing for the past 48 hours. A video droned on YouTube. Even with the windows open, her room felt stuffy, or maybe it was just her. “I feel gross,” she croaked. Little did she know, she was soon to feel grosser. “You look lovely as ever,” her girlfriend, Jen, quipped (an obvious lie). “Besides, this is probably you’re body’s way of telling you you need to rest. You’ve been working like crazy lately.” “…Yeah, but does this even count as rest? Wouldn’t rest be lazing around on a tropical island, drinking stuff with tiny umbrellas in it?” Jen stood up, snatching Susan’s empty tea cup. “You need more of this. Want me to put a tiny umbrella in it?” Susan sniffed again, rolling her eyes. “We don’t have any.” “Could make one out of used tissues.” “Ewww.” With a shrug, Jen existed the room, presumably to get more tea. Alone in bed, Susan shifted around. She kinda had to pee. Not badly, but… Uhg. Just the thought of standing made her dizzy, plus she’d have to get out from under her warm blankets. She could wait. A tickle in Susan’s throat made her cough, and she instinctually squeezed her legs shut. She opened up her phone on selfie mode, opened her mouth wide, and stuck out her tongue. For how much her throat hurt, it didn’t look especially red or swollen. Her green eyes had dark circles under them, though. Jen had been calling them “panda eyes”. Susan loved how Jen always talked about her nicely, even when she was at her worst. Susan put down her phone and smiled at her girlfriend as she re-entered the room, baring a steaming cup of tea. Another cough escaped her throat, and she crossed her legs again. “You’re a godsend,” Susan said. “I am pretty awesome.” The two women sat together for a while, Susan enjoying her tea, and Jen enjoying Susan. The warm liquid tasted floral, though Susan couldn’t place a finger on exactly what kind of tea it was. It wasn’t rose, chamomile, or lavender, but it was soothing and laced with sweet honey. It calmed Susan’s throat and left her feeling drowsy. As she finished the tea, she rested her head on Jen’s shoulder. She didn’t plan to fall asleep, but before long she had. About an hour later, a cough tore from her throat, waking her up. “Aww, hon…” Jen rubbed her back, as though to lull her back to sleep. It might have worked, if not from the urgent pressure in Susan’s bladder. She coughed again, and felt a few drops of warmth spurt out between her legs. She sat up quickly, eyes widening, her breath hitching. “Babe, what is it?” “I have to…” Another big cough. Susan jammed her hands between her legs, and felt another spurt of warm liquid flow out around them. Her skin felt clammy and prickly, and her heart was racing. No way was she going to wet her pants in front of Jen. She swallowed back a cough. It felt like choking. Actually, she already had wet herself, but not very much. At least she hoped not very much, and not very obviously. Maybe, if she was careful, she could hide what had already happened, and make it to the toilet without making a fool of herself. “Sue?” “Just gonna run to the bathroom.” Susan shot Jen a fake smile, and forced herself to slowly untangle herself from the blanket, angling herself so that maybe the wet spot on her crotch could be hidden. No such luck. “Baby, it looks like you already did.” Blushing, Susan covered the stain on the front of her pajamas with her hands, but it was pointless. Now that she was standing, she could feel that her bottom was also slightly wet. “I…” Susan couldn’t think of what to say, and even if she had been able to, it wouldn’t have mattered, because she promptly started coughing again. With each cough, another spurt of pee escaped her, making its way down her thighs. Jen took hold of her by the elbow. “Come on sweetheart, let’s see if we can get you to the toilet to finish up.” As Jen led her to the bathroom, tears leaked from Susan’s eyes. She was as helpless to stop them as she was to stop the urine leaking out between her legs. She was twenty-three years old, but in this moment she felt like a particularly stupid three year old. “We’re almost there,” Jen encouraged. They were standing right in front of the bathroom door. It was still too far. Susan gasped as her bladder gave up, releasing completely into her pajama pants. She just stood there, feeling silly and utterly defeated as it all poured out of her, creating a puddle on the floor, mere centimeters from a toilet. Jen was silent, as though stunned. Then, as Susan’s humiliating accident tapered off, Jen sighed and kissed the top of her head. “Never mind. Let’s get you cleaned up.”
  12. Your interests are extremely different than mine, but I admire how well you articulate and explain them. You should absolutely write more, because you’re clearly talented.
  13. I responded to this post with a few drunken wetting stories: The only other time I’ve had a real accident as an adult was during a vacation in a country that primarily used squat toilets. There were seated toilets available at a few places, like Starbucks and my hotel, and I always tried to avoid the squatters. On one occasion I didn’t make it, but I was wearing a skirt and leggings, so it wasn’t visible. I was with a friend, who might have been confused by my behavior, because before just as I started to wet myself, I made a panicked comment about how I felt sick and thought I needed to catch a taxi back to the hotel right away, but then it happened and it wasn’t visible at all, so I said my illness had passed and continued (somewhat uncomfortably) with my day.
  14. A private hypnotism session, to make sure I never had a dry night again.
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