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alex19

Dry Member
  • Posts

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Personal Information

  • My pronouns are..
    they/them

My Kinks

  • I'm into..
    Ageplay
    Bedwetting
    Diapers
    Watersports
    Biting
    Humiliation
    Messing
    Pleasure control
    Public humiliation
    Sadism / Masochism
    Spanking

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  1. Well! I officially have the diagnosis that answers all of the questions that I’ve had for years. Even though my doctor was a bit brusque about the whole ordeal, she at least listened to what I was saying and took it at face value. (Which, unfortunately, is more than I can say for pretty much every other doctor I’ve ever seen!) Oh, and I also had to go to the hospital because I ended up getting hit by a truck with no license plates. So, I’ve been a bit MIA for that reason as well. 😅

     

    I also ended up coming clean to my boyfriend- not about being into omo, but at least partially into my issues with still wetting the bed. He didn’t say anything negative about it, but he hasn’t brought it up since. Maybe that’s a good thing. I am still embarrassed about it, after all. But it also makes me think that he’s a little grossed out by it, even if he’s not saying it. 
     

    Anyways, all that aside, I’ve been feeling the urge to write something for me to share here. My previous writings are all extremely self indulgent pieces of fanfiction. I’m not sure how comfortable I am with sharing them for other people’s consumption. So, I’m currently in the process of working on original characters and plot lines. Some people might say that I'm putting a lot of effort into something that’s primarily going to be kink-related, but I’d like to think that I am simply doing my proper due diligence as a writer. The next time I log in, it will be to post some writing that I feel meets my standards to be shared with others! 
     

    I hope everyone has a warm, wonderful holiday! Stay safe out there! 

  2. Good evening everyone and happy holidays to all those who celebrate! I am currently with my boyfriend at his mom’s house for the holiday. I also have an update of the medical variety! (Not sure if anyone necessarily cares about my health problems, but I do, so I’m going to talk about them.)

     

    So, as previously mentioned, I’ve always had a lot of health issues. The urinary problems are a small part of the bigger picture- a picture I’ve been trying to piece together for years now entirely on my own. As a kid, I was very accident prone. I was always falling and dropping things, and I remember frequently coming home from school with stains on my clothing that I had clumsily acquired throughout the day, much to the frustration of the woman raising me. (I wasn’t allowed to drink chocolate milk, play with paint, or run in the grass, lest my fine motor skills failed me.) 

     

    It got to the point that she took me to a children’s hospital, where they did some initial intake and assessments. I do not remember most of these visits, since this was when I was five or six. Apparently, at the time the doctors had suggested that I might have muscular dystrophy and recommended that I should perhaps get a wheelchair. My “parents” both balked at the idea. They wanted me to have a normal life, they said. Then, when the idea of more testing was brought up, they stopped bringing me and said that they could not afford any more testing. After the man who I believed to be my father died, his wife stopped taking me to doctor appointments pretty much all together unless she absolutely had to. My poor vision went untreated for years, leaving me squinting to see in all of my classes. My chronic pain was invalidated, as was my constant fatigue. Waking up with random bruises, spasming in my hands and feet, a numbness so intense it caused me to actually cry out in pain when I’d feel it stabbing my feet, and an awkward gait were all ignored due to my age. She was convinced that I was a hypochondriac. 

     

    The past five years since I moved out have been filled with doctor’s appointments and blood work. When labs come back normal, all of my concerns were dismissed as psychosomatic or a result of my weight.  It got to a point where I even started to believe that they were right- that my pain was all inside of my head, and I just needed to suck it up and push through it anyways. So that’s what I did. It turned out that it was very real.  
     

    Thankfully, I have recently come into a position where I now have relatively easy access to health care with progressive, well-educated professionals. During my first visit with my current provider, I was nervous. I came prepared with a list of things to go over. Around the same time, I became aware of a condition that could very likely be the root cause of all of my health problems: Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome. It’s a condition that weakens the collagen in your body. It’s marked by soft, stretchy skin that’s more susceptible to breakage and joint instability. It can impact your vision, your level of mobility, your teeth, your skin, your bowels and bladder, and even your brain. (There seems to be overlap between EDS and neurodivergence, and I have come to realize in the past year or so that I am in fact autistic.) Unfortunately, it’s a condition that a lot of people don’t know much about, including health care professionals. So, I was unsure about bringing up my suspicion to my doctor due to that and my prior experiences with medical gaslighting. 
     

    A few days ago I finally gathered up the courage to broach the subject. I sent my doctor a message, explaining that I am currently seeking genetic counseling and also a disability case since it does impact my ability to work. I also sent her the paperwork I had been sent that went over all of the symptoms I had that could be explained by EDS, or one of it’s other subtypes, hEDS. The H standing for hypermobile. I’m also seeing a physical therapist for a shoulder injury, and she confirmed for me that I am hypermobile, which was the final push I needed to talk to my doctor. I have an appointment on the 12th next month to go over the possibility more in detail. I’m extremely grateful for that. At long last, after so many years of suffering and wondering what’s wrong with me, I may finally have an answer for it. 

     

     

     

     

     

    1. andrewWetter

      Wishing you all the very best. Indeed, hopefully they can soon provide you with some good answers, and offer a plan for moving forward.

      Please keep us posted on your progress!

       

      -andrew

    2. alex19

      Thank you very much! I’m very much looking forward to getting everything figured out. I will continue to post updates as I get more information!! 😊

  3. Getting an extra hour of sleep is nice, but the problem with it getting dark so early in the evening means I’m falling asleep by 10:00 most nights. 

     

    This on its own would be fine. However, it becomes a problem when I’m waking up like I did this morning. My phone had fallen off of my bed in the night, so I couldn’t see what time it was, but it was still pitch black in the room. As I attempted to readjust and fall back asleep, I felt that all too familiar wetness underneath me. My hand reached down and pressed into the mattress, and sure enough, it was thoroughly soaked. Moreso than usual when I wake up in the middle of the night, too. Typically I can write it off as me leaking in the night, but this time I had undoubtably peed myself in my sleep. 

     

    Shit.

     

    Careful to not wake my boyfriend up, I sat up and got out of bed to search for a towel. I grabbed one off the floor and quickly shuffled back into the bedroom, placing the towel on the mattress to give me a dry place to lay for the rest of the night. My boyfriend turned over when he felt me crawl back into bed on top of the towel, and for a second I thought he’d seen. Thankfully, this seems to not be the case, because he continued to snore and I fell back asleep with relative ease. 

     

    Now he’s off at work, and I’m going to try to get the pee smell out of the mattress before he gets home later because I think I only have plausible deniability when he’s groggy and it’s pitch black in the apartment. 😅


     


     

     

  4. Hello! It’s nice to know that I’m not the only one who’s dealt with it. And I’m glad to hear that this community has helped you cope! Thank you for your welcoming words. 😊
  5. I never had any medical treatment, no. My adoptive mother took me to the doctor where she was told that it very well could be stress related. She still chose to believe that I was just being lazy and needed to stop drinking water at night. Later I was taken by one of my sets of foster parents, and the doctor then didn’t tell me anything I didn’t know- just that my bladder wasn’t big enough to hold the amount of urine that I produced overnight. (Also I have had day time wettings and countless close calls- the problem is that I also struggle with being able to tell that I need to go to the bathroom until I’m urgent. Apparently it’s very common for people with ADHD/autism to have poor interoception, which is the ability to sense and recognize what is happening in our bodies. So it’s kind of my fault, but also not really. 😅) I don’t think it’s ever going to go away as a problem. I’ve noticed it flares up when I’m stressed, and I have a PTSD diagnosis that causes me to have nightmares where I end up wetting. All in all, I was just not dealt a good hand health-wise haha. But that’s okay- I deal with it the best I can! It must’ve been so relieving to hear that you’re not a freak for something that yeah, a lot of kids do and then grow out of. (Which it sounds like you may have? Feel free to correct me if I misinterpreted your wording! If I’m right, then congratulations!)
  6. For the past few weeks, I’ve been donating my plasma for a bit of extra cash. I go twice a week, and it’s always at least a two hour long process. You go in, answer some questions on a kiosk, wait in line to have your hematocrit and protein levels taken alongside your blood pressure, and then as long as you don’t run into any issues, you can go straight to the donation floor. From there they swab you down with iodine, mark where they’re going to stick the needle, and then hook you up. Then the machine that separates the plasma from your red blood cells starts, and you’re good to go! 
     

    If you’re well hydrated, you can be done in half an hour. So, the first time I went I drank 60 oz of ice cold water before I went in and had a Gatorade that was provided to me by the center. (I had to go to the bathroom twice before I got down to the donation floor.) I got hooked up to the machine and started squeezing my hand to aid the blood flow, and after about five minutes, I started to feel a very light pressure in my bladder. 

     

    Still, I kept squeezing my hand and awkwardly crossing, then uncrossing my legs. The beds that they have lay back on were starting to fill up with more people. As the pressure I was feeling increased, so did my panic. I desperately hoped no one could tell that I was trying really hard not to wet myself. The part that made it even worse is that I didn’t have my headphones with me, so I couldn’t even listen to music to distract myself from the discomfort I was feeling. Discomfort that was rapidly turning into pain. 
     

    Eventually it started to become too much. I had finished the process of giving the machine my blood, and now it was returning my red blood cells to me. I was frantically looking back and forth at the machine, waiting for it to stop, but it seemed like it wouldn’t. With tears pricking in the corners of my eyes, I could feel myself leak ever so slightly into the pull-up I was wearing. It was at this point that I, embarrassed, had to flag down a worker. 

     

    “Please, I really need to go to the bathroom,” I told her, as quietly as I possibly could. I was grateful to be wearing a mask, so that no one could see how red I was, or how much effort I was actually exerting in that moment.  The worker looked over at the machine, then back at me.

     

    ”If I unhook you, you’re going to lose red blood cells. Are you sure? If it happens again, you’ll get deferred for 60 days.” 

     

    I nodded my head. I couldn’t even say anything. I tensed up as tight as I could as she unhooked me and wrapped my arm. Then she informed me that she would have to come with me. I didn’t have it in me to be embarrassed about it; every nerve in my body was screaming at me and I seriously thought I was going to end up soaking my pants through my pull-up in front of at least ten or fifteen people. 
     

    Mercifully, I did make it in time. (And by made it in time, I mean the pull up took the brunt of the damage and it didn’t leak.) I nearly cried tears of relief in the bathroom stall. I washed my hands, and the worker took me back to my bed to monitor me for 15 minutes since I lost red blood cells. 
     

    I’ve donated a few more times since then without incident. I decided to not drink as much water the next couple of times I went in. I also went in today, and I don’t think I drank that much, but I was maybe a quarter of a way done with the process when I felt the need to pee. My first thought was, “oh, not this shit again.” Today I wasn’t even wearing a pull-up because I ran out. I couldn’t afford to lose much control without giving myself away. So, for the next half  hour, I crossed my legs and tensed with every wave that washed over me. Occasionally my eyes would water from the sheer need. Thankfully this time I did have headphones, which helped distract me enough until the machine started to return my blood cells to me. It was at this point that it was almost unbearable. I couldn’t flag down another worker and have them unhook me, though, so I sat there, twisting in discomfort. A few small spurts escaped me and once again, I thought for sure I was going to end up losing it all. 
     

    Finally, I was done. A pretty worker came up to me with a smile on her face. Originally, I was planning on subtly dropping the fact that I needed to be unhooked quickly to go to the bathroom, but the embarrassment kicked in and I made small talk with her as she wrapped my arm. After she left, I reached back to make sure that I hadn’t peed enough to stain the back of my pants, then jumped out of the bed and shuffled as quickly as I could to the bathroom. I pushed open the stall door and fumbled with the button on my pants and the lock on the door, yanked my pants down, dribbling a little more into my underwear but holding it together just enough until I was hovering over the toilet seat. Once again, I had narrowly avoided humiliating myself. 
     

    Hopefully the next time I donate, I don’t run into this problem again. Everyone there seems very nice, but I don’t want to have an accident and then be known as the donor that pissed herself. At least I don’t think I do. 

     

     

    1. 40sleaker

      That was hot. Glad you made it though 

    2. alex19

      Thank you! Both times, the mental image of me helplessly wetting myself in front of everyone popped into my head and that was enough to get me through it. Though, I can’t say I don’t find the idea of it happening a little bit exciting haha. 

    3. 40sleaker

      It's that emotional battle that's so arousing. Will you make it? If you do, the thrill and the embarrassment. I would want you to wet yourself but would feel awful for you if you did. I would dislike myself for liking something thar upsets you. Thar emotional turmoil is fascinating 

  7. I’m always happy to hear that people have others in their lives who understand them! Honestly, the woman who adopted me had no business attempting to raise me and my siblings. She was cruel more often than not. But thankfully I’m an adult now! As difficult as it is sometimes, I’m at least out from under her thumb, and that’s something I’ll never take for granted. Having cut her out from my life, going forward, I know I’ll be able to do it again if I need to. 🙂 Thank you very much for taking the time to comment! It means a lot to me to know that there’s at least one place where I don’t have to hide this part of me.
  8. I tried telling her countless times that I wasn’t doing it on purpose as a kid. It was incredibly frustrating that she didn’t believe me. If I were a parent, and my kid was having a similar problem, I couldn’t fathom reacting the way my mom did. But that was then, and this is now. I don’t talk to her anymore, so I’m able to move on, and hopefully work on the residual shame that I feel for still struggling with this. Thank you for your supportive words! I appreciate it a lot! Good luck to you, be safe out there!
  9. I have definitely tried my absolute hardest to keep these feelings at bay for years now. I was embarrassed by it when I discovered it, and I still am now. I think it’s only natural to be embarrassed about it. It does also impact my self-esteem. Most of me wants nothing more than to be a normal person with normal interests, and most of the people I’ve been with didn’t know. I feel like if people knew, they’d think I’m a freak. And yeah, maybe I am, but I don’t need that reinforced from an external perspective in reality. It’s a big part of my sexuality that for the most part, I have to keep hidden. Maybe that’s why I’m into the idea of being exposed without me intending to give myself away- as a release of control.
  10. I remember stumbling across this site back in 2014 and immediately thinking, “oh hey, I’m not the only one who’s into this stuff!” I lurked for years before I felt confident enough to make a profile. Now that I have, I’m excited at the chance to share some of my writing with people. I actually started writing when I was in the second grade as an emotional outlet, and by the time I was in middle school I learned that I could write whatever I wanted but I never kept any of it out of fear of my mom finding it. The 50k words I’m sitting on is all from the past year and a half since I’ve decided to slowly embrace this side of myself, and there will definitely be more coming! I will forever be grateful for the internet for this little safe haven. 🫶🏻
  11. Thank you so much for this very kind comment! I’m glad to hear that your current partner is understanding. If it turned out that mine couldn’t be, I wouldn’t allow myself to get degraded for it. I dealt with that enough growing up. I’ve always had a lot of health issues; I was a sickly child. This is just another one of those issues. I’ve accepted that. My previous experiences with adults interacting with me after accidents as a kid were not the best, but I’d like to think that if I had one now, the people around me that matter wouldn’t judge me. After all, we’re only human, and the human body is, in my opinion, deeply weird! I think I will always be extremely selective about who learns about that particular quirk of mine though, if I can help it haha.
  12. You’re right about that for sure. Knowing what I know about psychology now, I have no doubt that the punishment was making the problem worse. I think it’s just something that I’ll struggle with forever due to my autism, but it’s exacerbated by stress 100%. I’m glad to hear that your boyfriend loves you and accepts you and showed concern for your mental well-being. Right now I’m way too scared to start wearing diapers. When I’m on my period, I use it as an excuse to wear pull-ups, but that’s as brave as I’m willing to get. If in the future it turns out he can’t handle it, I’m willing to either find someone who is or be alone for a while. 🤷🏻‍♀️
  13. Thank you for taking the time to comment- it definitely was not easy for me growing up! I dealt with so much shame then, and still do sometimes now. I do consider myself lucky that I ended up with this as an interest as mine to be honest. If I’m going to deal with this for the rest of my life, I might as well get a little bit of enjoyment out of it to make up for the trouble it causes me!
  14. Well! This is going to be something that I’ve never really talked about with anyone before, due to the sensitive nature of the subject. I think it might be cathartic for me to lay it out this way. I have tried many times over the years to hide this facet of myself and minimize it, but it’s not going away any time soon, so I may as well accept it. For as long as I can remember, my control over my bladder has been tenuous at best. I can remember my adoptive mother fighting with me to potty train me until I was six or seven. I wet the bed every night then, much to her annoyance. But then it was only an annoyance; it’s not too uncommon for five year olds to still wet the bed. The real problem was the fact that it ended up persisting until I was twelve or thirteen years old. My adoptive mother accused me of just being lazy and not wanting to get out of bed at night. It caused me a lot of distress back then. I would wake up early in the morning when it was still dark inside and immediately check to see if I was dry. When it’d turn out that I wasn’t, I’d sneak off to the bathroom, grab as much toilet paper as I possibly could, and try to sop up the puddle in my bed to the best of my ability. I’d sit there for a while and scrub and pray that it would be dry by the morning. Then I’d go back to sleep, doing my best to not sleep in the cold, clammy wet spot. Sometimes I’d get unlucky and wet twice in one night, so there’d be a wet stain anyways and the undeniable scent of urine would fill the room. Eventually, she did get me pull-ups. At this point in time, I was absolutely mortified at the prospect of wearing one. I was already starting to go through the very beginning stages of puberty, and I was also already dealing with bullying without anyone knowing about the problems I had with my bladder. (There was one incident in which I did end up wetting myself in class, but that’s a story for a different time.) There were even some days she’d send me to school in one in an attempt to, I suppose, humiliate me out of the habit. This did not work. Obviously lmao. She took me to the doctor for it around this time as well, who suggested that it might be stress-related. I don’t think she ever took this into consideration; going forward she still had the same approach of trying to shame me out of it. So, you know how I said that this was happening right as I was going through puberty? Maybe it was hormones. Maybe it was my brain’s way of trying to make the best of a bad situation. Regardless, I started to develop a slight curiosity around this problem of mine. On a couple of occasions, I feel the need to go, and I would hold it in until I had to choose to either stand up and sprint to the toilet or let go right there in bed. If I chose the latter option, I’d lay there and feel it spread underneath me, soaking through my pull-up, pajama pants and sheets. For some reason, I liked the warmth, and there was a part of me that was starting to enjoy the feeling of doing something so embarrassing. I didn’t like the shame I felt about it afterwards, though. I didn’t know about omorashi back then. It wouldn’t be until a couple of years later when I got internet access that I would really start to indulge more and more, and I even got into a long term relationship that was based off of our mutual interest in omo. We liked to joke that we started off knowing the most embarrassing things about each other, and even now almost ten years later and four years after the relationship has ended, we’re still close. For a few years after this self-discovery, the bedwetting drastically reduced in frequency. I think I even had a whole year without any incidents, and my adoptive mother finally stopped having me wear pull-ups at night, but at that point, my interest had been piqued, and I couldn’t ignore it. I continued to wet myself occasionally on purpose every once and a while, but I switched from the bed to standing in the shower to minimize the damage. The night time accidents didn’t go away forever however. They picked up again when I was sixteen, and since then I haven’t had a full year dry. After I first broke up with my long term partner, I was nineteen and the thought of potentially wetting myself in bed on accident with someone who wouldn’t be nearly as understanding as my ex was almost too humiliating for me to handle, so I was extra vigilant when I’d meet up with someone. I’ve never had a full-blown accident in a lover’s bed, but I have definitely woken up to damp panties and small wet spots on mattresses. I’m always worried that they’re going to notice. If they do, no one’s ever said anything to me about it. I guess I’ve been lucky about it in that regard so I can’t complain, but I know most people would be repulsed if they found out that I’m still fighting to not accidentally piss the bed nightly at 23 years old and that pretty much every pair of my underwear is ruined from me leaking in them. But then… there’s also the part of me that gets a little excited at the idea of someone finding out my secret. I’ve worked hard my whole life to keep all of this hidden and under wraps because I know that it’s weird. Writing has been my main outlet for a while now. I’m sitting on roughly 50k words of stuff that will likely never see the light of day. I worry all the time about my current boyfriend finding it- I think I would actually pass away. (I’ve managed to hide the bedwetting for the past year, but I know I’ll have an accident too big to hide eventually. Guess I’ll cross that bridge when we get there.) Anyways, thank you to anyone who took the time to read this! This has been the biggest source of my shame for so long now. I’m hoping to be more active here, and maybe soon I’ll share some story-based writing with you guys. 🙂
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