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  1. So, as the question asks, did anyone else here wear diapers past the age most kids are potty trained? Ergo between 18 months and 3 years of age? I know I did. I wore them until a little past the end of second grade, so about the time I turned eight, since my mom couldn´t find anymore that would fit me. If you can, share any memories you can. Now, this story takes me back. It was in 2003 or so. I was about five years old, maybe five and a half. I went to the local YMCA for preschool, or maybe it was daycare. Maybe it was both, moving on. I was wearing a light blue shirt, dark blue sweatpants, and some shoes. Now, here's the thing, gonna lay a little backstory about me back then. You see, I wasn't technically potty trained. True, I knew how to use the toilet, and how to tell when I had to go, but using diapers and beings changed seemed to help me bond more with my mom. I wasn't nervous about using diapers, and was never caught, not even by the staff. I would fill them, and no one would notice. On that day, I had a pretty substantial breakfast, including a bottle of milk or two. On that day, we were studying the Chinese Zodiac. We were called up to pick the animal we were born under, cut it out, and get it pasted onto two Popsicle sticks. I, at the time, thought I had been born under the dragon, because dragons are cool, and I liked them. What my five year old mind didn't know, which I would find out a few years after, when I was eight or nine, was that, being born in early February, I was actually a tiger, but that's beside the point. I cut out my paper dragon, and joined my classmates in the line. I only knew a few of them by name, but we didn't keep in touch. I was near the back of the line. It was a moment later that breakfast came to haunt me. I felt a sharp tingling sensation in my bladder, and my bowels felt quite full. I gently rubbed my stomach, rubbing my legs together. I normally wouldn't worry about using my diaper, but with the teacher so close, and several other kids behind me, I feared they would sniff me out. I didn't know whether or not some of my classmates were in diapers, or Pull-Ups, I never noticed if they were. Normally, I would just let go into my diaper, or find a place to relax, but I didn't want to lose my spot in line, or tell the teacher where I had been. I could already feel a few dribbles spurt into my padding, and something shifting in my gut. I knew I wouldn't hold it in much longer. I "accidentally" dropped my paper crane. My dark blue sweatpants hid my diaper pretty well. I bent down to pick it up, and began to push. I smiled as I felt a stream of urine soak my diaper, warming it up. At the same time, I blasted out a fart, muffled by my diaper and pants, and began to fill the back with a squishy mush.As this was going on, even though it barely lasted a minute, to five year old me it felt like hours. As I pooped, I kept thinking "Please don't notice my poo poo." I stood up, got my paper dragon glued, and went on my stinky way. I was later change in the car, or get changed, rather.
  2. Well, been awhile since I posted one of these eh? Well this memory was triggered when, a few days I walked past a playground that I used to play in. A few families were, socially distancing of course, there, their kids playing. It had the usual playground equipment, swings, slides, etc. It also has two or so picnic tables, a bench, and a dog statue. Anyway, back to the memory. This occurred during preschool. It was what the my peers and I called a "potty test day". You see, every so often, the teacher, and her two aides, would have us take class bathroom breaks on certain days, rather than just letting us go when we had to. I guess this was to A. Help prevent accidents, and B. Make sure we were properly potty trained. They'd also check us for accidents before sending us in, one by one. On these days, which would thankfully be announced either as we were leaving, or at the start of the day, I would either go into the bathroom, or find some place that wasn't being monitored too closely, remove my diaper or Pull-Up, and stash it somewhere, like in a shelf or the like. Anyway, I had done that, gone into the bathroom, didn't have to go, etc. I remember I went outside to the small playground area the place, being the YMCA, had. I remember two of my friends, let's call them Chris and Kim, suggested we play hide and seek, so we did. The playground area wasn't too big. It had a little play area with a slide, a set of monkey bars, etc. Kim counted first, while Chris and I hid. I went into a bunch of bushes by the fence. However, not long after, things too a turn, as I felt a need to pee. Now, I had not experienced peeing, or pooping, while in a bush yet. Peeing on a bush or other form of foliage, yes. I remember I pressed my hands to my crotch, using a small little break in the leaves to keep an eye out for Kim. I didn't want to leave my hiding place, both because I didn't want to be found, and also because I was not yet comfortable with using the bathrooms there yet, without my mom with me anyway. I fidgeted and squirmed, trying to keep my pee in. Eventually, I felt a warmth hit my fingers. I sighed in relief, as my pee sprayed into my pants, and, thanks to my crouching position, leaked out the crotch of pants onto the leaves below. Luckily, the pants were dark. After a bit, I was found by Kim, and we went to look for Chris. As soon as I could, I went to where I had stashed my diaper, and got it on
  3. I'm curious to hear any stories anyone might have of themselves and a friend either wetting themselves together, playing holding games, etc. I've read a few on this site, and I decided to add my own. When I was a kid, there was a time in my life when I had to spend sometimes days or weeks in a row at my maternal grandmother's. She lived in a very small town (aptly named a village, maybe three hundred people lived here) about fifteen miles from my hometown, so it was small and there weren't a lot of people there my age. When I was seven, I had met this girl a year or two older than me who was visiting her family for the summer. We'd hung out a few times, but then she went back to her homestate, and I went back to being lonely all the time. Fast forward to the next summer, and I'm walking the dog with my grandmother when I see who I think is the girl riding her bike down my block! So despite being normally very shy natured, I ran as fast as I could after her, screaming "Hey, hey you!" until she stopped. Much to my horror, it WASN'T the girl from before, and after a VERY embarrassed apology I discovered she was my age, and lived a block away from my grandmother's. We became fast friends, and were pretty much INSEPERABLE whenever I stayed there, which was often. I have quite a few peeing stories with her, let's call her Shelby. To this day, I can't help but wonder if she may have been into omo as well, but I lost touch after her father came out, divorced, and moved her across state at the end of jr. high. I don't remember how it started, but Shelby and I ALWAYS went into the bathroom together whenever one of us had to pee. Never if we had to go #2, although the other would sit outside the door so we could still talk, but we always shared the bathroom when we had to pee. Usually, one of us would sit on the sink or lean against the counter while the other did their thing, and although we were both old enough to know this was weird, and had long outgrown the age where you think things like sharing the bathroom or taking baths together were okay, and hell, we'd even spoke a few times about how we didn't do this with ANY other friend (this made me feel special), but we still did. I was always fascinated by listening to her pee, and from how she reacted when it was my turn, I think she felt the same way. There were even a few times when we both came in from playing outside and one of us would pee in the sink while the other used the toilet. It started as a dare directed towards me that I accepted. A few times, one of us would dare the other to "pee while standing", which usually involved hovering backwards over the toilet while some pee went down our legs or on the seat. Once, I dared her to take of her pants and pee standing up in the shower, which she did. I couldn't see a whole lot, though, because my grandma had a glass shower door that was frosted and distorted the image. If we weren't doing that, whenever we'd take my uncle's dog out on walks through the local "park" (basically a long gravel driveway and a playground set next to a shit ton of woods) we'd take turns daring each other to pee either in the bushes, or, if we were brave, out in the middle of the gravel roads. We also used to ride our bikes evverywhere around the small town, and I vividly remember us having a few "accidents" a few times at the baseball diamond across town from my grandma's. We'd ride allll the way there (it was about twenty minutes on bike) and play in the dirt or look for baseballs, then sit in the dugouts and play pretend for hours at a time. There were no bathrooms anywhere over there, though, so we'd always end up holding it too long then having to ride home. I remember one time we were riding back because we'd both admitted to needing to go (I was pertty bad, but thought I could make it since I'd let out a squirt a few monutes before and let up the pressure, but she was bursting) and we got on our bikes to go when I heard her say "Oh, no..." I looked over to see her straddling her pink bike, her butt hovering over the seat by about half an inch and a stream of pee coming through her shorts, onto the seat, then splashing over the sides. She peed for about eight seconds, not moving, a look of far-off concentration on her face until she was done. I remember feeling "tingly" (I had started masturbating two years before this, but I didn't know what it was or what I was doing) and pressing my crotch into the extended part of my plastic seat, before taking a deep breath and saying "It's okay, I'm going, too." and began to pee myself. It was exhilirating, and it felt sooooo good, and to this day I'm not sure if I was just taking advantage of the situation or if I was trying to make her feel better or what. The sky was cloudy, and I knew my grandma would be PISSSED and not let us go back to the diamond if I told her what happened, so Shelby suggested casually we ride around until it rains and then we'll be wet all over and nobody will know. Looking back, I think she'd done that a few times. So we did. After that, we began peeing on our bikes as we rode whenever it was raining, and a r=few times we'd sit on the swings at the park and pee ourselves on dares. I wish I knew where she was, now. Last I heard she'd moved to a city a few hours away, but that was back when I was in highschool, and I've never been able to find her online due to her changing her last name. But, anyway, that's my story.
  4. Hello all, hope you've been doing well. This memory came flooding back, pun intended, when I was watching some Filipino teledramas, most of which had some fancy shindig at one point or another in the series. I remember this incident occured when I was around four. My mom had taken me to some fancy, suit based party. I believe it was some Kapamilya reunion party for people from around my family's part of the Philippines or the like. I've been to a few others over the years since, though this was the only one I can recall I had to wear a suit in. Anyway, me and the younger kids, being watched over the host's daughter who was around six or seven if I recall correctly, plus one of her adult relatives, I just know she was a bit older than me at the time, were playing and chatting in a little side corner of the house reserved for us. Anyway, I had to pee. Grabbing myself, I remember getting up, and shuffling away. The host's daughter, to see if I was alright, followed me. I wasn't comfortable with using public bathrooms outside my home environent yet, so I was looking for my mom to take her, my pee threatening to leak out all the while. Eventually I found her, but as I was about to explain my need to urinate, I lost the battle. Pee began to soak the dark grey suit pants I wore. The host's daughter then suggested I stand in like, an empty basin or the like, to which I did, as my pee kept spraying out. The host came over, and comforted me, saying it was alright, and said her daughter still had accidents, much to her embarrassment, and me giggling. The memory then flashfowards a bit to me, still in the tub thing, pants less now, in the back of the car. My mom saying it was alright, and asking if I had fun.
  5. I've been into this ever since I can remember. I have vague recollections from my kindergarten years where a kid who was in my class wet himself and I was very interested in it. When I was in elementary school a saw the aftermath of many wetting and I remember being very fascinated with them. I also discovered masturbation very early on: whenever I had to pee, I would play around with myself and it felt really good. I would often lay down on floor, face down, hands in my pants and just enjoy the feeling that a full bladder mixed with genital manipulation gave me. Of course I was totally oblivious to what I was doing. I had a hunch it was something dirty, something "not ok", and never discussed the subject with any adult. I think that might be what cemented the connection between urine and sexuality for me. But it still doesn't explain why I'm specifically into wetting and not just pee. I also remember that were some times when I was interested in both boys and girls wetting their pants, but boys soon took over as the main focus of my interest. I had my own share of wetting accidents as a kid, but nothing out of the ordinary. I was never known as the pee pee pants kid. But I remember I was already fantasizing about my own accidents not too long after they'd happened. When I grew up and entered middle school I started exploring my sexuality and that's when I realized I was something different from the other guys in my class. They were talking about girls and how hot they were, boobs, vaginas, I-fuck-your-mom jokes and all of that middle school silliness, exploring their own developing heterosexuality. I felt lost because I knew girls didn't interest me, but I felt even more lost because I had this deep secret I couldn't tell. I liked boys wetting themselves. That's the only thing I was sure of. But I still didn't know it was a sexual thing. On top of that, I was a pretty regular kid with regular kid interests and hobbies, I liked cars and videogames, didn't talk with a lisp and my wrists weren't limp, so it never dawned on me that I was gay. Even though I was suddenly falling in love with half of my male classmates lol. I know it sounds silly, but that's how stereotypes work in the mind of a middle schooler from 2009 who never knew gay guys could be anything other than trash-tv queens and men who dressed up as women. [I hope my words don't offend anyone. This is just to show how I felt about it back in the day, in the deep recesses of the closet. I love every gay guy no matter how masculine or feminine he is, limp-wristed or not lol. Now back to the story!] I spent the whole prima media year [6th grade] fantasizing about boys wetting their pants in every possible way. I had an old dumb phone that I would use to record tracks of myself becoming vocally desperate and wetting myself in front of the boys I liked. Sometimes it would be the opposite, creating scenarios where the boys I liked would pee their pants and I would react to that. I had an English textbook with little introductory scenes for each lesson unit that had pictures of boys that I found really attractive. Well... I would take a pencil and draw a piss pattern on their pants. Sometimes I would even add a comment from their point of view like "Oh no I pissed myself!" or "oh shit I hope nobody founds out I peed my pants!" Inside a little comic bubble. Lol This until 2010 rolls around. I'm in seconda media [7th grade] and my dad finally decides to have a Wi Fi connection installed in our house. Prior to that, I had no way of accessing the internet. I'm excited but I'm also a bit scared. I didn't know what this secret of mine was about. For all I knew, it might have been a mental illness and I the only person suffering from it in the world. So one day I decide to google something along the lines of "I love pissing my pants" after a similar search in Italian had yielded poor results. And that's how I came across Mikisit's Tumblr page. I couldn't believe my eyes. A treasure trove full of pictures and videos of guys wetting their pants. My hormones were going crazy. But more importantly, Mikisit's Tumblr page made me realize what my secret really was: a sexual fetish. A kink. And I WAS NOT THE ONLY ONE THAT HAD IT! This was a big relief for me, but at the same time it instilled a big fear into me: does this actually mean that... I'm gay? I had my dark moments where I tried to abstain from the fetish in the hopes that it would go away. This would always end in catastrophic failure, since my abstinence only made the inevitable relapse ever so sweeter. At the same time I would try to watch "straight and normal" porn, masturbate to "straight and normal" porn, fantasize about girls... and I reckon I could have fallen asleep faster than getting even mildly aroused. "Straight and normal" porn was the most boring and uninspiring thing there was for me. But then there were also times when the fear of being gay subsided for a while, and that's when I got the courage to wet myself on purpose for the first time. I remember I put on an old pair of briefs I had laying around in my closet, and with a full bladder I hopped inside the shower and... nothing would come out. My brain was stopping me from wetting myself. I'd tried wetting my briefs with water a couple of days before, and it was very exciting. Now i was more excited than ever, but I just couldn't let go. I had to concentrate... And concentrate... And concentrate... When it finally happened. I let it go. I wet myself. I was more excited than I'd ever been. The whole experience just felt ecstatic. How could something this weird, this unusual, this frowned upon feel so damn good? I felt like new doors of perception had been opened to me. As time went by, I became more and more familiar with what the internet had to offer in terms of male omorashi. Mikisit's Tumblr blog and the rest of Tumblr's goodness, the great stories on Experience Project, Yahoo Answers and, of course, Omorashi.org . The good old wetting videos on YouTube and Vimeo. Anything I could lay my hands (or rather, my clicks) on. The years went on and in terza superiore (10th grade) I feel deeply in love with a guy in my class. Another one in the great series of my teenage years' unrequited loves. We had a fight and when our friendship died down it made me feel so sad that I remember crying hidden in my room. This event led me to an epiphany. As if by magic, I suddenly realized I was gay. Now the world made sense. That special interest that I'd had for boys, that was because I was gay. The funny feeling in my tummy when I was with him, that was being in love. And me liking guys wetting themselves... That was also because I was gay. Once I figured it out, I accepted it right away. I'm gay and that's fine. But I still had a problem. I still hadn't fully accepted my fetish. It felt weird that i was able to come out to people, to tell them I was gay, but still had trouble accepting omorashi. The thing is, omorashi is not a secondary thing for me. It is the primary force of my sexuality. It is what really gets my motor going. There is nothing in the world of sex that excites me as much as omorashi does. How could I find my way in the dating world when all my potential partners wanted dick picks, ass picks and talked about anal penetration and being a top or a bottom, when deep inside I wanted to tell them "actually I don't really care about penetrating you or you penetrating me but I would sure love if you could piss your pants for me"? This is a crucial question and it's what stopped me from finding a sexual partner many times. Over the years I finally accepted who I was fully, including my omorashi side. I got more and more brave with my wetting exploits, which I will tell you about in detail in the future. But getting an omorashi partner is always hard. I tried mentioning wetting to people and was ghosted many times. There seem to be fetishes like BDSM, masochism, and foot play that are well known and less taboo to talk about, but omorashi is not. With perseverance I managed to find somebody who would try omorashi for me, and it was a very nice experience. I also got to know a few people who share my passion for wetting, and that was very nice too. But many steps have yet to be made for our community. I want to end this post saying that if you ever feel like your wetting fetish is wrong, don't worry. It's not. You are what you are. It's nobody's choice, nor fault. Wetting your pants feels good and hurts no one! Plus it's also pretty tame and soft-core compared to many other fetishes, so there really is no reason to feel ashamed and to live in denial. As always, feel free to comment, share your thoughts and ideas etc. I really love reading from you and interacting with you. I really hope you enjoyed this read and found it worthwhile.
  6. So, I'm sure this has happened before. You're taking a piss, you relax all your muscles, let it flow, and you also end up relaxing a bit too much and also release your sphincter. Well, unlike most of my previous experiences, this will detail a few instances of such from my younger years, cause those are really the only times its happened when I didn't want it to. The first time this had happened was in preschool. I was about five or so at the time. This was, if memory serves, in the first week or two of my stay at the good old YMCA (Hey, that rhymed.). The teacher had decided for the day we've have a Potty Day, which was basically a day to help the younger kids in the class (there were like twenty of us I believe), get used to the toilets there, get them better adjusted to using the toilet when needed (and probably get the rest of used to it (Cause you know how young kids can get with unfamiliar toilets), which would involve more frequent asking of students if that had to go, checking for accidents, and not just in line to use the bathroom, etc. This Potty Day thing wasn't a common occurrence, happening once a month at best. So, knowing this, after being dropped off for the day by my mom, I quickly made my way into the bathroom. Making sure no one was coming in, I went into one of the stalls, and took off my diaper, stashing it behind the toilet seat cover thing. A little while later, I felt the need to pee. As someone had gone into the bathroom just a moment before, I was SOOL (Shit out of luck) on that. And since the only in the outside lobby, I decided to find something or somewhere to pee. Thankfully for me as I walked about, my need to pee wasn't so bad as I was obvious, like holding myself or anything. Alongside that, the teacher and her aides were busy checking the other kids or monitoring. So, with the only bathroom unavaliable, and my need to piss mounting, I eventually found a discarded toy truck, one of those Tonka dump trucks I believe. Not wanting to risk it by tugging my pants down a bit, I simply squatted over the truck, as if I was playing with the toy car that was next to it, and relaxed. My pee spurted out through the front of the black shorts I was wearing, and filtered through my shorts in a stream into the truck's cargo bed, a soft sputtering sound heard as pee hit plastic. As I was doing so, I felt something shift in my guts, and then move out into the back of my shorts. As my pee stream died down, I realized I hadn't done my morning poop yet, and had thus done so in my pants. Knowing that if anyone smelt it, they would tell the teacher and then the teacher would check each of the students, I maneuvered the truck behind me, and tugged my shorts down a bit, tipping my mess into the truck's cargo bed. Fixing my shorts, I went on my way to do some arts and crafts. ------------ This second omo-riffic event occurred in kindergarten, as will the third and last one I can recall at the moment. I had needed to pee, and we were currently doing some coloring activity, one where we had to color a picture of the Virgin Mary (I still have it somewhere if memory serves). Putting my crayon down, I raised my hand. One of the teacher's aides, who would also be an aide for my third grade teacher, Mrs. Pina came over, asking what was up. I told her I had to go to the bathroom, and she smiled, and said I could. Thanking her, I pressed my hand into the front of my pants, and made my way into the bathroom, which was painted a light blue color, even the tiles. In fact, the only thing there I didn't think was blue were the toilets. But anyway, I turned my attention to the urinals. Prior to this, I had never used a urinal before. Sure, I knew what they were, but prior to that, If I had to pee, I either did it in my diaper, the toilet, or some container of some sort, so I wanted to try it out. Tugging down the front of my khaki slacks, and the front portion of my diaper, I began peeing. However, once again, it seems I relaxed too much, and the back of my diaper soon became browned, metaphorically speaking of course. Not really minding at this point in time, I simply finished up, pulled my diaper and pants up, washed my hands, and continued on with my day, ------------ This last one occurred shortly after this. I had, as in a few other tried to go a day diaperless, mostly because this was the last of the ones I had brought with me. It was around recess that I felt the need to pee. As I had stashed away my diaper in my backpack, and thus couldn't think of a plausible way to get back into the classroom, so I was out of luck there. Thankfully, luck seemed on my side, for some of my classmates asked if I wanted to join them in a game of hide and seek, to which I agreed. I was one of the hiders, and hid in the cool, shaded area beneath the playground. It was there that I decided to pee as well. Still crouched down between the smaller slide, as it had more cover than the twisty slide, I tugged the front of my pants down a bit, enough so I could pee, and began doing so. It was then my need to poop made itself known, however this time, I managed to get the back of my pants down enough to avert a total accident, and simply dumped out what had made it into my pants
  7. Hello all, been awhile eh? Well, now flipping through an old photo album, I remembered two, non diaper, based omomemories from when I was younger. The first will be the main core of the post. The second consider a little Pee S....yes that pun was bad. But anyway, this occured in preschool at the YMCA. On occasion, we'd have story time, the usual sit on a rug dealio while the teacher reads a book like say, The Cat in the Hat to us. Well, it was shortly after the story, I don't recall which it was, started that I felt the need to Pee came over me. While I normally would have just gone, considering I was diaper less (I had changed out of the one I had brought shortly before, had a quesadilla for breakfast and all), and was i close proximity with the other students, I was hesitant. Either someone would hear me peeing, or a puddle would form and either be smellable or grow to the point, someone would feel it, and then look towards me or the like. I remember crossing my legs, trying to think of dry thoughts, on distract myself from my urge with the storybook. The story lasted a few minutes, five tops. I remember squirming, not too noticeable, but I was, and letting out a few droplets every now and again to ease pressure. As soon as the Tale ended, I quickly asked the teacher, "Mrs. Teacher, I gotta pee pee. Can I go potty?" She said yes, and I dashed off. I knew I likely wouldn't be able to make it to the bathroom, so I just peed my pants as I ran. Thankfully I was used to peeing while moving, and my pants were a dark blue color. The mini story happened once sometime after. I remember I had gone into the bathroom during a class bathroom break. Not yet comfortable with the bathrooms there, I simply stood in front of the toilet (I didn't know what a urinal was then), peed my pants, washed my hands, then left
  8. A recent thread about running water made this long forgotten memory resurface after 25 or so years. Ahh, nostalgia. 😊 I was about 9 I think, my Nan (dads mother) lived an hour or so away from us, and I used to stay with her for a couple of weeks during the school holidays. When I was staying there, we were making popcorn in a big old heavy pan, and somehow I caught my hand on the hot lid and burned it. Nan made me hold it under cold running water for 10 mins, but whilst I was doing that the phone rang so she disappeared off to answer it. She seemed to be gone for ages and, with nothing to distract me, all of my attention was focussed on my sore burnt finger, the sound and sensation of the cold running water and a sudden need to pee. It came from nowhere, likely a combination of the shock and the water, but within a couple of minutes I’d gone from a slight need to literally dancing on the spot and afraid I was going to wet myself at any moment. I didn’t want to leave the two though, because Nan has said I must keep my finger under water for at least 10 minutes, so a jiggled around with my legs tightly crossed doing the best I could to prevent humiliation. Eventually it just got too much, I’m sure I probably squirted in my pants and I just ran for it, passing Nan in the hallway on the phone and sprinting up the stairs. Inevitably, by the time I reached the bathroom, I didn’t need to go anymore. I’d completely wet myself, my black tracksuit bottoms were drenched down to my socks and my undies clung to me soggily. I nearly burst into tears of shame! After a bit of a sniffle, however, I tried to think sensibly and came up with the idea of changing into my pyjamas (it was only afternoon) and burying the shame of my wet things in the washing basket, so that’s what I did. Nan of course noticed at once that I’d changed, and asked why. I tired to dismiss the question, shrug it off, but I’ve never been a good liar and eventually as she kept pushing I had to come clean. I couldn’t bring myself to say it though, so instead I led her upstairs to the bathroom and dug out my soggy clothes, handing them to her whilst feeling so babyish. I’ll never forget what she said, just two simple words “You wet?” Before wrapping me in a big hug and telling me that it didn’t matter. She took care of the wet clothes, then made me a hot chocolate and finished off the popcorn. Aren’t Nans great?
  9. So lately I’ve been reading some stories about omo origins, and I find them interesting to read and am open to reading more. This, however, has reminded me of something from third grade. I forget the name of the program, which was some pun on after school care and homework, but it was run by volunteers at the school. My parents were some of the volunteers. Because my parents were some of the people in charge, I was given a greater range of action. I got a group of other children together—from first to third grade—and I would teach them how to be evil spies or something like that. Anyway, we had a list of rules to follow. I made them up, but I told the other kids they were from some secret organization. Some of the rules were to follow the commandments, not tell anyone what takes place in training, listen to those in charge of the training, etc. other rules were very specific, such as avoiding specific foods in case an enemy had poisoned them (Jello was one I remember). Finally, there was a rule forbidding bathroom use. This was “intended” for security because they would be too vulnerable to enemy attacks. There was one day where we went to dinner with the family of one of the girls in the group, Sam [pseudonym]. Sam was always a member of the group, and she followed the rules. As it was only 1-1.5 hours long, rarely did anyone get too desperate. Some just disobeyed, but not Sam. On this particular day, she agreed to continue receiving training at dinner and for the rides there and back. She didn’t realize, however, that included following the rules. She was squirming during dinner, and, towards the end of our training, I saw her try to secretly grab herself. Unfortunately, however, she went to the bathroom then. I reprimanded her for doing so the next day, and she apologized. At that point, I was not thinking about omo and wetting, so I haven’t remembered that story very often. It was fun, however, when I saw them begin getting desperate. Another, time, I had three girls hide me and another guy in the girls bathroom with the girls keeping guard. They weren’t allowed to use the bathroom, but another girl did in the stall right next to our hiding place, not knowing we were there and could hear it.
  10. Though I have very few memories of actually witnessing people in desperate situations, I do have a few. Decided to share one. When I was in elementary, probably 1st-2nd grade, I was in a dance class. We'd usually practice dances for events outside of school, like performing at disneyland and such. We'd go on long, long rides all the way to perform. I always kinda hated the long rides as a kid, thanks to my car sickness. Bathroom breaks weren't something anyone really worried about during those long rides. We were all too busy joking and talking to eachother, watching movies on the bus' screen, or just sleeping through the whole ride. In short, we were distracted for most of the rides. Though, I do remember a memory that stuck with me for quite a while. Me and my dance group were going on those long rides again. I remember playing a bunch of fun random games with my friend next to me and some other kids behind my seat to pass the time. That day we were very excited since our dance for the performance was a lot of fun. After a while, we were pretty close to our destination. My friends and I were still playing and having fun, until, in the midst of our game, noises not so far from us caught our attention. I remember hearing a kid crying and a bunch of other kids trying to calm her down. She was saying something along the lines of, "Stop, stop! I can't hold it! It hurts a lot! Stop!" The rest was mostly unintelligible sobbing. I pushed my friend over to get a better look. The sobbing girl was bouncing up and down in her seat and holding her crotch. It was pretty obvious what was going on. It got so loud that almost everyone in the bus was staring at the girl. Teachers had got up from their seats to help the girl and, besides the loud sobbing, the bus was dead silent. The teachers were saying things like, "It's okay, it's okay. We're almost there." Some of her friends were comforting her too, reassuring her and stuff. We spent the remaining time of the ride watching the girl. I don't think anyone could have returned to what they were doing with the amount of stuff going on in the background. Since we were already very close, it didn't take that long for us to get to our destination, but I bet it felt like forever for that poor girl. We were all starting to get up from our seats and walk out of the bus, until we heard the girl start sobbing even louder, screaming something along the lines of, "I can't get up! It hurts so much! I'm gonna pee myself if I get up!" She was hysterically crying to the point where I could literally hear the suffering in her voice. Soon enough, she had got up from her seat with like 3 students and a teacher helping her. She was walking, doubling over in pain with her hands in between her thighs. Fortunately for her, by the time she had got up from her seat, most of us had already exited the bus, except me and some other kids, so she had a lot of space to walk. It would've sucked for her if we were all crowding the exit. When we got in the building, she went straight to the nearest bathroom. When she came out, she was quietly crying, still a little doubled over. I assume her abdomen must of been so sore. I remember one of the teachers who hadn't been in the bus with us assume that she was crying because she was nervous. She was comforting and hugging the student telling her it was okay to be nervous. I don't think the student really told that woman what happened, I wouldn't have either. So yeah, that's a little story I remember from my childhood. Thanks to my omorashi fetish, I remember this memory like it was yesterday. After the trip, It took me while to get it out of my head and focus on the dance.
  11. During my childhood, I always had an interest in omorashi. At the time, it wasn't in a sexual way or anything, it was just a weird fascination. I used to think something was wrong with me until I found out about omorashi. I remember being so relieved I wasn't the only person in the world with this interest. It took a bit for me to see omorashi as something sexual, or as a fetish. Though I was relieved I wasn't alone, I felt kind of digusted that I was into something like that. It's been years and I haven't admitted to my fetish to anyone I know and I don't plan on ever doing so. Though, I do remember a specific friend of mine back in third grade. I'm pretty sure she had an omorashi fetish, if not 100% percent sure. In short, the fascination started at childhood and gradually turned into a fetish, omorashi. How did you find out you were into omorashi?
  12. The first time I remember wetting my pants, I was six years old. It happened around July or August; just a couple months before starting first grade. Shortly into the beginning of summer, my dad had brought home an old brownish gold, four-door Datsun. Now, as I've been told by my mom and have witnessed myself throughout the years, my dad was notorious for picking up cars at a cheap price and bringing them home. Then, after a few weeks or maybe even a couple months, the car would break down and become an ornament in our driveway until Mom made him get rid of it. This was of course the same case with the Datsun. As far back as I can remember, I have been fascinated with the prospect of driving. From the time I was around four or five, Dad would let me sit on his lap and steer and that was where my fascination began. At the time, we lived about two miles north of town, at the front of a line of about seven or eight houses. The yards were very big with a lot of room to run and play, but there weren't many kids around. Three houses down from us was Jared, the only boy who was my age, and he had three older brothers that were very aggressive and destructive, while I was well-behaved and sensitive. To be honest, I was a bit of a sissy. Jared was my friend and we played together sometimes, but I didn't like his brothers and I tried to avoid them as much as I could. Three or four houses down from Jared lived the only other two kids in the area besides my two older sisters and me, and they were both girls. One was a couple years older than me and the other was a couple years younger than me. I actually had a crush on the older sister, but I didn't get to play with her very often. Both of my sisters were five or more years older than me, so I spent a lot of time playing by myself. Once the Datsun broke down, it became a very large, very realistic toy car that I could sit in and pretend that I was driving. My parents didn't mind because the car didn't run and it would occupy me for hours on end, so they wouldn't have to worry about where I was at or whether or not I was safe. On one particularly nice summer day shortly after it broke down, I was playing in the Datsun wearing a T-shirt and a pair of black bicycle shorts that had a neon green stripe down one side and a hot pink stripe down the other side. I wore those shorts quite often because I thought they were comfortable. It was around four o'clock in the afternoon, and I'm not sure exactly how long I had been playing in the car without a break of any kind, but I'm sure it was at least a couple hours. I became so engrossed in my play that I didn't feel the pee building in my bladder. I wriggled in the driver's seat instinctively, like any kid will do when they have to pee really bad, but the fact that I needed to go to the bathroom just didn't register in my mind. I kept right on playing completely oblivious to anything else around me. All of a sudden, the urge to go hit me like a freight train and I had a split second to think, "Oh, no!". The next second my bladder let go about a two second jet of warm pee that flooded my crotch soaking the front of my underwear and shorts and running all the way to my bottom. I simultaneously felt shocked, scared, embarrassed, ashamed of myself, and disgusted, and when that first spurt of pee came out of me, I panicked. As soon as I felt it, I immediately fumbled the car door open and jumped out. When I turned to shut the car door my bladder let go completely and pee began flowing out of my penis at full force and I couldn't stop it. The car was parked next to our garage about forty feet from the door of our house. With pee coursing down my legs, I sprinted the forty feet across the gravel of our driveway and our cement patio. My mom was hanging clothes on the line to my right as I ran by and when she saw me she scowled making me feel even more embarrassed and ashamed of myself. I could hardly believe that I was actually peeing in my pants and all I wanted to do was get to the toilet before it finished and change clothes before anyone found out what I did. I bolted into our entry way, up the long flight of stairs into our dining room, took a left into the kitchen, and another immediate left into our bathroom. By the time I made it to the toilet and fumbled my penis out of my briefs, only a small amount was left to trickle into the water. The entire front of my underwear and shorts was sopping wet and my legs glistened with moisture where the pee ran down them. Even my socks and shoes were wet. I grabbed a towel out of the cabinet in the bathroom and ran for my bedroom. My mom was still outside, but I didn't want my sisters to see me, because I knew they'd make fun of me for wetting myself. As fast as I could, I sprinted out into the kitchen, took a left into the living room, through the arched doorway, and another left past two chairs into my room. I closed my bedroom door behind me and immediately stripped out of everything except my T-shirt. I tossed my wet clothes into my laundry basket and used the towel to thoroughly dry my crotch, butt and legs. I was so ashamed of myself that I nearly cried and it took all I had to hold back the tears. At the same time, I was mildly afraid that it might happen again because of the way it surprised me. After drying myself off completely, I dug in my underwear drawer for a pair of underwear that I hadn't worn in a very long time. They looked just like regular white briefs, but they were about three times thicker than the Fruit-of-the-Looms I was used to and were meant for little boys that were, for the most part, potty trained but still had close calls and small accidents. In other words, training briefs. When I found them, I pulled them on instead of my regular underwear, because I felt like I couldn't control myself and if it happened again I didn't want there to be any way for anyone to know or find out about it. Once I finished getting dressed, I put on a different pair of shoes and went back outside intending to resume playing in the car. When I opened the car door, however, I found that there was a baseball sized wet pee stain on the driver's seat from where my accident began. I was so devastated and disgusted and angry at myself that I slammed the car door and walked off to find something else to do. I never played in the Datsun again.
  13. Alright, so this happened back in preschool, all the way back in the school year of 2003. This wasn't at the YMCA, but at one of the preschools I had a trial day at. My mom would take me to local preschools, and have me try it out for a day. This place had a stringent anti-diaper policy, which my mom and I found out when the teacher, who was a brunette, and that's really all I can remember of her, told us, and as they had class bathroom breaks every hour, and would check for accidents before sending each student, one by one, into the bathroom (which I did, and still find odd as the bathroom had multiple stalls. Then again, it could be cause some people, especially kids at that age, may be uncomfortable with "going" when someone else is around). So, knowing this, I feigned having to use the bathroom. I squeezed my little legs together, doing a potty dance, and tugged on my mother's pant leg. "Mommy, I gotta potty." I said. My mother caught on, and took me to the nearest bathroom. There, she helped me remove my diaper. As she did so, she asked me, "Do you think you can go a whole day without your diaper Chris?" this was the first time, if memory serves, I had been diaperless, aside from when I was using the toilet (which more often than not, amounted to just the home toilet or a training potty I had under the bed)l and when I was being bathed. I nodded, a bit hesitant, as while I was potty trained, my body was conditioned to use my diaper normally whenever I was outside the house, or at least in a public bathroom when my mom wasn't around. Anyway, just in case, she stashed my diaper in this Spongebob backpack I had. She kissed and hugged me, and sent me off. Cut to roughly an hour later. A class bathroom break had called, we had lined up, and I REALLY needed to pee. It wasn't that bad, at first, just a quick hold of my crotch to try and stem the oncoming flow, About halfway down the line, there were roughly twenty kids in the trial day, I was having to let out small droplets, and the occasional spurt. By the time I was let in, I was threatening to burst. Not comfortable with using the toilet, knowing I wouldn't be able to make it to the toilet fully in time, I simply sat on toilet, and let go. An intense feeling of relief flooded me, as much as urine began flooding my sweatpants. As I got up, my, thankfully dark blue, now a tinge darker, pants clinging to me. Removing my damp pants, I brought them up to one of those hand dryer things, and used those to quicken the dryness, visual wise, of my pants. I put them back on, washed my hands, and left the bathroom.
  14. Been awhile eh? This little memory came flooding back to me (pun not attended), when I was walking from the store a few days ago, and the route I took this time happened to take me pass a local park+playground next to my neighborhood. Even though the sky was overcast, quite a few families were here. Anyway, as I glanced at the sandbox I used to play in, on my way home, my mind flashed back to a wetting incident back during preschool. This was in the spring, and the day was fairly warm, as it usually is in Cali. Anyway, due to the weather, and due to a fair few of my long legged pants were in the wash (twice due to, ah, incidents involving me and underwear), I was garbed in shorts, My current attire at this time was a loose lime green T-shirt, a pair of charcoal grey cargo shorts, and some green and white sneakers. Now, this was one of my diaper/Pull-Upless days, for two reasons. 1. It was Potty Test Day, and 2. I had used my last one, and gotten changed out of it, shortly after arriving in the YMCA lobby bathroom. Anyway, I was playing in the sandbox in the outdoor area of the YMCA. It wasn't as. well, furnished as the playground I would use in, say, that park I was talking about up top, or the playground I would use every recess in kindergarten and first grade at Saint John Vianney, but five year old me didn't mind, it was simple, but fun. Anyway, as I was building whatever came to mind with the sand, I felt a familiar twinge in my bladder, but tried to put it off. Eventually, as time wore on, my need to pee slowly, but surely increased, but I tried to keep from squirming too much. Now, you may wonder why I didn't run off and use the bathroom, well, a few reasons. 1. Like most kids, I was too busy playing. 2. The nearest bathroom was relatively far away, and as I was close to bursting, I didn't think I'd make it. and 3. I was uncomfortable with public bathrooms, as I've said before, at least without my mother being there with me. Plus, someone had gone in only a moment earlier, and I wasn't comfortable with using the bathroom if I knew someone that wasn't a family member was in the vicinity of me. Eventually, the pressure grew too much. Quickly making sure no one, classmate or caretaker could see me, I spread my legs a bit, as I would often do when wetting my diaper and if I was sitting. Slowly, a warm trickle of pee began forming, and began to dampen the sand beneath me. I had to turn my full sit into a bit of a squat, so I didn't get wet sand on my shorts. My pee trickled out, until it came to an end. A decently sized, about te size of my fist now, wet patch was on my shorts. Thankfully, it wasn't too noticeable from the color of my shorts. That done, I moved to a different part of the sandbox to play in
  15. Anyone have something that trended during the time they were born and got your hands on it? I have my little plush kitty from my childhood, it was a brand called kitty kitty kittens and now they spiked in popularity and rarity and ive been collecting them ever since a few months ago. anyone else collect cool stuff from their childhood or just in general?
  16. Before I recount this incident, happy New Year, and welcome to 2019! So, this occured YEARS ago, back when I was in kindergarten at good old Saint John Vianney. This was fairly early on in my time in kindergarten, around September. I was five and seven-ish months old. As it was nearing Fall, and it was a bit chilly, I wore the school's green sweater over my white polo. Alongside these two articles of clothing, I also wore a set of slip on Vans, and the regulation khaki slacks. Now, those of you who have read my previous experiences, you may ask, "Why didn't I include a diaper in my list of vestments?" Did I just presume you, my dear reader(s) would already think it would be there and think it unnecessary to re-iterate? Well, to answer that, we have to rewind back to a few hours prior, a little bit after I was dropped off. So, school would begin at nine, but we were suggested to be in our seats a bit earlier, just in case. So, my mom dropped me off at the drop off/pick-up area, kissed me goodbye, and left, promising to pick me up at the usual time of 3 PM. The AM Kindergarten class, and the entire school on Wednesdays, had half-days, but as I was in the PM class, and this day was not a Wednesday, I would be leaving at 3. As I made my way towards the double doors that would allow me access into the kindergarten itself, I felt a clenching feeling in my gut, and as soon as I felt that, I realized, I hadn't had my morning poop yet. However, I didn't just squat down and go. I quickly checked through the glass the double doors had to see if anyone was in the hallway that, if went down and turned left, you would reach the kindergarten classroom and,across from it, the bathroom. Luckily for me, the teacher, Mrs. Seminatore (who is now the principal) nor the two aides, Ms. Pina or Sister Maria, were in the hallway. That done, I looked behind me, to see if anyone was in the courtyard and heading in my general direction. I was lucky there too, as no one was in the courtyard. Satisfied, I squatted down, and swiftly pushed my morning poop, and probably some of my breakfast, into my awaiting diaper. Standing up, I headed inside, and to change out of my used diaper. I entered the boy's bathroom, which was tinted blue by the blue tillage. Going into a stall for extra privacy, I tugged my khaki slacks down, and untaped my diaper. Tossing it into the trash, I wet some toilet paper to clean myself up. As I had forgotten to pack spare diapers, I simply pulled my khakis up, and headed to class. Now, let's forward when this incident began. It was about time for the teacher to read us a story, when I felt the need to pee come over me. While I normally would have tried to hold it in until I could find something to pee in, or use the bathroom, but I didn't wanna miss the story. I was trying not to squirm, holding myself ever so often, as I was in the 20 or so bunch of kids in my class, listening to the story. Eventually, I felt a spurt come out, and scooting away a bit, I simply realized it would be futile to hold it in, I removed my hands, and let go. Immediatly, the front of my khakis dampened as a wet patch formed and grew, soaking the carpeted floor as well. As soon as the story ended, and recess was announced, I dashed towards the cubbies. A wet sport the size of my fist at the time stained by crotch. I quickly grabbed my Badtz-Maru (Male Hello Kitty Penguin) lunchbox, and used that to cover my wet crotch. Thankfully, as I made it to the playground, trying to tug my sweater over the wet spot, I found my out. It had rained a fair bit the day before, and both the slides were wet. Quickly making my way over. I plopped myself down in front of the taller, winding, purple slide, and slid down. The rainwater splashed against me, soaking my khakis a bit further. Mrs. Seminatore called my mom. A little while later, I found myself in the cubby area, laying on the ground, my mom getting me into a fresh diaper, and a fresh pair of pants.
  17. Well, time for the third installment in this little trilogy of the times I peed my pants in the car. So this occurred in 2nd grade, I must have just come from school, as I was still dressed in the uniform khakis, and the white polo if memory serves. I also wore a pair of these Spider-Man Pull-Ups, as it was around late 1st grade to early 2nd grade that Pull-Ups fit me better than the usual diapers. We were driving out of the neighborhood that Saint John Vianney resided in, and heading into the area with all the shops and the public library, that I felt the need to pee. Thinking nothing of it, I simply did as usual when I had to pee and I was sitting. I spread my legs, and let it flow. Unfortunately, I underestimated how much I had to pee. I soon felt my Pull-Up dampen, as usual, but I soon felt my khakis dampen, and then the seat. I would have stopped my flow, but realizing it was too late, simply let go. Once I finished up, I looked at my mom, who was in the seat in front of me. "Mommy, my Pull-Up leaked." I told her. She comforted me, and stopped the car. Opening up my door, she helped me get all non wet clothes off, tossing my soaked Pull-Up into a nearby trash can. This left me in just the polo, and my shoes. She had me sit on a plastic mat, just in case, while we continued the drive to get some spare Pull-Ups at the local CVS.
  18. Before I begin: A belated Happy Thanksgiving and a welcome from Black Friday to you all.... Now, let me take you back to my days at the YMCA, which I've recounted quite often. On this occasion, we were having a class swimming lesson. I was, and still am to an extent, not the best swimmer. Prior to this, we were all asked to go into the nearby bathrooms, and change into swim trunks, or swimsuits for the girls. As I changed out of my current attire, which was a pair of blue shorts, a green T-shirt, and my shoes, I came to one obstacle, my diaper. Now, normally, I'd be fine with keeping it on, however, it wasn't a swim diaper. And while I hadn't been diapered and in the water all that often, even at that age I knew copious amounts of liquids+non-swim diaper=mass leakage at best, and falling apart of said diaper at the worst. Feeling a twinge in my bladder, I decided to untape my diaper, and tuck it in with the rest of my clothes. I then slipped the swim trunks on, these were a dark blue in color, probably closer to midnight blue. I placed my clothes and diaper, which I had folded and placed inside my bundled shirt, into a shelf with my name on them, alongside my shoes. Now, we waited in line as each of us did doggy paddles and other basic aquatic maneuvers, three people at a time. It was while I was waiting in line, pretty much at the back, that my need to pee came back full force. I remember holding myself, and shifting a bit, as I tried to keep my urine in. While someone else might have used the bathroom, me being uncomfortable with restrooms outside my home, especially if I say, didn't have my mom with me, I let out a few dribbles here or there as the line shuffled forward, squeezing my legs together to help out. The splashing of the others in the pool didn't help matters. As I neared closer to the line, I had to stop holding myself with my hand, though I was still crossing my legs, and I guessed the teacher, when I was one of the three up, thought it was waterborne fear induced anxiety, as she got to my high level, smiled, and said something like "Hey, its alright, you can do this." something motivational like that. Giving her a smile, I dived in. While I was doggypaddling, all the water around me aggravated my bladder. As I was swimming, my mind thought "Well, I'm already in water." and I released my bladder. Relief and warmth filled me, as surely as my pee filled the water. Thankfully, my pee was relatively clear. I got out, my shorts wet from both pee and pool water. I sat down nearby, toweling off, while I waited for the remaining handful of students to finish up. Once everyone was done, we were once again directed to change back. A smile blossomed on my young face as the security of my diaper once more was wrapped around me. I fixed my clothes, and went on my diapered day.
  19. Ever since I was a little kid, I have had this tendency to 'forget' to go to the bathroom. See, I would (and still do) get too involved in whatever I am doing to the point that I wouldn't realize I have to pee until it's too late. I remember onetime when I was in kindergarten, I was in the living room with my mom. I had out all these toys like dolls and fences and animals and I distinctively remember we were playing zoo with the dolls. I had on like a pajama shirt and a pink pair of camo sweat pants, and was laying on my stomach as I played with a doll of a little boy in a white suit. Out of nowhere, I pissed myself and immediately shot up and started crying, and my mom yelled at me (not in an angry or cruel way, just how you scold a child) telling me I need to stop what I'm doing and go to the bathroom. This past year even, I've had a few of these kind instances. Rather than playing with dolls though, its when I get too caught up on my school work (I am an interactive multimedia student) or when I'm busy playing video games. I don't know why I get this way, just so enveloped in whatever I'm doing I don't really notice I have to pee until I'm shaking and trying not to piss myself. Now, I usually realize and make it to the bathroom in time, but in the last few months alone I've lost control of it and had an accident on the bathroom floor before I can get to the toilet. Even if I do realize before hand, I am always convinced I can wait just a little bit longer. Despite the embarrassment and resentment I should naturally feel from these accidents, they are really comforting.
  20. Now, this occurred about 13 years ago. I had recently gotten into the first grade. We shared a recess area, and playground, with the kindergarten half of the school, as both sets were in roughly the same portion of the school. Now, for those of you who don't know, I was still diapered back then. I did occasionally use the toilet or the like, and was potty trained. Now, this occurred one fine recess in the first grade. It had rained the previous evening. A number of my classmates, myself included, were playing on the jungle gym equipment. Not longer after, I felt the intense urge to pee. I had already soaked and messed my diaper to capacity, and knew one good wetting would cause it to leak, and leave a noticeable stain on my khakis, as I went to a private school. I covered it up by sliding down a wet slide, and releasing my bladder at the same time. So, my pants were wet from pee, and the water. My mom changed me into a fresh diaper, and khakis, in the cubby area of my classroom
  21. So, this happened when I was about five. To give some context, I was potty trained around the normal age range of 2 to 3, however, I liked wearing diapers, so my mom let me, so long as I occasionally use the toilet or some sort of receptacle. I went to the YMCA for my preschool. It was pretty fun. Now, this occurred during my first week there. I wasn't really comfortable with the bathrooms, and rarely used them anyway, until a week later. I had run out of diapers shortly before I arrived at the YMCA that day, and I was wearing a white t-shirt, sneakers, and a pair of dark blue sweatpants, what I usually wore. Fast forward a tiny bit after my arrival, and I was doing some basic arts and crafts, coloring and whatnot. Not long after, I felt my morning bottle, the bottle o drank in the car, and the juice box coming back to haunt me. Forgetting I was commando under my sweatpants at the time, I spread my legs a bit, and began to let go. However, I realized doing it out here would probably attract too much attention. Shutting off the stream, with only a tiny patch on my crotch, I quickly told my teacher "I'm gonna go to the potty." And dashed off. Once I was safely in the bathroom, I went into a stall and began peeing through my sweatpants
  22. I was 12 at the time and on a family trip was bursting as we pulled into the rest area. I remember running from the car to the rest rooms as I already did a few really short bursts in my pants. The line was really long and I couldn't hold on any longer and started wetting my pants. All I could do at this point was finish in my pants. As I got back to the car I was in tears. My older sister called me a pee pants and Rusty Bed Springs. I shouldn't have taken it to heart so much because we have all wet our pants on car trips, just this time I was the only one that did and It was so embarrassing wetting my pants in line. I remember mom making me change in the back seat of the car after that. Guess It was just really embarrassing to pee my pants of all places in line for the bathroom !
  23. Another post on the Omorashi forum about peeing in bottles triggered this memory. It's not really an "Omo" experience, more a wetting one, so I thought it was more appropriate here than on that thread. When I was about 9-10, I became ill with a gastro type virus. It actually happened during our grade 4 camp, and I spent the last night throwing up. I was still ill for a few days when I got home, with a bad case of the runs and lots of vomiting. I pooped myself while diapered a couple of times, once while vomiting and once while I was asleep. I wore diapers for bed wetting so it wasn't a big deal, and I've posted those stories before so I won't rehash them again. But it did lead to an incident in hospital that I'd all but forgotten about until I read the "peeing in a bottle" thread. After a few days of vomiting and diahreea I was becoming dehydrated, so our doctor put me in hospital. Now as a diaper wearing bed wetter at 9, this of course terrified me. I remember (vaguely) an intensely embarrassing discussion between my mother and the admissions nurse about my bed wetting, and being told that I wouldn't be diapered while in hospital, but if I had an accident it didn't matter, and they would just change my sheets. Back then, in the seventies in Australia, pull ups or Goodnites weren't really a thing, and as I've said before, I wore either thick cloth training pants with plastic panties or an actual large size disposable nappy too bed. I wasn't a regular nightly wetter, or a heavy one, it's just that maybe 3-4 nights a week I wouldn't quite wake up in time before I started leaking, and I'd wake up as I started dribbling, then have to run to the toilet. The training pants combo contained this very well, but on Friday and Saturday nights I'd wear the actual diaper instead, because I'd stay up late and be more tired and likely to completely wet myself without waking up at all. The same as being sick. I'd wear the proper diaper just in case I couldn't get up in time. I didn't know what would be worse. Being diapered at that age by a stranger, or wetting the bed while in a ward with other kids. I wanted to wear the training pants, but for some reason the nurses would rather I didn't, and said I'd be given a bottle or a bedpan to use in an emergency. So im sent to the ward, put my pyjamas on, and immediately put on a drip to re-hydrate myself again. I was told that I couldn't get out of bed for any reason because of the drip. I was scared because I wasn't diapered, although I didn't really want to be in front of the other child patients, but now I was trapped in a bed that I couldn't get out of as well! This of course made me extremely nervous about what might happen, and so after awhile my nervousness about peeing actually made me need to pee. A viscious cycle. My parents told me that I'd have to pee in the bottle provided. This was like a plastic pouring jug, with a slightly angled wide mouth on it, designed to be peed into by a male who is laying down but propped up in bed. A big part of the necessity of using the bottle was the fact that they wanted a urine sample to run some tests on, and I was told I'd need to provide a stool sample as well the next time I needed to poop. I tried to convince them to let me go to the toilet which was only like 10 feet away, or even put me in a nappy, but they refused, insisting that I use the bottle. Dad drew the curtains around the bed to give me the necessary privacy, and mum pulled back the covers and took my pyjama pants off. I was only 9, and was used to being seen naked by my folks, so I had absolutely no embarrassment about this at all. However, I was extremely embarrassed about having to pee in the bottle while they watched. But because of the drip in my arm, I needed mums help to hold the damn thing in place as I sort of positioned myself in the bed in a comfortable enough way to go. It felt so wrong. I had been wetting the bed my whole life, and I hated it. Now, here I was, laying on top of a bed, wide awake, with no pants on, and trying to deliberately empty my bladder into a bottle that my mother was holding between my legs. Talk about stage fright! I just couldn't go! I really needed to, and my body was crying out for relief, but I just couldn't! Again, I pleaded to use the toilet instead but was refused. My parents left the curtains drawn around my bed, and left my pants off, pulling the sheets over me for privacy instead, waiting for me to try again. The nurse came back to collect the bottle, and when mum informed her that I hadn't gone yet, she said I'd better hurry if I wanted mum to be the one helping me instead of a nurse, as visiting hours were nearly over and my folks would have to leave soon. This of course upset me even more, and I started to cry. Mum, knowing that by now I was busting, was worried that I'd wet myself while I cried, so she immediately pulled the sheets back while the nurse was still there, and positioned the bottle back between my legs again. The drip was hanging on the left side and going into my left arm, and mum was on my right side, so while she's holding the bottle, I'm crying and trying to point myself down into the bottle at the same time with my right hand. Very awkward to say the least! But as I sobbed away, I could feel myself losing control, and soon the dam burst, and I lay there crying and peeing safely into the bottle at the same time. I could feel it getting warmer between my legs as it filled up, all the while with my mum speaking encouragingly to me. It all went well with no incident, until I'd finally finished. The relief was incredible. I'd managed to go with my mum helping me instead of a stranger, and I hadn't made a mess. Suddenly, I was a lot calmer, and my tears had stopped flowing around the same time as my urine did. But then, disaster struck. Mum went to pull the bottle back at the same time I tried to remove my little boyhood from the tip, and I bumped her hand as she held the bottle back, still at an angle. It tipped, and urine spilled from the top of it, all over my legs and penis, and across the bed as well! The nurse didn't seem too concerned. She took the bottle which still had heaps in it, and left, sending a junior nurse in to wash me and change the sheets. I had to get out of bed and stand beside it while she did this, and I remember getting quite indignant about the whole thing, and wanting to know why I was suddenly allowed to get out of bed and stand up, but had to lay down to pee! The nurse said I could've stood up and peed into the bottle beside the bed instead of laying down, so long as I didn't pull the drip out! After the sheets were changed and visiting hours were over, the boy in the bed opposite me asked me if I'd wet the bed. I explained to him what had happened, not expecting him to believe me and thinking that he'd tease me, but he accepted my story with no problems at all, and we didn't mention it again. My drip was taken out later, and I needed to poop. I summoned a nurse, who put me on a bedpan. But there was no way that I could poop while laying down in bed. They needed a sample however, but it wasn't a problem. They simply fitted the bedpan over the toilet, and I was allowed to get out of bed to sit on it. I was in hospital for two nights, and thankfully never wet the bed whilst I was in there. During the night, twice a night, a nurse would come in and either take my temperature or give me medication, and help me stand up and pee in the bottle or take me to the toilet. I was allowed to go to the toilet if I needed to poop, so long as I called for a nurse first. So that was my embarrassing story of peeing in a bottle in front of my folks and still ending up with a wet bed!
  24. Many, many years ago, when my outward appearance was that of a wee fairy child with long, long brown and gold hair, I had an accident. Now, most third graders (around the age of eight, for any non-American friends) are pretty dense, even ones at nicer schools such as the elementary institution I attended. Again outwardly, I was fairly dense in that respect as well, and for fifteen years now have denied that said accident was anything but an accident. Well... the "accident" was an accident. The setup was not. Even at that age, I never did quite properly identify as a little girl, and spent most of my days being quiet and out of the way of other students, with whom I would often get in horrible arguments, me being a pretentious little asshole with a superiority complex, and them being, well, children. Still, one day on the bus ride home, I overheard some of the older girls discussing someone's father, and his amazing ability to be aware that he had to pee early in the morning, but "forget" about it and not "need" to pee again for a full twelve hours later. (these were the terms used, and are probably rather inaccurate, but that's how it was recorded in my mind). Now, clearly, thought I, there is no great difference between a fully grown man and myself, tiny and cute though I might be. Really, really tiny and cute... picture Alice in Wonderland. Four feet tall, annoyingly long hair, and a tendency for wandering off into dangerous and deadly parts of la-la land. And yet, I would best this invisible opponent... and then, armed with this superiority, I would use such an amazing power to truly rule over the tiny minds contained within this bus, and all three of the other busses at the school! And then, perhaps for an encore, enslaving even the students who did not ride the bus home! I would be the QUEEN! Honestly, it's a wonder I'm not a serial killer by now. Tiny me was disturbed. Grown me is.... okay, still disturbed, just too lazy to murder and enslave humanity as we know it. Unlike what seems to be the norm, I was fully aware that hydration caused peeing, and took great care to use this to my advantage, refusing multiple drinks throughout the day. My future minions need never know of this particular advantage, if it even was one... certain circumstances of my rather vague rival were left noticeably blank. Even armed with this knowledge and the fires of evil at its finest, I didn't last long. Maybe four hours? It started to be uncomfortable fairly quickly, but surely this was nothing compared to the pain and suffering that came with being useless and inferior. No twitching escaped, beyond perhaps a slight bit more energy to my carefully measured march of pure hatred towards any and all things. No comments escaped either, as was the norm. Talking is worthless if the target has no more understanding capacity than the average brick wall, or public-school eight year old. It happened finally at recess, while I was playing with my favored minion, a rather weak-willed young lady from a broken home consisting of what had once been a teenage mother and a rather brain damaged half-brother. We were participating in my particular favorite activity; collecting interesting rocks from a certain corner of the playground. My uniform of conquest at the time was a neat cotton tee shirt dress (the sort made from a plain shirt with a bit of cloth sewn on as a skirt, typically short sleeved and round-necked with the skirt to the knees), which was rather conveniently un-constricting for the challenge, giving me the freedom to squat and examine said rocks. To no one's particular surprise but my own, approximately the third or fourth time I squatted down, the dam burst, rather unexpectedly. I'd been living with the pressure for hours at this point, and had felt no particular immediate warning signs. If I had, damage might have been minimized, but as it was I pretty immediately soaked a good portion of the back of the skirt, and most of my socks, as well as a rather impressive patch of dirt. My minion, loyal as ever, immediately began babbling... she'd had an accident the previous year, successfully hidden, and it dried. Still, marinating in my own defeat, I couldn't handle wandering around in a wet dress, and regretfully dragged myself over to the teacher (to this day a favorite of mine, who is still in contact... with luck the shame of our first year of working together has been eclipsed by my adult achievements) to admit what I'd done. Thus began the cycle of denial. To the teacher, I thought I could wait. To the nurse, who was a family friend outside of school, I just got distracted. To my mother, who turned up minutes later with a pair of pants, fresh socks, and a blouse, I had no idea what happened. To myself, I had been vanquished by the same invisible foe I had challenged, and domination of the children would have to wait for another day. Near enough to the end of the school day, I returned home in company of my mother, who just shrugged and wrote it off to more of my being weird and silent, as was the norm. The next day I was interrogated as to why I had missed the bus, when I had been on the bus just that morning. I forget how I wrote it off, but I am convinced to this day that none of the neighborhood children who made up the interrogation team (and later, during middle and high school, grew into being nasty bullies) ever did figure out what happened. This incident was the first and last true wetting accident of my living memory, not counting any around toilet training before I started forming proper memories of conquest and destruction.
  25. When I was a little girl I used to hold my pee in until I was desperate. I would dance from foot to foot, clutching my crotch trying desperately not to wet my pants. I would do this until I saw someone else head to use the bathroom and then I would pretend to race them there and would always lose. At this point I felt justified in going outside to pee. I had a yellow wooden chair in our yard, which no one used anymore and I had dragged it up behind our big climbing tree. I would head out towards this seat with my desperately full bladder and take off my pants. Sometimes i would remove my underwear as well but not always. I would sit on that little yellow chair edging towards peeing and then holding it in for as long as I could... until I no longer had control then little by little I would start to pee, feeling it first as dampness in my underwear, then a trickle down my thigh. Sometimes I would then hold my crotch again and pee through my fingers. Eventually I would be sitting in a puddle of pee, smiling with relief and enjoying the warm wetness on my backside. I would sneak inside with my story that someone was using the bathroom all ready to explain why I had wet my pants but no one ever saw me. I never did it anywhere else but at home, I had to feel comfortable and at ease to be able to let it go in my panties. I remember one day I was holding it in desperately while playing barbies with my best friend. I think we were about 4 years old. I was waiting for her to go to the bathroom as she had a tiny bladder and always went multiple times while she was at my house. Seeing her finally head for the bathroom I did my fake race to the door but let her get there first. I started to head for the back door but she said not to be silly... we could share. I was dumbfounded but followed her into the bathroom. She climbed up onto the toilet seat and shuffled over to the side and made room for me. I was desperately bursting, but scared to go in front of her. She started to pee a little and I heard the tinkle of it hitting the water and a little pee came out, wetting my panties. I joined her on the toilet seat, and she said 1, 2, 3 and we both let go, peeing at the same time. When she was done she washed her hands and said come on lets play and left. I sat there for a few minutes thinking about what had happened and holding my crotch. Looking back now that was the first time I sexualized my peeing and the touching that followed was clumsy and inneffective but I was definitely aroused. We never did it again or spoke about it. I went back to my yellow chair plan...
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