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  1. 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
  2. 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.
  3. 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.
  4. 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.
  5. 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
  6. 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
  7. 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?
  8. 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.
  9. 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.
  10. 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?
  11. 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
  12. 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?
  13. 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.
  14. 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.
  15. 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.
  16. 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.
  17. 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.
  18. Oh God how I loathed these days at the YMCA. Alright, so, let me break it down for you. Back when I when I was enrolled in the preschool course of my local YMCA back in 2003, there would be occasional days wherein the teacher would have "Potty Test Days". This was to help younger and or newer students get acclimated to use the bathroom, and to help remind those of us who had been there a bit to use the bathroom when we needed to, and not wait till the cusp of an accident. So, on these days, which were fairly uncommon, at most they'd happen twice a month, and then, at three times a day, which were right after everyone in the class was accounted for in the roll call, right before we headed out to recess, and right before the day ended and our parents picked us up. We would be lined up, check for accidents, then sent in to the bathroom one by one. Which, I get it, privacy and all, but the YMCA I went to, the bathrooms in the "classroom" area had at least four stalls, so why didn't they send us in groups, would have been more efficient that way IMO. Now, you might be wondering to yourself, considering a number of my memories have stated I was, more often than not, diapered full time prior to the summer between 2nd and 3rd grade, how, whenever these little events happened, was I not caught whenever they checked, as surely they would at least hear a muffled crinkling noise. Well, as the teacher would announce when a dreaded PTD the day prior to it, I would be ready for it, so whenever I was dropped off by my mom, I'd head into either the main lobby bathroom, or the preschool bathroom, whichever was closest, and take off my diaper. Or, if I didn't have time to do that, such as me arriving a bit later than I normally did, then I would, if I were in the back of the line, pull part of my pants away so I could access my diaper, or even slide them off if the teacher and her aides were busy with another student, and then shimmy diaper down to around my knees or so, then fix my pants. Well, this particular incident came to pass during one such Potty Test Day in my fourth week there. I had removed my diaper shortly before the first class wide bathroom break, stashing it away inside a plush pile near the bathroom, and after a bit of playing, we got in line for the check and then were sent into the bathroom. I was a few students (there were about 20 or so of us), from the center of the line, when i felt a need to poop. Normally, this wouldn't have been a problem. I would have simply shifted a bit, pushed my poop out, and be done with it. However, the checks the teacher did varied. It was a 50/50 chance of her either just patting you and then sending you in, or, like how some mothers and babysitters check, pulling the back of the pants out, and I didn't have the assurance a diaper gave in covering up the scent of the mess, so I used all the toilet training I had the time, to hold it in. It wasn't what one would call easy, as, being five, my muscles were still in development, and also there were about seven kids in front me (Luckily a number of students were absent) in line a head of me. As the seconds and minutes ticked by and by belly kept on gurgling up a storm, I realized I'd have to concentrate more and more on holding my poop in. Whereas at the beginning it was just a slight grumble and I could hold it in by simply clamping however. by the time I was nearly at the head of the line, I was pressing my hands to my butt, tooting, bouncing a bit, and basically doing a mini potty dance of sorts, and I could feel my control starting to wane. I managed to stop potty dancing as soon as the kid in front of me was sent in. After what felt like an agonizing minute of the kid leaving then me being checked, I was sent in. As soon as I stepped inside, I felt my control slipping. Quickly grabbing some paper towels, I shoved them into the back of my pants. Realizing there'd be no point in even trying to hold it in now, I simply squatted down, as my poop coiled and splattered in the paper in the jeans I was wearing. A sense of relief filled every fiber of my being, as much as my warm morning poop was filling my pants. I slowly stood up, and carefully removed my pants. Thankfully, the two ply paper towels had acted as a buffer, which I dumped out of my pants into the toilet, so all I had to deal with were a few, small chunks, which I wiped off. Using some water and one of those hand drying things, I cleaned my pants off, and slipped them back on. Once I was able to, I taped my diaper back on. And to think this all came back to me after a bad run in with a chili cheese dog....
  19. I recalled this one memory from when I was about six, right around the time I was in kindergarten (school began in August or September and my birthday is in early February), at SJV. Now, here was how the school was laid out. The kindergarten had its own seperate building, though we did share a recess and playground with the 1st grade side. The elementary and middle school parts shared a building. This occurred in December, very close to Christmas. As our school was closed for the holidays, we had a little gift giving thing a day or two before, Secret Santa style, except on the day we did this, we would be identified by name and who we got, then we'd exchanged gifts, hug, and then go back to our seats. A few names before me, I felt my stomach acting up. It was then I realized that I hadn't pooped since about the time I woke up, which, and still is more often than not, unless I decide to sleep in, which was about six or so. I had pooped, my mom changed me, gamed until it was time for school, breakfast, etc. This occurred near the end of the day, which was about, for my PM Kindergarten class, about 3PM, same as the other grades got out, so my bowels had plenty of time to turn my breakfast, plus the quesdilla with cheese (From Taco Bell), into dumpable poop. By the time my name came up, my need to poop was fairly high. I grabbed the gift I had gotten my best friend (Who I haven't seen in a few years, but let's call him Joey. I gave him the gift, and he gave me mine (a Nutcracker figure.) and as we hugged, I guess the pressure from the hug exacerbated my need, and I began pooping my diaper. Smiling as relief filled me as much as poop filled my diaper, I thanked Joey, and then went on my way, waddling a smidgen as I was still pooping. Holding the nutcracker, I sat back in my plastic chair with a muffled squoosh
  20. A long time ago, I wrote a series of short stories in the post "Unforgettable, Wettable Sister" which included stories my sister "Lily" had told to me and a few I witnessed. But I forgot one. Also will write the last 2-3 stories from school and one other that happened (different girls) in later replies. . Brief overview, Lily had short hair most of the time, brown hair and eyes, and has been pretty skinny her whole life, she's a year and a half younger than me. When I was in 2nd - 3rd grade and just before 4th, we had two other girls, next door neighbors, sisters, one my age and the other 3 grades older, both who became endearing childhood friends of me and my sister, though mostly her. Sometimes we'd have sleepovers and our mothers would babysit for each other. On this day in particular the sisters were sleeping over and due to limited room, they all slept in the same bed. Now it was unusual that Lily would get up in the middle of the night to pee, but when you're staying up late drinking soda, I guess it makes things different. She recalled to me (I asked for a lot of details since I was into omorashi) having a dream about trying to find a toilet that wasn't broken, going to different rooms and entire buildings full of toilets in wide open areas but none would work or were private enough. Eventually, she woke up, with each friend of hers on either side. Lily stiffened up after quickly realizing she had to pee in real life. Laying on her back, she gently slipped her right arm under the sheets to grab herself over her light pink, fleece night gown. As her desperation grew, she clamed her hand with both legs, trying to squeeze shut. Lily didn't want to get up since doing so could wake her friends. She started trembling while trying to lie very still. She could feel her bladder lurching, ready to leak it's contents. She got tired and then, after awhile, her urge disappeared. She just stopped feeling the need to go. Triumphant, she let go and feel asleep. Once again, she woke up awhile later, but this time, she woke up to straining pain down below. She could feel her swollen bladder fill to high capacity, bulging like a balloon ready to pop. She reached her arms under the covers and crossed her legs over both hands burying down to clutch tightly. She hoped that either the sun would come up, her friend on the edge would wake up, or she could just wait it out like earlier. Lily fidgeted, feeling a steaming spurt lick her flowery, silken, bluish-teal panties. She began rubbing a wrist to dig in and hopefully hold it back better. Another, slightly longer leak. She pinched her face, rubbing her legs slowly together. Then Lily felt another spasm bleed into her night gown around her wrist, she hissed a little, it sputtered and spit out a little more, and again, she kept regaining control, but it was a losing battle. Lily finally told herself she couldn't stand it anymore and was going to try sliding down to the foot of the bed to leave. She scooted a little and stopped to see if either friend noticed. Then she felt it suddenly spear through her, spraying into her panties, soaking the bottom of her thick fleece pink night gown, and begin spreading out on the bedsheets. Her wrist and fingers uselessly kept their ground against the tide, pressing the top folded-in part of her gown into the flow to be drenched with the rest. She felt the warmth crawl up her back and spread around the back of her legs. She laid there, on her back, breathing hard and steady. After peeing seeming forever, she lifted her head to check and see if it was visible on the blanket. It didn't seem bad, if at all. She hoped that maybe she would be the only one who would feel it, and so she went back to sleep. I remember waking up and walking by her room with her two friends and my sister there laughing while looking at the sheets, though by then thry had all taken a shower and changed. "Oh my gosh!" the girl my age exclaimed. "I can't believe you peed!" "What happened?" I asked. "Your sister like, totally wet the bed last night. It was like a water fountain in there!" Luckily they only did light teasing and weren't mad about it, but the other two girls did certainly notice, and both got a little wet in the process.
  21. Well, this one came to mind, and is, now that I think about it, the third time I used a teapot in my preschool as a makeshift toilet. I feel sorry for that teapot, but well, when you gotta go, plus it doesn't have feelings. My morning started off fairly usual. Wake up in bed at around 5 or so. I quietly played some video games, barely caring about the condition of my diaper as part of me was still asleep. After my mom woke up, she gave me my breakfast, which was oatmeal and a bottle of milk. After that, my mom changed me out of my used night diaper, and into a fresh one, before getting me dressed for the day. As it was a bit on the warmer side, today I was dressed in a pair of a shorts and a T-shirt. The shorts had a garter, and could easily be tugged on and off, whether to use the bathroom, or to change my diaper, etc. Well, we arrived a bit early to the preschool, about five or so minutes. With that little extra time, my mom took me to the YMCA lobby's bathroom (the lobby area was pretty damn big, and seemed even bigger to my 5 year old self), to try and go. I still wasn't yet comfortable with the bathrooms at the YMCA, having barely used them for their intended purposes (If I didn't use the toilet, I'd at least pretend to) After a moment of sitting on the toilet, and only a tiny dribble of pee coming out, my mom rediapered me, and asked if I could try and use the bathroom while I was there, to which I said that I would try. After my mom dropped me off, I greeted the teacher, who, as I did not know her name, let's call her Mrs. Winters. She was a woman in, at least, her late twenties. She had two aides, one a bit older, the other around the same age, and began doing some arts and crafts. While I was doodling a picture with some crayons, I felt a familiar pressure building up, well, two pressures. I got up, and went over to a little Playskool house. Once inside, I slid my shorts down, and undid my diaper. In my five year old mind, I guessed this would help me in keeping up with what my mom had asked of me, and because this was the only diaper I had brought with me. Stashing it under one of the chairs, I fixed my shorts, and headed back out. A little while after, I began feeling a tad bit desperate. Even though I was quite potty trained by that point, my muscles were still developing. As I was doing some arts and crafts once more, I began holding my crotch with one hand, the other holding the crayon, while I pressed my butt into the colorful plastic seat, to try and keep both my bladder and bowels in check. I spurted out a bit, warming my hand a tad, as my bladder spasmed a bit. Getting up, and now walking swiftly, but cautiously, trying to avoid unloading into my shorts (At least in view of everyone.), I began looking for either a quiet place to fill my shorts, or a place to go in. I knew I wouldn't make it to the bathroom (Which were on the other end of the room for me, and again, wasn't yet comfortable with non-home bathrooms yet, at least not when my mom or the like wasn't around), and even if I could make it back to the Playskool play house, I don't think I would have been able to hold it in to fully put my diaper on. That is when I saw it. Sitting on a shelf, I grabbed the well worn tea pot, and set it down. Making sure no one was looking, I tugged my shorts down, just enough to go, plopped down, and used it as a makeshift toilet. Satisfied, I closed the lid, and set it aside. That done, I went back to the Playskool playhouse, and rediapered myself. And now, even though its past, a Halloween wetting. Now this occurred in first grade. I was going as Tuxedo Mask, from Sailor Moon. Or rather, a makeshift Tuxedo Mask costume out of what my mom and I could find around the house. Well anyway, this little incident occured around the time of the costume parade. Basically, the classes would make a sort of square in the courtyard, and each class of the eight grades, so about 16 classes in total, would walk around the square for a minute or two, showing off their costumes to the rest of the school. Anyway, as my class was one of the firsts to get let out for this, we had to wait for the other, like, twelve or so classes to get into the circle. It was during this time that I felt a twinge in my bladder, but put it off. As my class was started the walk about, my need to pee rose. Letting go, I miscalculated how much I needed to pee, and my Pull-Up leaked a bit. Not too noticeable, but enough that it trailed down my legs a bit
  22. Porting this over from WE I recalled this one memory from when I was about six, right around the time I was in kindergarten (school began in August or September and my birthday is in early February), at SJV. Now, here was how the school was laid out. The kindergarten had its own seperate building, though we did share a recess and playground with the 1st grade side. The elementary and middle school parts shared a building. This occurred in December, very close to Christmas. As our school was closed for the holidays, we had a little gift giving thing a day or two before, Secret Santa style, except on the day we did this, we would be identified by name and who we got, then we'd exchanged gifts, hug, and then go back to our seats. A few names before me, I felt my stomach acting up. It was then I realized that I hadn't pooped since about the time I woke up, which, and still is more often than not, unless I decide to sleep in, which was about six or so. I had pooped, my mom changed me, gamed until it was time for school, breakfast, etc. This occurred near the end of the day, which was about, for my PM Kindergarten class, about 3PM, same as the other grades got out, so my bowels had plenty of time to turn my breakfast, plus the quesdilla with cheese (From Taco Bell), into dumpable poop. By the time my name came up, my need to poop was fairly high. I grabbed the gift I had gotten my best friend (Who I haven't seen in a few years, but let's call him Joey. I gave him the gift, and he gave me mine (a Nutcracker figure.) and as we hugged, I guess the pressure from the hug exacerbated my need, and I began pooping my diaper. Smiling as relief filled me as much as poop filled my diaper, I thanked Joey, and then went on my way, waddling a smidgen as I was still pooping. Holding the nutcracker, I sat back in my plastic chair with a muffled squoosh
  23. So, this occured in kindergarten, during arts and crafts time. We were asked to draw our favorite animal, nothing too major. We had been split among the larger tables so each of us would have a bit more space to doodle in than sat on the rugged floor (as in the floor was covered with a rug, not that it coarse or really tough.) It was a Thursday, and the school had decided that Thursday would be a free dress day, meaning we wouldn't have to wear the uniform khakis and jumpers+skirts (girls were required to wear these until around fourth grade if memory serves, I don't really recall when that transition occurred.) This excited practically everyone, as free dress days were really only reserved for special events like Spirit Week or holidays. On this particular Free Dress day, I was wearing my attire of a pair of dark blue jeans, some velcro sneakers, and a fresh T-Shirt that I believe had Spiderman on it. While I was drawing (and might I add, to this day, I'm not that good an artist) a wolf, as they were, and still are, some of my favorite animals, I felt a familiar shifting in my bladder. My pencil stopped, as I put it down. Now, you might wonder, for those of you who had read my previous experiences, why I didn't just let go into my diaper. Well, that was because mine was already quite soaked, and I hadn;t had the opportunity to change into the spare in my bag. I placed a hand against the crotch of my pants, my diaper giving off a muffled squish as I did so. I shifted in my seat a bit, knowing that if I did go then and there, I'd leak, and I didn;t know how much would leak out. Pressing a hand against the crotch of my jeans, I looked around for the teacher (Who, as of this writing, is now the assistant principal), and because I honestly cannot recall how to properly spell her surname, let's call her Mrs. S. I saw her talking to one of my classmates about her drawing and, knowing a simple raised hand probably wouldn't get her attention that quickly, I held up the "Bathroom emergency" hand sign that was printed out on a piece of paper clipped to the whiteboard, ergo, raising your hand, but crossing the index and middle fingers together. Seeing this, Mrs. S let me go to the bathroom. Letting out a few dribbles into my damp padding, I sped off towards the bathroom. I knew I probably wouldn't make it in time to get my jeans off, and untape my diaper, at least without anyone seeing my soaked padding (And no, at this current time, I was not wearing Pull-Ups), I at least wanted to pee myself in relative privacy. Bolting out of the classroom, I let out the occasional dribble and spurt into my padding, already a small wet spot growing. Shimmying and squirming into the bathroom, which, aside from a stall just closing at the end of the row of four, the bathroom was empty. Spotting the drain in the floor, I stood over it, and let go. Immediatly, a feeling of relief, and warmth, flooded my senses as my diaper leaked out. The stream spurted down my pants legs, into the drainage below. Luckily my pants were already a dark blue in color, so the further darkening wouldn't be too noticeable. Checking to see if the guy in the stall was coming out, and not wanting to risk it, I went to the stall closest to the sinks. Undoing my wet pants, and setting them aside to dry a tad, I spotted my diaper, heavily soaked, sagging a bit. Untaping it, I peeked out of the stall and, hearing the sink running, I waited. Once I saw the boy that had been in the stall leave (He was thankfully older, so no chance of him recognizing me), and carefully walked my bare from the waist down butt to the trash, and threw my damp padding into the trash. Heading back into the stall, I used one of the hand dryers to further dry my pants (Like this one Simpsons comic I had read wherein Bart accidentally spills some Krusty brand grape juice onto his shorts and has to dry them before anyone thinks the worse happened), and then slipped them back on. Making my way back to class, no one said anything as I thanked my teacher, sat down, and went back to work. A little later on, the teacher asked if I could fetch some supplies for an activity in the cubby area. Being the ever helpful person I was and still am, and seeing and opportunity to slip into my spare diaper, I volunteered. Heading back into the cubby area, I lowered my pants down, and grabbed my spare from my backpack. Taping it on, I pulled my pants back up, and grabbed what Mrs. S needed. Giving it to her, I continued on my day
  24. I often reflect that a lot of us seem to have omo interest origins dating back to childhood or teen years. I was 4-years-old. I wet my pjs one morning when my sister and I were locked in our room. We had those door handle protectors that prevented kids from getting in/out and for whatever reason Mom wasn't there or heard me, don't remember. Later, I was watching TV and saw a woman in a kidnapping predicament on a train and for whatever reason, I thought she had to pee. And the thought made my little boyhood get hard. It irritated me so I tried pressing it back down. I started doing it whenever I thought of girls, women, or boys having to pee in desperation. I would often imagine cartoon characters and TV / movie characters, until I started school when I added crushes. One of the oddest was a fantasy I had for a week. I imagined the youngest girl from Barney had to pee so bad her bladder swelled into a giant penis with balls the size of beach balls. She was crying for help but ended up peeing so much she drowned Barney and the other kids. The military got involved in trying to get her to stop. In school and home (my sister), I was also blessed with seeing a lot of accidents and dozens and dozens of desperation moments. Around 3rd grade or so, I dropped off boys and older women and focused on wetting for girls my age.
  25. So, this occured in first grade, so I was about seven. I had gotten off of school that day, but remembered that my mom would be late to picking me up that day due to a prior engagement, a medical one I believe, so she arranged for me to stay at the house of my best friend, let's call him Joey, until she was finished. After his mom drove the two of us to his place, we went off to play. It was during a game of hide and seek that I felt a familiar twinge in my bladder. Normally, if you've read my previous experiences, you would have wondered why I simply didn't just let it flow into my diaper. I would have, except I had run out. My mom had stashed the last two diapers in my backpack and promised, by the time I got home, I'd have a fresh pack waiting, which, more often than not, was the case. The first spare i had used before class had begun, having pooped in it on my way to the bathroom with my mom, so I could go before class began, which was a daily occurrence if I could spare the time to try and use the bathroom, and the second, I had soaked during a recess game of tag. Squeezing my legs a tad to relieve pressure, the game was eventually called off as Joey's mom had made us some snacks. Still under control, though I did had to stop and squeeze my thighs together at least twice, and let out a few droplets into my dark green shorts that I wore beneath the school khakis. After the quick snack of grilled cheese sandwiches, I felt my need to pee slowly rise.To visualize how I had to go, I guess picture a bucket, slowly, but surely, filling to the brim with pee. My need was still under control, but growing ever harder, so I guess a smidge or two above the half way point of the metaphorical bucket. By now, I was, albeit as discreetly as I could, squeezing my crotch with my hands, only for a brief moment, to try and help relieve some pressure. Eventually, when the bucket was filling up to the brim, I decided to try and find the bathroom. I recall there being two bathrooms, one downstairs near the stairs, and one upstairs, by the bedrooms. Squeezing myself once again, I headed to the bathroom closest to where I was, which was the downstairs bathroom. Knocking on it, I heard the slightly lispish voice of one of Joey's younger sisters, who were twins. I honestly can't remember their names, as I never really spent that much time with them. Anyone, upon hearing one of them say something along the lines of a todderlish version of "I'm using the bathroom." I dribbled a tiny bit more into my shorts, thankfully having avoided drenching my khakis, as those would be far easier to hide the wet spot. Now squirming and holding my crotch, I carefully, but quickly, ascended the flight of stairs. Knocking on the other door, I found Joey's mom in there taking a shower. By now, the bladderal bucket was basically splashing a bit out of the brim, and I knew I'd lose control any second. Wanting to minimize damage, I took my khakis off, and set them aside. Leaning against a wall, I let go. A feeling of relief exploded over me as my young bladder released, soaking the front of my shorts, sliding down my legs, and dampening the carpeted floor beneath. After the relief washed over me, I grabbed some napkins laying on a nearby shelf, and used them to wipe up my legs, tossing the wet wad into the trashcan. Pulling up my khakis over my dampened shorts, I went out to the backyard to go play with Joey. This was also the day he accidently threw a wooden block at my head
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