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  1. Since the issue of private users refusing to friend others is becoming more of an issue, I figure we can all help each other out by having a request general where you can post the user videos you're looking for and others can share what they have. I have about 1200 friends so far on Thisvid so maybe I can help you out too cw: will likely be a range of wetting/messing/diapers etc. This user appears to have two Cassie videos I don't think I've seen before if anyone could rip them: https://thisvid.com/videos/desperate-panty-poop-during-work-call/ https://thisvid.com/videos/chores-panty-poop/
  2. Are there any stories where a guy is forced into diapers by wife or girlfriend? Most of the ones I can find involve sissy themes or magic but that’s really not my thing. I’m just looking for forced diapering for punishment or accidents. With loving themes not cuckhold/ sissy or anything like that.
  3. This anthology series will follow a number of girls at the fictional Greatwestern University as they navigate their final year of school before they graduate. The characters will be recurring and several plotlines will be overarching throughout. This is my first ever writing attempt, so I apologize for the lack of structure and/or bad grammar. Feedback is more than welcome! The series is planned for approximately sixteen chapters, and the first six are written. I plan on posting two within the week, and then moving to a biweekly schedule after that. Occasionally a chapter will contain messing, but I will be sure to mention it at the start. Chapter 1: Drunk at The Hairy Cougars Labor Day Weekend festivities at The Hairy Cougars Nightclub marked the excitement of returning to school for many students at Greatwestern University in the city of Lockley. For Sarah Dalton, this was no different. Sarah was drowning in the pulsing music and flashing colored lights of the nightclub. Her body swayed with the music and the world seemed to be spinning away from her. She could feel the sweat on her forehead and the heat of the crowd around her but she didn’t care. She was alive in this moment and nothing else mattered to her drunken self, as she threw her head back, eyes closed and began to rhythmically grind her ass on the crotch of the cute guy behind her. The guy, Jackson, had been her crush since her first year of university but he had never paid her any attention. Now, on the first weekend of her fourth year, he was finally noticing her. Sarah had worked hard all year at the gym, and now the wasian brunette had a body that she was proud of. Her perky tits and medium sized ass looked excellent with her beautifully toned stomach and arms, and drunk Sarah was feeling herself. “Sarah!” someone seemed to call through her hazy mind. “Sarah!” Sarah opened her eyes and saw her best friend and roommate Veronica beckoning to her from a few feet away in the crowd. It helped that Veronica towered above much of the club at her height of 5 ft 11. The statuesque blonde looked stunning in her white jeans and red lace bralette. Sarah was envious of Veronica’s curves, and she knew that despite the fact that the girl’s were wearing the same outfit, Veronica’s ass looked way better than hers. Sarah cursed her drunk mind for envying her best friend as she finally acknowledged her. “Carrie and I are going pee, do you want to come?” Veronica shouted over the music. Carrie was another friend of theirs, a petite girl of Italian descent who had endless energy and even more sass. She was wearing a mini skirt with a white crop top that Sarah thought made her look like a first year. Sarah didn’t think she had to pee yet, but her drunk mind was having a hard time recognizing what her body wanted. Sarah had had 3 shots since her last trip to the bathroom… or was it 4? She couldn’t remember. Sarah knew her small bladder meant she should probably go now to avoid her discomfort later, but she couldn’t bring herself to leave Jackson. She finally had him where she wanted him and she didn’t want to let him go. Tonight was the night she was going to make him scream her name. As Veronica and Carrie disappeared into the crowd in the direction of the bathrooms, Jackson leaned in towards Sarah’s ear and shouted over the music “I’ve been meaning to ask you something”. Sarah’s heart fluttered as a wave of nervousness hit her, but her drunk confidence quickly returned to the surface. This was the moment she had waited 3 long and heartache filled years for. She had been with other guys, of course, but nothing compared to Jackson’s dreamy blonde curls, his soft smile and his warm blue eyes. She wanted him to herself so badly, and she had been so patient. “So… I noticed you and Ronnie are wearing matching outfits,” he began as he held her gaze, their hips swaying to the best of the music. Placing his hand on her lower back, he continued his question . “They look amazing! Ronnie looks like a goddess. Is it true she’s still single?” The question stabbed into Sarah’s chest like a hot knife. A sudden weight hit her stomach as she churned with anger. Why did her best friend have to be an absolute bombshell? Veronica didn’t even try and she got any man she wanted. “Yeah she’s still single,” replied Sarah “but she wouldn’t ever stoop as low as dating a guy like you.” As soon as the words left her mouth, Sarah regretted them, as Jackson’s face fell and his smile faded. “Oh… forget I asked,” he said sadly. Sarah, regretting her decision, immediately offered to buy him a shot. She charged off towards the bar, pushing through the crowd and dragging Jackson by the arm, and asked the bartender to pour two tequila shots with limes. The bartender obliged, but Jackson was shaking his head. “I’m okay,” he said. “You really don’t need to feel badly. It was stupid to think she’d be interested. And it’s not your fault. I should probably start slowing down my drinking though” Sarah rolled her eyes in frustration, downed both shots and called Jackson a party pooper. Within a minute, she immediately regretted her decision. Her head was spinning out of control and she stumbled away from the bar, away from Jackson and back onto the dance floor. She immediately grabbed the first guy she saw, a short fellow with brown hair and started dancing on him seductively. She glanced back to the bar and saw Jackson still staring at her, a concerned look on his face. She was happy to see that, and continued dancing, even as she was getting more and more dizzy. The world was starting to blur and colours kept flashing at the corner of her vision. The guy put his hands on her hips and Sarah tried to dance as sexily as possible. Then it hit her. Her drunk bladder was finally full to the brim with alcohol and it was at last able to get a signal through to her brain. She needed to pee worse than she had all night, but the numbness of her body made the urge seem insignificant. Besides, Sarah was determined to make Jackson jealous and she would not stop for such a stupid reason. She knew he was watching her. Five minutes elapsed as the need to pee worsened. Sarah could bear it no longer, so she quickly spun around and began kissing the brown haired guy, grinding his thigh into her crotch to alleviate some pressure. The guy kissed her back, surprised at how lucky he was getting, and began rubbing his thigh into her crotch to stimulate her sexual desires. Sarah moaned and the shock of his movement caused her to accidentally spurt into her panties. Her panties, red lace to match her bralette, were not holding back much pee at all and she knew it would show on her white jeans. In a panic, she disentangled herself from the guy and began frantically pushing through the crowd in search of the bathroom. Her head was spinning and the music was overwhelming her and she couldn’t think straight at all. She could not find the bathroom and she began to leak again. Frantically patting her crotch, she found a wet spot the size of a quarter. She jammed a hand in her crotch and began spinning around, trying to spot a bathroom sign on the wall. Suddenly girl grabbed her arm and asked if she was okay. All of the emotions, amplified by her drunk state, welled up inside Sarah and she felt herself starting to cry. “I really need to pee” she slurred. “Don’t worry,” said the girl. “The bathroom is right here!” Right here? Sarah didn’t think this was the bathroom but her mind was so crazed with desperation and so dulled by the alcohol that she decided to just trust the girl. She quickly undid her belt and the button on her white jeans, and in one fluid motion she yanked down her pants and underwear to her knees. The girl’s jaw dropped open in shock and horror and she quickly tried to shield Sarah, shouting “Not here sweetie! Not here!” But Sarah was too drunk to comprehend. The pee started to gush out of her, spraying the floor of the club with a loud splattering noise. The pee was also hitting the back of her jeans and shoes but she didn’t notice and didn’t care. The relief was nearly orgasmic. Suddenly someone was grabbing her by the armpits and someone else was yanking up her pants. “Sarah, stop peeing!” someone yelled, but Sarah could not discern who. The voice seemed to be coming from the end of a long tunnel. She tried to stop her stream but not before another 4 seconds of pee had jetted into her pants, soaking the gusset. She grabbed at her crotch as soon as the steak stopped, and her hand came back wet. Looking down, she saw that her entire crotch and butt area we’re soaked, and the white pants had become translucent. Her red panties were visible. She stifled a sob we the desperate need came crashing back against her floodgates. She jammed her left hand deep into her crotch as the world continued to spin. She felt the hands on her shoulders begin to lead her away and she began to waddle in the direction she was being lead. “Jackson…?” she called out confused. Mortified that Jackson was seeing her like this, Sarah began crying harder. “Jackson, please take me to the bathroom. I need to pee!” That’s when Sarah noticed a tall blonde girl yelling at a stocky tall man. “She’s with us! She’s my best friend! Don’t call the police, we’ll take her home!” “Veronica…?” Sarah mumbled. Was she yelling at a bouncer? “Come on Sarah,” Jackson said, but his voice seemed distorted somehow, more high pitched, through her stupor. “Stopppp, I wanna squat here,” Sarah moaned but Jackson’s arms kept dragging her forward. “No, we need to get you to an Uber,” the garbled voice replied from nearby. The hands led her through the crowd and out a door. The blast of cold breeze from outside only made Sarah’s desperation worse but she still tried to hold her pee. “Can I squat now?” she asked but the voice told her not to. “People are filming,” it said. Sarah was dancing frantically on the spot, both hands jammed into her crotch. “I never wanted you to see me like this,” she sobbed to Jackson. “I’ve always just wanted you to love me!” “Um… Sarah girly, I think it’s best if you stop talking. You don’t want to say anything you’ll regret tomorrow,” the voice said in reply, with a hint of mirth in it’s tone. Finally, a car pulled up and the arms pulled her into it. The driver shook his head upon seeing the state of Sarah and reminded them that if she puked, there would be a hefty cleaning fee. “Do you have a toilet?” Sarah slurred. “I need to use it, like nowww.” “You have to hold it for 6 more minutes Sarah,” the voice said. “You can do it. Let me distract you. Focus on me, not your bladder.” “Kiss me then, you moronnnn,” Sarah slurred, and she leaned in and closed her eyes. She heard Jackson sigh an annoyed sigh but he must have realized that it was the only way to keep her distracted. After a moment of hesitation, their lips met in a soft embrace. Jackson’s lips felt super glossy to Sarah. Was he wearing lipstick? She started to move her hand down towards his crotch but he grabbed her wrist and exclaimed, “whoa Sarah! Watch your hands!” She giggled and kept kissing him. He was an incredible kisser and she was so happy she had finally been able to kiss him. She heaved a sigh of relief that he hadn’t been grossed out by her whole ordeal and she relaxed in the moment. This was a mistake! A jet of pee shot out into her pants again, dripping through onto the seat. Sarah panicked. “Help me hold it!” she moaned to Jackson, sliding his fingers down to press against her crotch to reduce pressure. “Sarah! What are you doing?!” he yelped in his high pitched voice, as his fingers met the damp fabric. Then, as the Uber came to a stop, he announced with relief “We’re here!” Opening the car door and bolting towards her student house, Sarah was panicking. She teetered sideways and fell into her front bush, dropping her keys. Thankfully, Jackson scooped them up and began unlocking the door as she struggled to orient herself. She couldn’t see straight and Jackson had to basically drag her into the house. She could barely stand now as Jackson pulled off her shoes. She slipped on the kitchen tile in her wet socks, careening into the counter and banging her elbow. Jackson grabbed her waist and firmly steered her into the bathroom adjacent to the kitchen. Ecstatic at having made it, Sarah began feeling around for the toilet. Finding it behind her, Sarah went to undo her belt, but she could not figure out how it worked. She tried pulling it in several directions, her fingers fumbling with it over and over. Suddenly Jackson was there beside her. “Let me help,” he said with his weirdly high pitched voice. “NO!” Sarah gasped, starting to cry again. “Why not?” He asked, bewildered. With her chest heaving sobs, Sarah exclaimed “I don’t want this to be the way you first see me naked Jackson!” and she shoved him backwards, out of the bathroom. “Jackson?” Jackson asked in a confused voice. Only now Sarah noticed through her drunken haze that it wasn’t Jackson standing in front of her. It was Carrie, in her black mini skirt and white crop top! Sarah stared in absolute horror at her petite friend. Then it happened. Sarah’s body, worn out from holding so much alcohol for so long and reeling from the shock of the realization that she had made out with her friend, gave out completely. Pee poured out of her, saturating the inside of her thighs, swirling over her calves and pooling on the white tile floor. Her sobbing intensified as Carrie kept shouting for her to sit on the toilet. Instead she stood there, as if frozen, completely peeing herself. The warm sensation was spreading out and her pants were becoming increasingly saturated. She had been holding so much. She looked down at her legs and saw that her pants were almost entirely transparent. Carrie’s eyes were also fixated on her crotch, unmoving, watching the rivulets spiral outward. Finally, after 45 seconds, Sarah stopped peeing. That’s when she blacked out. —- The next morning, Sarah awoke in her bed completely naked. Her head was absolutely pounding and she had a vague recollection of peeing herself the night before. She opened her eyes hoping it had all been a dream. Unfortunately, in a pile in the corner of her room lay her soiled clothing from the events of the previous evening. She pulled the covers over her head, took a deep breath and then got up to go face her roommates. When she got to the bottom of the stairs, she saw Veronica standing at the kitchen counter, with and ice pack being held to her arm and a black eye as she made a smoothie. “Oh my god, Ronnie, are you okay? What happened?” asked Sarah. Veronica smiled at her and joked “I think I should be asking you that question. I just got in a bit of a scrap with the bouncer. He was trying to call the police on you, Sare Bear! I told him I’d kill him if he did and he tried to throw me out. Sorry I couldn’t bring you home.” Sarah hugged her best friend, thanked her for standing up for her and then apologized profusely. “I’m sorry I got so drunk. I thought I finally had a chance with Jackson and then he told me he’s into you. I didn’t take it well…” Sarah said, her voice cracking with sadness. “Oh Sare Bear! I’m so sorry! You know I’d never make a move on your crush!” Veronica said in an attempt to comfort her. “I know,” said Sarah. “But I really thought I’d have a chance now.” “Well, if you stay as confident as you were last night, I’m sure things will work out for you eventually,” jested Carrie, entering the kitchen from the living room. Sarah flushed bright red and asked what Carrie was doing there, to which she replied she slept on the couch. “I’m so sorry about last night,” Sarah said. “I really thought you were someone else.” “No worries,” Carrie replied. Then, smirking at Veronica she said “Some parts of last night will stay our little secret.” Veronica gave the two of them an inquisitive look but knew not to pry. “I heard you peed yourself, Sare Bear,” she announced laughing. “And I’m thinking Piddle Pants makes for a good nickname for the kids to call you during Frosh Week!
  4. So of course I’m already wet because I wet while I was asleep but then in the morning I wake up and have 3 different pushes in my diaper and mess it 3 times in 10 minutes completely loading it each time feeling better then the last and then I peed again making it more wet and now I’m a pamp packer in the morning waiting to be let to be changed.
  5. Hello everyone What are foods and drinks that you find help you wet /mess. If you wanted to encourage someone to wet and mess freely in their diaper all day, and you were looking for the ideal food and drinks to feed that person, what would you feed them? I know coffee and caffeinated drinks are a mild diuretic and will hep increase peeing. Foods with a lot of fiber will help with messing. I'm curious, if there are any hidden gems of knowledge on this topic. Are there any specific fruits or vegetables that help you mess? Any specific foods or drinks that make you wet more than usual?
  6. hi all, first story here. Got this idea and couldn't stop planning it out - hoping to be able to write more over the holidays. things will really pick up in part 2, this first bit is mainly scene-setting. feedback always welcomed! The Next Pandemic (AKA Turd Flu): Prologue 8th November 2024 Charlotte Observer: Local residents were frustrated yesterday afternoon by reports of a major power outage that ripped through North Carolina. Reports started coming in fast to this paper from about 5:30pm – but only those sent via methods accessible on mobile phones got through as we too had no power supply. Power was restored – to us and to the overwhelming majority of residents and businesses just 25 minutes later, but the widespread nature of the outage has many concerned. A spokesman for Duke Energy apologised for any inconvenience to their customers, but insisted it had been a freak infrastructure-related failure and did not anticipate any repeat. Chapter 1 14th November 2024 COVID-19 had certainly changed the world. A crazy first 18 months had seen the world’s economy hamstrung by the virus; people’s routines left in ruins. So many businesses didn’t make it through, so many countries would feel the healthcare and economic consequences for years – maybe decades – to come. A silver lining, if there was one, was that many governments the world over were forced to confront their own organisational failings and were now much more vigilant of the potential threat of the next pandemic. Dr Robert C Wright’s office, Raleigh Dr Wright was tired. The experienced Primary Care Physician had had one of his busiest days this calendar year, on top of the usual (not inconsiderable) workload a procession of local residents presenting with mild to moderate flu-like symptoms had swept him off his feet. He’d not seen anything particularly concerning in the patients, but the number of sudden cases suggested he might have a busy few weeks to come as well. Most of his appointments had been elderly people, or those with other significant health conditions. This wasn’t unusual, North Carolina was an at-will employment state so most full-time workers had to be very cautious in picking and choosing when to phone in sick. For many, flu was firmly in the category of ‘not worth risking your job over’. His caution was less because of anything in this flu strain itself, but how widespread it may be – people going to work with it would hardly slow the spread. Purely as a routine courtesy, he drafted an email to the relevant department at Duke University Hospital, the state’s largest, with details on appointments and symptoms – as part of increased measures to track any potential new epidemic. Monday, 18th November: USA Today, print and online: Officials moved today to tackle growing concern about a new strain of flu spreading at what some are calling an ‘unprecedented’ rate. Amid fears of new global pandemic, experts from Duke University Hospital, in the state where cases were first reported, stress that only two people have been hospitalised with respiratory issues – a low amount for any winter flu strain among an aging population, and incredibly low for one spreading this fast. Their advice to Americans who think they may have caught this are simply to rest up as best they can and treat it like a bad cold. Top consultant Donald Stephens added that there are preliminary reports of unusual secondary symptoms but these were still being investigated, and ran no risk of causing critical illness. “Every winter man triumphs over new pandemics”, he finished – but as reports already start to trickle in from transport hubs like Atlanta and tourist destinations as far apart as New York, London, and Beijing, millions – maybe billions – will be keeping a cautious eye on the news. Monday, 18th November: Medhurst Insurance UK, Admin & Invoices team (third floor): “I can’t fucking believe they’ve dragged us in four days a week. An extra 90 minutes of daily commute and I don’t get any more work done than I do at home” Darren was raging. Gary didn’t disagree with anything he was saying, so he interjected with the odd nod and ‘yeah’, but he knew Darren was really mad because he got to spend less time with his fiancée in their precious new build. After a long time exclusively home working during and after COVID they’d been on 2 days a week for a few months – it was a decent balance allowing them to catch up with friends and work collaboratively but still get the benefits of home working, especially the better work-life balance. “they harp on about this new fancy coffee machine they’ve installed but every time I use it it’s time away from my desk where at home, Emma would make one for me. So over the day I’m LESS productive. Insane” Gary looked across at the dynamic duo – Jen and Anna – and it looked like their own conversation was mirroring his and Darren’s. Plenty of grumbling, with Anna the most animated of the four of them. He knew what – or who – was behind this. Probably they all did. He was looking forward to properly catching up with Jen at lunch though, she was just back from a solo holiday and he wanted the full rundown, but honestly chatting to her was always a daily highlight. The fifth and final member of their little team, Maeve, seemed to be the only person not too bothered. But then, if anything did bother her, would she let on? She was a total mystery to all of them, maybe the ultimate wallflower. From her long, unstyled hair, total lack of makeup, and in particular her almost cartoonishly frumpy clothes (baggy, shapeless, almost always one layer more than must be comfortable) she seemed to be trying to blend into the walls wherever she went. She was polite to her colleagues and very able when collaboration was called for, but none of them had had any success whatsoever in getting her to open up at all, and she showed a near-total disinterest in anyone else’s chat about their lives. But coming out of the meeting room with the other line managers for the teams on this floor was the person they were rarely happy to see. Karen, the team manager, believed in strict hierarchies. She was obsessed with productivity and squeezing every percentage point she could out of her team members, and did not like some of the push back she got on occasion. Karen wondered why they couldn’t all be like Maeve. Not personally, Karen sneered to herself, she takes no pride in her appearance. That and her shyness meant she’d never advance. But she worked diligently and never complained like Darren or Gary or worst of all, that awful Anna. The youngest member of the team, she’d actually been there the longest excepting Karen, but she seemed to think this made her special. Yes, she does excellent work, but she couldn’t help but tell Karen where she thought she was going wrong. Worse, the team liked her better and tended to side with her. Still, this wouldn’t be a problem much longer. She’d managed to get Anna two written warnings after particularly heated stand-up rows: one over monitoring software she wanted them all to be subject to, one over toilet breaks – Anna’s were the most excessive. She now had two choices – learn who was in charge, or lose her job. Browsing the news websites between cases Gary noticed a troubling report on BBC – similar to the USA Today one, this was spreading everywhere fast. Talking about it with Darren and Jen they all hit the expected jokes about the start of horror movies, COVID-20 and the rest of it, but really none of them fancied yet another wave of flu ripping through their office or their city. At least it would likely reach them soon and not a month’s time, nobody wants to be sick for Christmas Monday, 18th November, 6:30pm: Duke University Hospital, Conference Suite 3 “..and so I wanted to thank you for coming along during such a busy time. All of you doctors in the room today have been diligent in sending along your data on this flu’s symptoms and prevalence, and you’ve made our jobs slightly easier in turn” Donald Stephens wasn’t the most lively of public speakers but Dr Wright was listening intently, and it appeared that most of his peers in the room were doing the same. He had his suspicions as to why they were here, but wanted to hear it first-hand. “and we’ve seen certain symptoms seem to be reported with a very high frequency, usually just as the main flu symptoms are starting to die down. But this is particularly hard to track. We believe this is so infectious that most of the state have it now, so we’ll have a much clearer picture in as few as two days. Everything we’re finding is going to our peers across the nation and to the highest level. The VERY highest level. In the meantime, Dr Robert Wright – you were the first to send me these concerns, would you like to tell the room what you’ve been observing?” Robert rose to speak “thank you Dr Stephens. Yes, what I’ve been noticing frequently today in particular is a large number of patients who are between 3 or 5 days into their bout of flu report difficulties controlling their bladders. It seems to start as a weakening of control - only having a short time to get to the restroom - and quickly degenerates to a full bladder release with no more than a couple of seconds warning. Additionally, one or two have reported by phone that they have bowel issues also. In all cases this seems to be starting up as or just after the traditional flu symptoms are dying down. While, as we’ve discussed, many visiting me are elderly or infirm, I’m actually seeing a very high percentage of the younger adults who have been to me about this flu reporting the same – I guess it’s more unexpected for them? “Looking around, Robert noticed many of his colleagues nodding grimly. This chilled him to the bone, and made up his mind to say the next bit he wanted to, despite it exceeding what the vastly senior Dr Stephens had asked him. “My concern here is that if these timescales are broadly accurate, we’ll be absolutely inundated with similar complaints – we could have anything from 25-90% of the population rendered temporarily incontinent. I’ve already started ringing around patients who have not revisited this with me to check if they’d had any of these embarrassing symptoms and over a third said yes – which is nearly 2/3 of the early patients. I also believe we should contact local pharmacies because far more of the population will be impacted than are in touch with us” “Agreed, thanks for sharing. It looks from the room like most agree with you. I’ll send everyone present right now a list of local pharmacies to you and I’d like you to report to me about sales and supplies of incontinence products. Before you go – in case anyone here is unconvinced by the level of urgency here…. Robert, you had already compiled a list of your local pharmacies and supermarkets – can you call the first three on the list while we’re all here?” He dialled the first one, a CVS branch. They’d sold out entirely of all adult diapers, pull-ups, bed pads etc as well as reporting increased sales of diarrhoea medication. They hadn’t been keeping any actual tally of demographics but the stressed sounding clerk said “this is hitting everyone… men, women, old, young. Some of our regular customers couldn’t buy their usual product”. He highlighted that the store manager had spent two hours – extending well past his shift – on the phone to head office trying to stress the urgency of sending increased levels of stock their way. Next he tried a popular independent pharmacy. They reported much the same. In this case the head pharmacist had been much more pro-active and ordered increased stock on priority before mid-day. However later on, trying to increase his order again having seen how many distressed people were attending, he found many suppliers were essentially sold out – he suspected the big chains were now getting in on this. Finally he called the largest Walmart Supercenter in town. They’d coped slightly better, an assistant manager confirmed. But only because sales of incontinence products had been slow all season until yesterday. They had plenty of stock out back as well as what had been on the shelves. However these reserves were shrinking faster than he’d ever seen anything move outside of Black Friday back in the day. Not realising he was on speakerphone with many of the most prominent physicians in the state, the duty manager went on to describe chaotic scenes. It had annoyed him a few years ago when there were a spate of stories and rumours about Walmart customers just going to the toilet right in the aisle, it had damaged their reputation. This assistant manager confirmed that they only have a small handful of ‘biohazard’ situations a year and they’re nearly all customers with serious health problems. With that said, he went on to stress that today they’d seen no less than 18 pee accidents in the store and two ‘floorshitters’. He stressed as well that these were not just elderly and disabled customers, not nearly. He talked about one young woman who entered the store with very visible pee stains down her dungarees, who hurried straight to the diaper aisle and still managed to leave a fresh puddle at the self-checkout. The thousand-yard stare she employed walking to the restrooms with her two packs of Attends & bedpads paid for would clearly stay with the man for a long time. The stares on the faces of the assembled doctors weren’t far off this. What happened here would happen across the whole US within 2 or 3 days, and worldwide not long after. There would be no loss of life beyond usual winter flu numbers – but how could countries cope with this? As they all got up to leave there was one further sting in the tale for Dr Stephens – two seats along his ‘row’, recently vacated by the polite young Indian man who’d been sat next to him, and by his old med school peer Jennifer Stahl who had been a few seats down, contained visible puddles of what could only be fresh urine. As he got to his car, he realised how congested his nose and throat seemed. The virus doesn’t care what jobs we do, he thought to himself.
  7. ive been partly susceptible to messing accidents for like 10 years , i used to have constant constipation but now it seems like to catch up my sphincter has got weaker. ive got many more stories like these . surprised that i haven't been caught or at least suspected at doing something yet, but that makes the high even better. i decided to go out like 2 hours ago just to walk around my town i was feeling something brewing and wanted to try some public stuff, trying to have an accident in the process. I decided to put a skirt on to add to the risk factor and walked outside, turned to the right and walked for like 10 minutes to the tesco thats open till 12 by now I could feel it almost coming out and wash half ass-idly holding it so i didn't just mess in the middle of my walk. freezing my tits off i realised a skirt was a bad idea, stepping into the the heat wave that is the heater above the door instantly adjusted my body temperature, but at the same time made me chill so much in relaxation that I farted, instantly i clenched again and looked around in fear and embarrassment, some girl that looked almost my age if not a little older looked back at me and shook her head. I contemplated just leaving the store but thought if i was there i may as well grab something. walking through the isles i looked around, not knowing if I should let go or not, i soldiered on but by now it was almost irritating and i felt like letting go just to get rid of the feeling. than out of nowhere an employee shouted out asking if i was lost and if i wanted to know where an item was, making me let go and jump slowly filling up my diaper before again clinching, than deciding to just let go and finish the job, it did cake my ass and as eventually reached my nose making me more self concourse than ever. the feeling of the warm mess radiated against my ass, in embarrassment i said that i was looking for the drinks isle. than a little conversation later i was waddling around going to the isle to pick up vodka that i didn't need. the mess was slowly pooling down to my pussy, i got wet as all hell and before i knew it i was at the till with my id out before booking it home. deciding to stop on the way to go into the pub who wanted to decline me with my vodka in hand but excused me when i exclaimed a need for the bathroom. shutting the door behind me all my adrenaline shed off and i realised how stupid i must have looked waddling around than ended up rubbing and fingering my self than and there stopping at the occasional person entering i even heard some women peeing next to me witch made me even more horny, i felt like i could have burned the building down with how hot i felt down there. than i cleaned up my fingers and left for home, showered with the messy diaper still on than just left in the shower where it still is tempting me to put it on again. but instead im just sat in an oodie whilst typing this. still coming down from the excitement of it all but i think im getting to used to public stuff, I've been wanting to go out and wet in jeans without a diaper but thats also where i cross the line in embarrassment, if only it wasn't so hot to watch others do i wouldn't be enticed. id love to know if any of you have be so daring to go diaper less and have an accident
  8. Does anyone have links to good messing scenes in movies or TV where you can either see a stain or hear audio?
  9. From the album: Munio 2024

    "I purposely took my time correcting my students' tests so that I can end up being the last one left at school, therefor the only one who could turn on the security system before leaving for home. There was something I wanted to do on the platform, where the students were paying attention to just some hours ago."

    © 2024 Munio

  10. 2023-01-19-1080-1908225-MC-1674166404797-trim.B5393134-995C-415F-943E-5B0EA97660E2.mp4 2023-03-24-1080-1908225-MC-1679681660078-trim.56F90936-1EC8-4C6F-96B8-0F501FCAE963.mp4 2023-04-19-1080-1908225-MC-1681924322459-trim.3EE2A090-60DE-4B84-A7C7-0B6C61EDDDB9.mp4
  11. Hey all! ❤️ Thought It would be fun to start a 'Would You Rather' Thread! You would start by answering the persons 'would you rather' question, then make one yourself! Be as creative and crazy as you like! (as long as it follows the websites rules, of course) I guess, I will go first! Would You Rather.... Be in public wearing light coloured jeans desperate for a pee with no toilets around... or Have a wetting accident in front of a friend! Hope everyone has fun 💋
  12. A wannabe YouTuber in her early twenties successfully finds her niche, but how far is she willing to take it? All characters are 18+. 16 total chapters PART 1 Between all the frustrations and victories of daily life, it is easy to overlook the sensitivities of the strangers that are all around us. There are times when the efforts and wellbeing of your day must simply take priority over the nameless faces of your morning commute. One of these nameless faces you may pass is Daniela Ramirez. Daniela was a mild, meek young woman who worked the front desk of a middling insurance company in Bogota, Colombia. “Soluciones de Serenidad”, or “Serenity Solutions” as it is called, covered any and all insurance policies that their clients would be anxious enough to cover. It wasn’t uncommon for the workers of this company to switch between handling complex health insurance claims, to fumbling with online translators to settle travel insurance claims, to dealing with the irate and angry clients who just got caught in a car accident, all within a few hours. Their slogan and corporate mantra “Cuando confies en nosotras, puedes dormir tranquilo!” (“When you trust us, you can sleep easy!”), was featured throughout the building on banners and letterheads. The high stress, unpredictable nature of situations that both the clients and staff of the company found themselves in led to tension and dismissiveness to anyone not immediately involved in solving a problem. Daniela found herself in the middle of these tense operations often. One day, for example, upon one of the first phone calls of her morning after clocking in, she picked up the phone with a cheery “Hello! This is Serenity Solutions, how may I help you?” A huffed sigh made a static-filled response on the other line. “Hi, yes? Can I speak to Manuel? I just got rear ended on Route 45A.” “Well certainly I will be able to transfer you, one moment,” replied Daniela. She pulled up the instant messenger platform on her desktop computer and messaged Manuel. “Hi Manny! I have one of you clients on the line, are you in yet?” She took a quick look at the clock, 9:17 AM. It was a Monday, she knew Manny was usually late at the beginning of the week. It was often a bad way to start off her week, hearing him get chewed out by his boss when he did slink in through the side door. She hit send. An auto reply message responded “Hey this is Manny, I’m not in right now but feel free to leave a message!” Daniela winced, she could tell this gruff man on the line would not be happy. Switching back to the landline at her desk, she began “Hello sir, Manuel is not yet in yet and—“ “What? Who am I talking to?” “My name is Daniela, and I am a member of our client success team—“ “Can you help me out here? I need to file a claim, I need my policy number and my coverage status.” Daniela knew she did not have permission to client files, she was just there to transfer calls and smile for any potential clients who walked through the door. “I’m sorry sir, I’m unable to—“ “Let me speak to you supervisor, please put someone on who actually knows what they’re doing, I don’t have time for this.” Daniela’s forced cheerfulness for the client collapsed like a cheap camping tent. Her frown and melancholy could not be seen over the phone, but her shaky voice revealed her discomfort. “Ok sir, I will transfer you.” Already half an hour into the work week and she was forced to invoke the attention of her boss, a clear metric she has tried to avoid in her eight months at the company. Her manager knew there was only so much she could do, but she still hated the idea of distracting him from his very busy day already. She clicked a few numbers and symbols on her landline and hung up the call. The rest of the morning was uneventful for Daniela, it was like she was watching a movie she had seen a hundred times before. She watched a few weary account executives walk through the front door, trying to drum up any positivity before they reached their desk, deep into their own world and ignoring Daniela’s welcoming glance and soft smile. A few potential clients who barked a few impersonal questions at her, asking where so-and-so sat and how to find the restroom. The mailman stopped by shortly before lunch, traded small talk platitudes with her and asked for a signature. Business as usual. At lunchtime, Daniela set up small sign saying “Be back soon”, and left to find a food truck around the block. She was a fan of the empanadas truck, and grabbed an order of two small empanadas with her favorite picante sauce. Daniela was fairly new to Bogota, and as a result, did not have many friends to eat lunch with. She didn’t have many friends at all. She was only in her early twenties, and left home from her rural hometown just a year ago. She grew up in a small town, in a very middle class family. Her father was a mechanic and her mother was a teacher. They couldn’t afford to send Daniela to college but hoped that after some time on her own, she would be able to save some money to afford training or school so she could make a means to a better life. She left for the big city with some gift money from her family to get started, and found a small studio apartment in the cheap outskirts of the city. The first few months were difficult. With no connections or skill sets, she spent most of the time searching for steady work so she could support herself. She tried waiting tables, but she found the constant stress and long hours were too much for her. She tried finding a teacher job at one of the local schools, but she did not have the qualifications. She ended up finding the receptionist gig at Serenity Solutions, and while she was not a fan of it, decided it was the best possible route moving forward. Daniela finished up her lunch, sitting on a slightly raised concrete ledge that surrounded a manicured lawn of a local corporate building. She walked through a crowded lunch rush on the sidewalk, around the block, and took up her post back at her desk. Daniela logged back into her computer and began reading through some emails when out of the corner of her eye she caught a tall man in a suit come through the front door. It was a man she knew well—actually, it was only from afar, but nevertheless she was well aware of who he was. The man’s name was Victor, a salesman from the third floor of their building. He worked in the health insurance department, and was known for his cool demeanor and welcoming rapport that always made his clients feel at ease. He always hit his sales quota and was making waves around the office as a promising new potential leader. Daniela knew this because she had spent some time eavesdropping on some of his colleagues and superiors, or rather selectively listening, during her laps around the office. Also, though she would never admit it, she has spent a fair amount of free time looking through the company’s internal directory seeking any information she could find. Victor seemed preoccupied in thought, but nonchalantly approached Daniela at the front desk. “Hi! How are you today?” Daniela nervously looked up from her laptop and made eye contact with Victor, furtively looked away, but composed herself and looked back. “Hello! How can I help you?” “Hey I was just wondering if you knew if Manny was in yet. I know Mondays are rough on the guy,” he chuckled. Daniela mirrored him with a slightly forced laugh. “I know what you mean, let me just check on chat.” Checking if someone was online was a simple task that anyone on the payroll could check in a moment, Daniela wondered why Victor took the time out of his day to ask her to do it. “Well, it looks like he’s finally online. I’m sure he’d be happy to see you,” Daniela replied with a smile. “Thanks, that’s good to hear. We’re going to be working together at this trade show next week and we’re going to have to do a little planning. The thing is, this guy goes out every single weekend and is a wreck until Tuesday.” Victor shook his head with a smile. “Wild guy, but who are we to judge right?” he added. Daniela, trying her best not to reveal her subtle beaming at him, just nodded and rolled her eyes in agreement. Victor paused and, as salesmen instinctively do, kept the conversation flowing with some offhand small talk. “So, what did you get into this past weekend?” Daniela was caught flatfooted. This past weekend she did just about nothing, outside of running some errands and watching a few movies on her laptop. It was exceedingly rare for anyone in the office to even bother asking her how her weekend went. “Well, I—I ended up getting supplies for a new recipe I wanted to try and I caught up on a lot of sleep!” she replied earnestly. She knew it wasn’t enthralling, but hopefully it came off more genuine than trying to make something up. Victor nodded and momentarily averted his eyes, and followed up with “Yeah, that’s great. That sounds like… a restful time! It’s good to have weekends like those sometimes, right?” Sometimes? Daniela thought. This past weekend was the norm, definitely not the exception. She tried not to be too hard on herself, she was in fact, new to this town. Victor was not, he was a former marketing major at the local university. He had a multitude of friends in the area (as Daniela knew from her internet sleuthing). “Yes! It sure is,” Daniela remarked. Trying to be cordial, and to keep Victor in her presence for as long as possible, she asked “How was your weekend? Did you do anything fun?” Victor’s increasingly absent look perked back up as said “Yes! On Friday I met up with a few college buddies uptown for happy hour to try a new bar that opened up, and on Saturday I took a hike with my girlfriend.” Daniela kept listening but her stomach sank. She knew Victor was an attractive, fun, and driven man who was likely to already have a girlfriend, but it did hurt to hear it confirmed on their first actual conversation. “She and I had a great time on the trail and then went to her friend’s birthday party later that evening. We were completely exhausted though,” he finished with a laugh. Daniela laughed in unison but she still felt a bit upset. Their conversation tapered off into silence and she quickly chirped up with “Oh I don’t think I caught your name! I’m Daniela.” Victor smiled and extended his hand and said “Hi Daniela, nice to meet you. My name is Victor. I work on the third floor in health insurance, if you ever need anything, feel free to drop by sometime.” Victor’s empty, office-speak gesture did feel genuine to Daniela. She felt as if she was ever in dire straits, there was a friend a few floors away who she could call on to help her out. While Victor was a compassionate and thoughtful person, his natural charisma and charm did most of the heavy lifting in his relationship building, as opposed to his pure intentions. Daniela shook Victor’s hand, and in a split second decision out of desire, desperation, and a twinge of loneliness, quickly blurted out “Hey! Are you doing anything this weekend? I’m kind of new to the area and I’m trying to find some fun new things to do.” Victor, familiar with the emotional volatility of dealing with clients all day, expressed a slight furrowing of his blow in surprise to signal he was not expecting this response, but quickly reverted to his cool form. “Ahh, actually Daniela, I’m going to be out of town this weekend. Maybe we can catch up in the future at an office happy hour.” Daniela read his deference loud and clear. She shrunk back mildly, slightly in disappointment, but more-so in surprise that she took that leap herself. “Ok… Well, please have fun on your trip! Hope to talk to you soon!” She cracked a small smile and wished she could melt into the earth. As a consummate sales professional, Victor let the awkward interaction slide and smiled, gave a wave, and turned to head towards the elevators. Once he was gone, Daniela let out a sigh and buried her face in her hands. Maybe there were some cute boys in the renters’ insurance division instead. PART 2 The commute to and from the heart of Bogota was one of Daniela’s favorite parts of her day. There was an extensive and frequent bus system in the city that took her from her office to her neighborhood, and all the while she was free to daydream and be lost in thought on the ride. On this particular Monday, however, she wasn’t too excited to be left alone with her thoughts. Daniela waited at the bus stop by her office as the sun was setting, and she couldn’t help but replay her interaction with Victor over in her head. The fun and excitement of an out-of-reach office crush was shattered after she had her chance to meet Victor, and she floundered when presented with an opportunity to actually connect with him. Daniela had other options when it came to relationships, but none of them particularly piqued her interest. She was a pretty, slender girl, who would often be hit on by bold men in the local market or the occasional man on public transportation. But her attraction to Victor was deeper than admiring his good looks, she admired his position in the company, his outgoing personality, and his network of friends. It was a deep personal embarrassment to her to be seen as just another stranger to him. On her way back to her studio apartment on the outskirts of town, Daniela was planning on expressing this emotional distraught in the only outlet she had, her YouTube channel. Growing up, Daniela had a small laptop that her parents bought her for Christmas one year. She loved using that laptop to play games, read about faraway lands, and watch personalities on YouTube. There were women who posted lifestyle videos explaining their lives, relationships, adventures and mishaps, and made it all feel like one big story the viewer was part of. Daniela had many favorite channels and streamers during her younger years, and admired these women. They were often wealthy (from how? she never understood), bubbly, beautiful, and shared every aspect of their lives with their fans. The most popular women would have millions of followers and tons of adoring fans in their comments, supporting them and admiring their every move. It was a status Daniela, and many others, dreamed of achieving. Daniela knew she was pretty, but not as gorgeous as some of these streamers. She knew she had interesting thoughts and ideas she could share with the world, but she wasn’t as viscerally exciting as some of the stars who were posting. But maybe she could be. Maybe she could share some of her experiences, and interact with the world through some thoughtful videos. What would be the harm? It felt like everyone was doing it. Daniela even knew a girl she went to school with who had some tens of thousands of followers on social media, all for posting some photos. That girl even made some money by posting advertisements! Therefore, as of a few months ago, a new YouTube channel arose into the world called Marci’s Ponderings . While Daniela wanted to gain the adoration of thousands of followers, she felt it was a bit too risky to expose her face and her real name, so she took up the online alias “Marci.” She also used this opportunity to learn and practice English, a language she was semi-fluent in from studying in school. She knew there were more people in the English speaking world who could potentially watch her videos, so she decided to forego her mother tongue. She started small, with an introduction to who she was and what her background in rural Colombia was like. Some of her first videos were titled A Day in the Life of Rural Colombia, and My Faith, My Family, and Leaving my Home . At first it felt awkward speaking into a camera on her laptop with no one around, but after her first few attempts and some edits, she found herself more comfortable in her surroundings as a “budding YouTuber.” Daniela didn’t have an incredible, unique upbringing. In fact, it was very pedestrian for people in her country. However, she could bring a unique perspective to Americans and English speakers in Europe on how life in Latin America is like for her. Many of her videos eventually became venting sessions for the trials of her daily life: finding work, keeping work, and exploring her new city. As she posted them, she was slightly disappointed, but not surprised, to see only a few hundred views per video. She took time to learn how to optimize her videos in search, by including special keywords and including her smiling face in the thumbnails. Eventually, after a few dozen videos of a young twenty something woman expressing her views on life, work, and her experience in Colombia, she was gaining about a thousand views a video. To Daniela, she was proud and loved the fact that a thousand people would tune in to listen to her share her thoughts. There were even a few people in the comments who would reach out to her and appreciate her thoughts on how secondary school in Colombia was operated, or how the Bogota parks could us more upkeep, or how the Latin American insurance industry was so inefficient. Her YouTube channel wasn’t much, but Daniela was appreciative of it. In a city where she knew so few, and in a small apartment and lonely as hers, she liked to upload a new video every week or so and know that someone would eventually watch it. And maybe she could even make a few friends on the internet while she did it. On this particular Monday night, Daniela hopped off the bus at her neighborhood stop and began to walk a few blocks back to her apartment in the cool, misty dusk. She was intent on sharing today’s experience with Victor on her channel, almost as a therapeutic way of dealing with it. She undid the deadbolt and handle lock on her door, and walked into her apartment. When she walked in, she was almost immediately faced with the end of her bed. Her bed was set to the right of her apartment, with a small kitchen situated to the left. There was a small window that let some light in straight ahead and her personal desk was right beneath it. Daniela also had a small bathroom to the right of the front door, left of her bed. She put her bookbag on the floor and went to her refrigerator to get a cool glass of water. She pulled out a water bottle, took a long drink, and then sat down at her desk and opened up her laptop. She wanted to record her thoughts while it was still fresh in her mind. Daniela opened up YouTube and went to her dashboard to view analytics on her current videos. It was almost like a video game to her, the more impressions she garnered, the better she felt about her content. She saw that there were four new views on an older video she posted called My Experience at the Gold Museum!, a post where she outlined her day exploring the Gold Museum in Bogota’s historic center. Excited and intrigued as to why a handful of people chose to watch this video, she googled the title of her post to see if it was finally appearing in some first-page search results. To her dismay, it looks like gold as a precious metal asset had recently seen a 5% spike in the financial markets, and the algorithms must’ve boosted her video ever so slightly. Uninhibited, Daniela decided to boot up her webcam and begin her new video. She was getting more comfortable with speaking confidently and clearly into the camera. She was able to become more of her “true self” in the comfort of her apartment and really let her ideas and creativity flow. Her shy and submissive office persona was shelved in favor of a more friendly and outgoing person in Marci, her digital pseudonym. Daniela took a deep breath and hit “Record”. “Hey guys! Welcome to Marci’s Ponderings, don’t forget to hit that like and subscribe button!” Marci’s Ponderings had a total of 23 subscribers. “Today I wanted to share with you an absolutely awful Monday as I’m sure you have all experienced in the past! As you know, the beginning of the week is particularly stressful in my line of work because we have so many claims that come in from over the weekend. Well, I haven’t been clocked in for thirty minutes and I’m already getting hounded by clients.” She let out a pout and a “hrumph” to emphasize her distress. “Of course, per the usual, Manny was late again. So now I’m on the line having to deal with his issues and this guy, some dude who’s mad at me apparently, gets in a car wreck. I end up having to call my boss just to get him out of my hair!” Daniela rolls her eyes. “But that’s not really what I want to talk to you guys about today. You remember our friend Victor? Yeah, that Victor? The tall, cute one just a few years older than me in the health insurance division? Well, today,” she adds in a singsong voice, “we finally, uh, met.” “I know what you’re thinking guys, ‘Oh Marci, I’m so proud of you! How did it go?’ Well folks, I’ll tell ya. It went poorly. He asked me where Manny was, so of course now this guy is finally in, but then he starts asking me about my weekend. I didn’t even do anything this weekend! I tell him this and I can just see the disappointment, I can feel it. I ask him what he did, and of course, this guy is all over the city living it up, but get this…” Daniela pauses for dramatic effect, but also to well up the courage to finally release the weight she’s been carrying all day. “He was out with his,” she winces, “girlfriend, hiking. I know, friends, I’m just as disappointed as you. I’m a little upset to be honest. It’s not like I imagined us grabbing drinks at an upscale bar, and him whisking me away on an adventure through the night to meet all his cool friends…” She could feel herself drifting into the melancholy fantasies she did (not so subtly) have. She resolved to pull herself back though, it was always important to remain positive and upbeat for the camera. “Well, things happen. That’s ok. That’s not even the part I wanted to tell you guys. After this, we formally introduced ourselves, and— I don’t know why I did this—but I kinda asked him on a date this weekend.” Daniela closed her eyes and took a deep breath, reliving her embarrassment from earlier that day. “But the thing is… apparently he’s out of town this weekend? I don’t know. I got rejected, guys. It hurt. I don’t know why I did it, he has a girlfriend, but I just did it. And that counts for something, right?” She tried to rationalize some sympathy towards herself, but decided it was better to just move on and just riff. “Ugh, probably the most embarrassing experience of my life.” She paused, had a momentary flashback, and let out a groan. “Oh wait, this might have been the second most embarrassing experience of my life… Did I ever tell you guys about the night at my friend Andrea’s?” This wasn’t a livestream, so there was no answer. Daniela thought for a moment and realized that she had not divulged this particular story, and continued. “So I don’t know if I told you guys this, and maybe I shouldn’t but…. Anyway, when I was growing up, I had the unfortunate experience of being…” She paused, hesitant to share this information with her few dozen subscribers. “… a bedwetter. A very bad bedwetter.” Daniela sighed. It felt a bit like a weight was lifted off her shoulders. She had never voluntarily shared this information before. “I don’t really remember when it started. I just remember the many times I woke up in a soaked bed, smelling of pee, and my father and mother being very upset with something I couldn’t control.” Her tone shifted a little more towards shame. “It caused me a lot of anxiety, and it would happen most nights of the week. I had my own room back home, so it wasn’t that big of a deal for anyone else, but it was still very frustrating for me. After so many times, my parents eventually sat me down and told me…” Daniela stared a little off camera into space as she recalled an event she remembered vividly in detail. “… that I would need to wear a diaper to bed from then on. I was shocked, and I was on the verge of tears. They told me it was just temporary and once I stopped wetting the bed I would be able to move on from them. I told them it made me feel like a baby but they didn’t care.” She took another deep breath, and kept trucking on through the story. She knew she was touching on a sad point, and wanted to keep it uplifting for her viewers. “Anyway, so I started wearing these diapers to bed. And I wet them, nearly every night. My brother would sometimes tease me, but my parents scolded him for that. Eventually though, for a middle class family in rural Colombia, buying diapers every night for your daughter begins to add up.” “Fortunately, as I reached the end of my teens, I was wetting the bed a lot less. I was feeling good, and getting ready to leave home and head to Bogota soon. My parent’s started ‘rationing’ my nighttime diapers so I only used them when I felt I needed them, like after a night of drinking or if I was stressed out. Well, one night I was planning to go out to a concert with one of my best friends from home, Andrea. The concert venue was only a few miles away, but Andrea’s house was around the block and we planned to sleep there afterwards.” “I told my mother that since I would probably be drinking, it would be a good idea if I wore my diaper to the concert so I could go over to Andrea’s and not worry about possibly wetting during the night. My mother rolled her eyes and told me ‘Are you not nineteen years old? Jesus, you are a big girl now, no more diapers.’” “She had the diapers, I know she did, they were in our basement. But she was so fed up with the whole process and just wanted me to grow out wetting the bed that she denied me them. I was worried, but not too much. After all, I could control myself, right?” She let out a grin, but knowing the end of her story, reverted back to a more objective tone. “So we headed to the concert, a few local rock bands put on a set, and we drank a ton of beer. Afterwards we walked back to her house and chatted on her porch for a while and drank some more. I made sure to use the bathroom before we went to bed, and I slept on the couch in her living room.” Daniela paused and realized this was probably the most vulnerable she’d ever let herself be in these videos. Given her sharing of the rejection from Victor and the revelation of her old bedwetting issue, she was sharing a lot more than she previously intended. “I drifted off to sleep, and the next thing I know I woke up to about a dozen people hovering in Andrea’s kitchen. It was Sunday, and her mother had a group of friends and family from her church congregation over after mass. I rub my eyes and get a sense of my surroundings and realize… I had completely soaked her couch. My jeans were cold and clammy, the cushions we soaked, and a few people were looking at me. As I rustled awake, more of the congregation came to see what was going on and eventually a dozen people saw me in my piss soaked jeans on the couch. I barely had time to think, let alone react.” Daniela buried her face in her hands, reliving now the most embarrassing moment of her life, and actually living the second most embarrassing moment of her life in the same day. “I didn’t know what to do! I groggily apologized to Andrea’s mother, who just called me a ‘poor thing.’ I picked up my belongings and ran out the door in my cold, pissy jeans. I had to walk home a few miles and entertain looks from passerby as everyone could see what happened to me. When I got home I burst into tears. My parents made sure I was in nighttime diapers for a month after that.” She felt a welling in her throat for a second, but quickly composed herself. “But fortunately that is all in the past! That was a few years ago and I can proudly say that I don’t –“ She was going to say “don’t wet the bed anymore”, but then she remembered a month ago when she woke up in soaked sheets after a nightmare. “—wet the bed… much… anymore. And that’s all I have to say about that! Thanks for watching guys, and hope to see you soon!” She blew a kiss to the camera and hit the end record button. She let out a sigh and mused on the turns that video took. It was funny though, right? Entertaining? She thought. It did feel like she was striking a layer of genuinity she had previously been lacking. She uploaded the video to her channel under the title Monday Blues and closed her laptop, ready to head to bed. PART 3 The next day, Daniela sat in the foyer of Serenity Solutions and was reading the news on her work computer. It was a slow day at the office, and not many clients had called in. The day was winding down and Daniela was going to be leaving soon, so she decided to check her YouTube stats on her phone. She navigated to the app to see how her recent video was doing. The algorithms usually give a boost to new videos, and she made sure to add specific keywords like “Monday”, “relationship”, “bedwetting”, and “diaper”. Her jaw almost dropped. Her new video Monday Blues netted seventeen thousand views in the past day, way more than the one thousand views she ever expected to get on one of her normal videos in any amount of time. What could it have been? Was the romantic tension between her and Victor so relatable that people saw it and shared it with their friends? Was her story about sleeping over at Andrea’s as funny as Daniela thought it was? She headed to the comments on her video, which usually give insight into how viewers felt about it and what they liked and disliked. She was surprised to see there was one prevailing and vocal theme: diapers. Dozens of comments were inquiring about Daniela’s diapered experience, her bedwetting, and her relationship to it now. “How long were you in diapers?” “Are you still in diapers now?” “Do you still wet the bed?” “I bet you liked them.” Daniela was taken aback, shocked even. Of all the topics she touched upon on Marci’s Ponderings, whether it was family, religion, careers, the city, she would’ve never guessed that the topic to really bring in impressions was… her bedwetting experience as a teenager. She put her phone away and took a few minutes to think through how to handle this. She was a little scared, but more than anything, deeply excited. Never before had she commanded the attention of seventeen thousand people. That’s almost a small stadium! She thought. One tip she had read about in her quest to become “YouTube relevant”, was that if you have people on the hook with some content, keep using that content and grow it. It was apparent, for some strange reason, viewers were very interested in her bedwetting and diapered experience. If Daniela leveraged this right, she could build a real base and grow her channel out from there. When Daniela arrived home, she immediately booted up her laptop and checked her channel. She was now at 178 subscribers, nearly an eightfold gain from the night before. Her direct messages were overflowing, some with genuine fans that offered some of the insightful and congratulatory praise she was used to, but also a lot of creepy cryptic messages from no-name, avatar-less accounts. As an attractive content creator, Daniela was used to the stray, gross direct message from time to time, but some of these were profane. She deleted them all and moved onto the comment section. The comments were more of the same of what she saw during her brief viewing during work. A strong curiosity into the nature of her diaper wearing, how great it was that she did wear diapers (at least for a time), and a very strong insistence that she should wear diapers in the future. She didn’t know how to approach it. Daniela was used to directly replying to viewers in her comments, so she decided to find the top rated comment and leave a reply. Number one was: “wow! What a gorgeous girl : D Tell me, how long did you end up wearing your diapers?” Daniela shuddered for a moment, over the implication that the diapers she wore were “hers”, as if she was always destined for them. In her mind, she was adamant that they “were” diapers, and she did “wear” them, and even “wet” them (nightly), but they were never “hers.” Not wanting to be rude to the top comment on her video (208 likes) she responded: “hahah well fortunately I stopped wearing nighttime diapers entirely at age 21! Later than most girls but I was just being careful : )” She moved to the next highest comment (119 likes): “very very brave to be sharing this, I admire you. do you still wear diapers?” Daniela replied: “aww, well thank you! No, I do not still wear diapers : )” Onto the third highest comment (67 likes): “incredible I love it, where else can I find you?” Daniela was perplexed. Well, of course, he or she could find her right here! This was her channel. She added: “well you can find me right here! I try to post a video every week.” After she hit submit she saw she had a reply to the first comment. “that’s not too long ago, you must still have some diapers leftover. can you please wear them again?” She raised her eyebrows in surprise. What a strange request, why would she wear diapers again? The whole point was to get out of them! She thought. Bedwetting was a funny phase of her life that she would be happy to talk about, but it’s over, of course. She went to her fourth highest comment (45 likes): “I want to see you in diapers again : ) who agrees?” Now Daniela was starting to feel a knot in her stomach. There was a recurring pattern she was noticing but didn’t want to admit. Fifth highest comment (37 likes): “stopped wetting the bed a few years ago? no way, if you’re wetting the bed at 19 you’re probably wetting the bed for life. show us your wet diaper Marci :p” Daniela closed her laptop. She laid down on her bed a few feet away and breathed just trying to take it in. Never before had she expected her channel to rise to “prominence” so quickly, and for such a… strange reason. It was getting a little out of her control now. Clearly, her “fans” were interested in one singular, shameful period of her life. Was that what she wanted when she first created the channel? She wanted people to notice her, to appreciate her, to interact with her and her life story, and… It seems like I finally have them on the hook.
  13. I wanted to create a thread specific for non-diaper messing. I enjoy hearing stories, real or fantasy, regarding pooping in one’s clothes. I only poop in my panties and usually in girly clothes. I like the relief of taking a dump and allowing it to stain so it is visible on the outside, like a genuine accident. I don’t get many opportunities with having a family so sharing with others helps. As I write this, I’m holding back from making a nice brown mess in my dress and tights.
  14. Version 1.1.2

    8,668 downloads

    Hello! I've been working on a short demo for a game, if I had to guess there's probably an hour or so of gameplay. There's much more I'd like to add if there's enough interest, otherwise I hope some people enjoy it as it is! Fair warning, the difficulty is very high. Please download empire demo.exe if you don't have the RPG Maker VX Ace RTP. Follow me on pixiv and tumblr for updates and art! https://pixiv.me/livinginfinite https://thelivinginfinite.tumblr.com/
    Free
  15. 2023-02-11-1080-912749-MC-1676153746146-trim.0A05103E-1B97-438E-8132-BDDF394FF3D0.mp4 2023-10-02-1080-912749-MC-1696252668938-IMG2440.mp4
  16. I struggled for quite some time on several parts of this. The first was trying to create a title that seemed suitable enough. A minor pet peeve on my end, but it just did not have the right feel to it otherwise. I'm not even a creative writer in any capacity. After briefly toying around with the title of 'taboo testing' I scrapped it for the current one and left it as a template until now. As a warning, towards the end of this slight recount of accidents is a blatent hinting into the 'brown tag' present. I am aware this is not everyone's cup of tea, so evade of your own accord. A lot has happened within the last month. I've occasionally put up a status here and there, but between the pressures of my first year at university, managing my health both mentally and physically, trying to uphold a social life and coping with a few family matters over a long distance, it seemed my mind wanted to put the difficulty up to veteran. Originally holding the line against the enemy, two new threats decided to make an appearance in the form of a poofy white (and sometimes pink) garment and the bizarre feelings that might be linked to it. Being a topic I absolutely could not talk to anyone personally about I chose to read hundreds of posts, replied to possibly four digits worth of private messages all the while very cautiously dipping my toes into the waters. The community here was invaluable but I realised I would have to experience things and settle into acceptance to become happy and comfortable long term. Repeating the phrase 'You're not causing any harm to anyone' I wrote the same sentence into the back of my diary and embarked on this quest. To begin with it was a challenge accepting my new underwear. I fluctuated like some semi-broken heart beat monitor between feeling safe and becoming anxious. Deep down I knew it was a good thing and in hind sight I really could have used these sooner in my life, but better late than never. I'd estimate about 95% of the last month I have spent with some type of alternative pants on trying to adapt to the feelings. This split down into two brackets; Physically and Mentally. I was quite restless the first week or so that I tried wearing the diapers constantly. It felt demoralizing. It was my choice to do so, and part of me was pleased that there were solutions and comforts now available, yet there was also the cruel thought of feeling like an infant again. Thankfully a reassurance to the soul is that these new pieces underwear have proven their worth and are in fact rather comfortable, even if my first bunch of accidents startled me and made me upset. Physically, pull-ups and diapers do their job. They vary in their absorbency and thickness, as well as the practical sides of equipping them in the first place. Its with slightly flushed cheeks that I admit it took a few attempts of unfortunately timed bladder failures courtesy of Past-Kaylee not using her brain to identify the crucial fact... weaker pants struggle to keep up with a rate of absorbing my accident. Thankfully, once this knowledge set in I began trying to adapt my mindset and autonomy. It would be far less humiliating to have several spurts in future accidents than my usual tactic of holding until I leak everywhere 🫠 (As of this writing, while I am not perfect in this approach, I do feel it's an improvement). Next on the agenda is the Mental challenge. I'm already anxious enough as it is. The shame of it is a lot less than previously identified which makes me happy. As I'm still adjusting to the acceptance part of indulging in things I'll summarise it as being a sloped battle, like navigating multiple hills as I try to embrace this side of me. Linking to the Mental side of this are some physical traits, however. Despite multiple conversations I'm still paranoid about the senses of the body when wearing padding. The main stress points are auditory and sight based which should be quite obvious, but on the off chance you do not know then its down to the mind playing tricks on you. Although nobody has spotted or said a thing, it feels like I have a plastic carrier bag shuffling around underneath my clothing. Even in very close proximity to others this has gone undetected. Visibly speaking its a bit harder as I feel these pads bulge out of my normal clothes confines. This is where it goes in circles of paranoia as I feel others will notice, yet know they won't have the vaguest insight. Final grade is an S+ for stealth. Course, this is said with a fairly rationale mind set. In contrast to these ideals was the rather random and not-quite-thought-out choice where Past-Kaylee imagined it would be a fabulous idea to do things on purpose. Much like last month when I chose to stand in my shower and just let go, Kaylee engaged brainiac's mind control technology to do something similar. I'm happy I was alone for these, for I think I would have legitimately melted if I had been walked in on. Somehow, I don't think explaining to a would-be-observer that I was being hijacked by plankton would cover me. The first test went about as well as could be expected. Standing in the safety of my bedroom with the door locked and my chair pinned up against it, I shut my curtains and stood awkwardly in the centre of my room between the bed and desk, like the world's most rubbish thief. My Tena Ultima was hidden by my pyjamas and I recall kind of just having my hands hover semi raised... no clue what I did that for, as even when I pressed the 'release' button they didn't move. I found it rather surprising it took me a little while to finally go. Maybe it was because I wasn't bursting when I opted to do such? What I can confirm is that a spreading glow engulfed my crotch. I remember briefly turning to look at the en-suite toilet only a few feet away and just wincing. It was too late to stop anything and as my body finally settled down, I looked down to find that my pyjamas had a small droop to them and were quite warm. The feeling was no where near as intense as the shower incident, but there was a subtle...Pride? Taboo guilt? General naughtiness behind it. A repeat of this took place a few days afterwards, although not in the same setting. Possessed by the phantom of stupidity I thought it would be intelligent to test the diapers in a more public setting. (Before anyone yells at me in alarm, I am fully aware that it is not fare to expose the general public to this stuff. They don't consent to it, and although I have a medical history of legitimate accidents, purposeful experiences are a big no-no.) In this instance, I decided to roll an icosahedron to test the fates on their grand design. Ultimately this ended up with me squirming uncomfortably in the main lobby building at 22:30 in a corner not illuminated by any lights. My desire to go was a lot more intense than my forced attempt in my room a few days before and after some restraint my bladder was squashed like someone stepping on a carton of milk. I recall gasping as I felt the same warm feeling engulf me, and then alarm bells ringing when I felt some minor trickling going down my legs. Spooked and wishing I had a time travel device I hastily speed walked back to my dorm under the cover of the dark, content that my black leggings would hide things at distance. Fortunately I did not bump into anyone on my five minute journey back, where I hastily ran for a shower. The guilt and 'general vibes' were stronger than the few nights before. My third attempt at giving this 'stuff' a go was last Wednesday. While trying to brainstorm what made the shower incident so good I concluded that I needed authentic desperation. At the time it was my theory that the paradox of both trying to hold on and yearning for relief would clash into a big-bang styled explosion of hormones and synapses providing this goofy girl the wild thrill she was both seeking and feeling horrible for indulging. So I did... I took advice from several forum-goers and carefully upped my water intake, being sensible enough to not cause system shock or drown myself. While doing this I also put my training on holding to the test. I'd been trying this since early January with mixed success and a lot of nervousness, but the rewards were coming to me bit by bit. I chose to do it in the safety of my bedroom again. Sitting down at my computer I played chicken with time. It took me closer to the two hour mark to reach the point of uncomfortable burning. Looking to my en-suite would cause brief pulses of my bladder twinging, as if asking for some kindness, yet I flatly refused much like Rohan did. Simulating the pee-dance and uselessly bouncing in front of porcelain did nothing to help the onset of urgency, but I insisted on holding on. It wasn't long, but I soon got to the point of becoming too uncomfortable, so I once more stepped into the shower and just released the clamp. Roleplaying faulty plumbing my entire lower half started to heat up and simultaneously become soaked, but gosh was the feeling wild. It wasn't perfect, but it was similar to that first time. A rush of emotions filled with this naughty enjoyment lead to a fun time. ...And that leads me up to now. Course, these were deliberate 'accidents' (are they even accidents if its on purpose anymore?), but I have had legitimate mishaps during the last month too that I'll share at some point... On the medical notice I'm still waiting on my referral too sadly. Blah. This has been templated up since the weekend. I don't know why I put random references when I type things. They just come to my mind like memes do my social media and it brings a brief smile to include them. It's taken several re-writes and I find it slightly amusing that I develop this embarrassed jitter when recounting things, no where near as bad as my shaking when I was brand new to the community. With this said, as I write this last paragraph the jitters returning for an entirely different reason, referencing the more disgusting of the tags I've put in this topic. So far, I've found growing success with doing one type of embarrassment.. but what about the other? It's not something I'm outright disgusted with and I can't deny having browsed for stories and finding the odd image or video, though I think I'll always have a preference for the main one we're all fans with. Unexpectedly the 'joys' of pads have grown on me a lot too. I suppose it helps that a lot of models look quite well off in one 🫠 Makes you wonder how often you pass by someone who needs them too. Anyhow, I've rambled far too much this time, so I apologise for the long read. It's as I press Submit Topic that I look at my clock and gulp. I've not spell checked and I'm quite nervous. It is 01:47 as I write this final part. On my desk is a twelve inch 'four cheese pizza' that's missing a slice and soon to be many others...We'll see whether I chicken out of things or accept this shameful debauchery. Look after yourselves and as always, thanks for the love~ x
  17. I was just wondering what kind of panties do yall prefer for wetting and messing. I have no real preference when it comes to wetting but I like to wear "Granny panties" when messing as I feel they work better lol. I was just interested in what everyone else prefers though lol 😄
  18. hiyaaa kinda a funny reason to post but i thought it was interesting and i also cant stop thiinking about it all day lol so last night i had a dream with so many details and themes of this silly little desire i have i felt the need to share it starts out in this weird shopping centre but also play park gym (idk dream locations are weird) I was wearing a t shirt and some shorts, like loose fit kinda pyjamas or casual style, not jeans. and I was walking around with a friend then suddenly i needed to poop so i was looking for a bathroom but before long I felt myself going in my pants slowly, which is a feeling i love, especially with short pyjama bottoms or boxers kinda like this so i began to mess myself and was enjoying the feeling while walking but then i realised someone was behind me so i got super scared as i still needed to go real bad and wasn’t sure if they could see (or smell!) me so I tried to walk faster to get away from this man behind me then I somehow found a room with a potty in it, not a big toilet but like a little plastic potty and i distinctly remember trying to rip my pants off so that I could finish in the potty but it was too late, I started to go again and completely filled my shorts making the bulge even bigger. by the time I got my pants off my mess was dropping all on the floor so I sat my little butt down on the potty and started to pee real hard, almost filling it up! then I woke up dazed and confuzzled and slowly came to my senses and realised I was on the verge of emptying my bladder and bowels in bed so i quickly got up and hobbled/pottydanced to the bathroom (no accidents this time!!) and finished off on the big potty! it was quite a weird experience, I’ve had lots of dreams where I mess myself but never had a potty involved or peeing in one! now I can’t stop thinking about relieving myself in a potty >.< anyway hope it was enjoyable! :3
  19. September 18th, 2009: A diary? That’s my mom’s big surprise? A stupid diary? How’s that supposed to make me feel better about everyone leaving me behind? She says she’s tired of me moping around the house and being all depressed. Well of course I’m depressed! I’m ten years old now, I should have been there with my friends getting my first Pokémon and leaving home. Instead I’m stuck at home with my mom who’s been asking me every hour “how I’m feeling?” How do you think I’m feeling?! I’m PISSED! I’ve never been so frustrated in all my ten years of living! Instead I always reply with “fine.” What else can I say? That I’m hurt that all my so called “friends” got up and left without even glancing back? If I ever tried to put my feeling into words, I don’t think I’d ever stop crying. So she gave me this diary to “let it all out” and that bottling my feelings would only make things worse in the long run. What am I even supposed to write in this anyway? October 19th, 2009: I woke up with a wet bed again. That’s the second time this week. I feel so weak and sick to my stomach, not to mention embarrassed. Mom keeps telling me not to worry and that she knows it’s not my fault. She says when I’m feeling better she’s going to take me to the store and see what we can do about it. I’ve seen every Dr. in Pallet town, (well a pretty easy feat considering there’s only one) I don’t know what she expects to find at the store to make me stop having seizures. October 19th (again) : I’ve never been so humiliated in my life! She wasn’t taking me to the store to look for something to help me with my seizures, she was taking me to the store to buy diapers! She keeps telling me they’re not diapers, they’re good nights and that I only have to wear them to bed. You know what she did then? She took one out and HELD IT UP TO MY WAIST! In front of God and everyone else in that store. I could have sworn I heard people laughing. Then she has the nerve to go “hmm, I can’t tell if these will fit or not, maybe if I had you take off your pants.” That time I knew people were laughing. By this time all this talk of “wetting” and “accidents” was making me have to pee so I told her I was going to the bathroom and I’d be back. Instead of waiting for me, she follows me into the bathroom. It was a three stall bathroom so I’m like fine whatever figuring she had to go too. I’m about to walk in a stall but then she stops me and that’s when I notice she still had the diaper with her! “Please try it on?” she asked me. Normally I’d fight her with every fiber in my being, but after having had a seizure the night before I was totally wiped out already from this little excursion. I really wanted to just get this over with and go home. I reluctantly agreed and changed in the stall. She told me to come out so she could see how it fit. I told her it was fine but she made me come out anyway. I grumbled a bit as I came out of the stall and said, “See, it fits” and turned to walk back into the stall since I still had to pee, but now twice as bad. She told me to come back and started playing with the waist band as I danced in place a bit. “Mom, are you almost done? I really gotta go.” I said as the urge intensified even more. She said she was almost done as she started checking the leg holes, but then told me to stand still. I did as she said, but my body was just too weak to hold it back anymore as my bladder gave up and started emptying itself into the diaper. My mom could hear the hissing and saw the diaper suddenly start expanding. “Emily. . . “She said sounding concerned as tears started rolling down my face. “Oh, Emily it’s ok.” She said as she wrapped me in a hug while I started crying into her chest as I continued to wet the diaper uncontrollably like a baby. She continued to hold me as she waited for me to finish before inspecting the now soggy diaper. “Good, no leaks. These will do quite nicely. Go ahead and change back while I go pay for these.” She said and thanked me for my cooperation. October 19th (ONCE AGAIN) I can’t believe what she’s making me do. Not only do I have to wear these stupid things at night but now she’s making me wear them during the day too! She told me she understands that what happened was because of my weakened state and that it would stay between the two of us. I pointed out that it only happened because she wouldn’t let me go. She then apologized for that but followed it up with the fact that the point “when I realized I had to go” and” when I had the accident” were too close together to be normal. At least she’s only making me wear it on the days I wet the bed, since those are the days I feel the worst. It’s not like I have to USE them or anything, thankfully they’re kind of like a thicker version of pull-ups so I can just pull them up and down whenever I need to go. She said they’re there for any reason I couldn’t make it in time. I don’t see that being a problem, this was definitely just a onetime thing. October 20th Woke up totally dry so my mom said I could take this thing off now. Feels so good to be back in regular underwear although I do kind of miss the puffiness. Tried to sit down at the kitchen table for breakfast but let myself drop too high up from the seat and hurt my butt when I landed. Mom laughed at me while I was having to massage my sore backside. It was fun to do that in the pull-up but I have to remember I can’t do that in normal panties. November 3rd I keep hearing weird noises at night while I’m trying to sleep. I’ve asked mom to check it out several times but she keeps telling me it’s my Pull-up crinkling. Even when I’m lying still, really mom? November 18th Ok now I know this is seriously not my imagination. I heard the same noise in the kitchen, even mom heard it this time. Now I KNOW it’s not my pull-up, I secretly stopped wearing them a week ago. Sure they’re comfy, but I’m not like some baby who needs them. Mom said the noise was probably from the refrigerator. I didn’t realize the refrigerator squeaked. November 22nd No! No! No! I wet the bed again! I was doing so well! I realized while I tried to stand up that I felt exactly like the pile of mouse droppings I had just stepped in and fell to the floor. I awoke three hours later to find myself lying in my mom’s bed with a cool wet washcloth on my forehead. I shifted my weight and realized I was wearing a pull-up and a wet one at that. Mom came in and saw that I was awake and came to my side. She asked me how I was feeling and I replied “wet.” She pulled back the cover and stuck a finger through the leg hole; something I would have normally kicked at her for if I had been feeling better. She left the room and came back a minute later carrying a few things. She laid out a towel on her bed then came and placed one arm behind my shoulders and the other under my knees and lifted me into the air and set me back down on the towel. “Don’t have to” I weakly mumbled. “I can…” but trailed off due to lack of energy. She told me to just relax as she removed the wet pull-up but stopped when I winced in pain as it came into contact with the back of my right leg. “What’s wrong?” She asked. “Leg hurts” I mumbled. She rolled me onto my side and took a look. “Yikes.” She said as she looked at the bite marks on my leg. “Those weren’t there before. Hold on I’m going to take some pictures”. I saw a few flashes then mom showed me the pictures. The back of my leg was swollen along with five or six red and purplish teeth marks. Mom then very carefully slid off the wet pull-up and cleaned me up with some wet wipes while I blushed deeply. She then slid on a new one and told me for the time being not to get up, if I had to go I was to just go ahead and use the pull-up. I cringed at the thought, even if I was sick there’s was no way I’d purposefully use this thing. “Don’t worry about it” She said as she handed me a pillow and covered me back up with a blanket. The last thing I remembered was her telling me to stay on the towel so that way the next time, she could change me where I was. “No next time.” I mumbled into the pillow before drifting off to sleep. I woke up about four hours later to the worst stomach cramps of my life. I knew I only had minutes before I lost control and there was NO WAY I was going to have this kind of accident. I tossed the blanket off so I could get up but when I moved a sharp pain shot up my leg. “Mom!” I yelled in a panic. “Mom!” Surely she didn’t intend for me to GO in the pull-up. “What’s wrong, sweetie?” she asked as she came in. “Please, help me.” I begged clutching my stomach. “Need to go.” “What’s wrong?” she asked not seeing the problem. “Are you having trouble going?” “No, I need to go really badly.” I said, doing everything in my power not to mess myself. Wait did she ask if I was having TROUBLE going? She can’t possibly expect me to use this in that way? “We talked about this earlier, don’t you remember? Go ahead and use your diaper and I’ll change you when you’re done. You’re in no shape to get up.” “Diaper?” I asked looking down and realized I was no longer in a pull-up, but in a full on adult diaper. “What?” I asked. “I went out and bought them while you were asleep so they wouldn’t hurt your leg, and I’m glad I did. You’ve been having some intestinal trouble.” “What gave it away?” I asked sarcastically hoping I could somehow convince her to carry me to the bathroom. “Wait . . . have been?” Instead of answering my question she gently pushed me back down onto my pillow knowing I was at my limit and sat on the edge of the bed. “Just go sweetie, you’ll feel a lot better.” “No!” I cried as another painful cramp hit causing me to curl in a ball. “I don’t want you to have to change me.” “Honey, don’t worry about that.” She said as she began stroking my hair as sweat began to run down my face from the efforts of trying to hold it in. “You’ve had diarrhea most of the day. You’ve already messed and been changed a few times in your sleep.” She admitted as if that would make me feel better about consciously letting go. She removed her hand from my head and pried me out of my human ball so that I now laid on my side facing her. “Don’t fight it anymore.” She said as she began rubbing my tummy making me relax. “No,” I whined and started crying as I lost the last bit of strength I had as I began heavily messing myself. “Shh, there you go, let it all out.” She encouraged softly, continuing to rub my stomach. With my eyes shut tight I continued crying, but obeyed as I noisily pushed out the rest, knowing there was no real point in fighting it anymore. I had already messed, so I figured the more I got out now the less I’d have to deal with later. After what felt like an eternity (10 minutes) all was quiet except for my pitiful wails of humiliation and my mother’s attempts of cheering me up with “See, that wasn’t so bad” and “Don’t you feel better now?” “Do you think you’re done or should I wait a few more minutes before changing you?” “I’m done.” I said into my pillow more than ready to get out of this disgusting thing. “Before I change you, I want you to try going pee, ok?” I didn’t respond but pulled the blanket over my head before emptying my bladder as requested and felt it mixing with the mush below. “Emily?” I raised my pointer finger out of the blanket letting her know I needed a minute before giving the thumbs up signal when I was done. “Did you go pee?” she asked bluntly, making my face blush under the blanket. I flashed the thumbs up signal again. “Alright, thank you for being so co-operative. Now let me get you out of that and I promise you’ll feel better.” I uncovered my head and nodded as I felt the last of my strength leave me and I drifted back to sleep, only awakening a few times at my mom’s insistence that I keep drinking water.
  20. Heather felt her diaper sag between her legs as she stood from her chair to answer the door. It hung, warm and swollen, under her floral sundress, although she did not notice having needed the toilet. She rarely did: she had never been potty trained. For that matter, neither was any other woman in Heather's family, and she could count the number of panty-wearing classmates she knew on one hand. Heather still vividly remembered the minor scandal when Stacy Thompson announced that she'd be "using the toilet from now on" in the eighth grade, it had been the hottest gossip for weeks. And then there was when Maggie Newman wore panties, no, lingerie (how much they must have cost!) under her homecoming dress Sophomore year to impress Shaq Jackson, but she'd been proven for a fraud a couple hours in when she'd wet herself in the middle of the dance floor, dashing her romantic ambitions. They had to turn the lights on to mop up the puddle! Poor girl. That was everyone, really, that Heather knew by name, although she did recognize the handful of girls in the halls whose skinny-jeaned rumps lacked the puffiness of their peers. That isn't to say that Heather cared a wink, though. This is how her whole life had been and neither she or most of her friends saw much abnormality in it. Heather opened her front door to reveal that Molly had arrived to hang out. It was a hot July day and Molly was dressed accordingly: jean shorts and a tank top that revealed the waist band of her diaper when she stretched her arms. Heather and Molly had been friends their whole lives, and were trying to make the most of their final summer before going off to college. The two grabbed some chips and salsa and a bottle of coke from Heather's kitchen and went upstairs to hang out in Heather's room. The two spent some time shooting the shit, Molly laying on her belly on Heather's floor, on her phone, while Heather lounged in the bean bag chair and munched on the tostitos, not caring whether Molly could see up her dress. Molly didn't care to look, but if she had she would have seen the pee staining Heather's diaper. "Hey, have you heard about that big protest today?" asked Molly, scrolling through twitter. "Yeah! The women's march, right?" Heather had seen, it was all over the news. Several of their friends were in attendance, attempting to bring more attention towards woman's issues. "Apparently there was a big pro-potty training demonstration." "No kidding!" "Yeah, hundreds of ladies just peed their pants in front of the Capitol." "That's some statement!" "What do you think about all that?" Heather considered it for a moment. Of course, the acceptance of toilet training for women was a hot button feminist issue, right up there with addressing rape culture and the wage gap. "I mean, I get it, the lack of potty training for women has kept us down for ages. Like, financially alone, diaper costs do build up." "Tell me about it." "And all those excuses those misogynists give are such bullshit. We aren't on our period 24/7! We can control some of our bodily functions, it just sets up a needless divide where women are dependent on men for some culturally imposed 'need'." "Fuckin' preach." said Molly, snatching up a chip. "At the same time though, like... I'm not sure if I'd really want to be potty trained." "Oh really?" "Yeah, I mean, it just seems so inconvenient, right? To have to stop whatever you're doing and go to a specific room just to do your business? It just seems like such a hassle." "I mean you still have to get changed though." "Yeah but I feel like you have more control over that taking place." "Not if you can actually control your bladder." "I suppose that's true." The silence resumed for a bit but was interrupted by a scrunching of Molly's face. "Speaking of controlling your bladder..." At that, Molly appeared to clench a little, behavior Heather obviously recognized as Molly having a poop. She could see the seat of Molly's pants expand outwards as she laid on the floor. It was a pretty common sight. "Heather can you change me? I'll do you afterwards, I saw that you're soaked." "Of course." Heather had downed a couple of cokes by this point, and would definitely be needing a serious change soon. Molly shimmied out of her shorts and laid on the floor while Heather fetched the supplies, and then undid Molly's tapes. Heather was struck by the familiarity of her friend's lady parts, the small brown curls a miniature of those on Molly's head. How many times had she helped change Molly, and Molly her? It was a perfectly normal but nonetheless personal activity for two women to share. Soon enough she'd be living in a dorm at South Northeastern University West and helping to change entirely new girls whom she'd never met. As Heather was dealt with the bitter-sweetness of her thought, she could feel a renewed warmth pooling in her nether regions.
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