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Found 32 results

  1. View File Hands on Diapering Training These nurses get hands on training for changing diapers. It's the best way to learn! Enjoy, Rach Submitter rachelkirwan Submitted 08/16/2019 Category Diapers and ageplay  
  2. rachelkirwan

    Hands on Diapering Training

    Version 1.0.0

    191 downloads

    These nurses get hands on training for changing diapers. It's the best way to learn! Enjoy, Rach

    Free

  3. As I mentioned as part of the discussion in this post (https://omorashi.org/topic/25110-ultrasound-this-thursday/), I had an regular scheduled ultrasound on Thursday this past week. This is a normal check up procedure, I do these about once a year, ever since I had Botox injections to deal with my UI issues (I've had this done twice now, and it is a relatively new procedure, so they keep tabs on things). I've had many of these ultrasounds over the years, and have had a range of experiences with them. At my first ultrasound as a high school student (investigating the causes of my IU and bedwetting troubles), I had a very public accident, which I've shared with the community here (https://omorashi.org/topic/2645-ultrasound-disaster/). While at the time this was horrible at the time, I have found myself reliving it in my head and it has become a very erotic experience for me now. Basically just the thought of the experience get my heart racing and my lady parts wet. This is basically one of my go to experiences for when I need to get turned on fast (and being a busy grad student this is enough that I have been thinking about it more often than not). It was a long time ago and I worry that the feelings have perhaps faded, and also that at the time my teenage self was too panicking and emotionally upset to savour the other feelings going on. Thinking about my upcoming ultrasound, I kept thinking about my first disastrous one, and would get excited. This led me to consider perhaps trying to replicate this first exam, or at least take advantage of a rare desperation-inducing situation. I should say that I've had at least 6 of these ultrasounds in my life and this upcoming test was purely a check up. I haven't had any complaints and there haven't been any problems with my previous tests, so I was not worried about messing up any legitimate medical investigations. The general rule at my UK urologist is that they run a flow test and an ultrasound every time you go in. As a note, these tests usually entail an ultrasound only, but in the UK, they usually add a flow test, just because it's easy to do after the ultrasound. For the flow test you basically sit on a special toilet with monitors, which detects your flow of urine, to see if it is consistent. I understand that if you have a weak flow or stop and start, this can indicate an obstruction, or other problems (prostate issues in men for example). I've done a few checkups where I did not do the ultrasound, and was not scheduled to do either, but they asked me if I would do a flow test all the same, and I usually did, coaxing out some urine if I didn't have to go. As a result, I developed the habit of arriving at all my appointments with a pretty full bladder out of practice. And again, after probably 6 or 7 appointments and flow tests, they haven't found anything out of the ordinary (which is consistent with my diagnosis of mild mixed UI). For an ultrasound, you are requested to arrive at the hospital with a 'comfortably full bladder' and are usually instructed to drink two pints of water at least an hour before the test to ensure this. They pull down the waistband of your pants (and have you undo the button and zipper), put (usually very cold) jelly on your belly over your bladder, and press an ultrasound wand thing across the jelly until they get a good clear image. They then have you empty your bladder (doing the flow test), and then scan again, looking to measure the residual. If you have too much in there, they might ask you to try to empty your bladder again. On my first test, they also did an ultrasound of my kidneys and this was repeated my first visit in the UK. My bladder issues growing up and past experiences with these kinds of tests have led me to take some precautions around ultrasounds. Now the technician can see the waistband of your underwear, and when I was still a teen I was way too embarrassed to have the technician see my panties, let alone the waistband of a pullup/Goodnite, which is what I should have been wearing under my clothes for this (or which would have been recommended). As a result, I usually wore the biggest maxi-pad I could find, an overnight one with the big part on the bottom, which would catch any leaks or drips and be invisible to the technician. Also, and I didn't know you could do this (but of course you can), but if you tell the receptionist you are bursting to wee (and yes I screwed up the courage to do this once, not for an ultrasound but for a flow test), their first response is to ask you is you can use the washroom but only let out a little bit. This is an option for some, but for me it is not, I have a lot of trouble stopping after I start peeing. I have been practicing, but if I was desperate enough to ask the receptionist to pee before my appointment (being generally very shy about these things), there would be no way I would be able to stop after letting out a little bit. If you ask they might try to see you sooner, but there are generally a waiting list with an order and cue jumping in this case isn't an option. My clinic has a little video screen which tells you how late they are running behind, and they are almost always 30 minutes behind (the doctors are very good and spend lots of time answering all your questions, which is very nice but leads to backlogs). They have recently added a sign which says something like if you are not seen 40 minutes after you were supposed to be, then see the receptionist. I think this a partly to re-schedule, but partly also to check on full bladders. This is the UK after all and people are not really open about these things, so maybe they have the sign as a nice starting conversation about bladder situations with patients. So like I said, when I was younger I wore thick pads to all subsequent tests and drank much less water. My small bladder with OAB symptoms was not really up to the job of holding 2 pints, ever. When I was older, and more comfortable with things and mature (and also a little naughty), I I would comfortably wear a pullup to my ultrasound (not a Goodnite as this was too childish, but usually something like a Tena pullup, discreet or otherwise). I wore one to my more recent here in the UK. The technician clearly saw the top of a Tena pullup (rolled down to minimize visibility). This was necessary because even if I did my fluids correctly, the pressing of the wand-thing and the cold jelly would often cause me to leak a little, and normal incontinence pads (like maxi pads) don't work as well laying down on a bed, the liquid tends to run down your bum and skip the pad all together, and get into your panties and pants. The last test I had were I wore my Tena pullup, I had a nice 50 something British lady pulled down the waistband of my pants, and tucked in the small cloth they use to keep your pants free from the gel, and I got a pretty big exhibitionistic rush. She didn't have any reaction (this time around the pullup caught a little squirt when the put the cold probe on my belly, so one point for pre-planning). I still got rather excited by the thing, I suppose medical procedures, apart from say changing rooms (and random one night stands), are one of the few times a stranger sees your underwear. At least for me, and this was rather exciting knowing that she knew that I was wearing a diaper. For my test last week, I contemplated wearing a pullup again, though I didn't think I really needed one, as my UI problems have been non-existent this past while, and I could easily get the correct amount of fluids. Also, it had been done, the only real sort of way to build on the previous test would be to perhaps wear a Goodnite, or maybe even a proper, overnight diaper. But this seemed heavy handed and not quite what I was aiming for. It was after all a very short rush with none of the protracted agony and humiliation which comes from a wetting accident. This very long pre-amble is to say that I wanted to go to my test without any protection. But this was not too much of a challenge, as I was probably ready to do this anyhow. I would probably have slipped a pad into my panties, brought my usual spare pair in my purse (in a plastic bag, a long force of habit, which comes in use), and go from there. However, this would not really help me relive my youthful accident. Not to belabour this introduction, but I had been reading the discussion on rapid desperation (https://omorashi.org/topic/755-an-experiment-in-rapid-desperation/) and was keen to try it out. I decided therefore to combine the rapid desperation with an unprotected visit to my urologist with a full/filling bladder for my ultrasound. My test was at 3:00 pm on Thursday at the hospital, which is about a 20 minute cycle from my department (where I would be teaching and in meetings during the morning). Before the fateful day, I read up on the rapid desperation method, but I didn't practice, I thought about it, but I wanted to just see what would happen, and practicing/testing it out, seemed to be cheating, or rather would let me know what was going to happen, and so take away all the 'fun'. _________________________________________________________________ On the day of my test, I woke up early, went to the bathroom immediately (out of necessity) around 8:30am and had a cup of tea, my usual morning routine. My fiancé was out the door by about 9:00 am, having gotten up before me. He was heading off to his department for an early morning something (I was too wrapped up in my upcoming test to remember exactly what it was). I then began the practice of drinking small amounts of water, 300 ml every 15 minutes, and going to the bathroom as soon as I felt the urge. I am glad that we have our new place (I don't know if I told people on here, but I moved in with my fiancé, it made financial sense and otherwise we didn't get to see each other very much). Our new place has its own washroom, a huge improvement from my former student accommodation where I had to go down three flights of stairs to pee, a massive pain. Still in my PJs (t-shirt and baby-blue fleece PJ bottoms with panties and fuzzy socks for those who care) I set about answering e-mails, sipping tea and peeing whenever I felt the need. This went on for about an hour. I slipped into a pullup (Tena Discreet) before changing for work, just in case I felt the need to pee during my cycle to work. I wore this under my panties so it would be easier to change. We had a shot discussion about what to wear on my 'teaser post' and I had trouble making up my mind while I was waiting to change. I slipped into a regular pair of white cotton panties (with coloured purple trim, something cheap from the shops), and took a little while to make up my mind. I had a hard time making up my mind, but in the end settled for a lighter pair of jeans. They were not too dark so as to hid an accident, but not too light so as to make it totally obvious. They were also rather thick, not the stretchy thin jeans people have, but proper denim. This made it a little harder to cycle, but I've done it loads of time and the jeans may my bum look fantastic (at least to me and my fiancé). I chose a professional looking blouse to go on top, and also put on a big cozy hoodie which I often wear cycling and which is big enough to cover up a possible accident if worn around the waist. I wore comfortable walking shoes (flats). I decided against a purse and a bag, as it would be clumsy, so I put everything into my backpack. Inside I packed a spare pair of pants (tight yoga-style pants which I usually work out in and which pack small), as a precaution. I wasn't sure what might happen and if I did have an accident, I was not prepared to cycle all the way home in wet, obvious, jeans. I also slipped in a spare pair of panties (similarly white, from my rather simple panty drawer), and socks, just in case. I also packed a couple of things which I would need to school, some reading material for the wait (a couple of journals and a glossy magazine), a water bottle (about 1 litre), and I also brought along a 2 litre jug of mango juice. I was using this to hydrate during the morning, and it was about half empty. Before I left I added water as I find the juice way too sweet, albeit delicious. I also packed a small snack, though I really couldn't think about food at this stage, my heart was pounding just packing up. Packing and pre-planning for a possible accident was also getting me a little aroused, I noticed I was rather wet on one of my many toilet visits (there was a good little slippery patch on the crotch of my pullup, and I was very sticky). I went pee right before I left home and then headed off at about 10:15. While at first it took my body a good 40 minutes to fill up y bladder, by the time I left home I had peed about 4 times. Not always peeing very much, but sticking to the rapid desperation routine. By the time I left home, after having done the rapid desperation pre-drinking and peeing component, I was peeing every 20 minutes or fewer. It turns out I didn't need the pullup on my cycle, biking in the usual traffic took my mind off of my bladder, it's also hard to pee in a diaper while cycling. I arrived at my department around 10:45 am, with just enough time for a much needed bathroom visit before my only class of the day. I peed and removed my pullup. Even though it wasn't wet. In these cases in the past I would usually sit on the toilet and wet the pullup just so I don't feel as though it's going to waste, but in this case I was too distracted. It was not re-useable because of the bunching which occurs from riding a bike in a diaper and the already significant sticky patch. Did I mention I was very excited at this point? My arousal had somewhat decreased as I prepared myself mentally for my class and also while cycling, but I was still pretty wet. I tore off the sides of the pullup and binned it. My schedule for the day was as follows. I was teaching a class from 11:00 am to 12:30 noon, not so much a class as a graduate seminar, a small discussion group with about 10 to 12 masters students (depending on turn out), I then had a department lunch meeting from 1:00 to 2:00 pm after which I would have the remaining hour and a half to make my way to the hospital for my test. My plan was to continue to drink mango juice regularly and pee as often as I could between 11:00 and 1:00 pm, and then pee for the last time at 1:00 starting to hold it until my test. This would give me 2 hours of holding, which according to those who have done the rapid desperation experiment, is pretty hard/boarding on impossible to do. The seminar was a discussion as I mentioned, and I excused myself twice in order use the rest room: I was filling up quickly and drinking mango juice constantly, and I excused myself from the discussion once at 11:20 because it seemed like a good pause in the seminar, and again at 12:05, because I was getting very uncomfortable. At the end of the seminar I hurried to the washroom once more, this time at about an uncomfortable 6 or 7. I had finished the mango juice by then and picked up my water bottle in the graduate office (where I had left my bag), grabbed a quick snack, checked my e-mails for a couple of minutes and then went to the bathroom one last time before heading off to the department meeting. I noticed the unused pullup in the bottom of the trash when I did, and I had a momentary thought of regret, for not having kept it on. At exactly 5 minutes to 1:00 I peed for the last time before my test. From 1:00 until 2:00 I sat in the meeting. This wasn't the sort of meeting you excused yourself from. I did still continue to sip water, at least for the first 30 minutes, but then I stopped realizing my rapidly increasing level of desperation. I tried to focus on the meeting, but generally was too distracted by my upcoming appointment and my rapidly filling bladder. I became acutely aware of my body and had the feeling as though everyone was watching me. I could feel the skin on my inner thigh rub against my rough jeans, the slight lingering moistness between my legs, my feet somewhat uncomfortably curled in my shoes. I had a couple of bladder spasms around three quarters of the way into the meeting when I contemplated going to the bathroom for one last time. Surely if my bladder could fill up this fast in just 30 minutes, I could go and still be bursting for my ultrasound. I mulled over these options but stood firm in my decisions not to use the loo. I sat there in increasing desperation, and by the time the meeting was over (a little before 2:00 pm thankfully, like 1:50 pm), I was pretty desperate, probably an 8 on the 10 scale. As the meeting wrapped up there was the usual post meeting chit chat, and I tried to get away as quickly as possible. I was approaching the point of hopping about and needing to cross my legs awkwardly and I did not want my department colleagues to see me doing this. I excused myself from a conversation and then a second. In the third one of the grad students in a year after me commented that I seemed a little distracted (which I was but I was a little disappointed that it showed), and I made an excuse and quickly headed to collect my bag. On the way down the hall I filled up my water bottle which was about half empty at this point. I also grabbed a random bottle of water I had in my desk from a conference a while back and tossed that into my backpack. I know, what is a girl who is an 8 on the desperation scale with a 20 minute cycle ahead of her and at least 40 minutes (more like an hour) until her ultrasound doing getting more water? I was feeling reckless and moving about quickly was reducing my urgency, and well reckless and wild abandon! I quickly left the building, unlocked my bike and headed off to the hospital. The bike ride was uneventful, though I had occasional twinges and sharp feelings in my bladder as I went over bumps. I put my full concentration into peddling and traffic and arrive at the hospital still at an 8. I was surprised. I had no problem finding the bike racks this time, and right before going in to the hospital I chugged an entire last bottle of water. I wasn't really planning on drinking more water at this point, but I was feeling pretty desperate, an 8.5 to 9 on the scale. This was my sort of way of guaranteeing that I would not back out I suppose, or a moment of panic resulting from a lull in the feelings of urgency, resulting in my thinking that I was going to all this trouble (and increasing pain), and that I might still make it. I think this as hubris on my part, but I chugged the entire bottle of water before heading in to navigate the labyrinth of the hospital. I checked in at the desk in the usual way, and was sent over to the waiting area, which is overlooked by the reception desk. To the right of the desk is a video screen with little messages (including how late they are running), the waiting room is open plan with seats along the wall in a U shape and more seats in the middle of the U. I sat down in the middle of the bottom of the U after checking in. The hallway to the appointment rooms is also to the right of the reception desk and it leads down a hall, immediately to the right upon passing the reception desk is the usual bathroom that I use, inside they have the things to do a flow test. There is another bathroom before you enter the waiting room which is the one they send you to if you need to 'release a little pressure.' When I arrived there was three other groups, an old gentleman with his wife on the left-hand side (of myself sitting down), and elderly later on the middle chair island) and another elderly gentleman on the right. The seats were vinyl covered padded chairs, some with arms, others without. I sat down and started to read my magazine. I was already very desperate, a 9.5 at this point, but I could easily hold it for a little while, maybe a maximum of 20 minutes, this was a little worrisome because I arrived at about 2:20, and I still had 40 minutes to go before my appointment. I started to get nervous, a little bit of cold sweat formed on my forehead. I felt closed off and did not make any eye contact with any of the other people in the waiting room. I sat there trying to read my magazine. The elderly couple was called, and then the lady. Then another younger man, about 30 came and sat down and was also called. There looked like there were two nurses, and some of the people were quick others much slower. The gentleman beside me was there for a while, but eventually called as well. To be replaced with another middle-aged gentleman. I didn't really pay attention to the people around me, I was too caught up in my own agony and desperation. At this stage I had firmly crossed my legs, squeezing and double crossing them together as much as I could. The thick denim of my jeans was making it hard to press them together as tightly as I would have liked (and as my bladder demanded). I don't recall all the movements of all the people in the waiting room, but I do remember, towards the end, trying to figure out who was going to be called next, and whether it would be me, and how long I had. I also didn't want too many people to see me in my state or to strike up a conversation, not that British people would ever do this, ever! I looked at my phone, which I then tucked into my bike bag, at about 2:30 pm and lost hope. I had initially thought I could hold on until the test at which point I might have an accident on the way to the ultrasound in the dimly lit privacy of the hall way outside of the check up rooms, or perhaps, like my first ultrasound, leak during the test itself, or on the way to the bathroom after the test for the flow test (it usually takes the nurses a few seconds to calibrate the machine, so you a have to stand there, toilet in sight waiting for a good minute while they do this, a point at which I almost always lose a few drops). But at this state I was too desperate and was in considerable pain, I wasn't going to make it to the test itself. I wasn't going to even be able to stand up at this point. I was at a 10 on the scale, but still managing to hold on. This was when I started feeling pain, cramping pain in my kidneys, and I got worried. I am familiar with water poisoning, and know that you can damage your kidneys from holding it too long. Usually my bladder would spasm and I would leak well before this point ever occurred, but whatever it was, be it the group of people around me, my double-crossed legs, or sudden bladder shyness, I wasn't leaking, but holding on, and in increasing pain. I don't know the time exactly, it must have been maybe 2 minutes after I checked my phone, but time was doing that strange thing it does when you really have to pee. I didn't exactly leak, but I knew I was going to have to let some pressure out, and I was worried I was going to do some permanent damage. It wasn't exactly a controlled release, because I'm not good at those, but we could call it a momentary relaxation resulting in a small accident. After putting my phone into my bag, I put my magazine into my lap and let out a little bit of pee. Nothing was visible, but I quickly realized that I would have to put something more significant into my lap soon. I was feeling pain in my sides and stomach at this stage. The feeling of pressure on my sphincter was unbearable, a sharp acute pressure, not like the dull sort of full pressure which you get on a normal hold. I felt like rather than being a round balloon, that my bladder was a narrow zeppelin, with all of the pressure pushing against my pee hole. I stole a peek under the magazine while turning pages, and didn't see any damage on my jeans. My underwear felt a little wet but in that warm post-leak kind of way. The leak must have been small enough to either have been absorbed by the gusset of my panties, or my legs were tight enough together that the pee travelled down to my bum. A problem which I would have to deal with when I stood up, but a problem which I could likely solve by covering up with my hoodie. Thinking along these lines and with the magazine still strategically covering my lap, I removed my hoodie and put it on the seat next to me on the left. The east on my right at this point was occupied by an elderly gentleman in a baseball cap who may have been actively avoiding looking at me. I read some more, the magazine in my lap, and held my legs together, the leg crossing not seeming to cut it. This must have lasted for a good few minutes, but it was clear that I needed to try something more discreet. I also felt like I was going to lose control at any moment. I retrieved my hoodie from the chair beside me, put it in my lap, and arranged it to cover everything. At this stage I was wiggling my foot desperately, but otherwise not moving about too much, my legs pressed firmly together. I carefully folded my hoodie to ensure that it covered my entire crotch and also that none of it was between my thighs,... just in case. With my hoodie in my lap I tried to hold myself. This was a last desperate move, which was probably ill thought out, as it would have involved pressing the fabric of my jeans into the wet gusset of my panties, and would certainly result in a visible wet spot on my jeans. But I had to try, there was no way I was going to make the nest 20 minutes (or so the clock indicated). Amazingly the running late notice indicated that they were only running 5 minutes late, so I got very lucky, as another hour would have been completely unmanageable. I tried to jam my hand between my legs, but it didn't seem to help. The denim was too thick to allow me to maneuver my fingers between my labia and pres where it desperately needed to be pressed. I 'disreetly' kept my right hand under my hoodie moving my fingers about trying to find a good way to hold myself. It must have looked pretty obvious to the 5 people in the waiting room, but I told myself they were not looking, or I was past the point of caring. The hand wasn't working. I let out another spurt, this one completely involuntary. Then another, and another. Each lasting for about 1 or 2 seconds, but coming in quick succession. At this stage due to the placement of my hand (still between my legs), and perhaps the force of the spurts, the pee went upwards into the crotch of my jeans. I felt my hand get wet, and the warm hard feeling of wet denim. I peeked under my hoodie and magazine (now forgotten) and saw a considerable wet patch on the crotch of my jeans. Bigger than a full hand and spread evenly between both thighs. I quickly replaced the edge of my hoodie. I could only imagine how bad my bum was, as when sitting pee usually pools towards the bum as you will all know. When I would be called I would have to stand up and there would be a moment when I was going to tie the hoodie around my waist when all of my neighbours would see my accident (as I couldn't do this and cover my front at the same time). I momentarily considered this, but it would not be the first time I've used a sweatshirt to cover up an accident, and I thought I might be able to use my bag to shield myself in the front for cover. I couldn't think about this for long, because soon I was concentrating 100% on stopping from losing control completely. I ceased efforts to hold myself, though I still had a hand under the hoodie and my foot was now wiggling uncontrollably. I was still in pain and very much worried I would not make it. I could not stand up and talk to the receptionist (not that I would at this stage as it was clearly too late) without revealing my accident to everyone. I simply sat there very uncomfortably and wiggled. I also worried that standing might lead to a fatal cascade. I looked at the receptionist, who was busy on the phone, but I could have sworn I saw her glance over in my direction. She was a 30 something woman with brown hair I think. I spent a little longer staring at her with what must have been a forlorn look on my face. While I was almost completely oblivious to the goings on around me, I did notice her, she was off her phone a moment later and when the next nurse came in to call the next person they had a short and hushed conversation. They were too far for me to see anything, but they both glanced my way. When they did I hurriedly looked back at my magazine. At this stage I had been too distracted by my pressing need and quickly approaching bathroom accident to be embarrassed. It was all business, and the only thing I recall being aware of, was not being aware of the people around me. I would occasionally look about, trying to see when I might be called or trying to get a good description for you all (I do aim to please), but none of this was really registering. But now I felt myself blush lightly. The nurses were clearly discussing the desperate 28 year old clearly holding herself and wiggling uncontrollably in the waiting room. My heart raced and mind scrambled. I thought it might be worth the embarrassment if they called me sooner. I half expected the receptionist to walk over to me to ask if I was alright, or to be called next. At 2:45 pm most of the people who had been there when I arrived had been called and I was optimistic that I might get seen earlier. When finally the younger gentleman who came in while I was there and was seen left, and I anticipated being seen next. But it was not to be. Next up another elderly gentleman nearby and I was in agony. I left out another significant 2 or three second spurt, which seemed to do nothing to relieve the pressure, but did make the wet spot on my jeans more pronounced. I tried to reach a hand under my bum to feel for damage but I could feel nothing, thought I was unable to get my fingers too far under, at least nothing was visible from the sides. I was now fully committed. Not that I hadn't been the second I took my last washroom visit. My jeans were wet and there was no way to get up without revealing that to the whole group on the waiting room, and making the problem worse. I knew my appointment was approaching, it must have been 2:50 pm, and so at this stage I stuffed my magazine into my bag, as there was no chance I could read or follow it, I was too agitated. The thought briefly crossed my mind that if I wasn't seen at exactly 3:00 pm I might have a spectacular seated accident here in the waiting room. I panicked a little at the thought, my heart pounding, cold sweat appeared on my forehead and I blushed some more. I may have been shivering at this point, and I was close approaching the point of completely giving up and having a full accident right then and there. Should I make a mad dash to the receptionist and ask to use the washroom? The thought of me standing up at the reception desk where everyone could see me and wetting myself made my heart beat even faster Finally, and it must have been exactly 3:00, or very close to it, a middle aged female (45-ish) nurse in light scrubs with dark East Indian skin and long black hair, came to the edge of the end reception desk under the video screen. I'd seen here several times as she came out for patients. She called my name. I sort of waved with the hand that wasn't between my legs, feebly pressing the wet denim of my jeans into my vagina, and began gathering my things. I gave up on tying my hoodie around my waist to cover my accident from behind. It didn't really have full use of both of my hands and it was shaking at this point, and didn't think I would be able to do it. So clutching my bag and hoodie in front of me, so that the nurse and receptionist could not see the accident, I headed over to her. I'm sure everyone in the hall and in the waiting room (which at this stage was probably three other people), could easily see the wet patch on my bum, but I didn't look back. I don't think I felt myself holding it as I walked down the hall, but I don't think I leaked more at this stage, my body must have been in the pre-massive accident mode where it's actually harder to pee. I walked as quickly as I could, and was a little surprised that I wasn't peeing uncontrollably at this point. The nurse asked me how I was doing and I said "ok but that I really had to pee." I heard my voice sound weak and unconvincing. The walk to the examination room wasn't too far and was relatively strait. The nurse remained in front of me, guiding me down the hall, past a hallway on my left which was rather dark, and to a darkly lit examination room with a bed with cloth sheets in the middle. In the examination room I put down my hoodie and bag and she said, upon noticing either my wet bum or crotch, something like: "you've already had a little accident." Or "you've already gone a little bit." Not these words exactly but similar, in a very soothing and understanding way. I don't remember if I responded, I think I may have apologized. My face was burning at this point and I was incredibly thankful for the darkness of the room. I was also shaking. Still managing to hold on. Feeling very meek and embarrassed I climbed onto the bed an lay down. I had already undone my pants knowing the procedure and hoping to expedite things. The nurse tucked the little piece of paper into my waistband (to keep my pants dry, though that boat had long sailed). My whole body was trembling and I tried to hold my legs together. I think I may have re-iterated that I was sorry and that I really had to go pee. My bladder felt like it was going to explode, and I don't remember completely losing control before or after she applied the jelly, or if I was peeing the second I lay down on the best. The nurse put on the jelly, which to my surprise was actually very warm, they must have invented jelly warmers since my last test, as I recall the jelly being very cold. My bladder felt like an cannon ball in my lower abdomen. As she put down the ultrasound rod on my belly. She must have felt how hard it was, because she asked if I could use the washroom the let out a little pressure. To which I responded in a voice higher than normal and approaching panic level, "no I'm already going." And I was, I was wetting myself at this point. I don't know how much I was peeing, but I could not have stopped it if I had wanted to, it just came out. I wasn't the flood gates as one would expect, it was that very tortuous stream which you sometimes get when you've been holding it too long. When your sphincter is still trying to hold on but the pee gets out anyhow, not when it fully opens. She must have acted very fast, because within a couple of second she said she was done, and that I could now use the washroom. This was abnormally quick and she must have done the bare minimum knowing my predicament. Still wetting myself, I got up off the bed, and spent a second wiping the jelly off my belly, and doing up my pants only got the zipper up, the button was not going to happen, I was too swollen and my hands were shaking too much. Doing this, I remember touching my bladder and feeling it as a rock hard ball in my lower abdomen. I did up my pants and stood up and she directed me out the door to the nearest washroom which was supposed to be directly down the hall, the on on the immediate right after passing down the hall from the reception desk. At this stage I was half holding myself, half using my hand to shield the wet patch on the crotch of my pants. She tried the door to the washroom only to find it lock. "This one must be occupied" she said and then told me I could use the one at the end of the hall near the start of the waiting room. You could see the light coming from under the crack in the door and the very apologetic but business-like tone in the nurses voice. I am not making this up, it was like out of some omorashi fantasy story. I didn't think or stop moving, but powered on down the hall, walking as fast as I could walking without running. I literally ran down the hallway, while wetting my pants freely, rushing past the waiting room nurses, the receptionist for the ultrasound area, and into the washroom. I kept my eyes down and both hands firmly in my crotch. Without locking the door I yanked down my pants and underwear. I was in mid-stream and there was a nice wet patch all over the front of my pants, but not running all the way to the ground, which at the time surprised me, though on reflection, I suppose that had done most of my wetting while laying down on the ultrasound bed/chair. Later upon inspection, I saw a similar nice round even wet patch on the bum of my pants. I peed into the toilet for longer than a minute and a half. I could feel the rock hard roundness of my bladder while peeing, and could see the pee dripping from my underwear, which were around my ankles, and into my pants the entire time I was peeing. A sure sign of the wetness of my underwear. They were glistening wet, with wetness running all over the bum and up the front. My pee was very clear. My stream very thin and intense. I peed for longer than I've ever peed in my whole life, it must have been longer than 1 minute and a half. The pee hissed out of me like an angry serpent. And I felt my entire lower body gradually relaxing, like I had been planking for 5 minutes and finally stopped. After finishing peeing, I spent a few moment to let my heart stop pounding, locked the door which I had forgotten to do, and inspected the damage. Apart from perfect even wet patches running all over the crotch of my pants to about the knees, my panties were soaked and there was a small puddle on the floor in front of the toilet from where the pee had dripped through my pants onto the floor. I took off my shoes and pants and underwear, and made an attempt to dry both of these off with the paper towel which was in the room. My socks and shoes were dry. Like I said the peed did not run all the way down my legs. I spent the next, probably 8 minutes or more, cleaning the room and slowly applying dry compresses of paper towel to my panties and pants. I twisted my panties into a little ball with some paper towel and wrung them out. All this time I was all business, focused on cleaning up my accident and somehow making the massive wet patch on my pants disappear so I could hurry back to the examination room. I was shaking slightly, though not crying or sobbing. I could feel the adrenaline pumping through my veins. I did not appear to be making much progress. I also spent a few moments to dry off my legs which were pretty wet as well. After what must have been 12 or 15 minutes, I paced about in my socks, like a trapped incontinent tiger in the zoo. I cracked the door a tiny bit and I peeked out the door to see if anyone was out there waiting for me. They were not. I could not see the waiting room, but everything seemed petty normal at the reception desk. I could not see my nurse, who I fully expected to see speaking with the receptionists. I had not seen her follow me out. I contemplated using the help button (those little strings and buttons they have in hospital washrooms) to get help and a dry pair of pants, but I thought this wasn't quite the emergency for which the button as created. After pacing about for a while, and building up my courage, and after several additional attempts to dry my pants with paper towel, I got ready to leave. I noticed that I had taken so long in my attempts to cover up my accident, that my bladder was almost full again (the rapid desperation really works!), and so before heading back to the ultrasound, I peed again, a large amount. Knowing that if I did not, I would be sent back to 'try again' and this would only increase the number of people that would see that I had had a spectacular accident in my pants. After it was clear that no one was coming to get me, and that I would have to chance the outside world in my wet pants. I put them back on, without my panties, which I balled up in my hand. And I opened the door. I don't remember looking around at anyone. Face burning, I walked purposefully down the hall, past the waiting room which had once again about 4-5 people in it, past the receptionist, down the dark hall and back to the room. The room was still dark, and the nurse was not there. Instead she entered just behind me, taking me a little off guard, while I was sticking my wet underwear into my bag. Not having time, I left them under my hoodie, which I had apparently left on a chair. I have no recollection of doing this however. She said something like: 'I saw you earlier but there were people before you.' A semi-apology for not seeing me sooner despite my clear desperate state. This made me blush, as I then knew she had been watching my desperate struggle in the waiting room. I apologized, but before I could say more, she pointed to the cupboard behind the chair where I left my bag and hoodie, and said: 'I got you something to wear, I wasn't sure your size so I have a small and a medium.' To which I apologized profusely and thank her for her thoughtfulness. I hadn't even thought about this. While I was cleaning up, she must have called someone, or gone and fetched a spare pair of pants for me to wear. Knowing that someone was thinking about my accident in this way now gets me very aroused, as this is not the usual reaction one gets from accidents, its more the reaction that you got when you were a child, where you parents were getting your backup pants out of the car while you cried in the washroom, oblivious. I was still shaking ever so slightly and felt warm all over. I noticed that she had also placed a reusable waterproof absorbent blue pad on the bum part of the bed. I was a little unsure of what would happen next, I was still standing there in my very wet pants. I didn't look like she was going to give me the chance to change into the scrubs which she had gotten for me. And I was invited to get back up on the table, still wearing my wet pants. I made some comment about miss-judging my fluids but she didn't say very much else, perhaps something comforting, but I don't recall, my face was so hot that I had ringing in my ears. I had forgotten to undo my pants, and fumbled with the button and zipper. She must have noticed the absence of my panties, which were not the low-riding kind, and the upper shaved portion of y mons. At that moment I realized what was more humiliating than having a technician see the waistband of your diaper... but rather knowing that your wet panties were balled up on the chair and that you had wet them. She put the warm jelly on my belly, which elicited a comment from me about how it was warm, and that I wasn't expecting that. I was so embarrassed I was babbling at this point, not a usual reaction for me, as I'm usually very shy and simply get quieter. She responded with something like yes. I also mentioned that I had peed a second time, because I had felt full again, and she said that this was good. She spent a long time on my bladder, and even longer on each of my kidney's. Compared to her first scan, she took a good 5 minutes (or so it seemed) on each kidney, probably longer. I didn't think the kidney's were going to be necessary, but perhaps in all the excitement she didn't notice that instruction, or perhaps my previous test the technician hadn't bothered. During this time I asked her whether she noticed anything, to which she said that the report would be made to me by my doctor and that she wasn't in a position to say anything. At this stage I was worried about my kidney's which were feeling a little tender. Something I told her as she prodded one for a good 5 minutes. I was still laying there in my wet pants, on each side and on my back while she ran the scan. When she was done, she once again wiped off the jelly and gave me a paper towel to wipe off any more. She told me we were all done and that I could change, and she got up to leave the room. I thanked her again for her thoughtfulness and then asked her her name, thanking her by name. I intended to remember what she said, but I can't for the life of me remember what her name was. I was in a daze. Ears and face burning. My entire body blushing. I stood there, having risen from the bed once I'd wiped off the jelly. I stood for a couple of moments to regain my composure. I couldn't believe what had happened. All the people who had seen me in my wet pants, my accident, everything. After a while I then set about changing. I took off my shoes and wet (and now cold) pants, and tried on the first pair of scrub pants, the smalls. These were too small, I probably could have worn them but then I would have been flashing a camel toe to the world, and it would have been a rather damp camel toe at that. Also it would have been painfully evident that I was not wearing panties. So I balled them up and left them on the absorbent mat on the bed, and tried on the medium. While doing so I noticed that the mat had two wet spots where the wetter part of my pants had rested on the bed while she ran the second round of tests. I rolled the waterproof mat back and saw that there was a somewhat bigger double wet patch on the sheets under this where my accident had clearly dripped through from the first round of the test. I had not forgotten about my spare pants in my bag, or even my spare panties in the ziplock baggie, but I decided against all of these. I was committed and being someone who had come not planning on having an accident, I felt like I should leave like someone who had had just that. After pulling on the scrubs I took a quick picture of this wet spot on the bed with my phone. I then made sure the pad was back in the middle of the bed, and slowly set about gathering my things. In addition to the two pairs of scrub pants there was also a cloth bag/pillow case which I wasn't sure what it was for. Perhaps to put all the wet things into after I left? I think in hindsight it could have perhaps been for my wet clothes, though this seems like the wrong thing for this (as a plastic bag would be better). I washed my hands in the little sink. I was careful to ball up my pants in such a way as to avoid getting my other things wet. I had forgotten to bring a plastic bag, despite all of my forethought. I had just completed putting on my shoes when the nurse returned, and she was clearly surprised to still see me there, and said something like "oh your still here" to which I responded "yes I was just packing up," and I thanked her again, and asked if there was anything else I needed to do. She said no, and then as if as an afterthought, she asked "would you like a bag for your things?" Which elicited further burning on my face. "No" I responded, "I'll be ok, thank you" holding up my already packed bag. She then went in to change up the room presumably. Now, in my scrubs, I walked back down the hall where I had previously sprinted, and tried to avoid looking at the receptionist and people waiting in the waiting room. I'm sure my protracted test had pushed a couple of them back a while, and that there were some desperate people in the waiting room, but I was not going to make eye contact with anyone. I carefully walked out of the unit, and out towards the exit of the hospital. I cycled home in the scrubs, which was chilly and they kept slipping down, likely revealing my butt crack to trailing cars. The results of my test would be discussed at my next consultation, or sooner if there were problems. I actually got a little lost on the way home, taking a wrong turn and having to back track. I was so distracted by the entire experience. I don't remember all of the ride home, but I got home and after stashing my wet things in the laundry (my fiancé is used to the occasional wet thing, though I usually do the laundry anyhow), I collapsed on my bed and had a blissful nap. I was completely exhausted from the whole thing. Now, thinking back, it was incredibly exciting. I've masturbated to components of the experiences and some of the emotions several times in the last while, and even thought about it during sex with my fiancé. The first time that I did, I almost cam immediately and my man was surprised that I came so fast (and probably a little proud). So there it was, all 17 pages of my most recent, very public, accident. Looking at the scrubs in my drawers still gets my heart racing.
  4. Kenny P.

    GRSYO-14

    Version 1.0.0

    618 downloads

    Zeus (G-History) - Sequel Heisei Omorashi Story 14 (SYO-14) “Behind the scenes” included.

    Free

  5. wolferine

    Magical Girl

    The main character for that interactive comic I want to write :p I just love nurse outfits I offer pieces like this for 30 USD via paypal/venmo/cash.me. PM me for commission details :->

    © wolferine 2019

  6. View File GRSYO-14 Zeus (G-History) - Sequel Heisei Omorashi Story 14 (SYO-14) “Behind the scenes” included. Submitter Kenny P. Submitted 02/26/2019 Category Desperation Clothing Skirt  
  7. Sapphire3619

    malefemale Lost Identity

    I know I won't have any time to write for at least the next 6 weeks, so I thought I'd rid my brain of another idea that's been floating around in there for while :) Happy Spring! *********** “The district attorney still hasn’t disclosed whether or not she intends to press charges against Preston Sinclair the Third for the events of April 29th,” the news anchor declared from behind the desk. “In addition to defacing public property and destruction of windows at the capitol building, Mr. Sinclair caused tens of thousands of dollars of damage to the hotel room where he and his friends were staying.” The well-coiffed anchor glanced down and lowered her voice, a standard move for indicating a change in tone from accusatory to tragic. “Of course, Mr. Sinclair, allegedly under the influence of cocaine, fell from the balcony of the hotel room later that night, plummeting five stories. Family members have been tight-lipped as to the extent of his injuries, even as he was released from the hospital last week after spending six weeks in intensive care. Insiders have speculated that the rumors of brain damage to Mr. Sinclair have contributed to the DA’s hesita-“ The TV shut off abruptly, and Preston looked up from his position on the couch to see Angel, one of his day-shift nurses, holding the remote and looking mildly annoyed. “You know your mom doesn’t like you watching that,” Angel said flatly. Preston blinked. “I was hoping they’d show more footage of me.” Angel set down the remote and walked around to the front of the couch. She didn’t respond; she didn’t particularly care. “It’s time for lunch,” she ordered. “The occupational therapist wants you to practice cutting your food.” Preston didn’t argue as Angel helped him slowly get to his feet. All his movements were slow these days. His broken bones had healed, all his stitches had been removed, and the swelling in his brain had gone down, but he was by no means “healed.” His muscles, atrophied from the weeks he spent unconscious and confined to a hospital bed, were sore and slow to respond. Fine motor skills took effort. He had little stamina; even the most basic of tasks could leave him fatigued. But the most disconcerting result of his fall was the amnesia, coupled with a near-complete change in personality. Though he more or less recognized his parents and the ostentatious penthouse where the all lived, Preston himself bore little resemblance to the arrogant party boy shown in shaky paparazzi videos on TV. That Preston was confident and condescending, selfish and destructive, often intoxicated, swearing, arms draped around scantily-clad women. That Preston was prone to enraged outbursts, blowing up at anyone who dared challenge his privilege and trust-fund enabled authority. Now, Preston was meek and obedient, quiet and confused. He could remember bits and pieces of events, but he just couldn’t grasp why he acted the way he had. Now, he had no desire to yell at people or break things. He was just tired. His doctors had said something about frontal lobe damage, but Preston didn’t really understand it all. People just kept saying they’d “have to wait and see.” His cognitive abilities seemed to be largely intact, but the holes in his memory and his inability to align the knowledge of who he used to be with how he felt now left Preston with a constant sense of disorientation, like he wasn’t sure how to act at any given moment. Most of the time, he just kept quiet and did what his nurses and therapists asked. Currently, that meant letting Angel walk him to the dining room for lunch. Angel was one of about a half-dozen nurses that cared for Preston at home. He didn’t know exactly how old she was, but he guessed she was close to his age – 25. She was strong, smart, and efficient, but not exactly warm or talkative. Part of him was grateful for the quiet time and lack of pitying attitudes when Angel was with him, but he got the impression that she didn’t particularly enjoy being there. That impression was accurate. Generally, Angel loved her job; she was a good nurse and took pride in providing complete, dependable care for people. She came well-recommended, and the Sinclairs were paying her more per week that she earned in a typical month. But Angel couldn’t stand Preston Sinclair. To her, Preston stood for everything wrong with the world. He hadn’t worked a day in his life, and he treated everything – people, places, things – as if it was expendable. He thought he was above the law, that the rules of civilized society didn’t apply to him. If he even knew what the rules of civilized society were in the first place. So Angel did what she was hired to do, and she did it well, but nothing more. She would not be friendly with Preston, and she certainly wouldn’t sympathize with him, no matter how different he seemed from the playboy frequently shown on TMZ. Speaking of playboys…Angel thought as she watched Preston methodically cut his salmon. “Remember, you have your friends coming over this afternoon,” she said blandly. “They should get here around 2.” Preston nodded, a brief look of worry flashing across his face. He hadn’t seen any of his friends since the accident. He vaguely remembered most of them, or at least recognized the recurring characters from the paparazzi footage, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to see them. What would they talk about? Would they be mad that he was acting differently? Not that he had much of a choice, or the energy to argue. His mom had decided a few days ago that Preston would “progress” better if he had more social interaction. Of course, most of Preston’s “friends” were as vapid and narcissistic as he was; they had no real interest in spending time with an invalid. But they were all friends because their parents ran in the same circles; sociopolitical obligations were invoked, phone calls were made, and a visit was arranged. In addition to insisting on the visit, Mrs. Sinclair had demanded some updates to Preston’s appearance. A barber had been called in to give him a haircut, and Angel was to supervise a shave before the guests arrived. So, after lunch, Angel guided Preston to his obscenely large bathroom and watched, carefully if disinterestedly, as he deliberately drew the razor over his uneven stubble. “Did you want to change?” Angel asked when Preston finished shaving. Preston looked down at his t-shirt and pajama pants. “What should I wear?” Angel stopped herself from rolling her eyes. “Your mom probably expects you to put on something a bit more appropriate for greeting guests,” she explained mildly. “What would you usually wear when you went out with friends?” Preston cringed as he thought of the crisp jeans and tailored shirts hanging in his closet. They all struck him as restrictive and uncomfortable. “I just want to wear sweats,” he mumbled, pouting slightly. “Fine,” Angel tried to keep her tone neutral. “But you might want to change your shirt. You got sauce on it from lunch.” Preston looked down again and saw the incriminating splotch. He might be able to get away with clean sweats, but his mom wouldn’t stand for sloppiness. He knew that much. In his bedroom, Preston glanced at the clocked as he pulled on a clean shirt; it was already 1:45. The simple acts of eating lunch, shaving, and changing clothes had taken him over an hour. Preston leaned against his dresser. Getting ready had drained him, and he still had to make it all the way across the penthouse to the parlor before his friends arrived. Before he even had time to finish his thought, Angel was next to him with his wheelchair. Though he could physically walk, the size of the home made travel exhausting, so his parents had purchased a top-of-the-line motorized wheelchair that could also be pushed, if Preston was too tired to even steer properly. “I think it’s best to get you situated in the parlor before your friends arrive,” Angel explained as Preston nestled himself in the chair. He didn’t say thank you; she didn’t expect it. In the parlor, Preston pushed out of the settled into the corner of the cream-colored love seat. It wasn’t particularly plush or comfortable, but it looked nice in the lavishly-decorated room. Angel pushed the wheelchair back into a corner, then grabbed a blanket to tuck around Preston. He curled his legs up next to him, giving himself a bit more support as he leaned into the arm of the couch. Thus positioned, he felt secure enough to sit and talk for however long his friends would stay. Satisfied that Preston was safe and comfortable, Angel took a seat in one of the leather wingback chairs on the side of the room. Right at the stroke of 2, Preston heard the sound of young voices come through the house. Moments later, three well-dressed 20-somethings strode into the parlor, chatting amongst themselves and looking somewhat less nervous than the situation seemed to call for. “Oh my God, Preston!” the girl squeaked, her manicured eyebrows raised. “You look so good!” The compliment didn’t exactly exude sincerity, but Preston felt himself relax at the sound of Jillian’s voice. Just like his mom had hoped, the presence of his friends triggered memories. Jillian was always unbelievable in her praise; everything was “amazing,” or “so cute.” “I look like shit, Jill,” Preston’s response seemed to come almost automatically, and the two men flanking Jillian relaxed visibly. “It’s about time you got some consequences, ya dumb shit,” the short one on the left laughed. Reggie, Preston thought. “You’ve been bulletproof for way too fucking long. You’re still the only one who hasn’t spent at least a night in jail!” “Right?” the last guest – Marcus - chimed in as the three flopped onto the opposing couch. “If any of the rest of us had done as much coke as you and jumped off a fucking balcony, we’d be dead!” Preston felt a slight twist in his gut at the blasé attitude of his peers toward the topics of jail and drugs, but he was already laughing. This is how they talked; this was normal. In the corner, Angel couldn’t help but sneer. Unwilling to actively listen to inane, oblivious chatter, she pulled a book off the shelf and started to read, periodically looking up to see if Preston was getting tired. On the love seat, Preston felt some of the tension in his shoulders dissipate. The banter among his friends was steady, if vapid, and they didn’t seem to expect him to say very much. Maybe he hadn’t been a big talker before, or maybe they just kept up their own pace of conversation, not wanting to bother adjusting to Preston’s lethargic thought process. After about a half hour of outlandish stories, with Preston mostly just listening, he felt a pressure in his abdomen. His attention drifted away from the conversation as he realized he had to pee. It was a bit of an odd feeling. In the hospital, he’d been catheterized while he was unconscious; then, when he woke up, the nurses were diligent about bringing him a urinal or bedpan every two hours. When he left the hospital, his in-home nurses kept up the same schedule. Every two hours, they helped him make his way to the bathroom. His liquid intake was carefully monitored, so he always ended up releasing his bladder without ever actually feeling a sense of urgency. Now, he took stock of his body and realized that his bladder was definitely kind of full. Thinking back, he remembered that he’d drunk more than usual at lunch and, in the sluggish hustle to shave and get dressed, he hadn’t actually stopped to use the bathroom. Preston shifted in his seat, adjusting into a position that pressed his thighs closer together. A high-pitched peal of laughter from Jillian drew his focus back to the people sitting across from him. Reggie was in the middle of some tale involving a breached zoo enclosure. Marcus was laughing so hard, his face was red, and Jillian was giggling flirtatiously, petting Reggie’s shoulder. “…and then, my man Sinclair talks it all out with the security guard!” Reggie yelped, to howls of laughter from Marcus and Jillian. “The penguin was in distress, sir, we just had to help him!” Preston found himself grinning at the memory. “Gotta know your audience, bro,” he smirked. “All zoo workers are gonna care about the animals’ safety.” Marcus shook his head in awe, apparently still seeing Preston as the Teflon-skinned, smooth-talking lord of the city. Preston sat up a bit straighter, soaking in the admiration. Then his bladder surged, and Preston hunched forward, his moment of self-assured glee melting into anxiety. He couldn’t just excuse himself, not now. His friends were here, and they were treating him like nothing was wrong. Hell, they were treating him like a fucking prince. It felt good, having people act like they knew who he was and what he would do. It helped counteract the confusion and unease of the past few weeks. They weren’t terrible people after all; they were just young and confident, and he was their leader. Surely, with the way they believed in him, he could change their course of behavior. They could still have fun without hurting people and destroying things. So he couldn’t ruin those beliefs by interrupting the conversation to have Angel take him to use the bathroom. They’d see just how broken he was, and they wouldn’t want to stick around, and he wouldn’t be able to use their companionship to pull himself back to the land of the living. He’d just have to wait. But waiting was hard. The sphincter was just like any other muscle, and he hadn’t had a chance to exercise it by holding back his urine for over a month and a half. His control grew more tenuous, and the semblance of confidence he’d felt disappeared completely. In only fifteen minutes, he was barely paying attention to the discussion. He pressed his legs together, but he didn’t dare hold himself in front of his friends. Jillian, Reggie, and Marcus didn’t seem to notice that Preston had ceased contributing to the conversation altogether, but Preston was too distressed to be grateful for their ignorance. He wasn’t even sure that his bladder was all that full; he just couldn’t control what was there. He tried to clench his muscles, but they weren’t responding. It was like trying to hold onto a beach ball with two pool noodles. From the side of the room, Angel was staring at her charge. He hadn’t spoken in over 15 minutes, and he looked strained. He was still sitting up OK, but she wondered if he was getting tired. She’d probably have to kick his visitors out soon. Soon wasn’t going to be enough for Preston. With a soft whine that got lost in the still-raucous chatter, he started to lose control. A tiny yet steady trickle of liquid slipped from his bladder, gradually dampening his pants. Preston’s lower lip started to tremble. Just minutes ago, he’d felt normal, almost happy, and now, he was quietly having an accident. His friends, who had been smiling at him like nothing had ever gone wrong, were now gabbing to each other, oblivious to the fact that their charismatic former chief was sitting across from them at this very moment, wetting on himself under the blanket. The sounds of his friends’ voices seemed to fade into white noise as Preston tried with all his might to stop urinating. He kept the leak to a minimum, but couldn’t stop halt it entirely. He curled his legs up tightly next to him, and his face started to crumple visibly. Angel couldn’t see the stain creeped down Preston’s lap under the blanket, but she saw his eyebrows draw together and the corners of his mouth turn down. It looked like he was about to cry. Angel sighed softly; she supposed she couldn’t expect full emotional control from a young man so immediately removed from such a serious set of injuries. He was probably just tired, and, like a toddler, getting pouty. Setting down her book, Angel rose from her chair and cleared her throat. Preston looked up, startled, but Jillian, Reggie, and Marcus were still talking animatedly. “Beg pardon,” Angel raised her voice enough to resonate through the large room. Reggie stopped mid-sentence and stared at Angel, having only just realized that she was in the room. Angel ignored the bemused gazes. “Preston needs to rest,” she said bluntly. “So you’ll have to continue your conversation another time.” Panting slightly, Preston wasn’t even upset at Angel’s condescending dismissal. Anything was better than them knowing the real problem. Renewed by the prospect of being alone, Preston tightened his pelvic muscles again and finally cut off the dripping urine. “Of course,” Jillian simpered, getting to her feet. She smiled beatifically at Preston. “You’re doing so great. Get some rest, and I’m sure you’ll be back out with us in no time!” Reggie rolled his eyes conspiratorially at Preston, as if Angel couldn’t see. “Glad you’ve got such…devoted care, bro,” he smirked. “Better do what she says.” And with that, they all turned and walked out. Sitting around and talking had never been their thing, anyway. At least not while sober. Angel refrained from sticking her tongue out at the backs of the retreating guests, then turned back toward Preston. “Do you want to-“ But she cut off abruptly when she faced Preston. He’d shoved his hands under the blanket and was holding himself tightly. “Oh,” she said lightly. “I guess you have to pee. Let’s go, then.” Preston shook his head stubbornly, whining. He clutched dick, desperately trying to keep the rest of the urine inside. Angel set her mouth firmly. “Don’t whine, Preston. I know you’re tired, but we have to get you to the bathroom, now come on.” She snatched the blanket away, revealing the wet stain on Preston’s sweats. “Oh,” Angel repeated, stunned. “You already went.” Preston shook his head again and raised his eyes, pleading. Realization dawning, Angel sighed deeply. “OK,” she said, her tone slightly more encouraging. “We’ll get you to the bathroom to finish. Can you walk?” “Mmmm,” Preston dissented, frowning more deeply. Angel clenched her jaw, trying not to get too irritated. “Then let’s get you in your chair.” “No,” Preston whined, his eyes filling with tears. “I won’t make it.” He’d started to leak again, and he knew he wouldn’t survive the move to his chair and trip to the bathroom without losing it completely. The wheelchair was so fancy and expensive; he didn’t want to ruin it. Angel was losing patience. “So you just want to go on the couch, then?” she grumbled. “Nooooo,” Preston moaned, his whole body trembling. “The couch…I can’t…”He felt more miserable than ever. He was about to make a mess of his parents’ expensive couch or his expensive wheelchair, and Angel had to make his friends leave, all because he couldn’t even hold his bladder for a few hours. Angel rolled her eyes so hard it hurt. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph…” she growled. Stepping forward, she seized Preston under his arms and hauled him to his feet. Preston yelped as he felt the leaks turn into a flood. Urine started to spill copiously down his thighs as Angel dragged him, stumbling, off the plush carpet and onto the hardwood floor. “There,” Angel sighed, bracing herself against Preston’s back. “Now you’re not ruining your chair or the couch.” Preston let out a deep sob, overcome with both shame and relief. Hot liquid streamed down his legs, pooling on the floor beneath his feet. He sagged against Angel, weak from the mental and physical exertion of the past half hour. After a minute, the patter of urine on wood stopped. “All done?” Angel asked. Preston hummed a wordless noise of assent, and Angel adjusted her stance. She tried to gather her thoughts. It’s not that she’d never had patients wet themselves – or worse – before, but holding up a 25-year-old man so he had an accident over the hardwood floor instead of the multi-thousand-dollar love seat was definitely new. “I’ll go get some towels,” she declared. “We’ll put one on your chair so you won’t get it wet, then I’ll take you to the bathroom to get cleaned up. Can you stand here?” She straightened Preston and turned him around to face her. He nodded, dazed, which was enough for Angel. Grabbing towels from the linen closet, Angel felt a tiny pang of guilt. Yes, Preston should have just told her he needed to use the restroom, but she had forgotten to take him after lunch. She reminded herself that head injuries could be tricky; just because Preston could have an obnoxious conversation with his even-more-obnoxious friends didn’t mean that all of his mental and emotional abilities were operating a full strength. She returned to the parlor to find Preston on his knees in his puddle. He stared up at her, a bewildered look on his face, as if he still couldn’t process what he’d done. Angel calmly arranged towels on the wheelchair before pushing over to Preston. She dropped another towel on the floor to cover most of the mess, then eased Preston into the chair. He didn’t say a word as she wheeled him back across the house to his bathroom. He already had an obscenely large shower, complete with marble bench, so the only adjustment needed had been the addition of a hand-held shower head. Angel turned on the tap, then hesitated. She’d never bathed Preston before; that was the evening nurse’s job. “Preston? Do you need help getting undressed?” Preston nodded, his face still a blank mask. Angel gently helped him peel off his shirt and soaked pants, then guided him under the warm shower. Preston plopped onto the bench, head hanging. Angel carefully, professionally wiped him down, cleaning the urine from between his legs before giving him a final rinse. Clutching the towel around him, Preston remained silent while Angel wheeled him back to his room. It wasn’t even 3:30 in the afternoon, but he felt like he could sleep for hours, a feeling amplified by the pajama pants that Angel helped him into. “Preston?” Angel called, getting his attention. “My shift is over soon. I need to make sure you’re going to be OK. Are you? Is there anything I need to tell Petra when she gets here?” Preston opened his mouth slightly and blinked at Angel. “Preston,” Angel repeated, more softly. “How are you feeling? Are you hurt? Are you feeling ill?” “No,” Preston whispered finally. “OK,” Angel nodded encouragingly. “I’m going to have to write up my notes, you know that right?” Preston nodded. He just wanted to sleep. Angel sighed. She never expected any profound self-awareness or introspection from Preston to begin with, and she certainly wasn’t going to get any in his current state. “Very well, Mr. Sinclair. I’m going to go get my notebook and do my paperwork in here while you rest until Petra arrives. I’ll be right back.” Preston nodded, and Angel turned to leave. He laid down on his bed, thinking that he’d probably be asleep before she got back. He felt bad that she’d had to clean up after him; she’d been very nice about it. Very kind, given the circumstances… “Thank you,” Preston murmured, closing his eyes, but Angel was already too far away to hear.
  8. Oops! I did it again! *shrugs* (yes, i had to start off with Britney Spear's song title...don't judge me! >_>) Now onto the business, I wasn't planning on doing this at first when I got back from my grandma's house, but since I was chatting on Skype with a friend of mines from this forum some how they talked me into it! D: that sly dog... lol but they did help me with this ^^ so consider this as a welcome back present - from me! (it was their idea) :D and converted the file from AVI to WMV so everyone can look at it with no problems (i think) Wetting in Nurse's outfit.wmv
  9. Version

    398 downloads

    Japanese nurse wets herself carrying heavy medical books.

    Free

  10. Cathyva

    Some Fc captures II

    Version

    4,223 downloads

    In follow-up of the tremendous work Rachel did with the upload of the "Recent Fc2 captures", downloaded some vids from http://omorashi.blog.jp/archives/ Starting from March 29 till April 8. Different situations as usual, desparation followed by wettings, deliberate wettings, skirts, knicker bikini wettings, masturbation/frottage; schoolgirls, nurses, maids, ladies next door.... Some old ones, certainly some new...

    Free

  11. File Name: Some Fc captures II File Submitter: Cathyva File Submitted: 13 Apr 2015 File Category: Female Wetting In follow-up of the tremendous work Rachel did with the upload of the "Recent Fc2 captures", downloaded some vids from http://omorashi.blog.jp/archives/ Starting from March 29 till April 8. Different situations as usual, desparation followed by wettings, deliberate wettings, skirts, knicker bikini wettings, masturbation/frottage; schoolgirls, nurses, maids, ladies next door.... Some old ones, certainly some new... Click here to download this file
  12. As most of you will know by now, I’ve had a recent resurgence of my overactive bladder (OAB) over the past few months. As a result, I’ve been having significantly more accidents than normal. For the past three years, any wetting accidents (other than ones planned and for fun), have been largely limited to: Stress leaks, as a result of big sneezes, working out hard, jumping and landing too hard, all on a full or mostly full bladder. I’ve had these all my life and they are entirely manageable, as I can pretty much predict them and take countermeasures. For example, I’ll wear a pad all the time during that one month in Vancouver when I’m suddenly allergic to something in the air and suffer from lots of sneezes. If I’m going for a jog, I always wear black running shorts (or tights) which conceal accidents and leaks very effectively, and if I’m doing some serious impact stuff (and lazy Rachel hasn’t for a while now), then I’ll pop a pad in my panties. I’m also going to invest in a cute running skirt, as this will cover up leaks even better and I loved a tennis skirt I recently got to wear and wet for a customer. Despite these measures I do have the occasional unpredicted leak, caused by a hearty laugh, an unexpected impact, sneeze or that sort of thing. Fortunately, unless my bladder is bursting, these accidents typically only result in a large wet spot on my panties, which seldom shows through my clothes. I’ve learned to live with these very occasional occurrences by always packing a spare pair of panties in a Ziploc baggie in my purse, and not getting in the habit of wandering about, far from washrooms, with a super full bladder. I can still trigger one of these accidents, rather easily it would appear (given the fun I’ve been having with pads lately), and they are pretty similar. I should point out that on a super full bladder, the accident can be more serious, as I have difficulty stopping once I start, and once triggered by a stressor, my bladder can release a decent amount when full. Fortunately I’ve not had one of these accident in many year (though I came close on Black Friday…) Very rare bedwetting incidents. Prior to November, I had maybe two or three of these a year and they were all triggered by my going to bed with a pretty full bladder after drinking wine (or other booze). I’ve been adulting a lot lately, and not had occasions to do a lot of heavy student-like drinking, and as a result, my bed (and husband) were keeping dry. Even when I had been drinking, I would almost always put on protection before going to bed (almost always a Goodnite) and if I was too forgone to remember, my loving husband would often help me out. Up until November, these were the only issues I had to worry about, and they were not serious. However, in November, I wet the bed, on a random and non-party night, and then started getting more OAB symptoms. These included more wet nights, even after countermeasures (like reducing fluids, double voiding, avoiding some foods and that sort of thing), as well as some key-in-latch leaks and more serious accidents, and surprise urges that would cause me to need to rush to the bathroom ‘right now!’ some of which have resulted in those key-in-latch accidents. I grew up with these symptoms, and am very familiar with them. Growing up, we tried all sorts of things, so many that I won’t go into the list. I also think my mind fetishized wetting and diapers as a partial coping mechanism, though I’m sure there’s some more complicated psychology going on behind the scenes as well. Nothing much worked, apart from one medication, which I only used when I was travelling due to uncomfortable side effects, and which only really reduced the size of my night time accidents and the number of random urges I’ll got during the day. Then, when I was just graduating as an undergraduate, a new treatment emerged, which uses Botox injections into the overactive bladder muscles, thereby calming them down (to use totally non-technical terms). Well, we tried this, and after a really uncomfortable and embarrassing procedure, and a couple of weeks, it worked! I can’t say how happy I was! I went off to grad school, lost my virginity, slept over with boys, travelled around the world, had my heart broken, got married, and all sorts of things. Things I would have never done if I’d been wetting the bed each night, and having daytime urge issues. Well, the treatment is only expected to last 3 years or so. The Botox only calms the muscles down for so long. Well more than three years ago, I was in the early stages of my relationship with my husband (who was then my like 4th boyfriend), and the symptoms came back. I won’t rehash what happened, as it’s covered here (First diaper cuddle), but to summarize, Rachel had to make the decision to either come out to her boyfriend and tell him about her bedwetting issues, or find a new boyfriend (or more likely be single until I could get another treatment). Well Rachel gritted her teeth and steeled her strength, and spent her first night laying next to her now husband, wearing a diaper. Anyhow that was well over three years ago, and I was getting happy with having a pretty typical bladder again (a very high number of women have some stress incontinence issues, so even this is pretty typical). November, though I should have been expecting it, kind of came as a surprise. Because I know the deal by now, I scheduled an appointment with my urologist after my 3rd wet night. Since my unexpected wet night, I’ve wet the bed at least twice a week, and over the past two weeks, I’ve been wet three to four times. I’ve been wearing Goodnites to bed every night, and these have been keeping my bed (and husband) dry. The new Goodnites will hold an entire Rachel bladder, unless she is bursting, in which case, they leak a tiny amount, but these little spots are almost always dry by morning. I’ve been doing all the necessary lifestyle stuff I mentioned before bed as well. During the day I’ve re-established my using the bathroom ‘just in case’ policy more often, and in the most recent weeks, I’ve been wearing pads regularly. As a result, I’ve had few serious daytime incidents, though I have had a good number of leaks necessitating panty changes and pad replacements, and a few bigger accidents (which I’ll tell you about, or already have). This is also a little annoying because I’ve been selling my used panties to customers and not all of them want panties which have been peed in, accidents have required me to wash the panties and start wearing them all over again. All of this hasn’t stopped me from enjoying my fetish, and as I’m using them more often, I’ve been on a bit of a pad binge lately. I’ve kind of been enjoying wearing protection to bed and cuddling the hubby. It’s winter and often chilly at night, and cuddling in a diaper is a lovely feeling. Waking up wet it much less enjoyable, but the Goodnite makes it as manageable as possible. Oh and on a random note, I’ve also been leaking a lot more during sex, meaning that we’ve been going through a decent amount of towels on a good week. So this has been the past two months for me, and the OAB issues have been getting gradually a little worse, despite the precautions I’ve been taking. I’ve been waiting for my urologist appointment for quite some time, and it’s the first step I need to take in order to get a referral for the Botox treatment. The waiting list to see my urologist is longer than the list to get the Botox treatment, so my hope has been to get the old bladder working before the end of February. In anticipation of the appointment, I’ve been keeping a voiding diary (and actually I’ve been using an App on my phone, which is more geared towards kids, but kinda fun. DryDawn lets me print off reports for my urologist and is kinda cute). Well this past Friday I finally went in to see my urologist. Now in the past, when I was visiting my urologist more often, I would often experiment, just a little. In the UK my urologist would make you do a flow test and ultrasound every appointment, even if they were only 3 months apart, so I started experimenting a little. This included wearing a diaper to one appointment, and even ‘planning’ an accident at another. It is wrong to include others non-consensually in your kink, but I felt like in this case it wasn’t the same, as these were things I would actually do normally. For example, the ‘planned ultrasound accident’ was really a recreation of a real accident I had had at an appointment when I was in high school. I don’t see my Canadian urologist nearly as often, and so the redundant ultrasounds and flow tests don’t happen. I considered planning another accident, as I recall the emotions associated with this accident a lot still when I’m masturbating and they very often push me over the edge. But I have already done this, and besides, due to the increased inconvenience of my recent wettings, and the rarity with which I see my urologist, I felt like this might be a distraction. Also, given my current bladder situation, I don’t think I could hold nearly as much liquid, and I would almost certainly lose control of the situation very quickly. So this urologist appointment was going to be all business, or mostly business. Leading up to the appointment I was concerned about leaks and real accidents. To do an ultrasound (and flow test) you are asked to arrive with a ‘comfortably full bladder.’ Now because, as I’ve noted above, a full bladder puts me at considerable risk of having a real accident when my OAB symptoms kick in, I struggled to come up with just what a ‘comfortably full bladder’ would feel like for me. These days, a full bladder might be physically comfortable, but leave me super nervous about accidents. I settled on the solution of wearing protection to the appointment, and to add a little thrill to the experience, I would wear a Goodnite, rather than a more mature-looking Always or Depends pullup, or a more discreet pad. Now I’ve worn protection to numerous appointments in the past. My history of having real accidents when wandering about with a full bladder, or when a doctor pressed a freezing cold ultrasound wand on my distended bladder, has taught me to do this. In the past I’ve worn bulky incontinence pads to appointments, and these have often necessitated changing afterwards. One I have worn a Goodnite to an appointment, and the technician did not bat an eyelid at them when they pulled down the front of my pants to do the ultrasound. But this was only once, and my heart was pounding the whole time. So, for Friday’s appointment, I decided that once again, I would wear a Goodnite to the appointment, and see what happened. I woke up wet and therefore started my day with a shower. So in preparation for the 1:40 appointment I kept well hydrated all morning and used the washroom several times. My morning two mugs of green tea went through me like a flood. I printed off my voiding diary and bladder stats, and checked some emails. At 11 am I got ready to leave, the appointment was across town and required some complicated use of buses and the Skytrain, and I didn’t want to arrive late. My plan was to arrive early and read a book in a nearby café before heading over to the office. Before I left, I changed out of the PJs I was wearing around the house, and into one of the owl-print Goodnites I love so much. Overtop I pulled a pair of my Little Mermaid boy-short panties (my cute green ones). I typically always wear panties overtop of diapers when I’m wearing out in public, this makes changing easier as you can just tear off the Goodnite, and also cuts down on noise. The panty waistband can also offer some added discretion if the panties are sufficiently large. I then pulled on a pair of light jeans. If I did have an accident, the Goodnites would almost certainly catch everything, however they leaked, I didn’t want to make things easier for me. I put a tank top over my bra, buttoned up a blouse and put on a nice jumper over top. I put on some makeup and grabbed my book, purse and phone, and headed out into the world around 11:30. Not bad prep time actually ;) I did have pads and my usual spare pair of panties in my purse, but did not bring a larger bag with say a change of pants. I used the washroom right before leaving the house, as I’d filled up during my preparations. I brought a small water bottle and some snacks as well. I therefore left the house in my Goodnite, I was filled with mixed and complicated emotions. I read my book in transit and was acutely aware of the diaper I was wearing. I’ve worn out in public tons of times, both for fun and out of need. Sometimes this seems like a normal thing and I quickly almost forget about the protection I’m wearing. Other times I’ll we aware of it all the time, and worry about leaks or peeks. Today, given what was going to transpire in the early afternoon, I was very aware of the protection I was wearing and made sure my larger jumper covered the waistband of my jeans when I moved about. The transit gods smiled on me, and I arrived at the general vicinity of the urologist’s office with lots of time to spare, it was about 1 pm when I arrived, and so I headed over to a small independent café across the street and ordered a large tea. My water bottle was empty at this point and I could feel myself filling up. I was at about a 4 on the old desperation scale; the point where I was comfortable, and would likely not use the washroom just in case, unless I was about to depart on a long car ride, or that sort of thing. I settled down and read my book for half an hour. At about 1:20 pm, I felt like I was would not be full enough for the appointment, and since I’d already finished my tea, I had a glass of water and I filled my water bottle from the water jug as well. I downed this, and was feeling to be about a 6 or a 7 when I got up at 1:30 pm and wandered over to the office to check in. Now the reason I didn’t fill up to the point of jumping about and/or needing to hold myself, was that despite the fact that I was schedule for 1:40 pm, I’ve almost never been to an appointment with a urologist that wasn’t running behind. It has something to do with the tests they do and other factors, but they never seem to be on time. My UK clinic had a sign that said “if your appointment is 45 minutes late, see the nurses at the front,” largely because people are regularly arriving with full bladders and 45 minutes was a typical, albeit horribly long, wait for the office. I signed in and the friendly woman at the front desk, who was about my age, maybe a little older, but who was wearing far too much makeup, confirmed my address, and asked me if I needed to pee. It’s always a little embarrassing to have a stranger ask you this, and I must have blushed a little because she broke eye contact, but I confirmed that yes, I did have to go. “We are running about 15 minutes late, will you be ok?” she asked. I thought about it for a little bit, but given my current situation, another 15 or 20 minutes seemed reasonable. I was feeling a little brave as well, and I thought downing my water bottle over this time as well. I confirmed that I would be ok, still blushing, and she directed me to take a seat. The waiting room was small and cramped. It constituted about 8 chairs around a small alcove (three on each side and two on the back), with a table strewn with magazines, OAB leaflets, and other brochures. There was a sad looking fake plant in the corner, and a water cooler near the entrance with little paper cups. The alcove is off to the right when you come in the entrance of the office, but no immediately to the right, this is the washroom, marked with a generic sign. The nurses/receptionist desk is off to the left with a hall leading into the examination rooms beside it. The reception desk is not too far from the waiting alcove and I nervously thought that everyone in the waiting room could hear our conversation, despite my hushed tone. I took off my jacket and grabbed a seat between two people. I looked around the waiting room, and there were a number of other people there. I don’t really recall all the details, but it was sufficiently crowded that I needed to take a seat between two people. I chose the seat in the corner on the right hand side, next to the sad-looking plant. To my left was an elderly woman sitting next to an elderly man. I assumed they were a couple, as they exchanged quiet words from time to time. To my right was a 40-something woman with who I assume was her daughter of 13 or 14 sitting beside her. Sitting across from me was an older man, maybe in his 50s or 60s, who was sitting in the middle of the three seats on this side. I felt more comfortable sitting between the two women. Walking in I smiled awkwardly at the other people in the waiting room but didn’t get much of a response. The young girl was playing on her phone (or some device), her mother was reading a magazine. The man across from me was sitting there waiting quietly, and the couple to my left were similarly waiting, though every so often one of them would explore the materials on the table. Everyone looked relatively relaxed, and by this I mean no one was sitting on their heel, bouncing up and down, or holding themselves. I opened my bag and removed my book, and continued reading. Every so often I would look up, distracted by a movement from a fellow patient. I deduced that the woman in the couple next to me was likely the patient, and that her husband was there for support. It was also not hard to deduce that the young girl was the patient brought by her mother (as otherwise she would have been in school). I commiserated with her, as I’ve been in her exact place before. I continued to read but was becoming increasingly full. Again feeling a little exhibitionistic, I decided that I would play at being a little more desperate than I actually was. I crossed my legs, and wiggled my foot. After about 5 minutes a woman in a long coat walked out from the examination room hallway, exchanged a few words with the woman at the reception, and headed out. A few minutes later a female nurse in her 40s walked out and spoke with the receptionist, and then called a name. The older man across from me stood up and followed her inside. I was now at about an 8 on the desperation scale and beginning to worry, just a little. It was a only 1:45pm, but given the number of people in the waiting room, I was expecting a longer than 15 minute wait. I was most worried about having a bladder spasm, as I was pretty sure I could last at least another 20 minutes without too much difficulty, and perhaps longer if need be, but if my bladder decided to send me an urge spasm, I was at the point now where I would likely only barely make it to the nearby washroom, if at all. I was also super nervous, my heart was pounding in time with my jiggling foot, and I noticed I wasn’t making much progress on my book. I bookmarked my spot, and decided to abandon my reading. I squeezed my legs together more tightly, and reminded myself that I was wearing reliable protection, and that I could always get up and ask to use the washroom ‘to relieve pressure’ if I absolutely had to. But this didn’t quite comfort me, I suppose my intentional desperate body language was tricking my brain into thinking I was more desperate than I was. The young girl tugged on her mother’s sleeve and whispered something in her ear, and her mother responded quietly back. The older couple sat in amiable silence. And I sat there, legs tightly twisted together, jiggling my foot desperately. This tableau continued for some time, until about 1:55pm (I checked my phone), when a different middle-aged female nurse came out and called another name. This time the older couple got up, and, after taking some time gathering their things, they followed the nurse in. As the waiting room emptied, I could feel eyes on me. I looked up and could see the receptionist looking my way, inquisitively. Glancing about I also briefly saw the eyes of the young girl staring at me, before they were quickly averted. I was still at about an 8.5 but my desperation was increasing significantly. I had to decide if I was going to hold myself or sit on my heel. I opted for holding myself, because if I did have a leak while sitting on my heel there was a very good chance that the Goodnite might leak. I carefully uncrossed my legs and keeping them tightly squeezed together. I was no longer play-acting desperate body language, I was honestly desperate. It was 2:00 pm and my appointment was nowhere in sight. I moved my purse to my lap to provide cover, and once it was there, I carefully moved my hand underneath and pressed two fingers between my legs. All the while, I could not keep my foot from jiggling. At about this time, another patient came in through the office door and checked in with the receptionist. This time it was an older man, probably in his 60s, and after speaking with the receptionist, he moved to assume the spot across from me. He smiled as he came into the waiting area, and made some comment about the weather. The woman and her daughter ignored him and had another whispered exchange. As a result, I felt like the comment was directed at me and that social pressure dictate that I respond (I was no longer reading after all). Not wanting to be rude, but also not wanting to have a lengthy conversation, lest my desperation be audible in the sound of my voice, I gave a non-committal answer. He tried for conversation a second time, and this time cheerfully asked something like: “You been here before?” I wasn’t going to escape from this conversation that easily, and so, hand still surreptitiously holding myself under my purse, I made light conversation, or tried to. My foot was wiggling uncontrollably now, and I my legs were shaking a little. I responded something like “Yes, this is my first time to this doctor.” This is a new urologist for me, I’m relatively new to the city and I’ve usually gone to a clinic near our flat when I need medication or for general checkups. I went there in November to get a referral to a urologist, it’s really hard to find a family doctor in Vancouver, but the local clinic knows me pretty well. I feel more comfortable once I’ve had the same doctor a couple of times, I am always embarrassed by raised eye brows and probing questions from new doctors reading my file for the first time. The older man was giving off the vibe of someone who does not quite pick up on subtle social cues, like the curt answer I had just delivered, or perhaps he was super desperate and talking took his mind off of it. Either way, he pressed on. “I’m here because of the old prostate, never been to this kinda doctor before.” I’ve tried to capture his friendly but colloquial manner, also this is sort of an approximation of the conversation, it’s surprisingly hard to remember things when you are bursting. “So your first time too then.” He finished, which was not quite a question. I felt compelled to answer him, rather than give a non-committal ‘uh huh,’ but also not wanting to give this man my life story coupled with my medical history. “No, I’ve had a number of doctors, this is just my first time here.” I clarified. Now don’t forget, I was edging towards a 9 on the desperation scale, though I was still holding on at an 8.5, my hand offering whatever support it could between my legs, hopefully shielded from view by my purse. The padding of the combination of my jeans and the diaper I was wearing made my two fingers not as effective as if I’d been wearing a thin dress… or if my hand were inside my Goodnite. Unfortunately this would have been wildly inappropriate, but a girl can dream. At the edge of my vision I could see the girl and her mother exchanging more whispers. I was very preoccupied with my own situation, but I think I could see clear signs of desperation in the girl. “Oh,” he intoned, perhaps now picking up on my flat disengaging tone. But no, he pressed on. Who makes idle conversation in a doctors waiting room? “You been waiting long?” He asked, thankfully steering the conversation in another direction. “Um,” using this opportunity to press my thighs together more closely, which was hard given that my legs were shaking. I know that sitting sort of hunched over in this fashion is not the most effective way to hold your pee when you are super desperate, but it was the only position I could take given the type of chairs and my need to hold myself. Checking my phone required an awkward one armed maneuver into my purse. I looked at my phone and it said 2:08 pm. “Um not too long, maybe half an hour.” I replied vaguely, slipping my phone back into my bag. Fool! I should have pretended to check a message or something to escape the conversation. “Oh, that long huh? Well, you look like you need to go badly.” He observed in a tone that implied that he commiserated with my situation. I could feel my face burn as I blushed crimson. I was horrified. He must have noticed, as he let the conversation thankfully trail off at this point. I was pretty desperate, and I’m sure it was rather obvious, but there is something utterly embarrassing about a stranger noticing and pointing out these signs. I had the fleeting desire to deny the need to go, like a child caught holding themselves and bouncing about might do when confronted by an adult and asked if the needed to go. But I was too embarrassed, and still thinking clearly used this awkward moment to try to extricate myself from the conversation. At this point the girl whispered something else to her mother, who stood up, and made her way to the receptionist, where she asked a question. Probably the question we were all wondering. The receptionist responded in a voice that carried over into the waiting room, something along the lines of “It should not be much longer, no more than 10 minutes.” And then she said something else in a quieter tone and had a short, hushed conversation with the woman. My mind did some quick math and thinking. So 15 minutes, who did that apply to? Was it the estimate for the young girl and mother, and who was first? If I was first, and the receptionist was predicting 15 minutes, then I was likely going to be seen right away. But if they were going to be seen first, then did I have to wait another 20 to 25 minutes? How many technicians were they operating? If it was just one then it might take longer. If it was two, then surely I’d be seen shortly. My mind raced and this was nice, as it sort of took my mind off my growing desperation. I did take a moment to contemplate just going in my Goodnite, this was one of the reasons I had chosen to wear it, in case there were delays, in case I had a bad urge and couldn’t make it to the washroom on time, and also for the little thrill of wearing it in a situation where it would be seen. But I also was not sure about my ability to stop after having initiated a flow. And while the new Goodnites are pretty good and do hold almost a full Rachel bladder, I definitely had a full Rachel bladder at this point. It would likely leak. Plus sitting down makes leaks unpredictable. Not only this, but you are supposed to have a full bladder for these tests, and if I emptied my bladder into the diaper (or in the washroom literally next to me), I would have to wait for it to refill. Yes, there was the option of trying to half empty my bladder in either the toilet or my Goodnite, but I really didn’t think I could stop the flow mid-way through, it would be more like at the last quarter if I was luck. While all this was racing through my head, the man, perhaps realizing his social faux pas was rummaging around on the table for a magazine, and the mother and daughter were exchanging words in very hushed tones. I didn’t catch much at all, only a few snippets. But after a few more words, the girl handed her phone to her mother and walked around the corner to the washroom. I’m pretty sure I know what had been discussed. Clinics will always let you use the washroom if you are desperate to go, and they ask you to just release a little, to remove the pressure. As I was just discussing, this isn’t really an option available to me, but it is very common. Worst case of course you empty your whole bladder and then have to sit there for however long it takes to refill it using the little paper cups from the water cooler. It was 2:11 pm. With only three of us in the waiting area, and my inclination leaning towards jumping in the loo as soon as the girl returned, I finally spotted the first nurse walking to the receptionist. They spoke very briefly and there was a point. Then I heard my name. “Kirwan? Kirwan?” I pulled my hand out from between my legs and jumped up. This was perhaps ill-advised as it sent shocks of desperation through my abdomen. I hurried over, forgetting my jacket in the waiting room. “Yes, that’s me.” I gasped. “Ready?” Ask the kindly looking nurse. Like I mentioned, she was in her 40s, and had long black hair. She was a little over weight, but in a way that indicated that she’d likely had a couple of children. I nodded vigorously, and followed her down the hall. She made small talk as we walked. “Sorry we were running a little late… Would you like to use the washroom before we do the ultrasound? Just to let off a little pressure?” She asked kindly. “Better not,” I replied. Walking seemed to have reduced my acute desperation for the time being, and I felt like I had settled in to an 8.5. And then, feeling like some explanation was needed, and blushing a little, I added “It’s hard for me to stop once I get going.” “Oh that’s ok, we’ll be super quick.” She replied. “That’s the washroom for after.” She gestured towards a clearly marked door on our right. “And we will be in here.” She gestured to a room almost across the hall from the washroom to the left. The hallway continued along a ways and I noticed other doors and trolleys and baskets along the sides of the hallway out of the corner of my eye as we turned into the room. “So you’ve done this before?” The nurse asked. For some reason the rooms where they do ultrasounds always seem darker than they should, it’s a little strange. Anyhow, I was in no condition to observe the room too closely. The abatement to my desperation due to walking was gone, and I was at a 9. It wasn’t a ‘the pee is coming now’ kind of 9, but it was certainly a ‘you need to find a washroom in the next two minutes or it’s going to happen’ kind of 9. I concentrated hard on controlling my bladder. “Yeah, a couple of times.” I replied, almost not hearing her answer. “You can put your purse here if you like,” said the nurse, helpfully gesturing to a couple of chairs to the right of the door. I did so, and then hurried to the table. Knowing the process by this point, I undid the top button of my jeans. I lay on my back and rolled up my tops, revealing my naked belly. “Ok, so I’ll only scan your bladder now, then you can use the washroom, it’s all set up for your flow test. When you come back, I’ll scan for residual and do your kidneys, sound good?” She asked, while rolling the ultrasound machine over to the side of the table. “I really have to go.” I admitted a little panicky, and blushing just a little. For some reasons it’s easier to tell a medical practitioner these things, rather than say a random guy. “Don’t worry I’ll be quick.” She replied. “Would you mind undoing those a little?” She gestured towards my jeans. While I had undone the button, I had no touched the fly at all. They need to scan your full bladder for these kinds of ultrasounds, and this usually involves them having to pull down the waistband of your trousers. I am fully aware of this, having done a dozen or so ultrasounds in my day, and as I mentioned, would almost always wear a pad to these tests, and a pair of panties which look dignified, so not my adorable little mermaid panties. Today I had broken both of these practices, and was wearing green Little Mermaid panties overtop of a Goodnite. Not quite caring at this point, but also getting a secret exhibitionistic rush, I undid my fly, and pulled it all the way down. And for good measure (and to avoid getting the ultrasound goo on my jeans), I shimmied my pants down a little, wiggling my bum. In so doing I revealed the top inch of the waistband of the Goodnites, and the top portion of my panties. The Little Mermaid emblem is on the bum of the panties, so this was not visible, and they would appear to the casual observing nurse, to be a normal pair of green panties. My desperation was a powerful all-consuming force at this point, and I considered just releasing. Wetting a Goodnite while laying on your back is one of the safer positions in which to flood it. It is when you lay on your side that you have to worry about leaks. I decided to hold on until after the test, as I could make it, if it happened now. The nurse pulled out a piece of thin paper and, pulling the waistband of my diaper and panties down a little ways, tucked it in, she tucked in a second piece of paper next to it. “This will keep your …” She paused, and then quickly re-phrased, “This will stop the gel from getting on your clothes.” I was blushing in the low light of the room. My heart was pounding and I could feel my adrenaline rising. This was that exquisite exhibitionistic thrill suffuses my body in panicky energy. My diaper was obvious. She has clearly seen the upper purple waistband of the Goodnite, and had been about to say something like ‘keep your underwear or clothes dry’ or something like that, but had quickly stopped herself. I was not imagining things. I couldn’t help but close my eyes for a moment. And I only opened them when I felt the warm gel being rubbed all over my belly. I remember when the gel was cold, but at some point in my lifetime of bladder issues, a genius had added a gel warmer to the ultrasound trolley. I, and probably millions of women (and men) are thankful for this, I’m sure. The nurse pressed the want into my bulging bladder. It was clearly visible protruding right above the thin paper, which covered my Goodnite, a round softball, crying out for release. I watched her move the wand around my belly, looking at the screen to her left as she did so. She pressed firmly with the wand, and I could not resist letting out a little gasp. Did I let out a few drops as well? I wasn’t sure. “It’s ok, almost done.” She intoned, sensing my growing desperation. The wand moved about over my stretched skin. Over and around my bulging bladder. The pressure from the wand was considerable, and pushed me into the 9.5-10 level of desperation. I don’t know if others have shared this experience with me, but at this point, when your body is ready to override you mental commands and release your bladder, you sometimes have difficulty actually peeing? Well this was what happened to me now. I felt an acute sharpness in my bladder and then, in a millisecond of panic, I relaxed my sphincter mentally. But it did not respond right away. It was as if it wanted to take some sort of victory lap after the impressive accomplishment of keeping me from an accident for so long. “All done.” The nurse said, whipping the gel off my belly with a scratchy piece of paper towel. As she removed the two pieces of paper from my waistband, I could feel a tiny amount of pee escaping into the Goodnite. Not a spurt, but a steady flow, only it was very thin, as though all of the effort in holding back my pee had really tightened up my urethra, turning my normal wide flow into a thin jet. I gasped a little, or moaned, I’m not sure which, but I made some kind of vocalization, and I’m not sure if it gave away my predicament. “Ok, I’ll get the commode set up for your flow test, can you wait another few seconds?” She ask. “I just need to push on button.” She added, moving over to the door and opened it. Had she closed it when we came in? She must have, but I didn’t remember. I didn’t bother to do up my button or pull down my sweater. I was tempted to hold myself to provide a final bit of support as I made my way to the toilet, now within my view. But I held off, this would only make pulling down my bottoms all the more difficult. Instead, I used one of my hands to hold my pants up, and followed her out across the hall into the washroom. All the while my bladder slowly released. She fiddled with the buttons attached to the commode for what seemed like ages, though it was probably only a second or two. The commodes that they use for these kinds of flow tests are like normal toilets with raised seats. Inside the toilet bowl is a sensor which detects how fast your flow is, and if there are any disruptions or that sort of thing. As I stepped into the washroom and with the toilet in sight I could feel the flow of pee jetting into my Goodnite widen just a little bit. Could I almost make out a faint hiss of pee hitting the material of the diaper? I was standing there staring at the toilet, my way barred by a friendly and helpful nurse. I blushing furiously, thinking she could hear me peeing myself. Stopping was not an option at this point. Though the flow seemed to be slower than normal. I still felt like my urethra was narrower than normal – letting out a thinner-than-normal jet of pee, though a jet of pee none the less. I was also thinking feverishly; trying to decide whether I should pull down everything, and risk getting my jeans wet, or whether I should just worry about the jeans and panties and fishing sitting on the toilet in my Goodnites, with the toilet catching the overflow (because this Goodnite was going to over flow, I could just feel it). I decided, and felt around with the fingers of each of my hands, feeling for the waistband of my panties. The toilet beeped. “Ok, all set,” The nurse stepped away from the toilet. Only a couple of seconds had passed. I was at the toilet in an instant. Still freely peeing into my Goodnite, in a fluid motion I pulled my jeans and underwear down, turned, and plunked myself down on the toilet. My body released and I flooded the Goodnite, suffusing my labia a hot wetness. “Come back over when you are done.” The nurse intoned from the door of the washroom. When she said this I was jarred from my reverie of relief and looked up to see her standing at the bathroom door. In my haste to get onto the toilet, I’d forgotten about privacy. I’d not given her time to exit the washroom before I yanked down my jeans and panties. She quickly turned and closed the door behind her. I was awash in emotions: The sense of blissful relief resulting from finally getting to pee. Pride, in having held on for so long, and for having made what I think was a good choice about not pulling down the pullup. And horrifying embarrassment at having pulled down my pants in front of the nurse, magnified because I had done so wearing a cute owl print Goodnite diaper. My heart was pounding as though I’d just done wind sprints or stairs, and my system was suffused with adrenaline. My original plan had been to get a little thrill of excitement from having a stranger see the waistband of my Goodnites, and also the fun of public desperation in a safe setting. I had not planned for the nurse to see my entire diapered bottom half, or to release right before reaching the washroom. I suppose if I’d thought through my plan, and given the current behaviour of my bladder these past few months, that a key-in-latch leak was likely, but I suppose I underplayed this. Or slightly miscalculated my fluids. Or the wait was longer than I had planned. Maybe I should have tried to release while back in the waiting room. That felt like hours ago. I could hear the tinkling sound of pee overflowing the Goodnite and dripping into the toilet. I reached down and pulled down on the gusset to allow pee to escape there. The tinkle was replaced with a brief fwoosh, and then resumed, as pee simply rolled off the Goodnites gusset and into the toilet. If I don’t do this, the seal of the gathers on the new Goodnites is so good that sometimes the pee will overflow up the back or up the front and escape along the upper sides of the absorbent section or even the top (if I’m laying down for example). I was not keen on getting my cloths wet, or having to wipe down the floor. The pee was warm against my fingers. I could hear the hiss of my pee as it overwhelmed the diaper. It is hard to recall just how long I peed for, given the strange stilted start, but it was certainly a good minute, probably a little longer. As I was finishing, I was rocked with another wave of panic. Remember a few moments ago when I had a vague sense of pride at having correctly decided that I should leave the Goodnites up to protect my clothes? Well I had forgotten that I was supposed to be doing a flow test. The whole reason the nurse had been in the washroom at all was to turn the machine one. Despite the fact that a decent amount of pee was dripping into the toilet from the overwhelmed Goodnite, I was not doing the test correctly. Most of the pee, had been absorbed into the Goodnite. At this point I was pretty overwhelmed by everything and gave a couple of large panicky breaths. I worked at calming myself down, still sitting on the toilet wearing the bloated and wet Goodnite. I hastily tore the sides of the Goodnite and carefully pulled it up the front. If you let the front flop down, it risks spilling unabsorbed pee everywhere, and I had not come this far to get my panties and jeans (still around my ankles) wet. Some additional pee dripped into the commode. I rolled the wet diaper up and put it on the ground beside me. It dripped a little. I reached for the toilet paper and carefully wiped and dried myself. This took several wads. I also used one to wipe my eyes. At some point a couple of tears had escaped. My heart was still pounding, and I was almost shaking from the adrenalin. Fully dry, I pulled up my panties and jeans, did them up, and then picked up the wet Goodnite and deposited it in the garbage which had been just out of reach when I was sitting on the toilet. Heavy with pee, it sunk into the paper towel there. I washed my hands and added another few flowers of paper on top of it. I wet down a wad of paper towel with cool water and held it over my face to cool it, as it felt like it was on fire. There was a knock. “Everything ok?” I heard the nurse inquire through the door. “Yes, thank you” I stammered, my voice breaking. I heard a shuffling on the other side, and moved to lock the door. I then spent a couple of minutes composing myself and taking deep breaths. I looked around the washroom finally. Apart from the usual stuff, there was the commode, and beside it a urinal. The top of the commode had a panel with buttons and a piece of paper, that looked a lot like a receipt from the grocery story, had been spit out. I’ve seen these before. The machine spits out a paper copy of your flow. I asked one of my old urologists about the purpose of the flow test many exams ago, and the answer is that they are looking for irregularities. People with prostate issues will start and stop and create peaks and valleys on the sheet. Those with trouble starting will have a certain kind of line. I looked at my sheet of paper, and saw a couple of little bumps and then a big hump, followed by a low and bumpy line. This would be wholly useless as a diagnostic tool for my urologist, not that I’ve ever had issues with flow. I wasn’t concerned about the diagnostic implications of what had happened, but I still could not think of a way to explain it to the nurse without dying of embarrassment. I had been in the washroom for about 8 minutes when I realized that I had filled up a little. In the past, when I’ve done these tests, if they test you and find that you still have more than a couple of mils of residual they ask for you to try again. Hoping to avoid this, I pulled my jeans and panties back down and peed for another dribbling ten seconds on the commode. I wiped and washed my hands. I knew I could not remain in the washroom for much longer without worrying the nurse, and still with no idea about what I would say, I took the little piece of paper with further evidence of my shame, unlocked the bathroom door, and walked across the hall to the ultrasound room. I saw the nurse down the hall as I did so. It looked as though she was talking to the receptionist. I entered the empty room and sat in the chair next to my purse. I heard the nurse walking down the hall, arrive at the intersection of the examination room and washroom and turn into the washroom. She moved around in there for a short while and then returned to the examination room. “Everything ok?” She inquired, even toned and professional but with a hint of genuine concern. “I… Um…” I was still not sure exactly how to explain what had happened. And opening my mouth didn’t seem to help. She quickly saved me the trouble by interrupting my stammering. “Don’t worry, the flow test isn’t necessary, it’s ok.” The nurse said comfortingly, reaching down and removing the piece of paper which I was clutching between two fingers. “I can take this.” I was grateful that she had cut me off before I began to explain. I’m still not exactly sure what I would have said. However, her cutting me off in this way indicated to me that she knew exactly what had happened (or close enough to it), having seen the first part and extrapolated. “All right, let’s scan you now that you are empty, can you hop back up on the table please?” She asked politely in a chipper tone. I stood up, a little apprehensive and once again undid my jeans button. I also unzipped them and shimmied them down a little before I crawled back up on the examination table. In case it wasn’t obvious to her before, it was clear that I had wet my Goodnite, or at least removed it. This time she slipped the two pieces of thin paper underneath the waistband of my panties, and went about slathering on the ultrasound gel. I made eye contact with her for a minute and she smiled politely and reassuringly, as only a good professional nurse can do. The second part of the test took considerably longer than the first part. She once again scanned my bladder, saying something like, “Good, residual is only Xmls.” Feeling like I had to chime in at this point, I gathered up my courage and added “I used the toilet a second time.” Though I could have provided more detail, I couldn’t bring myself to. “Oh that’s good,” she replied. I was then instructed to roll onto each of my sides so that she could scan each of my kidneys. She was very thorough. I lay there, heart still pounding but slowing a little, as she rolled the wet gel-covered ultrasound probe over my lower body. The kidney scan takes considerably longer, as they always look for issues and stones and the like, and I was grateful that this was (and typically is) done after you’ve had the chance to empty your bladder. She finished and wiped the gel off my sides. “Ok, I’ll just put all of this in your file and show you to the consultation room, Dr. Y will be with your shortly.” She informed me. The test over, I sat up from the bed, and hopped off. I pulled up and then did up my jeans, and went over to the chair by the door where I had deposited my purse. While I was doing this the nurse jotted some notes down in my file, and then stapled the little slip of paper from my ‘failed’ flow test into the coloured folder. I waited politely by the down, face downcast for a few moments while she completed her notes. She then got up from the little wheelie stool that she had been sitting on in order to do the test, and headed out of the room. “Just this way.” I followed her out and to the left down the hall. We turned once and then she showed me into a typical consultation room. “Just have a seat and Dr. Y will be with you shortly.” She informed me again, smiling at me kindly. I opted to sit in one of the chairs in the room, rather than the examination table, as I wasn’t expecting any kind of medical exam at this point. This was generally the part of the appointment where I simply talk to the doctor. In the past, when my doctor was familiar with my case and myself they would ask about my progress or success with a different medication we were trying, or an update. As this was a new doctor, I was expecting to have to rehash my medical (and more bladder) history with them. I had brought notes as I tend to forget the names of the different medications I’ve tried and significant dates and the like, and I had also brought my voiding diary (printed off from the helpful App.). I won’t recount the 20 minute consultation I had with the urologist, as I’ve actually rehashed most of my relevant medical history above, but I’ll add that the nurse and doctor did have a muted conversation just outside of earshot down the hallway before the doctor came in, and this made me blush a little. I was a little flustered all the same and the 10 minutes wait for the urologist to come to see me only permitted me to regain my composure to an extent. I was glad that I had brought my notes. Apart from a surprise question about UTIs which got me a little flustered for reasons I won’t go into, the conversation was pretty typical. I’m please to say that the urologist did give me a referral for another round of Botox treatment, and I am just waiting for this appointment, it should be in early March. I’ll report back on how this goes for those who are interested. After I got my referral, as well as a repeat of some advice about lifestyle changes I could make to reduce my symptoms, and a prescription for the medication I will occasionally take to reduce my symptoms further, the doctor walked me out into the reception area. I thanked them and smiled awkwardly at the receptionist whose expression I could not read, and I headed towards the door. Just as I was about to leave the receptionist called my name. “Ms. Kirwan?” She called after me. I froze, one hand on the door, not sure what would happen next. “Is that your coat?” She asked. I turned around and did an awkward arm gesture, in which I suppose I was feeling for the coat I was not wearing, realized I did not have it, walked back to the waiting room, and found my coast still on the back of my chair where I had left it hours(?) ago. I retrieved it, not really paying any attention to the three people in the waiting too, except to notice that the man and the woman and her child were no longer there. I thanked the receptionist, slipped into my jacket, and beat a retreat back to the SkyTrain. Outside the office I texted my husband to let him know that everything had gone ok, neglecting to tell him about some, or rather most, of the actual things that transpired at the urologists office. I think sending him this much writing in a single text might challenge his appreciation for smart phone technology, and well while I’m open about my medical issues and kinks with him, this isn’t exactly something I think either of us are comfortable discussing. I decided to treat myself to some food, as I’d not had much before the appointment. I found a nice place nearby, and as I worked my way through some sushi, my heart rate reached a normal rate. The complicated maelstrom of emotions associated with these kinds of embarrassing incidents began to roil inside of me. It would take a while for me to process all the emotions from today’s misadventure, to isolate the exciting ones from the terrifying ones. But what was clear was that I had some writing to do when I got home. Thanks for sticking out to the end of this, I realize that 17 pages is actually quite a lot of writing to tell a story that could have been told in a couple of paragraphs, but I suppose that it is cathartic to write this stuff down. I’ve got a whole folder of experiences I’ve had, with half-completed one dominating at this point, and it’s interesting to go through them and re-read some of the strange, embarrassing, funny, and exciting things I’ve got up to. Stay tuned for another update. Hugs, Rach
  13. SpectorIncognito250

    female A Nurse's Accident

    (Note: This contains both wetting and messing.) Nurse Candace went to work today with a very upset stomach. At a stunning age of twenty, she approaches her desk with a folder full of papers which were then left with one of the main doctors. She then pulled up a chair and sat her cute little butt in it. As she sat down, though, she could feel her stomach churn...a lot. "What did I eat this morning?" she grumbled, holding her stomach. "And why did it wait until now, of all times, to act like this?" The churning stopped for a bit as a young boy, appearing about age sixteen, was coming into the room for a checkup. His parents left outside to handle a few errands. As the nurse had began the examination, her stomach began to churn again, this time where it could be heard more clearly. The boy couldn't help but notice her sudden movements. "What's wrong?" the boy asks. "I-It's nothing," the nurse responded. "I just ate something really nasty, that's all." "Well, just let me know if you're gonna throw up or something, okay?" Nodding, Nurse Candace resumed her examination disregarding her churning stomach. Fortunately for both her and the boy, the churning didn't seem to be going up at all. In fact, the churning was actually going down to her bowels. In a quick jolt, she stood up and pressed her hands on her butt. The boy stares at her as if she is having a bad cramp. As she is desperately trying to hold in her bowels, it started to fill up at a fast and powerful rate, to where she just couldn't hold it in anymore. She ended up releasing a very loud fart and shooting a massive brown torrent into her white panties with red hearts all over them. The stream poured down her backside onto the floor. Thankfully, none of it got onto her uniform, which was a dark pink one-piece dress. The mess on the floor was as if someone had poured a thermos of coffee onto it. "Did...Did you just...?" "Don't tell anyone, okay?" the nurse asked as she feels her bowels churn again. Not taking any chamces, she jerks up her dress to where her heart-patterned panties were in clear view of anyone who stares at her. She lets out more loud juicy farts as she shot out another brown torrent into the already-stained and soiled panties. Fortunately, the messing couldn't be seen in the front, which was in the boy's direct sight. But then she ended up releasing another torrent into her panties, which this time, was clearer and more obvious. The assault continued for another twenty seconds, then it died out. Despite seeing the nurse had completely wet and soil herself, the boy couldn't help but stare at her curvy thighs, instead. Getting the advantage, the nurse sticks a needle into his arm. After the boy had left, the nurse took off her panties and slung it into the sink to clean it. She, of course, cleaned herself, as well...right after taking a whiz standing up into the toilet. Surprisingly, her stream was very sprinkly, like a fountain. (A request from a friend I met once. ;) )
  14. ehr100

    At the Doctors

    Sue and her husband Steve have a visit to the doctor. Sue had been feeling poorly with this bug. It affected her throat and chest and she had a bit of cough. She decided after a few days she could not shift it so she went to the doctors for an examination. As they were a lot of patients with the same symptoms the doctors office was inundated,so a late afternoon appointment was the only one available. She booked in and asked if you would drive her to the doctors as she was so unwell to drive herself. So you accompany her to the waiting room for her to await her appointment. Sue had checked in and there was a couple left waiting for their appointments. As Sue sat down she started to fidget a little as though she needed the toilet. She was hesitant that she would wait until after the appointment or when she got home,as she could be called in to the examination room at any moment. The last patient to be seen had just left the room and Sue was called into Doctor Jones exam room. The only people now left in the building was the doctor,the receptionist,you and Sue. The receptionist was the doctors wife and she was very amply built. Her tits were on the large side and a very sexy body showing off a little of her bosom cleavage. When Sue was called in, the receptionist called you to the desk to help fill in some paperwork on behalf of Sue. They were just updating the records to go onto a new computer system. The receptionist handed you some papers to fill in and you sat back down to do so. Meanwhile Sue had entered the exam room and told the doctor the symptoms. Of course he already knew there was an influx of the big outbreak and had administered some powerful medicine which the patients had claimed worked by the time the appointment was over. Diane remarked how is that possible when she had been taking medicine for days and her throat was not even better. The doctor said well I have some special liquid which if you want can be used immediately. He said that the special medicine was made on the premises and if she would be willing to accept not to disclose any of the formula to anyone outside. Sue agreed. As you were filling in the forms you heard a moan coming from the direction of the reception. You went to investigate secretly and noticed that the receptionist was watching porn on the computer and the sound was on fairly quiet. You thought she was updating records on the computer but she had other ideas. As you peered around the corner of the wall you saw her playing with herself and feeling up her body. This in turn made you rub your groin through your trousers. She had one had rubbing her big tits and one in her panties touching herself. There was a distinct slow moan as she started sliding her fingers into that big juicy hairy cunt of hers. This was just too much for you as you adore hairy cunts,and so in turn you unzipped your trousers and pulled out that willy. It grew as you continued to play and produce a little precum. Her hairy cunt had given her so much room to insert at least 3 fingers in there. You could clearly see how wet she was getting. Her knickers were soon off and she squeezed those big tits together which caused her to show her big red bra she was wearing. If only she knew that you were wanking over her from around the corner of that wall. In the doctors office Sue had now led down on the couch. The doctor was going to prescribe his special medicine but she was feeling anxious of this medicine as whether it would work or be dangerous. The doctor reassured Suethat she had nothing to worry about and he could see she was nervous so told her to relax on the couch. As she led there the doctor put his hands on her midribs. Sue is a prim and proper lady and wore a nice dress which showed her big tits under the material. As the doctor moved his hands around her clothed body he could see the outline of Sue's pert nipples. As he loved big tits (and of course his receptionist wife) he admired looking at them even more. He told Sue to drop her top of the dress down as he wanted to put on his steposcope on her chest to check her breathing. She did as she was told and then as the coolness of the steposcope was put on, she let out a bit of a yelp. The doctor remarked that it was cold. She explained to the doctor that the extreme coolness of the steposcope had made her yelp for a reason. Her desire to go to the toilet was then brought to her attention as she had slightly peed her knickers. The doctor was unaware of Sue's need to relieve herself so he carried on checking. As he moved down he asked Sue to cough. This she did and more pee escaped in her pants. But this time she had the urge to stop before she flooded the place. She told the doctor that her bladder pressure had increased and needed to go to the toilet immediately. The doctor stopped. By now your cock was growing so much that you soaked the end with so much precum it was dripping. You bent down and put your trousers back up and went to sit back down in the waiting room. Just as you sat down the receptionist called you to see if you had finished the paperwork. You had done and took them too her, By now the porn had been turned off and she had redressed the top half of her uniform. However she left her knickers off and they were on the floor just in your view of sight. As she was at the the computer she quickly got a glimpse of your bulge in your trousers and noticed the zip was undone. She thanked you for handing over the forms and you were about to walk back to sit down. Mr Nixon she said did you enjoy watching me, I saw you wanking your willy. I have a mirror in here where I saw you masturbating. You were so embarrased that even before you had the chance to answer she stood up and opened her robe exposing those huge tits and big hairy cunt. So again Mr Smith did you enjoy watching. If so to show your apprecaition drop your trousers for me. But what about my wife-she will be back in a moment. As Sue got off the couch she stood up and as she did immediately buckled to her knees. The doctor helped her to get back on her feet and as she got up she put her hand on her crotch and started to hold herself. So sorry doctor she said but I may not be able to make the toilets. Doctor replied thats alright I understand Mrs Smith just hold on for a second I will see if I have a receptacle for you to go in. But it was too late for that as she hiked up her skirt and pulled her knickers to one side and let her hairy cunt slip open to release her jet of piss. It was so forcefull it flooded a pool on the doctors floor. Sue just stood there and piss was everywhere. She peed for over a minute so must have been holding back a lot. I am sorry doctor Sue said. Mrs Smith it is perfectly alright I am a doctor and I do see a lot of personal incidents and accidents,so please don't apologise, and just lay back on the couch when you are comfortable. I will clear it up later the doctor replied. Sue cleaned up her cunt and led back down while the doctor had buzzed through to reception for the special medicine. Of course there was no answer at first,so buzzed through about 30 seconds later. He said he would be back soon but still remain on the couch. the doctor left the room. The receptionist was now out of her little office and in the waiting room as she showed you her massive tits and started to stroke your little cock. You were just sat there in the waiting room with your trousers down to your ankles and your hands touching her lovely tits and playing with her hairy cunt. She wanked you so hard that she now wanted to suck you. Her mouth was so powerful over that willy you almost came, but you held back. With your eyes closed and head bobbing up and down neither of you had noticed the doctor in the room. He just stood there and watched for a minute or two, then he started rubbing himself. This was such a turn on for him as his wife receptionist was always seducing patients and those in the waiting room at the end of the dayshift. You were so enjoying her sucking when all of a sudden in her mouth you expelled and shot your cum. She took your load in her mouth, but did not swallow. When you opened you eyes you were shocked to see the doctor wanking himself off and felt embarrassed that you forgot to ask about your wife. He was not angry at all. The receptionist still with your cum in her mouth went back to her desk and had a glass tube. She spat it out all in the tube. The doctor then thanked me. what for you asked. Well Mr Smith a lot of patients have come through here in the past few days with this bug. They have left here feeling a lot better and indeed the medicine I administered worked. And thanks to you Mr Smith you have now contributed to the special formula we make here at the practice. Your cum along with everyone my wife has sucked today and for a few days have been saved up in this glass tube. We mix all the cum in the tube from various men and also mine and my wifes urine in there. With that mixture I then administer the medicine to the patient. Your wife has not recieved hers yet so I have to go back to her. Please Mr Smith you must never tell anyone outside this practice about this medicine and especially not to your wife. In return I will let you fuck my wife anytime you want. With that the doctor excused himself. Apologies for the delay Mrs Smith, I just had to go and make up the formula for this special medicine of mine. I want you to know Mrs Smith that you will instantly feel a lot better when you drink this mixture. It should have no side effects unlike other medicine and must all be drank down. You should not require any further but if you do you must take it here in the practice. It is not available outside of here. The doctor showed Sue the tube which was yellow/white from all the piss and cum. This is the medicine that will cure you Mrs Smith, It may not be everyones sweet taste but you must drink it all. I will now pour some in the glass for you. While the doctor had gone in the other room, the receptionist was going to mix some of that new formula and wanted you to watch. She got herself a bucket and stood over it semi naked. Before your wife comes out I am going to let you see my piss coming out through my hairy cunt and into the bucket. And with that a powerful jet of piss left her cunt lips. After she finished she handed me a calling card with her address on. She said give me a call and as my husband told you for donating your spunk you can fuck me. And we keep our promises. I have fucked lots of our patients both male and female and they love giving something back to their community doctors practice. Thank you again Mr Smith, your wife will be out soon. The glass had been poured and the piss and cum mixture looked very cloudy. Please drink this down Mrs Smith and feel better. Sue took the glass and although it looked disgusting like any medicine does. She drank it all. Unknown to her she had just drunk the doctors and the doctors wife's piss and countless members of the public sperm. All this swimming inside of her as a piss/cum cocktail. Thank you doctor, Sue replied, very odd taste but yes I feel better. With that she apologised once again for her pee accident and left. After you two had left the building, both the doctor and his wife cleaned up Sue's piss. But not the usual way of cleaning up,they drank it from the floor. So now Sue's pee was going to be part of the next submission of this new medicine,when both of them piss it out of their system.
  15. rachelkirwan

    3- 2000 Nurse 3

    Version

    254 downloads

    Nurse eating her sushi lunch outside and then has an unfortunate accident!

    Free

  16. File Name: Giga Teen Omorashi 12 File Submitter: rachelkirwan File Submitted: 13 Feb 2012 File Category: Videos / Movies / Clips This is a gem I found, 5 little scenes over an hour long! Enjoy! Click here to download this file
  17. From the album: OverFlo207 - 2015

    They never give Helm any visiting hours, and they keep her under strict surveillance. Once in a blue moon they’ll let her chat with us online, but she never wants to answer any diaper-related questions I ask. Bottom line, if I ever want to meet her in person, I’ll have to break into the asylum…they’ll probably taser my doggy-ass, but it will be worth it to see the girl I fantasize about at night. The door flies open, I dash past security, and my heart skips a beat once I finally feast my perverted eyes on her. The position she’s in…c-could it be??? The ever-growing lump on the back of her diaper tells me full well what she is doing; and the strong aroma in the room, I will never forget it. Oh if I could just hold that diaper in my paws, as it swells up with yellows and browns...I didn’t even care that an electric current was new surging through my body, causing me to lose control of my bowels. The nurse stands over my fidgeting body, I get one glance up the pretty furry nurse’s skirt, and then I black out. ”Damnit! I forgot to change you, Helm, I’m sorry.” The nurse says. “You must’ve been sitting in that stinky thing all night.” Helm is an OC by Carotte, and I luv'em both!
  18. You can see many way of omorashi. drunk omorashi.flv nurse.flv お漏らし道楽.flv hold.flv
  19. View File ABS 75 - A.B. Clinic 2 - The Sequel Submitter dprdcj Submitted 07/20/2014 Category Female Diaper Play & Wetting  
  20. DarkPhantom

    female Nurse Wetting Herself

    An odd request from SpectorIncognito250 of his character Nurse Erin from his story "A Nurse's Accident."
  21. anvil526

    female Nurse Desperation

    Actually not original CG. I just modified a bit. That's why her urine is too much...
  22. amandalu862

    The Patient

    The clinic was new to the town and it was certainly welcomed since the old clinic shut down. The single doctor and nurse were strangers to the town's population but since it was the only medical facility around, they had to visit it for any illness. It was summer time and the town's star pupil, Charlotte Seager, started coughing a lot. "You better take leave and visit the clinic,", her head teacher commented. "I'm...*coughh*, ah *cough*...fine," she stammered. Charlotte or Charlie loved school and did want to miss her maths and history lessons. "You're certainly not. He's a day pass, go and if need to, rest at home tomorrow," the teacher replied. Half-grumbling, half coughing, she packed her bags and exited the school grounds. The sun outside was brightly shining and that was exactly helping the sick 16 year old. Thankfully, Charlie had changed to socks instead of nylon tights. But as she walked to the bus stop, the heat of the day grew and made he cougher even more. The bus ride was no comfort since there was a lack of fans or air-conditioning and it was a rather rickety bus. Finally, after another few more minutes in the heat, she was inside the clinic. "Do you have an appointment dear?" The bespectacled grey haired nurse behind the counter asked. "*Cough*...no," Charlie replied. "Oh do fill this form up. And there's a water fountain over there. You look like you'll need it." After scribbling her particulars, the teenager thankfully drained three cups of water down, which did sooth her throat. Sitting down, she noticed that there were several patients in front of her. It's one of those logn waits she thought, and picked up a magazine. After a few minutes, Charlie felt that her bladder was signalling. "Uhm, nurse, is there a ladies in this building?" "Outside, turn left but I believe it's under repair today. Some leaky pipe." The signal from her bladder grew so Charlotte exited anyway, and indeed found the door to the unisex loo locked. "Open, damnit!" she cried as her bladder's pressure grew. Returning to the waiting area, she asked, "Nurse, is there any other toilet here or nearby?" "No, sorry. I thought you have a sore throat?" "Yeah," Charlotte replied hoarsely then coughed. "But I really have to..." She didn't want to say the word, especially not with the other patients around. "I'm sorry, I do think Dr. Shaw won't be much longer. Just sit down." Shaking her head Charlotte did and crossed her legs and squeezed her eyes. Damn it, hold bladder hold. But why would she suddenly need to pee? It wasn't that much longer. After what seemed like eternity, the other patients were cleared and the nurse called her named. Charlotte literally ran into the room to find a rather young doctor. "Good afternoon, Charlotte?" he read off his folder. "I'm Dr. Charles Shaw. Please take a seat." She did so, again crossing her legs tightly with the increasing pressure from her bladder. "Your throat is given you problems I believe," he continued. "Could you open wide?" She did so and squeezed her eyes shut as he flashed a light and prodded around. Oh please, please, someone stop this torture! Give me a toilet now! "Hmmm, that is really a nasty throat. I'll have to prescribe a heavy dose of anti-bio.." Just as he was talking, Charlotte couldn't bear it any more and shot up from the chair. "Doctor, I need to...." Suddenly her bladder emptied itself, a larger shot immediately staining her translucent blue knickers and spilling onto the ground. "OH MY GOSH!" she exclaimed with her hoarse voice. "Oh m..,," she was lost for words. Doctor Shaw clam walk over and said, "It's ok dear, why don’t you head over to the bed over there?" Her face red with embarrassment, Charlotte proceeded to but her bladder gave way again, with another dribble. "What...what's happening to me?" "Nurse Jane? Could you close reception and bring the mop?" The Doctor called. Turning to his patient, he asked, "have you had any bladder infections recently?" "No...I," she coughed and felt another short drop of urine. This is a nightmare. "I don't know what's happening to me?!" "Well, female bladder problems aren't uncommon with teenagers," he commented, and that didn't ease her worry. Just then the nurse came and saw the mess of the floor. She immediately began to mop but Charlie could only turn redder with embarrassment. "Doctor, I really..." suddenly she peed again, this time onto the bed. "What's happening to me?!!! Why...." "Relax, Charlotte," Dr. Shaw said, motioning her to roll over and placed a thick towel underneath. "Could you remove your skirt and underwear for me?" Already bright red, Charlotte did so and instinctively cover her private part. The doctor walked ovr to a cabinet and extracted several items. "I can't tell exactly what's happening Charlotte, “ he said, "but I can give you something to stop it temporarily." A minute later, he was by her side, holding a filled syringe in his arms. "What...what's that?" "It's an antidiuretic," he replied, and she racked her brains, remembering reading the term in one of her advanced biology textbooks. "It will moderate your urine production for a while." Oh. "Now, Can you place your hands by your side? Won't hurt." Contrary to his description, the injection did. Then he used another syringe to extract a sample of her blood. "Now,” he continued, "that's temporary and I took your blood for further testing. Meanwhile, I suggest you should be given protection." "Protection?" Charlie queried, shifted in the bed. "Well, the drug will wear off after a few minutes and it is not recommended to give another dose, especially for someone your age. So you need to wear continence underwear to catch further leaking." It was then she saw what he had extracted out of the cabinet. "A NAPPY?!" "If you want to call it that," he continued in his calm voice. "Now, could you spread..." "No, no way I'm going to wear that...." she croaked, starting to move off the bed. "I'm..." "You certainly won't be going home with that stained knickers and skirt young lady," he pointed, "This is so silly. Let me...." "I say you have about eight or so minutes before you start wetting again. Now back on the bed." Charlotte's head was spinning and suddenly she felt a bit dizzy. "Back on the bed," she heard him say again. For some reason, she didn't want to but somehow she found herself flat again. "Nurse, please hold her still," he said then she heard a whirling sound. "What...." "I need to shave you," he said, "if not the urine and briefs will create rash." "Noo..." she croaked but the elderly nurse held her down and she felt the metallic blades again her area. After a few minutes, she was released, only to be rolled over to have a mat replace the towel and then something slide underneath. "Ow...Ow...OW!!!" she cried, as she felt a creamy cold substance between her legs. "It's to again guard again rash," the doctor commented, glancing at his watch. "Two minutes." She then realised what else was against her bum. But with the nurse holding her, adhesive sounds followed and the 16 year old was now taped with an adult nappy around her. "Oh my...shit!" she felt a growing warmness between her legs and moved up to see pee staining the nappy. "I can't believe it...." "I told you the drug was temporary," he commented, removing his medical gloves and then stowing the rest of the materials back. "You can get dressed now.. Not your underwear of course." "But how can..." "Put your skirt on, Charlotte," this came from the nurse. She gingerly did so and found it did fit over the thick nappy. "But...I can't go out like this!" "You certainly can't go out with urine flowing down your legs either," he said, "look, the brief can't be seen at all." He was right it couldn't unless someone stared at it. "But..." "I think we're done here, Charlotte. Nurse Jane will give you the antibiotics. Since you are a school going child, there's no need to pay for the pills or the briefs." "But..." He scribbled something and passed it to her. "Here's a note which brand of adult briefs or nappies you would want to get. Tena Slip Maxi would be a great choice. They are thin and absorbent. At least buy one packet and come back to me in say about a week's time. The blood test results should be done by then." Just as on cue, another burst of urine stained her nappy and she squirmed. "Wait, do get back on the bed." She didn't want to, but eventually gave in and he lifted her skirt. "Hmm, it's it rather soggy. Nurse, can you get another out? And the cream and wipes." The tearing sounds of adhesive were heard again and the nappy was yanked away. "Sorry, hospital-grade briefs." he commented, though she did not get him. The stinging happened again as he wiped her vulva and spread cream on it again. Another nappy was slid underneath and secured in place. "But..." she said again getting up. "I can't walk properly." "Nonsense, it's your mind dear," the nurse replied. "And when you get the Tena Slips, they are thiner." "But...what will my family and friends say?" He scribbled another note. "I don't think it's a medical case to excuse you fully from school. But this will excuse you from your Physical Exercise. As I said earlier, it's not uncommon for teens to be incontinent." "But..." "We're closing now. Don't forget your bag and shoes. And the anitbiotics. Also, buy some wipes and DESTIN cream along with the nappies. If you show the store people the note I gave you, you'll get it cheaper. See you next week." With that, the girl who once wore normal underwear half walked, half waddled out of the new clinic. Once she was gone, he turn to the nurse and gave her a hug. "Thanks mum." he said. "That was a great move, lacing the water." "And that was a great act son," she replied, kissing him. "She fell for it." "Yes. Next week when she returns, she'll be all ours." THE END *** Comments welcomed. Will probably post a sequel.
  23. rachelkirwan

    Giga Teen Omorashi 12

    Version

    2,322 downloads

    This is a gem I found, 5 little scenes over an hour long! Enjoy!

    Free