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female Paige: My Story About How I Became A Semi-Incontinent Bed Wetter Because Of Nappies.


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Paige: My Story About How I Became A Semi Incontinent Bed Wetter Because Of Nappies.    Chapter One.     Hi everyone! I’m Paige, and I figured that this was probably the best place

Chapter Four   How It started.     Now I look back on it, it was as if the van had put a curse on my bladder from the very beginning. From the first day that I moved in, my bladder

Chapter Two.    All Grown Up. Almost.    So, I’d learned to stay clear of soda and caffeine, but the next stage in life is alcohol. Most kids will end up experimenting with it at s

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 Chapter 17

 

 Caution: Mild, non-descriptive messy content. Not actually messing. Just clean up. 

 

I froze on the spot, clenching my anus as tightly as I could, although the damage appeared to have already been done, as I couldn’t feel anything else about to happen. 

 I won’t go full TMI here guys, I promise. But I’ll try and explain nicely what had happened, without grossing anyone out. 

 I didn’t like “Fill My Diaper,” nor was it a wet shart kinda thing. But it appeared that I had a slightly “upset stomach,” and by squatting down and pushing on my bladder muscles, I’d squirted some watery movement into the back of my diaper before I’d even known it was happening. I’d clamped down fast, hard, but ultimately too late. It felt like a one-off type of incident, at least for now. 

 For that, I was grateful at least.

 I stood up quicker than I would’ve thought possible with my aching legs, squishing more pee out of my little dipe to run down my legs, which I instinctively kept spread a bit. My diaper was beyond soaked, but it felt extra sticky and heavy underneath my butt. 

 Yuck. 

 Oh shit. Like literally. Oh shit. 

 The bottom of the back of my gown slapped cold and wet against the back of my aching calves, and a searching hand found out that the wetness wasn’t just concentrated there. While I’d been squatting, my little nappy had leaked/sprayed pee all over the back of it, from my butt down. My legs were absolutely coated, and my once white socks looked as if I’d been Irish Dancing in a muddy puddle. 

 At that particular moment, I could not have possibly felt any more dirty or smelly if I’d even tried. It was enough to actually make my head spin. For a fleeting moment, I found myself feeling sad, scared, and lost, well past just feeling naughty. I think I stood there,quietly dripping pee, for quite a few seconds before I snapped out of it. 

 THINK PAIGE THINK! It really wasn’t a big deal. I was a grownup. I lived by myself. Nobody would ever know. I just had to deal with the immediate clean up quickly and methodically, which would be so much easier if I actually had access to my own toilet-bathroom of course, but unfortunately I didn’t. It wouldn’t be pleasant, but it would be private at least. 

 I was disgusted, and strangely unsure as to what I should actually do. I only remembered one other time that this had happened. I was 16, had been suffering from a mild dose of food poisoning, and messed myself while throwing up. I’d had a shower, and threw my underpants out, and my mum had helped me soak my shorts. Now I was here alone, with no mum to help, and no personal bathroom for privacy.

 Fuck. Yuck. 

 I waddled to the door, where I pulled my socks off by standing on the toes of them one at a time and pulling my feet out of them with a wet schlepping sound.  Then I used the towel I’d taken with me to dry my legs, feet, and the outside of my diaper, before going in, leaving my socks in a wet and muddy heap outside the door. As soon as I was safely inside, I removed my dripping dressing gown and added it to the machine with all my other piss-washing. 

 You might think the next bit is weird, but the kettle had boiled, and I poured myself a cup of tea before I did anything else. After all, I’d only been awake for fifteen minutes, and I needed a hot drink as much as I needed a shower, I had to have something positive to focus on. While my teabag was drawing, I waddled into the van to access my supplies, grateful for the fact that I’d bought disposable gloves, wet wipes, and diaper disposal bags when I’d been shopping. This would be stinky and unpleasant at the very least. 

 For a brief moment I’d considered simply going for a shower and dealing with it in there, but I knew that I should actually go to the toilet to ensure that there wasn’t anything else waiting to sneak out while I tried to clean up what had already happened. Besides, I think the smell would’ve been a a big indicator to anyone else in the bathroom as to what I’d done. 

 Nope. I had to clean myself up first before going anywhere near the ablution blocks. Obviously I couldn’t sit down, so after sanitising my hands, (Thank you Covid supplies) I added milk and sugar to my tea, and stood in the bucket, just in case, while I made a plan. In reality it wasn’t a plan. I needed to clean up, it’s just that I wasn’t sure exactly how or where to start. I drank half of my tea while I considered my best course of action, putting off the unpleasant task ahead, until the itchiness in my bottom forced me to act. 

 I promise that I won’t be too graphic, but here’s what I did. 

 I removed my shirt, leaving me standing in the tub wearing nothing but my wet and dirty diaper, put on disposable gloves, positioned my supplies on the coffee table within easy reach, sucked in a deep breath, and went to work. Not wanting to slide the dirty little diaper down my legs, I tore the sides open, and carefully slipped it off, telling myself not to even look at it. 

 I looked at it. Gross. 

 I fumbled it into a bag, then added the gloves, as they got contaminated during the procedure, then I carefully double bagged it. The smell was nothing less than disgusting. After putting new gloves on, I pulled out a handful of baby wipes, and carefully, bit by bit, wiped myself as clean as I could while standing there, repeating the process as I tried to work my way methodically around the affected area. I hadn’t turned the heater on, and standing there naked made me shiver with cold, so I tried to hurry as much as I could. My back area required the most work, so I focused on that, only paying scant attention and a perfunctory effort to my legs and feet. Fuck it. I was going to shower as soon as I possibly could anyway.  After filling up another bag with wipes and gloves, I stepped out, ready to go for a shower. I would normally wait until after my run, but I felt absolutely filthy, and would shower again later, maybe after my evening poop, which I swore that I would never neglect again. It had never felt so good to wash my hands with hot soapy water and use sanitiser as what I’d did just then. 

 With the hard part out of the way, I just wanted a hot shower as soon as possible. Even more so than the toilet. I didn’t even have the slightest urge to poop anymore, just get clean. It was as if I’d scared the poop deep back up inside me, and there was no inkling whatsoever to go anymore. Screw it. I’d shower first. I could go to the toilet later. 

 I would’ve happily worn my robe to the shower, but since I’d peed on it, I’d have to get dressed. This wasn’t going to be a fashion show, so after liberally spraying myself with deodorant, I just picked whatever random clothes that I grabbed first. A pair of plain white, high-cut, “granny-style” panties that I’d accidentally bought one day, thinking at the time that they were my regular bikini style ones. I could’ve returned them of course, but you know enough about me to understand that my shyness doesn’t lend itself to things like complaining or returning stuff. Besides, they were actually quite comfortable, and I often wore them underneath my dress or skirt. The first pair of pants I fumbled out were knee length leggings, black of course, as most of my pants are dark coloured for obvious reasons. A sleeveless Tee and pink and grey baggy knitted jumper completed my ensemble. I opened the annex windows, grabbed my last clean towel, toiletries bag, slipped my flip flops on, and headed out, dropping my nappy bags into the trash with a huge sigh of relief. 
 Before I left, I gingerly picked up my socks, added them to the washing machine, and turned it on. A trip to the laundromat to use the dryer would be on the cards later. 

 I met Elsie outside the shower block. 

 “Hi Paige! How are you?” Elsie said as I approached, wiggling her fingers at me. 

 I returned her greeting, but found myself drawn into a conversation with her, against my will. That sounds mean, and I don’t want you guys getting the wrong idea. Elsie was one of those people that you just liked immediately. She had such a nice vibe about her. But I would’ve preferred to just go and shower instead. 

 “I’m just waiting for Tiarni,” she explained. “She woke up wet this morning, so she needed one.”

 It was like a trigger. I felt a teeny-tiny drop of pee leak out. No more than a drop, but I twisted my leg a bit. Again, there had been absolutely no warning that it had been about to happen, especially after how much I’d peed less than half an hour ago. It couldn’t be the tea coming out yet, and I hadn’t had anything bad to drink, nor was I desperate. It was like the words that Elsie had used had simply triggered me again. I was glad that my bladder was empty. 

 Time to experiment. Perhaps a verbal conversation about wetting would be a good start, especially with an empty bladder. 

 “Oh no,” I replied. “The poor little thing! How is she? Look, I know what it’s like Elsie. I used to wet the bed when I was younger as well.”

 (Only eight hours younger, I thought, but obviously didn’t say.)

 Elsie beamed at my offered sympathy. “Oh, aren’t you just so nice Paige? Yes, she’s fine. It’s just one of those things that happens when she stays here. The bathroom is so far away, and I don’t like her going by herself, and if she wakes up during the night we don’t have enough time to make it, so I let her wear a little nappy to bed. It’s just so much easier. I know that sounds a bit strange I guess, but I’d rather she used that instead of waking me up at midnight, or even worse, tried to go all by herself herself in the dark. She doesn’t wear them at home. When she’s there of course,” she added, with an eye roll. 

( Interesting. No leaks, no urgency. Elsie obviously had more to add, so I played along, giving her the chance to talk that she’d been waiting for. No doubt. Elsie was a talker )

 “Oh? So she doesn’t wet the bed at home? Just here? What does she think of that?”

 Elsie lowered her voice to a whisper. “Honestly dear? I don’t think she minds. Her home life isn’t great unfortunately. My daughter Tracey and her husband have some, ummm, problems.....

 “She’s much better off staying with me until they sort themselves out. She does wet the bed at home, but doesn’t wear nappies there, her father doesn’t like it.” Elsies face clouded over at the mention of him. 

 “It is awkward trying to walk to the toilet, even during the day,” I said, hoping I was using my matter-of-fact tone of voice, which I then lowered into a conspirational whisper like she had. 

 “I found that out the hard way yesterday,” I said softly. “I wet my pants a bit before I got here!”

 Elsie laughed at that. 

 “Join the club dear! Happens to us all sometimes.”

( It happened to me again as I spoke too. Another small drip leaked out as soon as I’d mentioned wetting my pants. Super weird. )

 Keeping her voice low, she continued. “I have to keep an eye on Tiarni as well. You know what kids are like! She gets all caught up in her video games or iPad, and leaves it way too long before telling me. I can’t walk very quickly these days, so sometimes I tell her to go on her own, but only during the daytime of course. But she doesn’t always make it on time. She had two accidents yesterday, but I can’t be mad at her. Accidents happen when the toilets are so far away, don’t they?”

 (Or even if they’re right beside you, I thought, feeling the wet spot on my granny knickers getting warm again.)

 Just then, Tiarni appeared, hair still wet from the shower, dressed comfortably in sweats and a hoodie, and carrying a plastic bag with her pyjamas in it. I could also see a little owl pressed against the side of the bag, but I didn’t mention it. 

 “Hi Ti. How are you?” I hoped I sounded friendly and natural. 

 The girl smiled, but quickly put the plastic bag into her other hand, away from my line of sight, and I pretended not to notice. 

 “Hi Paige,” she replied, trying to sound all grown up, even extending her hand for a formal shake. 

 “Okay girls, guess I better go have a shower I suppose,” I said, and we offered our goodbyes as I entered, sighing with relief when I found myself alone in there. My heart was pounding in my chest. I’m sure Elsie didn’t know I’d peed my pants a little bit just then, but did she know about yesterday? It stood to reason that she might? After all, Tiarni HAD told her granny about me before we met, and on both occasions that I’d seen the kid, one of us had wet pants on. It would make perfect sense for the girl to tell her Nanna that she’d been seen in her wet pants, or that she’d seen a grownup who’d had an accident as well. In what other context would she be telling her Nanna about “The New Resident” anyway?

 I groaned. I’m sure Elsie knew about one of our prior encounters, otherwise why would she just bring up her granddaughters wetting issues with me? Oh well. I couldn’t do anything about it just then anyway I supposed. 

 I locked the door to the change room cubicle and slipped off my jumper, shirt and shorts, leaving just my white knickers on, which I examined closely as I stepped up to the mirror. There was a small but noticeable wet spot about the size and shape of a small egg on the padded gusset, but my black leggings didn’t even feel damp to touch. Apparently it really had been just a couple of errant drops that had, well, dripped out. I pulled them down, stepped out of them, and used my foot to pick them up, when I noticed something. 

 I had a small but noticeable skid mark in the back. I vaguely remembered scratching my bottom once after I got dressed, and wrinkled my nose in disgust. I must’ve missed a spot with the wipes, but managed to find it with my white cotton knickers. 

 Fan-fucking-tastic...

 I sighed again. Of course this wasn’t a big deal at all. It was nothing different to what happens to everyone’s underwear sometimes, but it was like another slap in the face. It was easily fixed of course. I could just give them a scrub in the shower, and wash them later. I’d just have to put a clean pair on before I went for my jog. It was just frustrating, because my jogging knickers would get wet as well anyway. 

 That’s right. They would...

 If I was in a cartoon, a lightbulb would’ve flashed above my head as the idea sprang to life inside it. 

 Why even bother changing them? Whatever I wore would get wet anyway, and I’d be showering again later. 

 Why not just leave my pre-wet and stained panties on.....

 

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3 hours ago, Stanley79 said:

Loving the latest twist.  Is this happening in the same time frame as Daniel and Amy?  I confess to having lost track of seasons in both stories.

Kinda sorta I guess. In the kids universe, it’s early autumn. For Paige, mid to late. 
Here’s an example: We are two weeks of the first day of winter here in Perth. On Friday, I went for a swim in the ocean. The water was a bit cold, but a nice day of 25C. 
Since then, it’s rained constantly since 3pm Saturday, and hasn’t hit 16 degrees. 🤷‍♂️
Where D and A are, it’s usually about 3-5 degrees warmer this time of year anyway, so the should have cooler nights, but perhaps 25-30C during the day. 
Paige is subject to what I’m living in atm. 
Hope that helps! 😋

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Chapter 18

 

 I heaved a sigh of relief when I stepped inside the living room annex again. The lingering pee smell had disappeared, although the slightest trace of the other was still there, but I could now focus on things like that, and I did, by lighting some incense, before boiling the kettle again for another cup of tea. Truth be told I could’ve gone a coffee, as my my tastebuds had enjoyed it so much yesterday, but I wasn’t going to pump the caffeine as much as I’d done then, although I might allow myself a cappuccino after my run perhaps. First things first though, I wanted a tea and a cigarette before doing anything else, and I wanted to relax and enjoy them both more than I had done on my first attempts. There was a couple of fold-out chairs in the annex, so I set one up outside where I settled in to enjoy both of my illicit pleasures while checking my phone messages. 

 One from mum, (plus a missed call) wanting to check on me regarding how I was ever going to cope all by myself during this latest lockdown. I couldn’t bring myself to talk to her while smoking and drinking tea, so I texted back, promising that I’d call her later. 

 Others from my sister and a couple of friends. (It looked like Chris Hemsworth still didn’t have my number. 🤣) At least I could text back instead of talk, so I did. 

 The important one from Max. Big Zoom call first thing Monday morning. Don’t miss it. I didn’t care. I’d rather Zoom than meet anyone in person anyway! 

 Dear God. I must be the most pathetic journalist alive. Lol. Hopefully one day I’ll publish my book. Note to self. Nuclear Reactors. Must make notes. 

 I was crushing my cigarette out on the bin, when the washing machine dinged, alerting me that the load was done. I’d take it to the laundromat later, but it was time to officially get my day started, so I went inside to get ready. 

 At least my panties felt dry again, although I knew they wouldn’t stay that way for long, as I was about to embark on my first experiment of the day. 

 I was going to run with absolutely no protection whatsoever, not even a pee-pad. 

 My leggings and T-shirt would do for my run, and I opened a can of Monster for an extra energy boost while I put clean socks on, white again, but cotton ankle length ones with a pink heel and toe, and pink love hearts, then laced up my shoes. I slipped a ten dollar note and my face mask into the hip pocket before I left. Today was the first day of compulsory masks again, and I should’ve put one on before going to the showers, but I’d been so busy dealing with other things that I’d forgotten. Elsie hadn’t been wearing one either, and I suppose that it was sort of easy to consider the entire park as your home and not the public place that it in fact was. I wouldn’t need to wear it whilst jogging, but I would if I wanted to stop for coffee afterwards. I just hoped that the cafe would be open for takeaways, especially on a Sunday. I found myself automatically reaching for my cigarettes as well, and scolded myself. I couldn’t easily carry them, and besides, when was the last time that you saw a jogger smoking? Lol. I did a few minutes of stretches in the living room while I guzzled my Monster drink, then put my mask on as I walked to the gate. 

 When I approached the toilets, I put myself on high alert, concentrating on my body, looking for any warning signs or triggers that would accompany the leak I was expecting, but I didn’t feel anything, nor did I leak, and my panties were still dry (although stained I guess) when I exited the park, pulled my mask down and started jogging, following the same path that I’d taken yesterday. I chose to go that way instead of exploring anything new, because it would take me through the semi-industrial area that would have hardly any traffic on a Sunday morning during lockdown. I knew my pants would get a bit wet, and that was the safest, least conspicuous way to go. 

 I knew I was being overly bold by not wearing a pad, but even if I did wear one, my pants would get a bit wet anyway, and I was always worried that a pad outline was more visible in tight leggings than what it was in shorts. As it was, I thought my high cut granny panties would probably be showing a VPL as it was. Besides, my shiny black leggings didn’t show wetness very well, and although my sleeveless T wasn’t the warmest thing on that autumn morning, it did hang down low enough to almost cover my private area. I was fairly positive that a leak or two wouldn’t be overly visible, although I certainly wouldn’t want to completely soak myself again. 

 The streets were quiet, especially in that area which had no open stores, and the only people I saw were either jogging, or walking their dogs. Because of Covid, nobody approached anyone else, and strict social distancing was adhered to, which suited me just perfectly fine, thank you very much. 

 At the halfway point, I had to wait to cross the road, and I used the brief pause to quickly touch my crotch during a break in the traffic, and although it was a bit sweaty, I was still dry. I raised my right foot up behind me, grabbing it with my hand and stretching upwards, giving my glutes a stretch, and I felt a little pee leak out. This was no biggie. It was no more than what usually happened, and although I wasn’t wearing a pad, the wetness was safely absorbed by my granny panties and confined to a small area in front of my pee hole. The lights changed, and I continued to jog. 

 It was really quite uneventful actually. I leaked another little bit soon after as I jogged up a short flight of steps, but again, not much. So far I was happy. My leakages were just at normal level, and although I’d had two cups of tea and an energy drink, I didn’t feel any extra urgency coming on. Even the public toilets that I passed had no ill effects on me. 

 By the time I’d reached the cafe, my leggings had an invisible wet patch between the legs (I’d checked) but nowhere else, and I was extremely pleased with that. It was probably even less than what I’d normally expect, and I imagine that if I had put a pad in, it would’ve handled it with ease. After all, my panties almost had. 

 The cafe was open for takeout! Hooray! I took a moment to put my mask on, and do a quick mental check of my bladder status. The tea and energy drink had been working its way through my body, but I’d only rate my urgency level at 4.5-5/10. A very basic one. Not even desperate. I could feel the urge to finish my morning poop hanging around back there somewhere, but again, no urgency. I wouldn’t be putting any pressure on my bladder or bowels though, just in case! I decided that the slight feelings of need, (combined with the fact that I’d be carrying a hot coffee of course) meant that a casual walk back home would be a much safer option for me. I went in and bought a cappuccino to go, then took my time walking back. 

 I approached the toilet block with half of my coffee still left. The sight of it made my pee hole twitch in that familiar way, although nothing leaked out. I could feel my morning poop building up though, so it made sense to take care of that while I was there. 

 Next experiment: Could I hang around outside the toilets and finish my coffee without wetting myself? 

 Answer: Yes. In fact I didn’t even need to potty dance. Being in such close proximity did have a slightly adverse affect though. Or perhaps it was simply my fluid intake again. But by the time I’d finished my coffee, I’d have rated myself a solid seven on the desperation scale, which was enough to put myself into the danger zone under normal circumstances, let alone these strange IC accidents. 

 Anyway, sorry if this is boring, but I made it safely. 

 While I sat there taking care of business on both fronts, I examined my panties. My crotch was wet, but not soaked, the wetness covered the dried egg shaped spot from before, and the dirty mark of shame at the back had grown a bit from the sweat, but it really wasn’t too bad. I’d probably have to soak them in some bleach or something to keep them from permanently staining, but I’d finished runs with wetter pants than this before while wearing a pad, so I was happy enough with the situation. They did feel cold and uncomfortable when I pulled them back up though. I guessed that I’d be changing them for a fresh dipe shortly anyway. 

 I felt a lot better now I was empty on both sides, and the rest of Sunday stretched out before me with many fun opportunities. I’d go to the laundromat at some point, and might even shout myself something unhealthy for lunch. The afternoon looked like a good time to diaper up, settle in for some writing, and free-pee the day away, then another poop and shower that evening. I wouldn’t ever skip that second poop again. 

 First things first though. I should take my wet knickers off. I kicked my shoes off at the door, and padded my way inside the van, but then I paused when I saw my hairdryer sitting on the table from where I’d left it after my earlier shower, and a naughty idea swept over me. I slid my slightly wet leggings off, then pulled my panties down past my knees before sitting my bare butt on the bench seat. I plugged the dryer in, and began blow drying my stretched out knickers while I sat there. They dried with a yellow stain to match the brown one, but were dry within minutes, and felt so warm and cozy when I pulled them up, a lot like a used dipe, but perfectly dry instead. Nice! 

 It’s hard to explain I guess, but the sight of my dirty panties with the visible stains made me feel so naughty, and you guys know by now how much I like that feeling. Screw it. They would need a good soak or scrub anyway, so I might as well leave them on for the time being. 

 It was time to start building up my fluid levels again, so I opted for a water for the purposes of rehydration, then a Coke for the purposes of irritating my bladder a bit. I have to admit, I was sorely tempted to have a beer or wine, but it wasn’t even eleven o’clock yet, so I didn’t. 

 I spent a little time in just my socks and dirty pants doing some cleaning, washing up, then giving the bench seat, sink and floor a good going over with disinfectant, then wiping the tub out properly as well. By the time I’d finished, there wasn’t a single nasty odour left, but that was probably more due to the incense anyway I suppose. By eleven thirty I was getting hungry, so I figured this would be as good a time as any to tackle the washing and get something to eat. 

 Now. What to wear? Of course I’d be wearing a diaper, but what sort, and what clothes? I would’ve been happy to put my wet leggings back on, but not over any sort of diaper, not even a Goodnite. It would be completely visible to everyone. I knew I’d be gone for more than an hour, and if I continued drinking like I’d planned, it would have to be a Molicare, as the kids ones just wouldn’t cope. I took one out and tested my control again by studying it, squishing and sniffing it, and right on cue, my panties suddenly grew a wet spot on them again,  just like yesterday, with no prior warning at all. I leaked enough to leave some drops on the floor (That I’d just bloody cleaned) but I used my discarded leggings to mop it up. Goddamn it. I’d only kept my pants dry for half an hour maximum, with no real urgency at all, just the stimulation of the diaper. 

 Now I was getting officially concerned. There was absolutely no doubt that I’d need to see my doctor about this, although I knew that trying to get an appointment during a Covid lockdown was difficult, plus the doctor I’d been seeing was on the other side of town, near where I’d been living at Kylie’s. I shuddered at the thought of trying to explain the incontinence to her as well. I mean obviously I wouldn’t say anything about the diapers or what triggered it, as I was simply too shy. But if I didn’t tell her the full story, could she help me to address it? Maybe. If it was physical and not mental, but I had enough evidence to prove to myself that it was at least a combination of both, and there was no way in hell that I could ever bring myself to admit that to a doctor who was nothing more than a complete stranger to me. 

 No freaking way. I’d rather just wear diapers. 

 Wait. What? Did I just say that? Would I really rather just resort to being padded than to seek help from a professional? 

 I really didn’t know. What I did know however, was that I was getting a bit frustrated with this. I know it’s contradictory, but that’s exactly how I felt. 

 Fact: I had tried diapers as an experiment to help me cope with leaks. 

 Fact: It turned out that I actually really liked them. A lot. Enough to firmly classify myself as a Diaper Lover. 

 Fact: I enjoyed them so much that I was prepared to wear them not only for protection, but for convenience and fun as well. 

 Fact: The mere sight, smell, or touch of them, as well as toilets and discussions, was enough to make me wet myself sometimes. 

 Fact: Although I liked them, and enjoyed wearing them, I definitely didn’t want to be put in the position of actually NEEDING them to continue functioning in my normal everyday life. 

 I sighed. This was so freaking complicated all of a sudden. I mean how could I use diapers to control my Stress Incontinence, if the very act of wearing them was going to cause ACTUAL incontinence? 

 If I didn’t wear them, I was going to continue to go through life wearing pads and trying to hide wet spots, but if I DID wear them, I’d be hiding them instead, and wetting myself a lot more often. 

 It was more than I could cope with just then, and I was feeling a bit angry, a bit frustrated, and exceptionally naughty, but I had an idea. 

 “Fuck it,” I said out loud, slamming my water bottle down hard enough to spill it. If I was going to be wetting myself regardless of what I wore, why not just wear both? 

 My mind was made up. I was going to be a VERY naughty girl. 

 I got up, and slipped my socked feet into the big nappy, and pulled it up. 

 OVER my already wet and stained panties.....

 

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I love seeing her thought process. I have some mild-moderate IBS and what I refer to  as "stress and anxiety" bladder. Where I get random urgency without having to go. Whenever I use protection there's always an internal debate over whether I actually need it or if I"m just using a very slight issue as an excuse to indulge my fetish...

Edited by LittlePunkGirl (see edit history)
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13 hours ago, LittlePunkGirl said:

I love seeing her thought process. I have some mild-moderate IBS and what I refer to  as "stress and anxiety" bladder. Where I get random urgency without having to go. Whenever I use protection there's always an internal debate over whether I actually need it or if I"m just using a very slight issue as an excuse to indulge my fetish...

Thank you! I hope I’m doing okay trying to write as a girl! Lol

Chapter 19

 

 I admired my diapered reflection in the mirror, and found it a real turn on when I pulled the nappy down slightly in the front, enough to expose the hem of my panties, which I pulled up tightly, forcing the wet spot against my slit, which made my toes curl in pleasure. Oh my God. The combination of wet knickers and a thick dipe was incredible, and I shivered with delight. At that moment, I could’ve easily thrown myself down on the bed, and masturbated vigorously with my hand inside my dipe, but outside my panties, my probing fingers massaging and pushing on the hot wet cotton, then...

 STOP PAIGE STOP. 

 I mentally rebuked myself. There would be heaps of time for self pleasure later. After all, I’d remembered to buy fresh batteries for both my vibrators yesterday..., but not right now. At that moment I had more experiments to conduct. 

 I thought that the visual/physical stimulation experiments were done. I had to grudgingly accept that it was indeed an issue, and something that I’d have to learn to deal with eventually. I truly hoped that I could work with it, because even just twenty four hours in, I knew that I was a committed diaper lover and had no desire whatsoever to stop wearing them, regardless of the consequences. I just had to hope that I could acquire some coping mechanisms to deal with the side effects. 

 After all, I not only wanted, but NEEDED to be in control of this. Wearing for fun, convenience, or extra protection was good, NEEDING them because I had no control was not. 

 The bit that scared me the most, wasn’t that my control was diminished while wearing, but that this newly discovered IC thing was beginning to affect me whether I was padded or not. If it was something that only happened while diapered, it would be annoying, but ultimately I’d be no worse off, I’d just not wear for protection in public, just at home, where an IC issue wouldn’t matter, but the fact that I continued to pee in my regular pants via visual stimulation was a major concern. That could really affect my ability to live a normal life. 

 Maybe I needed a Shrink? I shuddered at the thought. Me? Telling a complete stranger my weirdest secrets? No fucking way!

 Although I suppose that I HAD just blurted out to Elsie yesterday that I’d wet my pants! I cringed at the memory. I’d been so worked up worrying if she knew about either my accident or seeing Ti, that I just ended up telling her myself anyway. 

 I would be absolutely terrible if the cops ever interrogated me. I’d admit to shooting JFK within the first thirty seconds of the interview. 

 Oh well. At least it was out in the open now, I guessed. 

 I found my daggiest, baggiest sweat pants, and my only brightly coloured ones. They were pink, super loose, fluffy, warm and comfy, (fleecy lined!) but never ever to be worn in public, until today. As cringey as they were, I knew that my big adult dipe wouldn’t be visible, so they were almost perfect. Perfect would’ve been a more leak friendly colour, (say black for example,) but I didn’t think that I’d be leaking anyway, as I wasn’t going to be gone for long. I finished my water bottle, took another one out which I opened, then immediately drank a third of, then loaded my laundry into the tub, which just fitted into the back of my hatchback. 

 Purse, keys, cigarettes, lighter, money, mask, phone. Check. I was ready to go. 

 It only took a couple of minutes before I was parking my car in the nearly empty car park of the little shopping complex. Nearly every store was closed due to either Covid or it being Sunday, although the laundromat and convenience/discount store were open. The Chinese restaurant had a sign stating they would be open for takeout or delivery only from late afternoon. I felt sorry for whoever owned the hairdressers and massage place, as they would be having at least two weeks of no income. These lockdowns hit small businesses the hardest. 

 There was only one person in the laundromat, a middle aged lady waiting for her washing to finish, and although we made a brief eye contact, I couldn’t see much of her behind her mask. She went back to looking at her phone, instantly dismissing me, which was good. I hate random awkward conversations with strangers. I dumped my wet laundry into the big industrial dryer, which would take forty five minutes to do it’s job, then I went outside for a smoke, and a check of my phone. 

 The autumn sun was weak but warm and pleasant as I sat on a bench near my car. I texted my sister and friends first, then waited until I’d finished smoking before calling my mum. We shared a somewhat glitchy FaceTime chat that went on far to long for my liking, while I assured her that I was perfectly fine, and quite capable of looking after myself during a two week lockdown. I was draining the last of my water bottle when Mum hit me with the question that I knew would be coming, and always dreaded. 

 “So how’s things going with your bladder Paige? Has that been playing up at all?”

 Bang. I wet myself a bit as soon as she said it. Not really a lot, but my bladder muscles loosened, and a reasonably large leak started, causing me to suddenly cross my legs tightly as the back of my nappy grew warm. 

 “Ummm, yeah mum, I mean no, I mean it’s going okay I guess, same as ever...”

 “So you’re still having accidents then?”

 She was instantly suspicious. I could see it in her eyes as much as I could hear the inflection in her voice, and I quickly switched my phone back to speak-only, putting it to my ear. I was so glad nobody had been walking past just then. 

 “Awww mummmmm! Jesus! Really? Do you have to go there?”

 “What? Go where? Really Paigey, aren’t I allowed to ask how my daughter is going?”

 I suppressed a sigh, and unclenched my jaw before answering. 

 “Yes mum. Of course you are. But I had you on speaker, remember? I just wish you wouldn’t mention stuff like that!”

 She sounded contrite, but wouldn’t be denied either. 

 “I’m sorry darling, but I worry about you. I keep telling you to go see a doctor again. You don’t want to end up wearing nappies, do you?”

 Again, another leak spurted out, and I felt exceptionally wet. Wetter than I’d ever felt whilst wearing a dipe, even when I free-peed all day yesterday, and I quickly stood up, and ran a hand over my bottom. Thankfully it still felt dry, although I felt so wet that I was positive that I must’ve leaked. Holding the phone to my ear still, I glanced down between my legs, but only saw the plain soft pink of my sweats, with no dark patches of shame. That’s when I remembered. I had my panties on! Of course I felt wet! My dirty wet knickers were being held nice and snug by the dipe. I breathed a sigh of relief. 

 “Paige? Are you there honey?”

 “Sorry mum. Yeah. Still here. You dropped out for a second, that’s all.”

 “Oh? I can hear you alright? Anyway, I was just saying that you really need to go get another check up....”

 I love my mum, but I’d heard enough by now, and after steering the conversation onto more mundane matters for another couple of minutes, I thankfully was able to end the call.

 Fuck. She wears me out sometimes. I lit another cigarette, and took stock of my situation. 

 There was nobody around, so I took a quick pull at my nappy through the outside of my sweatpants, and it really didn’t feel all that bad. It was hardly even swollen. But the wetness I felt was incredible. Also intoxicating. Very, very exciting. I felt a different sticky slipperiness coating my pussy lips at the thought of just how naughty I was. A poor little girl who had wet her knickers in public. So hot. It triggered memories of wetting myself as a kid while wearing a dress or skirt, but trying my hardest to just carry on as if nothing had happened, and hoping that no one discovered my naughty, dirty little secret. 

 I found myself breathing a bit hard, and forced myself to calm down, although I was as horny as what I’d ever been. Once I was under control again, I decided to go for a walk, enjoy my hidden wet secret, and re-focus again. I did the quick release of my holding muscles as a test, and nothing came out, and I didn’t have any real urgency to speak of. I’d simply wet my pants when my mother had bought it up. Again, this was worrying, but I also couldn’t deny the naughty excitement of it either. 

 I walked around to the back section of the little shopping centre that I hadn’t seen yet. There was a liquor store, (open) betting agency, (closed) barber shop, (closed) small takeaway shop, (open) and a Subway, which was open. That solved my lunch plans at least, and I’d get a foot long before I left. But first, I wanted to have a look in the convenience store, and I bought a big Mountain Dew from the takeout first, which I drank half of before I got there. I was back to guzzling the naughty drinks again, trying to build my fluid levels back up. 

 The discount store was like the Tardis from Doctor Who! A small store front, but it just kept going and going towards the back. Only three aisles wide, but very long. At first I couldn’t believe that a shop like this would be allowed to open, until I discovered that they sold bread, milk and a small range of groceries, which would’ve classed it as an Essential Supplier. Smart move by the owner. 

 Most of it was like a huge bargain store. They sold almost anything that you could imagine, and cheap as well, although the quality might be an issue. A lot of Chinese made rubbish, like toys and kitchen utensils. 

 I had nothing but time on my hands though, well at least twenty five minutes or so before my dryer would stop, so I started browsing. I noticed a lot of empty shelves where things like toilet paper, pasta, and tinned food would usually be kept, obviously snapped up by the panic buyers yesterday. 

 Honestly, why the fuck did anyone need 500 rolls of toilet paper for a Covid lockdown? It made me mad. Perhaps I could do a filler piece on that for the paper? I’d ask Max tomorrow. 

 I found myself in the baby care section, and braced myself for a leak, but nothing happened. I remembered earlier on when I’d braced myself as Id approached the toilet block, and nothing had happened then either. 

 Interesting. 

 Perhaps if I was ready and expecting something to happen, it helped to negate it? But then again in the van, I’d peed myself a bit while looking at my fresh dipe. Perhaps I felt more relaxed at that point, home alone in dirty panties, and not standing around outside the toilets in my leggings? I shrugged. I just didn’t know for sure what was happening anymore. 

 I started looking at the packets of nappies while I concentrated on how wet I was feeling. Not only wet, but warm as well. The big pull up trapped the warmth as well as the wetness, and it felt like my granny knickers were wet all the way up to my tummy, apparently having wicked all the wetness upwards as well. Fuck it felt good! 

 I added some NappiSan to my trolley. I’d use it to soak my panties in later. I remember mum always used it whenever I’d had an accident, and it worked really well. I didn’t need anything else from there, at least not yet, so I kept browsing. Further down the aisle was a selection of socks and underwear hanging on a peg board, and I immediately spied some women’s maternity panties! Hi cut granny style like I was wearing, but with a much thicker crotch pad. I instantly added a three pack containing white, pink, and sky blue. If wearing panties under my diaper felt this good, then I’d need some cheaper ones to continue to play with. 

 Turning the corner, I encountered incontinence products unexpectedly, and before I knew what happened, I’d squirted a bit in my nappy again. I closed my eyes, focused myself, then looked again, and nothing happened. 

 Interesting. It appeared that if I was ready for the visual stimulation, then I may be able to control myself. They had packets of waterproof bed pads, and my interest was piqued immediately, so I added them as well. I really would’ve like some plastic pants too, although of course there were no adult sizes. I’d learned from here that those were mainly available online from specialised ABDL sites, and I knew that I’d be ordering some soon. 

 Perhaps some adult sized training pants as well....

 Dear Lord. This was an expensive fetish to have I began to realise. 

 I didn’t want to go to the checkout with just panties, NappiSan and bed pads, so I added some other less interesting items as well, including one of those adult colouring books and coloured pencils that I’d seen yesterday. Why not? I was going to have a lot of spare time to kill. 

 I’ll give credit to Covid while I could. Under normal circumstances I’d never be able to comfortably buy stuff like this, but like yesterday in the mall, my mask gave me the anonymity that I needed. It even hid my blushing cheeks. 

 Once outside, I opened my Dew again, and had it finished by the time I’d loaded my bags into the car. 

 I needed to pee. 

 It had been building up during my walk around the store, and I think it was being accelerated by the feeling of saturated cotton clinging to my entire mid section. It was the weirdest sensation, like my bottom, tummy, and princess parts were immersed in a warm sticky liquid, while the rest of me remained dry. I didn’t think that I’d have a great lot inside me though, as my fluid intake wouldn’t have quite reached my bladder yet, and I’d already let more than a little bit out, but the warm wetness was bringing on the familiar need a lot quicker than normal. I found myself starting to press my knees together a bit. 

 CONCENTRATE PAIGE. FOCUS. 

 Common sense dictated that I was overthinking things again. I couldn’t possibly be getting full yet, and it was my dirty wet panties making me want to go. I mean yes, I COULD feel it, but my mind was overreacting to the physical stimulus no doubt. I closed my mind and concentrated, and sure enough, the quickening urgency faded away as quickly as it had arrived. When I forced myself to stop thinking about wetting, like I had while looking at the bed pads, I had been able to regain full control. 

 I was elated! This proved that it was more a mental rather than a physical problem. Because of the diapers, I had been having so much fun with my experiments that I’d allowed myself to get lazy. I’d been reverse potty training myself! All I’d need to do in the future, was to pay attention to my body, stop thinking about diapers and/or wetting myself, and I’d return to normal as quickly as I’d regressed. Easy as. 

 I went and retrieved my washing from the dryer with no desperation whatsoever, even when I’d bent over. With that safely in the car, I assessed myself yet again, and found no problems. I was ready for lunch! 

 I drove the 200 meters to the other side of the parking lot, taking a spot near the liquor store. I was thinking of getting myself some girly vodka drinks for a treat. I hadn’t had one since wetting my pants as a teenager, but today that wouldn’t be a problem if I did. I’d soon be safely back home where I could piss myself until my heart’s content. I did do another quick assessment before getting out of the car, and although I could definitely feel a need to go building up quickly, it wasn’t too bad yet. When I wiggled my bottom on the seat, the wet cotton pressed and slid against me, and the thought of the dirty stain in the back of my panties growing was a real turn on. Yes, I know it’s a yucky kind of thought, but the naughtiness of being wet and soiled in public with nobody being aware of it was incredibly stimulating. 

 I concentrated on my control as I entered the liquor store, and could tell it was okay just then, but could it keep up with my rapidly filling bladder? Only time would tell. I needed to keep it going for another ten minutes or so, long enough to buy my drinks and get a Subway. I was already working on a back up plan, just in case. I’d be out of here within a few minutes, and if necessary, I’d do a deliberate pee when I got outside, just enough to relieve the pressure in a controlled manner so I could get my lunch without risking an out of control accident. I knew enough to understand that this wouldn’t be a good time to encounter any unexpected stimulation. I was actually very tempted to do it inside the store to be honest, but the risk of springing a leak was too great now. With my panties being soaked as they were, I couldn’t accurately gauge how full my pull up was without putting my hands down my pants and checking it. I couldn’t help but grin safely behind my mask, as the thought of doing just that in the middle of the store made my pee hole twitch with a combination of desperation and desire. 

 Now let’s see, where were the vodka drinks? Found them. Man! There were a lot to choose from! Small glass stubbies, cans, four and six packs. Specials on twelve packs, and so many flavours. There they were, the passion fruit flavoured ones that I used to like. Down on the bottom shelf. I’d get a six pack of those. 

 I opened the fridge door, and a blast of cold air washed over me, and I felt my bladder give a twitch. When I bent over to get them, I felt something bad. The burning sensation in my urethra that always signifies an imminent OAB attack. 

 Shit. Not now please. 

 If that happened, I’d lose all control for a few seconds, and might even empty my entire bladder into my pants with zero control whatsoever. I had to get out of there. Fast. 

 I stood up quickly, and pressed my knees together as I felt a small squirt escape. I could easily cope with that, but it was just a harbinger of more to come. I could feel the burning sensation getting worse as I walked, and I swear to God, I could feel my bladder starting to swell like an inflating balloon, along with a feeling of impending doom. 

 Of course there was a line up at the checkout. 

 I tried to stand still and not fidget. My toes kept scrunching up, and I could feel a fine sheen of sweat breaking out on my forehead, as a tiny trickle leaked out, causing me to oh-so-casually cross my legs. I could literally feel the OAB attack surging through my entire body, demanding that I just stop the useless facade of trying to stop it. Even my tummy and lower back were suddenly starting to ache from the pressure. I was about to simply put my drinks down and walk out, perhaps feigning a sudden important phone call, but then it was my turn to be served. 

 “Good afternoon. That’ll be $18.95 please,” the young (cute) guy at the checkout said, and I realised that I didn’t even have my debit card out yet, which further delayed things. With knees tightly clamped together, I fumbled it out of my wallet, and tapped the screen irritably, praying to God that I could hold on for just another minute at least. 

 “Thanks,” I mumbled, refusing the receipt as I grabbed my drinks and almost waddled my way out of the store, my mask hiding my burning cheeks. 

 My entire vaginal area was burning, pulsing, aching and perhaps even sweating, (although that was probably just my piss soaked knickers) as I popped the hatch, leaned forward to put the drinks in.....and lost control. 

 My pee didn’t just start running out, it squirted ferociously like a fire hose, and I was completely powerless to stop it. It poured out with such an uncontrollable force that I actually groaned aloud. My diaper was instantly overwhelmed, and I felt hot streams pouring down my legs and soaking my socks and shoes. I was helpless to stop it, and I looked down in dismay as my pink sweats formed dark streaks all the way to my ankles, and a swiftly growing puddle formed between my feet. It seemed to go on forever, and after a solid fifteen seconds of peeing, I began shuddering with relief. I’d like to say for sure that nobody saw it happen, but I don’t really know. I don’t think there was anyone around me at the time, but I didn’t dare look. I slammed the hatch, got into the car, and drove off as fast as I could, leaving nothing more than a puddle on the ground behind me.....

 

 

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Chapter 20. 

 

 I didn’t go far. I wasn’t in a fit state to drive. I just drove back towards the laundromat, and took a spot at the very front of the car park, where nobody else would be parking, where I applied the handbrake, switched the car off, and burst into tears. For a person who suffers with terminal shyness issues, that was the worst possible thing that could’ve happened to me. At first I tried to stifle my sobs, but it was futile, so I gave myself over to it, and started bawling my eyes out. Of course as soon as I let myself lose control of my emotions, I lost control of my bladder again, and the last remaining pee shot out bit by bit with each heaving sob. It was already too late anyway, and I just let it all out while I cried, the sight of a literal puddle forming on the leather seat between my legs did nothing to placate me whatsoever. I was past embarrassment, and had gone  all the way to humiliated instead, not to mention being mad as hell as well. 

 The anger wasn’t because I’d wet myself as such, but because it had happened in public, and was so glaringly obvious to anyone who might of seen me. I was just so annoyed at me, for putting myself in that position to start with. 

 You see, I’m a realistic kind of girl. I don’t believe in trying to shift the blame away from myself if it belongs there. Hell, I even import other people’s blame on occasion, and I knew I’d fucked up. I couldn’t blame my body or OAB for what had happened, because I’d been deliberately trying to force something like that to do exactly that. Just not where and when it finally did. 

 STUPID PAIGE, STUPID. 

 My sobs were dwindling out, and my trickling pee was still leaking out in sync with them. I had absolutely zero strength left in my holding muscles, and with every hitching breath, another tiny squirt came out, with the occasional trickle in between. 

 As much as I was enjoying my wetting fun, this was pissing me off, (pun fully intended) especially as it just kept slowly leaking out, and in a fit of pique, I bore down hard on my bladder, and was rewarded with a final solid squirt. I was about to give another push, but suddenly remembered what had happened earlier when I’d done that, so I just let it trickle and drip to a stop. The inside of my pink sweats were soaked. My inner thighs were a dark pink halfway to my knees, I had dark trails going all the way to both ankles, and I could feel that my butt was absolutely saturated. This had been a diaper failure of truly epic proportions. 

 Sitting in a literal puddle of my own making, I expelled a deep sigh, pulling myself together again, and using a tissue to wipe my eyes and blow my nose. 

 “So what now?” I asked myself out loud. “I guess Subway is out of the question then,” I answered, giving a wry little chuckle. Screw it. I had enough food at home anyway. The little devil voice did whisper something about McDonalds in my ear, but although it was tempting, I wasn’t going through the drive-thru with such huge and obvious piss stains on my legs and butt. Also, the legs of my sweats had already gotten cold, clammy, and heavy, nothing at all like the feeling of a nice warm dipe, which I now just wanted to go home and change into right away. I wanted the feeling of safety and security that they gave me, although after what had just happened, I didn’t know if those feelings were entirely accurate anymore. I mean I know my nappy was already wet before the OAB incident, and a leak was probably on the cards, but I certainly wouldn’t have expected a complete and utter diaper failure like what I’d experienced. I’d only been wearing for 24 hours, but I’d peed my nappies quite a lot during that time, and I’d had nothing to suggest that a leak like that was possible with the adult dipes. Even all of the personal experience stories I’d read on here never indicated that a complete diaper failure was possible after being used as sparingly as mine had been. Stories and pictures of leaks are a common thread on here, but it usually referred to kids pull ups, baby diapers, or grownup ones that had been worn and used for many hours and multiple full wettings first, not for ones that were only like an hour or so old. Maybe this one was faulty? Perhaps it had a hole in it, or I’d damaged it somehow? It would require a thorough inspection when I got home, like some good investigative journalism.  Anyway, it gave me a fresh focus to concentrate on, and I suddenly didn’t feel as lost anymore. The thought of investigating the cause of my humiliation gave me the necessary drive and determination to pull myself together and get home, so I started my car and headed off, and was backing my car in only five minutes later. 

 I’d lucked out. There was nobody around. I would’ve put money on to running into Elsie at least, but my street was silent. I tried not to waste any time, quickly getting out, the feeling of my soaked pants pressing cold and heavy against my legs acting as a spur to get inside my own personal sanctuary as quickly as possible, although once I’d stood up, out of the puddle, I could feel cold pee running down my legs, and my pants were dripping from my butt. I reached around and squeezed the sodden fabric that was covering my padded arse, getting rid of as much excess liquid as I could, before I fumbled the key into the lock and entered my safe place. 

 I shut and locked the door, leaning back against it for a couple of seconds while my anxiety levelled out again. I started to kick my shoes off, until I remembered that my socks were saturated, so I couldn’t walk on the carpet, but at least I wasn’t dripping anymore by that stage. I was about to head straight into the laundry, but I had to do a visual inspection first, because, you know, science and stuff, so I went into the van to use the mirror. 

 As much as I hadn’t enjoyed what had happened, I liked what I saw in the mirror very much. A pretty young girl, with obviously heavily peed in pants, that were heavy and hanging low enough to expose the waistband of the soiled diaper she was wearing, with just the slightest hint of her wet cotton panties poking out over the top. The sight was almost worth the experience. Almost. Not quite. 

 She looked like such a naughty girl! Cute too. 

 This wasn’t doing anything to solve The Great Leaking Diaper Mystery though, and it was a very important part of my experiment that needed answers, so I kicked my shoes off, and literally peeled my sticky pants down. 

 (Quick Edit: I looked even cuter with my pants puddled around my feet, my little socks poking out, and my diaper hanging low from my hips! At least I thought I did, and that’s all that matters!)

 Bingo! The big leak mystery was instantly solved! At some point, probably while I was sitting on the bench talking to mum and wiggling around, the crotch of my panties had poked out the side of my leg guards! No wonder I had leaked like that. My hot piss had flooded my underwear, found it’s way to the bits sticking out of my diaper, and poured straight down my legs! When I’d given up while sitting in the car, it had poured all through the back of my pants. 

 I was so relieved! This meant that the diapers COULD be trusted after all, and what had went wrong was nothing more than a user error!

 Now I knew that, I could safely proceed with my future experiments. I made an important mental note though. 

 Fact: Wearing panties under my diaper was the most amazing feeling that I’d had to date. The warm wetness being trapped in there was incredible, but it would really diminish the nappy’s effectiveness. I could continue to do that for fun and pleasure in private, but not in public. 

 Fact: I still needed to experience a big OAB attack in just a big diaper to properly ascertain how effective they would be if they weren’t compromised by my underpants. 

 They girl looking back at me was so cute, innocent and naughty looking, that I started to get aroused again, and this time I gave myself over to those feelings, and started mushing the nappy firmly against my sex, squeezing more pee out to run freely down my legs and into my saturated sweats and socks. After a few seconds of this, the dipe started squishing up, the ruined padding bunching up in a ball between my legs, and it eventually began to split open, so I stepped out of my pants, and ripped the diaper off, dropping it into them, while I returned my attention to my panties. 

 They were almost completely drenched, and transparent. The only dry spots were high up on both sides of my hips, and were wet all the way to the elastic at the front and back. I pulled them up tight with my left hand, giving myself a yellow tinged camel toe, which I started rubbing and caressing through the wet cotton. My legs spread wider as my ministrations intensified in both pressure and speed, as I felt my orgasm quickly approaching. I shuffled my wet socked feet around to look at my butt, and as soon as I saw the dirty stain on the back had diluted in colour, but spread its shame across a bigger area, I lost all control, and had the largest, most enjoyable orgasm that I’d ever had in my entire life. My knees weakened, and I almost threw myself onto the bed, although I managed not to. I didn’t want to wash the sheets just yet. 

 But fuck. That had felt good.....

 

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Chapter 21

 

 I’d taken my socks off, and was running some hot soapy water in the laundry sink as I considered my next move. My mood had improved 1000% since my playtime, and I was now excitedly looking forward to new experiments and fun. It was Sunday afternoon, and the rest of the day was all mine to enjoy. It would’ve been the most perfect time to try another big building hold, forcing another OAB attack, but my holding muscles were completely worn out. I knew I’d be losing control and wetting myself long before I could build up enough to make that happen. 

 “So what then?” I asked myself, as I began wiping my entire lower body with a soapy washcloth. More free peeing? That was fun! I took another energy drink from the fridge and drank deeply. Maybe I should just put another Molicare on and spend the day just soaking it slowly, a bit at a time? I could put my new panties on under it. That would be cool! I’d love to try them under my Goodnites, although that was an obvious recipe for disaster, but there was no reason why I couldn’t try it, at least at home. 

 Oh wow. The hot soapy water felt good on my shaved slit, and the trickles that ran down my legs as I washed felt exactly like pee, but smelled nicer. I slowly sponged my princess parts, then my legs and feet, then my butt cheeks, and finally the inside of my crack. I was already getting myself worked up again! 

 THATS ENOUGH PAIGE. TIME ENOUGH FOR MORE PLAY LATER 

 I sighed. Angel voice was right. I still had to unpack the car, and I was starting to get seriously hungry by then. I went inside, and slipped my feet into a fresh butterfly kiddie pull up, pulled on a cotton sundress that was probably too flimsy for an autumn day, then padded outside and unloaded my car. The vodka drinks looked enticing, so I drained my Monster, and opened one of those. I knew it was a bit early by my standards, but I was thirsty, still a bit tense, and felt like throwing all caution to the wind and wanted to trigger another accident at some point. I could just as easily deliberately wet myself I suppose, but having an accident was way more fun. 

 My tummy grumbled. I needed food, but couldn’t shake the idea of getting a Subway. I thought of driving back over, but one look at my drivers seat convinced me that wasn’t a great idea unless I put a towel down first. I really needed to clean that before I did anything else. 

 Five minutes later, I was on my hands and knees inside my open car door, sponging and spraying my seat, when I heard a little sing-song voice from behind me. 

 “Hi Paige. Watcha doing?”

 I gave a little jump, turning around to see Tiarni standing there, a quizzical expression on her face. 

 “Hi Ti. I’m, um, cleaning my seat. I, uh, spilled something on it before.”

 She poked her head around the door, and saw the dark round wet spot on the seat, and giggled. 

 “Ha. That’s funny! It looks like you wee’d on it, doesn’t it?”

 I felt myself blush, but I wouldn’t let myself be intimidated by an eleven year old. 

 “Yeah. I guess it does a bit, eh? But no. I definitely spilled my drink.”

 She went quiet for a moment, and I could tell she was thinking about something. 

 “Paige? Can I ask ya something?”

 “Sure Ti. Shoot.”

 “Ya know when ya saw me yesterday when I’d peed my pants?”

 Jesus. Straight out with it. Nothing like a kid to get straight to the point I guess. 

 “Yes sweetie. What about it?”

 “Well, that happens sometimes when I’m here. I don’t mean it too, but the toilets are just sooooo far away, ya know?”

I suppressed a grin. She looked so adorable, and sounded so serious! It was almost too cute to be believed. 

 “I know sweetie. It makes it a bit hard sometimes, doesn’t it?”

 She smiled at my agreeance, then almost floored me with her next sentences. 

 “Is that what happened to you Paige? When I saw ya in the toilet? Did you go pee in your pants too?”

 Ah fuck. What was I supposed to say now? I didn’t “Do” kids that well. But, my mum always said that honesty with children was the best thing, and I could tell that in her own sweet way she was looking for reassurance. 

 “Yes honey. Same thing. I waited too long before I left, and I had a little accident. I guess it can happen to everyone once in a while can’t it? Even to grownups.”

 She grinned mischievously. “It happens to my Nanna a lot too. She can’t hold on very long. But she’s pretty old I suppose. Do you wanna know a secret?”

 Fuck. This was uncomfortable. I wasn’t sure if this was an appropriate discussion to be having with a little kid who I hardly knew. But, she was doing most of the talking, not me. 

 “Oh yeah? What’s your secret Ti?”

 She looked around dramatically, and lowered her voice to a whisper. 

 “Me and Nan haveta wear diapers to bed, just in case....”

 I wasn’t sure exactly what to say, so I said nothing, while she hopped from foot to foot, looking at me nervously. After a few seconds of silence, she spoke again. 

 “I know I’m not a little kid anymore,” she explained seriously, “but Nan says it’s alright, ‘specially if I’m gonna do wees in my sleep. She said it happens to lotsa people. Is that right? Like it happened to you, and not even in your sleep or nothing, but daytime. And you’re a grownup too,” she added for extra emphasis. 

 I stood up and stretched, looking into her earnest brown eyes as she bobbed up and down. 

 “Ti, sweetie, accidents can happen to anyone, you got that? Doesn’t matter if you’re young or old, asleep or awake. They can happen. That’s why they’re called accidents, you get that?”

 She giggled, obviously relieved and reassured by my answer. It was kinda cool being the smart grownup for a change. Besides, I couldn’t help but like this kid, although the more I looked at her, and the way she kept fidgeting around, something was becoming apparent. 

 “Ti. Do you need to go to the toilet now? It looks like you do?”

 She tugged at her bottom for a second, then looked at me with a blush creeping up her chubby cheeks, and gave a shy giggle. 

 “Yeah. I was just on my way to the toilets when I saw you, and I hadda ask. I wanted to ask you yesterday, but didn’t wanna say it in front of Nan.”

 I giggled as well. “Ok kiddo. You got your answer. I did have a little accident yesterday, and anyone can, it’s not unusual. And, there’s nothing wrong with wearing a nappy to bed if you need one, got it?”

 She looked relieved, but very fidgety. 

 “Thanks Paige,” she grinned. 

 “Ok Rugrat,” I replied with a grin of my own. “You go straight to the toilet now before YOU have an accident, okay? Scoot!”

 She laughed, and ran off, putting a hand between her legs as she did, leaving me shaking my head in her wake. What a little devil she was! 

 I watched her leave, and I became aware of a slight warm feeling between my legs, and as there was nobody else around, I snuck a hand up and under my dress, where I touched my diaper, then slipped a finger inside the padding. Yep. There was a definite wet spot in there. I hadn’t felt it happening, probably because of my weakened holding muscles, but I’d leaked a little bit while Tiarni had been talking to me. It must’ve happened while she was talking about wetting herself or wearing diapers, and I hadn’t even felt it. Fuck. But still, I couldn’t complain, it felt nice, naughty too. Just a bit concerning, that’s all. 

 I towelled off the seat, took a minute to pick up some carelessly discarded rubbish from my car, then paused for a smoke, just as the kid walked past again, this time heading home. She gave me a big, friendly smile, with a confident thumbs-up. 

 “Hey Paige! Look! I made it okay,” she said, way too loudly than I thought was appropriate, given the subject matter, but I returned the thumb anyway. The irony that she had made it safely while I’d peed myself a bit wasn’t lost on me though, and again I felt a bit conflicted. I would really have to get a proper handle on what was starting to happen to me, but not today. I’d exhausted my holding muscles too much already, and some form of accidents were going to be inevitable for awhile, especially if I intended to continue to drink. I took a large swig of my vodka drink. I definitely intended to continue, lol. 

 I did the momentary release bit, and although I felt like I was about to pee, nothing more than a drop or two leaked out, just enough to warm that little wet spot in front of my pee hole, and it felt good. I was still 99% empty, so I drained my drink, went inside, and opened a water. 

 I only had one more task to do, so I got it out of the way. I filled up my little bucket with hot water and Napisan, and threw in my wet, stained granny knickers. I also added the socks I’d been wearing, which were wet, as well as the socks I’d worn yesterday. They had gotten so stained that the washing machine hadn’t been able to clean them. I didn’t want to risk bleaching my sweats, so I ran some water in the laundry sink to soak them in separately. Now my chores were complete, I needed to find something to do while I filled my bladder up again. 

 Screw it. I was hungry, and had my heart set on a Subway, so I decided to walk back to the shop and get one. At the least it would kill half an hour or so, and I had nothing more interesting to do until I started to write. I added a knitted cardigan to my upper body, and white socks and my Converse to my feet, grabbed my mask and purse, and headed off, draining my water before I got to the rubbish bin near the gate. The vodka had done its job, taking the edge off my previous uptight mood, and although it was cool, it was nice to be out in the weak afternoon sunshine. Fifteen minutes later, I was ordering a foot long sub, and got a bottle of soda at the same time, which I had finished by the time I entered the park again. 

 During the entire walk, there and back, I’d been focusing on my bladder, and although I could now feel a slight need building up, there wasn’t any actual urgency, but I did mentally brace myself as I approached the toilets, and was pleased that my diaper didn’t get any wetter than what it already had been by the time I got back home, although I did feel my urgency kick up a notch after I’d ignored the toilet and kept walking. It was like my body was trying to warn me of what lay ahead, but I knew that already, and kept going. 

 Once I was safely inside, I locked the door, kicked of my shoes, removed my cardigan and dress, leaving me in just my socks, diaper and t-shirt, then examined my options. I dragged my yoga mat against the front of the sofa, and put a towel on it, then added one of my new bed pads, before sticking my legs under the coffee table, and sitting down, grinning at the crinkly sound it made. Leaning back against the couch with a sigh of relief, I switched the tv on. 

 I was safe. Home alone and diapered, and I intended to stay like that until I visited the toilet to poop, but that wouldn’t be until much, much later. Until then, I was going to just relax and pee my diapers as much as I wanted to. 

 I needed some inspiration, and was interested to find out what other people’s experiences were about wearing underwear under their nappies, so I fired up my laptop and logged in here. A quick search found lots of threads about it, so my research would definitely be fun. I picked up half of my sub, then paused. Something wasn’t quite right. 

 A quick release of my bladder fixed that instantly, and although my midsection was hidden under the table, I could feel the wet warmth spreading across my butt, and I watched my stockinged toes curl up as my nappy swelled. When I’d finished, I wiggled my butt into the padding, and took a bite of my sandwich. 

 My wet afternoon had begun.....

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Chapter 22

 

 The Awakening 

 

 From that very moment on, I just totally gave myself over to it completely. 

 It’s hard to explain, and even harder to believe I suppose, but I somehow “clicked” with the ability to truly free pee. I know how a lot of you guys and girls have tried it, with limited success. I’ll try to explain what I mean, before anyone takes umbrage at that remark. 

 Free-Peeing is fun, but it’s not an unconscious or automatic thing that you can just suddenly make happen. You still have to make a conscious decision to let go. Obviously that’s not like a super-hard thing, but it’s real. You cannot undo however many years of ingrained potty training in an instant. Your body simply won’t allow it. You gotta convince that bitch who the boss is! Every so often, five, ten, fifteen, thirty-whatever minutes that you choose, you have to make the effort to let go. It gets easier the wetter you get, at least it does for me anyway. I can go pee with less second thoughts if my nappy is wet. It just somehow makes it feel somehow more okay, if that makes sense? 

 Sorry. Guess I’m straying from the story a bit. The bottom line is, free peeing isn’t really “Free-Peeing,” you actually have to work at it. 

 You guys are always talking about it or around it in some way, shape, or form. You know what I mean by “IT” of course. 

 Having real accidents. 

 Wetting the bed. Accidentally.  

  Experiencing incontinence. Which isn’t as cool as a lot you might think BTW. I’d been dealing with a couple of forms of this my entire life, so I think I know what I’m talking about here. It’s not the sort of thing that I’d wish on anybody. 

Who didn’t actually want it that is...

 

 So, back to the story. 

 You remember how this was only my second time ever experimenting with free peeing? I guess that either  means that I was a quick learner, or my years of stress IC and OAB somehow fast tracked my FP (free peeing. FP is easier to type, lol) education to the Honours Degree level. After my nappy got so wonderfully wet as I ate, I just somehow mastered the art of being able to genuinely FP for real! Without trying! Just automatically going in my special pants without even thinking about it! 

 I don’t want to psychoanalyse myself, but in a way, with the benefit of hindsight, it just makes sense. The jigsaw puzzle pieces fit together perfectly, and I can see the whole picture very clearly, at least now. 

 As tired of my bladder issues as I was, I had turned to my diaper experiment as a way to cope with them. But I’d instantly developed an affection towards them, and in my haste for knowledge, I’d been deliberately torturing my sensitive bladder to the point of failure. 

 And I’d enjoyed doing it soooo much as well....

 Then, after a couple of embarrassing accidents, and my increasingly regular bouts of unintentional wetting, and the stress that it had involved, I was finally safe at home. My bladder was irritated, constantly filling, and extremely weak just then. But, I was padded, wet, happy, relaxed, and had drank enough alcohol to reach that perfect level of tipsiness where I just literally didn’t give a fuck anymore.  I was surprisingly content I guess. 

 I didn’t notice it at first, as I was too engrossed in what I was reading on here. I was slowly munching my sandwich, drinking a beer that I’d opened, and reading so many stories about people wearing their underpants underneath their diapers, that I kind of zoned out a bit. 

 Suddenly, my little pull up felt awfully warm, although I hadn’t felt myself releasing at all. I put my non-food handling hand under the table, and reached between my legs, recoiling it in surprise. 

 My little nappy was soaked, and the bed pad was saturated between my legs. It surprised me enough that I actually jumped a bit, knocking the coffee table that was over my lap hard enough to almost spill my beer. 

 I honestly hadn’t even felt it happen. My nappy had already been warm and wet, and I guess it simply negated any trickling sensation that I might normally have expected, but it hadn’t fully contained my wastewater, allowing it to form a warm puddle underneath my arse. I wiggled again, and could feel it. It felt nice. 

 You know what also felt nice? That I could actually have an accident like that, and not give an actual fuck whatsoever, and at that particular moment, it was completely true. Right then, I didn’t care a single, solitary bit about my occasional IC, OAB, or even my recent public wettings. I was buzzed, diapered, alone, safe, and completely enthralled in what I was reading. 

 The topic had changed slightly however. I was no longer reading about underwear underneath, but another diaper! My very first encounter with the concept! Like WTF? A diaper UNDER a diaper? The article went on, explaining stuff like how to put on a smaller dipe, like a Goodnite, underneath a big one, like a Molicare, both of which I owned. It was recommended to punch some holes, or cut a couple of small slits it the crotch of the kiddie pants, to slowly leak into the big diaper. It made sense. 

 When my beer was finished, I gently pushed the table back a bit, and got up, casting a keen eye over the bed pad I’d been sitting on. It had sunk a bit when I’d been sitting on it, and a small pee lake had puddled under my bottom, unable to be absorbed. When I stood up, the yoga mat regained its regular flat shape, and the pad flattened out, letting the little puddle suddenly spread out, where it was instantly absorbed by the dry padding further out. It held the entire wetting though, and the towel underneath stayed dry, which was amazing, considering I still had some pee dripping from the back of my leg guards, making me quickly step onto the towel covered mat before I dripped on the floor. I wasted no time at all in taking that little dipe off, and wiping myself clean, before bagging the the disposable items, and replacing the bed pad for a fresh one. 

 Then I padded back into the van, where I selected a camouflage boys pull up, a fresh Molicare, and a carton cutting knife from my newly acquired knick-knack drawer...

 

 

 

 

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