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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 23

 

 Oh. My. God. This was amazing! 

 I couldn’t stop admiring my reflection in the mirror. My big adult pull up completely covered the camouflage kiddie one, but I’d folded the front of it down enough so that I could see my new granny panties pulled up over my lower tummy. The pink ones. You couldn’t see the pee pad that I’d slipped into them at the last second, nor the little slits that I’d put in the gusset of the Goodnite, but I knew about both, and that knowledge excited me. The padding was so thick between my legs that I couldn’t completely close them, and I’d developed a slightly waddling toddler-style walk as a result. 

 It looked adorable! Or at least I thought so. 

 Of course I wasn’t thirsty, but I simply HAD to keep drinking, as I was completely fascinated by my unfelt leak, and wanted to know if it would happen again, and how. My guess was it had happened as a result of my sitting down flat with my legs stretched out and slightly spread, so I was going to try the same thing again. First things first though, and I drank a bottle of water from the fridge, and took out another beer. I hoped that by alternating between water, beer, and vodka, I could get a little bit drunk, my bladder would fill up quicker, and I’d avoid a hangover as well. Time would tell. I added some ice to a little metal drinks bucket that I had, and put in another bottle of water, and two stubbies each of vodka and beer, so I wouldn’t have to keep getting up all the time. With another towel and my bed pads in hand, I was all set, and quickly resumed my seat on the protected yoga mat as before. 

 I quickly found that sitting like this wasn’t the ideal position to be typing in, but that didn’t matter, as I wasn’t going to be writing like a final draft or anything, I just wanted to make notes. You guys probably know about “Stream Of Consciousness” writing I guess? Like just sitting down and typing whatever comes into your mind even if it’s just random words that don’t link together or even make sense? It was something that my own personal jury was out on to be honest. Sometimes it seemed like a complete waste of time, other times it was a good way of clearing a writers block. I kept a separate file on the laptop for it, and occasionally if I was a bit over or underwhelmed, I’d just sit and type. It could be complete sentences that made sense, or just random words or names that I’d heard that could be beneficial to my story. Every now and then, especially if I got a bit stuck on my story, I’d read through these abstract, random notes or thoughts that I’d had, and perhaps be lucky enough to pull a little gem of an idea out of them, and that’s what I intended to do just then, just sit, drink, make random notes, and see if I continued to wet myself without warning or not. 

 I was however, determined not to pee myself on purpose though, and especially not like free pee or anything, just sit, drink, type, and try not to focus on it. This wouldn’t be easy, as I was wearing what felt like a cushion taped between my legs, which was crying out to be used, but this was an important experiment now, and not just more random playtime. Although my holding muscles were exhausted, and accidents were going to be inevitable, I wanted to gauge if I would be getting the traditional warning signs of needing to pee before it happened, or would I just pee my pants again without knowing it was going to happen? It’s kind of funny actually. I should be nervous or worried about it, as random unfelt leaks wouldn’t be a great thing moving forward, but being safely (and heavily) diapered, a bit buzzed, and extremely well hydrated, not to mention horny, I was just looking for whatever conclusions I could draw. If I was starting to become properly incontinent, I would have to deal with it eventually, but just not right away. Let’s face it, I had a big lockdown period in front of me, and enough time to try and potty train myself again before I faced the real world once more. 

 You see, deep down I had an inkling about what had been happening to me. I had very quickly started to undo my years of toilet training. I had only been wearing nappies for twenty four hours, but had also spent that time torturing my bladder so badly that I couldn’t rely on it anymore, and in the meantime, I’d very easily became way too reliant on my diapers. It was a double edged sword. I’d punished my bladder to the point of failure to test the diapers, then somehow just allowed myself to rely on them because I loved wearing them so much. In just one day, I’d gone from testing them, to not just accepting, but loving them as well. So surely it would just be a matter of going back to regulating my drinking again, and stop doing holds. 

 It occurred to me that I hadn’t yet done a proper, real life experiment of simply wearing them without the bladder punishment bit. From the moment I first put one on, I’d been determined to experiment with them, which had led me to here. I would have to start again with a clean slate, and go back to drinking normally, but with a dipe on, and see what happened when I had a proper accident that I didn’t force upon myself. 

 But that would have to be tomorrow or later, for today, I’d already pushed my body well past it’s limited capacity to hold. And besides, I was enjoying it! 

 OK PAIGE. THINK!

 I drained my water, and opened a vodka as my laptop fired up, and I selected my writing doc. I almost capitulated and logged in here instead, but Angel voice guided my mouse safely into a fresh writing page, where I started writing. 

 “My name is Paige, I love wearing diapers and I wet myself a lot.....”

 I felt a tingling sensation around my princess parts that wasn’t pee related, although my pee pad got a bit damp from my other juices as I wrote. I could see my socked feet sticking up from around the screen in front of me, and my toes curled as I wiggled my butt into the double padding I wore. 

 “I keep doing wee’s in my nappy,” I wrote, “I’m such a naughty wet girl...”

 Nope. Nothing. Well, nothing except for arousal anyway. Writing about myself in such a childish way was kind of, I dunno, cute? I can’t explain it, except to say it turned me on. But I didn’t leak. 

 After a few minutes of this, I paused to drink some beer, and gauge how much my bladder was filling. Up until now, I’d been testing this by relaxing my holding muscles to the point of leaking, but I wasn’t going to do that just then. Not only were they too weak to be relied upon, but I didn’t want to do anything to compromise my experiment by “Accidentally-On-Purpose” wetting myself in a non-genuine manner. When it eventually happened, I needed to be able to analyse exactly how it felt leading up to it. Closing my eyes, I spread my legs a bit more, and focused on my bladder. It’s not the most accurate position to be sitting in for a proper bladder judgement call, but I could definitely feel myself starting to build up, probably a safe 5/10 on my personal desperation scale, which wasn’t enough to make me have an accident under normal circumstances, although my holding muscles were going to be almost useless for awhile, so I knew that something could happen soon, it was just a matter of what, when, and where. 

 I paused in my abstract writing to think. What did I used to do back in the good old days before diapers, when my holding muscles were weakened? You know, like two whole days ago? Back in the dim dark past? Huh. I actually had to think about it! I would just stay as close to a bathroom as I could, and try to pee frequently before I built up too much I guess. I could only really remember ever having a couple of big accidents after an OAB attack before yesterday, probably because I’d always been so careful about wetting myself again, as I’d never had the safe option of diapers to rely on, unlike now. 

 So I wanted to hold on until I had a genuine accident, and not force it in any way. That was my plan. No letting go, no relaxation, no forcing it. I wanted to analyse exactly what would happen during the lead up as much as what would happen afterwards. 

 I was actually surprised that my writing about it hadn’t caused any issues yet, so I continued, just typing random pee-related words. 

 “Nappy. Pull-up. Diaper. Dipe. Wet. Piss. Myself. My bed. Accident. Potty. Toilet.”

 Still nothing. I drained my beer and opened a vodka, and decided that I wanted a smoke. I wasn’t frustrated at all, as I had nothing but time on my hands, and it was a fun but very interesting experiment that was extremely relevant to me, for obvious reasons. 

 I carefully pushed the table forwards, curled my legs back, and placed a hand on the sofa to push myself up off the floor. As I stood, I felt a sudden explosion of warmth inside my panties. It squirted out with a fair bit of force, then followed up with a secondary, weaker dribble. I froze on the spot, squeezing my legs together at the knees and bending forward, hissing in a sharp breath, and pushing my hands firmly into the front of my diaper as the second squirt quickly dwindled out. 

 Wow. I really hadn’t expected my first leak to happen like that. My pad and pink granny panties felt really wet between my legs, but I couldn’t accurately judge just how wet my pull up had gotten. Once I was able to stand up again, I ran my fingers up the leg guards of the big dipe, and the padding still felt dry, so I guess I hadn’t leaked enough for it to soak through the little slits in my Goodnite, at least not yet. 

 That was interesting, but obviously not unexpected, and I was able to easily analyse it. It wasn’t due to being overly full, but simply because of the pressure of tensing my muscles as I stood up. This sort of thing had happened many, many times over the years, but always with a much fuller bladder than this, so it proved how weak I currently was down there. 

 The other interesting thing that I was immediately aware of, was that now I was standing up, and slightly wet, my desperation levels had kicked up to a solid 6-7/10. Not leg crossing desperation, but I could feel it building up. I slipped my dress back on, added my baggy jumper and crocs, and stepped outside into the cool, late afternoon autumn day. 

 I had a quick peek up and down my street half expecting to see Elsie or her granddaughter, but there was nobody to be seen, and I heaved a sigh of relief, then stopped halfway, as I felt my bladder letting go without warning. My granny knickers instantly started wicking the wetness up and over my lower belly, and I was completely powerless to stop. 

 It was the weirdest peeing experience that I’d ever had to date. I could feel it coming out, but I honestly wasn’t doing it on purpose, it was like a tap had been switched on, and I was simply draining myself. No matter how hard I tried to stop, I just couldn’t, and I could do nothing more than spread my feet slightly and wait for it to stop. It didn’t stop though, not until the entire contents of my bladder had been transferred into my knickers and double diapers. It didn’t gush out, or squirt, explode nor shoot, but just gradually trickled out, albeit with a little bit of force. I had enough time to light a cigarette with my shaking hands and take a couple of puffs before it finally dwindled to a stop. 

 Fuuuuuck. It felt good, but terrible at the same time. The good part was the feeling of relief coupled with the hot swelling of my rapidly expanding diaper(s) beneath my dress, but terrible because it was happening without any control whatsoever on my part. I wasn’t sure exactly how much I’d been holding on to, but I hadn’t thought that it would be a huge amount, as I’d thought that I was probably no more than half full at least, but by the time I’d finished, my nappies were hanging low off my hips, and I even felt a tiny trickle on my leg, which got absorbed into my sock as I looked down. 

 Fuck. Again. Okay. It was time to finally admit it. I was starting to become actually incontinent, for real. Starting tomorrow, with a clean slate, I would have to start monitoring my fluid intake again, and start peeing like a grownup once more. I’d have to begin potty training myself all over again. 

 “But not now,” I thought to myself, as I waddled back inside to change my diaper and have another bottle of water.....

 

 

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Chapter 24. 

 

Playtime Was Over. 

 

 As much as a big part of me actually enjoyed it, at least on a deeper level, it was a sobering experience, literally. I had lost my comfortable alcoholic buzz, at least temporarily, and I’m not exaggerating when I say that I felt an actual shiver run down my spine. 

 Incontinent. For real. Surely not. Fuck. 

“DON’T BE STUPID PAIGE,” my Angel voice muttered, and somewhat sarcastically too I might add. She was right though, it was a stupid thought. 

 Well, maybe not “STUPID” stupid, as I obviously was developing some sort of real problem, but incontinence? Inside of twenty four hours? Really? 

 No. This would be something that would become alright as soon as I stopped deliberately over-hydrating myself, especially with caffeine and alcohol, two things that I knew without a doubt caused accidents. What had been happening to me had been caused entirely by my own hand, and would cease as soon as I started to behave myself again. 

 Although, technically, whatever the actual cause or reasons, I WAS actually IC at that point, and had to accept that fact, at least for the time being. Tonight was already going to be a write-off, so I’d just give myself over to the fun side for one more night, then start being sensible again tomorrow, which was Monday, a perfectly fantastic day to start being serious and sensible again, but just not tonight. 

 I’d taken my jumper and dress off, throwing them casually across the bed, whilst I dug fresh diapers out of my supplies drawer, when I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror, and had to pause for a second look. 

 This was definitely not my normal behaviour, and I’m not even talking about the diapers, but my self esteem. Looking at myself or admiring my reflection were just not things that I regularly enjoyed doing. When I went to the office, I’d put up with the mirror while I brushed my hair, and applied minimal lipstick and makeup, but I didn’t really admire myself like this, but man, did I like looking at myself wearing an obviously wet and saggy diaper(s). It was with more than a slight regret that I took them off, along with my soaked knickers, before cleaning up and changing into a single Molicare pull up without anything else except for baby powder and lotion. I felt almost naked! Lol. 

 Back in the lounge room again, and I took a seat on the sofa instead of on the floor, where I leaned forward to re-read what I’d written, placing my socks onto the dry pee pad, and distractedly scrunching my toes up to make a crinkling sound as I looked over my work. It sounded nice, and there was something about the sight of my cute little sockies bouncing around on the padding that I thought looked adorable, and it distracted me a bit. I couldn’t put my finger on what it was exactly, but the word “cute” kept hovering around. For some reason, the whole diaper thing was “cute” to me, from my reflection, to the sight of the packaging, the feelings of naughtiness from both wearing and wetting, all the way to how my socks looked on a pee pad. Cute. It was the only way I could accurately describe how it made me feel, and I can’t offer any further explanations, reasons, or apologies than that. 

 Diapers, and their accessories, made me feel cute. There. I’d said it. 

 Suddenly I yawned. I guess the alcohol was starting to catch up with me, as well as how warm and cozy my living room was. It was only just after three, but I really felt like I could use a nap. The tv was playing MTV softly, so I left it on just for the sake of company, took another sip of water, then lay down on the couch, stretching my legs out and pointing my toes while I got comfortable. I snuggled down onto my unzipped sleeping bag, and fell asleep almost instantly, thoughts of wetting and diapers running through my head. 

 I don’t remember dreaming at all, but when I stretched myself awake at four thirty, my diaper was wet. 

 What the fuck? 

 I slumped back down, and raised my legs with my knees bent, like a baby waiting to be changed, while I reached down and gently stroked and prodded the padding that was sitting warm and heavy between my legs and under my butt, while I gazed aimlessly at my socks. At that moment, I really did feel like a helpless little girl again, and I’ll admit that I did kind of like it. In my sleep-fuzzy state, it was easy to briefly mentally regress a bit, and imagine myself as a small child who still needed to wear a nappy to bed. 

 Shit. Who was I kidding? I may not have actually been a helpless kid, but my body was behaving like I was, and the fact that I’d wet myself in my sleep was proof positive that I did need to wear one, and although admitting that to myself was worrying, a small part of me did find it exciting as well. I wasn’t particularly proud of myself for that though. 

 I swung my feet onto the floor and stood up, casting a careful eye over the lining of my sleeping bag, looking for a wet spot that wasn’t there. I tugged at my padding again, surprised at how wet it felt. Considering that I’d completely emptied my bladder less than twenty minutes before falling asleep, it felt a lot wetter than I would’ve believed possible, but that wasn’t all. Now I was standing up, my diaper feeling wet and heavy between my legs, I felt that familiar burning sensation inside my urethra again. 

 Ah shit. Not again? Surely? I’d already had my OAB attack for the day! Considering that I’d emptied my bladder completely before falling asleep, then apparently again during my sleep, I surely couldn’t have anything left inside me to give! But, there was absolutely no denying the fact that I suddenly felt an almost overwhelming need to pee again, and my bladder felt like it must be almost full, although I couldn’t explain how. 

 OK PAIGE! EXPERIMENT TIME! THINK! 

 Taking a steadying breath, I tried to analyse my situation and work out exactly how I needed to deal with it, while I tightly crossed my legs and tried my hardest to bear down hard on my holding muscles, although they would be next to useless at that point. 

 GET OFF THE CARPET! 

 Wise advice, Angel voice, and I listened, forcing myself to uncross my legs and hobble into the laundry area, where I found some relief by putting one foot on top of the other, pressing my thighs firmly together while keeping my legs straight, then holding onto the edge of the sink and leaning forward at the waist. My pee hole was burning uncomfortably, and vibrating like a tuning fork, but I’d somehow managed to find a position where I was in control, temporarily at least, although I was kinda stuck in that position and couldn’t move more than my head or arms without losing all control. 

 Okay. Wetting myself was inevitable, and I knew it. It was going to happen within the next two minutes, no matter what I did, but I was cool with that. After all, I was safe and secure at home in my diaper, so it didn’t matter, but I needed to use this moment to test my limits, and continue my experimentations. This was a way too important opportunity to just throw away. It needed to be properly analysed for future reference. 

 My mind was racing all over the place with good and bad news. It wasn’t great that I’d wet myself while having a nap, but it was good that I’d managed to temporarily stop the OAB attack, especially with my holding muscles being so compromised. I was extremely uncomfortable, and part of me was asking why? After all, I was already wearing a wet nappy, and was home alone and safe, so why continue to put myself through more misery by trying to stop what was inevitable? 

 Because Science, Bitch. I needed to more fully understand just how weak my bladder had become. Simple as that. Plus, it was kinda fun as well. 

 I was bent forward, right knee locked tight and straight, left leg bent slightly while my left foot sat on top of my right, arms out stiff, supporting my upper body as my head lolled over the sink with my eyes closed, concentrating with all my might on what was happening inside my diaper. My pee hole was burning and twitching, and I could feel the flood starting it’s downward trip from my bladder, so I redoubled my attempt at clenching tightly, but it was to no avail. My bladder gave a push all of it’s own accord, obviously having had enough of my useless procrastinations, and what felt like a hot fire hose exploded safely into my already wet nappy, followed by a strong, out of control torrent of hot piss. It was a strange feeling. It felt like it was absolutely pouring out of me, and would continue to do so for a long time, and I quickly spread my legs wider, and cupped my diaper with my hand to hold it in place, and minimise the leaks that were bound to happen, and I could feel my urine pounding against the inner padding with tremendous force, but then, just like that, it stopped! I’d only peed for a few seconds, five at most. I carefully released my grip on the swollen hot padding, and it immediately kind of plopped downwards at the front, but nothing more came out of me, and not a single drop fell from my nappy. 

 Being still a bit groggy from my nap, it took me a few moments to process what I’d just learned. Apparently my bladder had indeed been almost empty after my earlier accident, followed by me wetting the bed so to speak as I’d slept, but it had FELT like it was still super full, and had given up trying to hold on to what was actually a minimal amount. Really weird. But at least the burning sensation had gone, discarded into my diaper along with my pee, so that was a positive. As usual, I felt a bit weak after an OAB accident, so I slowly made my way back into the van, grabbing a beer on the way past, before almost dropping into the little kitchenette areas bench seat at the table, my diaper making an audible squishing noise as I sat down. I looked at my soggy crotch, and saw that I’d forced a bit of pee out and onto the orange vinyl seat, but that could be easily cleaned up in a moment. I opened my beer, and drank deeply. 

 “So. What next?” I asked myself, and at that particular point, I really didn’t know.....

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Chapter 25

 

  I wasn’t supposed to smoke inside the van, but I really needed one, and I couldn’t be bothered getting dressed to go and stand outside in the cold again. I think that the part of me that was enjoying the “naughty” feelings that wetting was giving me, AKA Devil Voice, took over just then, and I opened the window above the sink, and lit one up, before sitting down again with a wet squish. I used an empty stubbie for an ashtray, while I kind of zoned out, and gently rubbed at the front of my diaper. I wasn’t actually trying to masturbate at first, but it felt good to press the hot padding against my sex. By the time I’d finished my cigarette however, I was rubbing and pushing on it with increasingly greater speed and pressure, and was starting to think naughty thoughts. 

 Then suddenly, as I rubbed and squished, I felt yet another hot trickle explode from inside my diaper, and a leak sprang forth from my scrunched up leg guard and ran across the seat, before falling gently to the floor. I guess that the next wave of liquid had reached my bladder, and it wasn’t capable of holding in even the smallest amount, and with my legs spread, it simply ran out. It was the last straw for Devil Voice, and I let her guide me from there. 

 Without thinking about it too much, I threw the blanket off the bad, spread a pee pad on the bottom sheet, and lay down on it, before reaching into my bedside drawer, where I had hidden my vibrating toys. I selected the biggest, hardest one, a seven inch long, hard plastic replica of a penis, pink, and I switched in on, pressing it firmly against my padded crotch. 

 HOLLLLLEYYY FUUUUUCK!

 That felt amazing! The intense vibration pushing my soaked padding against my pussy was out of this world. I smashed it hard into the diaper, pushing it, twisting it, grinding it as hard as I could, while the vibrations traveled through the pee soaked padding, both tickling and pleasuring me at the same time. I’ll admit that I was going harder at it than I normally do, but I needed to apply maximum pressure to get the full feeling. 

 I was rocking backwards and forwards, thrusting my hips up, and had my legs in the air with my knees bent, in a classic baby changing position, and I saw my toes curling inside my cute little sockies, and that turned me on even more. It felt amazing, but after a few minutes my diaper was starting to tear, and I needed more direct contact anyway, so I ripped the side panels open, and let the front of my nappy fall loosely onto the pad, giving me full access to my trembling vagina. I couldn’t wait any longer, so I slid the vibrating toy easily inside my cavity, and started sliding it in and out, while my left hand grabbed and stroked at everything from my clit to my bumhole, and I almost screamed in pleasure. 

 My orgasm was fast approaching, and I could feel something inside me beginning to shift, so I tried to spread my legs even wider, and raised my knees higher at the same time, which almost triggered me into cumming straight away. My dildo had been hammering up and down like a piston, but as the tingling sensation started deep within me, I slowed down the speed, and started sliding it into me as deeply as I could. 

 “OHHHHH. Here it comes,” I thought as the beautiful feelings overwhelmed me, making my entire body tense up. 

 My eyes were closed, but I opened them suddenly as I felt another familiar sensation suddenly start moving through me with my impending orgasm. It didn’t matter though. It was way too late to stop what I’d started, but I had to watch on fearfully as I kept pumping myself. 

 At the risk of going TMI on you guys, one of my favourite things in the world to do while playing with my toys, is to wait until I’m just about to cum, the slide my vibrator out of my pussy, and jam it firmly against my butt hole as I orgasm, and regardless of what I could feel happening, I had no intention of changing anything up now. 

 As my legs started going weak, and the first rush of intense pleasure started somewhere in my belly, I pulled old pinky out, and stuffed it between my arse cheeks just before I came. I kept my eyes focused on my socks, as a gigantic orgasm overwhelmed me, at the same time that a strong jet of pee shot almost straight up into the air at least two feet high, then arced out to splatter noisily into my scrunched up bed pad, my tummy, and my sheets. 

 I couldn’t stop it, and as my backside continued to vibrate, I peed heavily all over myself, the pad, and my bed.....

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Chapter 26

 

 

 I lay there, breathless, sweaty, drained, and wet, and let my legs and feet fall onto the bed with a thud. My orgasm had been so intense that my mind was almost completely blanked out for a moment, although I still had the mental image of my large jet of pee shooting up in the air from between my legs, and I focused on that memory, trying to analyse what had happened. 

 It wasn’t hard to analyse. I’d peed myself as I came, but how much? 

 Once my breathing had returned to normal, I pushed myself up into a sitting position and looked down. I had a wet stripe across my tummy, and another smaller stripe on my sheet, in front of my wet pee pad, and the front of my thighs were wet as well. 

 Apparently I hadn’t peed as much as I’d first thought, which wasn’t surprising, as I’d surely not had much left inside me to let out. From the evidence and data in front of me, I came to the scientific conclusion that my bladder had been nearly empty, just containing whatever fluid had recently filtered through it since my last accident, which wasn’t a lot. However during my orgasm, I’d clenched my vaginal muscles tightly as I’d came, somehow pushing at the same time, (Probably when I’d stuck old pinky between my cheeks) and I’d squirted whatever had been inside me with a fair deal of force. It hadn’t been a lot in terms of volume, but the pressure had made a quite impressive fountain! 

 The bed pad was quite wet under my butt, but that was most likely caused by my rolling around on my open, wet diaper, and I’d squished some pee out of that. The wet patch on the pad was mostly confined to my butt area, but a thin stripe led from the sheet in front of it, all the way back to the wet spot, and my t-shirt had a similar stripe leading down from my tummy. I wouldn’t even really have to change my bottom sheet if I didn’t want to, as it would dry pretty quickly on the small bit that had gotten wet. 

 My conclusion: I hadn’t peed a lot, just rather suddenly and forcibly. I giggled a bit at the memory. I was officially a Squirter! Lol. 

 I forced myself to get up, and examined my situation, and decided that I really did need a shower after that. There’s only so much that wet wipes and a wash cloth could do, and besides, I needed to go for my evening poop at some point before it got too cold and dark. First things first though, I needed to put another diaper as soon as possible, because I couldn’t trust my body to hold on to even the smallest of pee without leaking, so I needed some protection. My bladder was probably completely empty, but with the huge amount that I’d been drinking, there was lots more that would be filtering through to it constantly, and it would need containment. It was fairly safe  to assume that any leaks in the immediate future would be minimal, so I decided to put a Goodnite on, and I picked a Little Owl to step into. I found myself again looking at my reflection, standing there wearing nothing more than socks and a cute little kiddie diaper, and watched as my nipples went rock hard. I found myself grabbing firmly at my breasts, pushing and squeezing at them as if they were swollen diapers, and I felt my sex area beginning to heat up again, apparently ready for round two! 

 NO PAIGE. STOP. LATER....

 I sighed. Angel voice was right. I could seek as much pleasure as I wanted later, but for now I needed to first clean up my mess, and then myself. I stuffed my sodden bed pad and diaper into a plastic bag, and ran a critical eye across my sheet again. The pad had done a wonderful job, and although it had gotten very wet, the only stain on my blue sheet was the thin stripe an inch or so wide, but probably a good twelve inches long, where my pee fountain had arced up and out for a second or two. Meh. My mattress was well protected, and I was happy enough to just let the sheet dry. Now look. I don’t want you guys to get all judgey on me for that, but I’d only put those sheets on the day before, and it had been a monumental pain in the arse, and besides, I’d been wearing pee soaked clothing hard up against my body ever since. Not to mention that my pee was coming out crystal clear by now and had no smell at all, such was the state of my supreme over-hydration experiments. Anyway, I’d be wearing a diaper to bed that night, and I’d probably end up peeing in it anyway, by choice or not, so a teeny tiny wet stripe on my bed wasn’t going to worry me. 

 Brrrrr! It was a lot cooler inside the van than the annex! My nipples were still as stiff as little nails, but now it’s was the temperature and not arousal, so I hurried into the living room to get dressed. I thought it was kind of funny on two counts. One, I actually had to get dressed before I could have a shower, and Two, I was changing my outfits more frequently than a little girl playing dress ups! Wearing diapers was a lot of fun, but also high maintenance as I was discovering. 

 To be fair it probably wasn’t as bad as all that, and when I eventually moved into my new house, I wouldn’t have to worry so much about getting changed all the time, excluding my nappies of course. I’d be able to walk around all day wearing nothing more than a diaper, singlet, and cute little socks, and just go pee whenever I wanted too! The thought of it started to get me all excited again, and before I knew what I was doing, I’d deliberately relaxed my holding muscles and given a little push, forcing a tiny bit of pee out. Huh. Was that it? Apparently so. My bladder must’ve been very empty just then, but at least my Little Owl had a tiny little warm wet spot in it, which felt lovely. Honestly, I could’ve thrown myself on the bed and used Mr Pinky to give myself a thorough going over once again! Maybe after my shower. 

 I salvaged my grey sweats and my jumper from the laundry basket, and gulped down a fairly big glass of wine. I was in the mood to get wasted now, although I was also planning on upping my water intake. It was going to be a balance between keeping myself over-hydrated, without irritating my bladder too much more, as after two OAB attacks, I really didn’t feel like going through that again, at least not now, so I’d stick to the wine for getting drunk on, water and beer to make me pee. 

 I staggered just a little bit as I looked around. A sure sign I was getting more than tipsy, although I didn’t mind at all. Being tipsy would help me lower my natural inhibitions even more, although I didn’t want to get like stupid drunk or anything. 

 I wondered if I could poop yet? I gave my bowels a small push, not enough to make myself mess my little pull up, but enough to see if I could go yet. As soon as I did I could feel my bladder loosen a bit, although nothing came out, but I could definitely feel something in my bowels that could emerge, especially if I was sitting on the loo. I figured that if I gave it another fifteen minutes or so, things would be ready to move, so to speak. Perfect! Just enough time to drink some more before I left. I wanted some fluid build up in my bladder to see how it would react when I entered the toilet. I found a half full beer that I hadn’t finished, so I downed that in three long gulps, then opened another water, planning on finishing that before I left. I started packing my bag with my toiletries and a fresh diaper, and when I had everything, I went outside for a smoke before I left. 

 By this point I really wasn’t thinking very clearly. It wasn’t the alcohol, but my mood in general. Mentally I’d gone well past treating the diapers as an ongoing experiment, and I just simply wanted, or even needed to just wet myself in them, purely for fun. All of the lead up had brought me to the point where everything that I’d gone through over the last twenty four hours was now just an interesting stage that I could look back on fondly, even my public accidents, and I’d arrived at a place where I just wanted to wear and wet for fun, without caring about what happened. No more notes, no tests or experiments, no analysis, I just wanted to wear, wet and enjoy my diapers while I could. Tomorrow, Monday, I’d have to start being grownup again, and actually have to start potty training myself once more, but for the moment, on that late Sunday afternoon, I was completely free to be as carefree and comfortably incontinent as I liked. 

 Okay. That’s probably just bad phrasing. There was certainly nothing comfortable about being incontinent, not at all, and it was something that I was going to be spending a fair amount of time worrying and stressing over no doubt, but just then, right at that moment, I didn’t have to care. My bladder was completely compromised, I’d been drinking enough liquids to fill a small lake, and although I was currently empty, I would be continuing to fill up for quite awhile yet, even if I stopped the heavy drinking, so accidents were going to be inevitable for at least a few hours to come. 

 I lit my cigarette, took a deep drink of water, and couldn’t suppress a grin. It was probably just the alcohol talking, but for the moment at least I was at peace with everything. The real worries about my problem could easily wait until tomorrow, and I actually wanted to just relax. “Go with the flow” you might say, pun fully intended. 

 I was a little bit annoyed with myself for deliberately forcing that last little squirt of pee into my new Owl nappy, but only because I was about to have a shower, and I’d want to put a fresh one on afterwards. It was a bit of a waste really. Not that they were like really expensive or anything, and I had a lot of them, but still, I’d much rather get my money’s worth out of them before changing them. I walked out of my driveway and down the street a bit, until the toilet block came into view, and I did notice a slight fluttery feeling inside my diaper at the sight of them. Nothing came out, although I was still virtually empty, but I’d definitely weakened a bit down there just then. 

 Screw it. I’d drink some more water before I left. Perhaps I might be able to make another little accident happen, then changing my 99% dry pull up wouldn’t seem like such a waste. I pushed on my bowels a little bit, and I still didn’t feel any particular urgency, although I could probably force myself to go once I got there. Maybe I could just skip the shower altogether? Just wait until the morning? No. I had the zoom meeting first thing, and I didn’t want to be rushing to the loo early to poop, and I wouldn’t risk not going at all, just in case something yucky happened again. 

 I went back inside and did a mini tidy-up. I threw the empties out, put the rest of my fresh laundry away, did a wipe down of the various hard surfaces that I might’ve dripped on, and I managed to drink another beer and half a bottle of water whilst doing so. Twenty minutes later, my home was clean and smelling like sandalwood incense again, and I was beginning to feel the fluid building up in my bladder again. It wasn’t enough to cause me any immediate issues, but enough to make it worthwhile changing when I wet myself. 

 I opened my annex door to leave, then quickly and quietly shut it again when I spied Elsie and Ti walking past, obviously heading to the same place that I was, judging by the towels draped around their necks and the plastic bags they were carrying. I felt a touch guilty for avoiding them, but being a bit tipsy, diapered, and more than likely expecting an accident when I saw the toilets, it seemed like a much smarter idea to wait for awhile first. Besides, it wasn’t like I was in a hurry to do anything really, except wet my pants all evening. I decided that having a soda couldn’t really hurt too much at that point, so I helped myself to a large glass of lemon squash at the kitchen table, and brought my laptop inside to keep me company. From my seat at the table, I’d have a perfect view of the street, and could see when my neighbors would walk past. 

 To kill time, I logged on here, and started looking at diaper stories again. It was so comforting to realise that as strange as my newly discovered fetish might be, I was far from alone in enjoying it. Assuming that everyone on here is indeed 18+, (🙄) every age range and identifiable gender was well represented somewhere, and everyone’s story was different, but also the same. We all had different reasons behind why we liked them, but regardless of whatever those might be, at the end of the day we all enjoyed the same thing for whatever our personal motivation might be. 

 I even made my first post! Two actually. I made a reasonably short introduction first, then another one on the DL forum which basically introduced myself again, and gave a brief, if not somewhat vague description of what I’d been experiencing for the past day, and how I’d grown to love being padded in such a short space of time. 

 I drained my squash as I wrote, and had a couple of notifications pop up telling me of replies to my intro post. I was almost childishly excited to get a response, and I hurriedly got myself another vodka drink to calm my nerves before I opened it again. 

 I smiled as I read the replies. It was pretty much as I’d expected, younger guys touching base to say hello and welcome me. I’d already learned that younger girls like myself always got more attention to their posts than what guys do, but at least everyone was polite and welcoming, and not creepy or wanting. 

 I was about twenty minutes in, when I saw my neighbours walking past again, now both dressed in pyjamas and robes, and I found myself wondering if either of them had been wet, or if they might be already diapered for the night, but I quickly pushed that thought out of my mind. The age difference in both directions was enough for me not to have any more than a purely scientific interest in them when it came to diaper stuff. Too weird and creepy for me. 

 *Ding*. Another notification. People were already responding to my first official post! Wowsies! 

 I was going to wait until I got back from my shower, but you guys know how it is, right? It’s nice to get some feedback. Besides, I still had half my vodka drink to go, so I might as well finish that first. Anyway, one thing led to another, and I’d finished it, plus another bottle of water in the next half hour before I realised that it was starting to get dark outside, and that I really needed to get going. I was also so bloated by my fluid intake, that I knew an accident was probably close to inevitable by the time I got there. 

 The problem was, I’d become engrossed in a particular conversation with someone who was telling me stuff about stuff. I know that sounds kinda vague and dumb, but I promise that I’ll explain more shortly. I guess it’s the writer inside me that likes to string things out for the perfect opportunity, lol. But suffice to say, I’d been feverishly scribbling down some notes and links to some other websites that I REALLY wanted to check out sooner rather than later. 

 I hadn’t noticed any real build up on my desperation levels, although I knew my bladder would be well and truly filling up again, after all, I’d been guzzling fluid all day. I did a quick bit of mental arithmetic, and was astounded to work out that I’d drank an estimated 2.5-3 litres of various fluid since getting up that morning. As we all know, I’d already pissed a bit out, but I was still topping myself up constantly though. That was enough to finally give me the necessary motivation to finally get off my arse and leave. 

 I closed my laptop, swung my legs out from the breakfast nook, stood up, and was instantly rewarded by a squirt of warm wetness inside my little owl dipe, and I crossed my legs, bent over, and pushed my hands into the crotch of my grey sweats, fearing the worst. 

 The worst didn’t happen though. I’d kinda expected that when I did have my accident, it could be big. Like a real soaker. But it hadn’t been more than a medium sized squirt. In fact, surprisingly enough, I still didn’t have anymore than an average need to go, maybe a 4-5 on the scale, although I knew that didn’t mean anything if I couldn’t control myself properly. 

 I took a moment to consider my options. Should I change into a big Molicare now, or swap my grey sweats for dark ones, perhaps even a dress? If I did lose control, I didn’t want a repeat of wetting myself in my grey ones again, not after being spotted by Tiarni last time. 

 But you know what? I didn’t change. I guess it was the alcohol blurring my good judgment, or maybe it was Devil Voice, but whatever it was, I felt like being naughty, and taking a risk, just to see what would happen. I was smart enough to throw my leggings into my plastic bag as well though, just in case. 

 I approached the toilet and shower blocks nervously, waiting for the sudden loss of control that I was sure would be imminent. The early evening was cool, my little owl was cozy, warm and wet, and my bladder was starting to wake up during my walk. It’s only takes a minute or so to get there, but I could really feel my urgency coming to life by the time I did. 

 I hesitated outside the toilet door, and gave myself a quick mental check. I was beginning to feel a reasonably urgent need to urinate, although the need to poop still wasn’t fully upon me yet. I certainly didn’t want to poop in my diaper, or even worse, in the shower, but neither did I want to waste my wee in the toilet! I’d been waiting patiently to wet myself again, and was going to do it either accidentally or deliberately, whatever came first. 

 I removed my hand from the toilet door, and stepped across to the shower block, my bladder suddenly complaining about being so close but then being denied, and it showed it’s displeasure by suddenly contracting a bit, although nothing came out. Pushing the door open, I issued a silent prayer that the shower room would be deserted, and it was, although I didn’t waste any time looking around, choosing to take quick little steps with my legs pressed together until I made it safely into the ante-room of a shower, sighing with relief as I closed and locked the door. 

 At the sight of the empty shower cubicle, my urgency began going instantly into overdrive, and I kicked my shoes off, and pulled my sweats off as quickly as I could. I sighed. I was safe again. I stood on my socks one at a time to pull my feet out, at the same time removing my jumper and pee-stained t-shirt, leaving me in nothing than my little owl, which still looked unused judging by my reflection, although I could feel the warm patch underneath my mound. 

 I took a couple of steps into the actual shower cubicle itself, where having an accident wouldn’t matter, because of the floor drain, and I waited. 

 Nothing happened. 

 Fuck. What? 

 It was quite cool in there, I was virtually naked, feeling full, and with a very weak bladder, but it appeared like it wasn’t going to just give up on me like before. Perhaps because I was again in a semi-public place? I knew that if I’d still been safely inside at home, I would’ve accidentally wet myself by now, but it just didn’t want to happen by itself right then, and for whatever reason, I didn’t want to do it on purpose. I wanted an accident, but my shy nature was also doing it’s very best to prevent it from happening in public. 

 Now this certainly wasn’t a big deal at all. Part of the fun of having an accident is the lead up to it, when you start potty dancing around, moaning, crossing your legs, holding yourself, knowing that the inevitable is about to happen, and being completely unable to stop it, although you continue to try your best until it’s too late. So that’s what I did. I put one arm across my boobs as if I was trying to give myself some privacy, and rubbed it backwards and forwards across my stiff nipples, which felt amazing, but also kind of tickled, which made it harder to hold on. I crossed my legs and hunched forward, bouncing up and down, and took turns lifting my feet up and scrunching my toes, whimpering to myself like a desperate little girl as my need to pee continued to spike upwards. I think a drop or two may have leaked out, but I couldn’t be sure. I just knew that my little nappy felt really warm, although it might’ve been other juices that was causing that. 

 It was incredible. After losing control early all day, I was finally able to enjoy holding properly and desperately, and I was really enjoying it, especially since I knew that I was going to completely wet myself at any given moment, once I got over my shyness and nerves. 

 My personal pleasure came to an abrupt halt though when I heard the front door suddenly open, followed by a cough, and footsteps heading into the stall next door. Instantly, my urgency became just that, and nothing more. All of a sudden there was a stranger around, and I couldn’t just relax and enjoy it any longer. Now it wasn’t as much fun anymore, just something that needed doing rather quickly, and I could feel the urge to poop coming on as well. 

 I sighed soundlessly. There was no way that I could possibly enjoy the desperation with someone in the stall beside mine, although I was completely alone and the walls went all the way up to the ceiling, it just didn’t feel right. What on earth would that person think that I was doing if I stayed silently in there and didn’t leave or shower? I decided that I’d just get on with it, and do another hold when I was safely back home again. 

 Although I wasn’t play-exaggerating anymore, I really did need to go, and my pull up was already a bit wet, so I didn’t remove it straight away. I knew I’d lose control any moment, so I might as well use my nappy, as I’d be changing into a fresh one shortly. 

 I turned the shower on, and knew that it would take a little while to warm up, so I stood, fidgeting, just outside of the stream. Cold water started to puddle around my feet, and I hissed in anticipation as another wave of need washed over me. 

 Still nothing happened. 

 I put my hand under the running water, and felt it warming up, followed by my right foot. 

That was enough, and I lost control. 

 It wasn’t an OAB attack, but as close to one as I imagine that I could possibly have. My bladder just suddenly and completely failed. There was no little pre-leakage. No exciting little dribble. No warning squirt. It just let go in one sudden action. 

 I was balancing on my left foot, right one slightly raised under the running water, and a biblical flood erupted inside my little nappy. Before I’d even gotten my foot down and finished taking a half step backwards, my wet heat had exploded right though my leg guards, and was flooding down my legs, where a large clear river was flowing from between my feet to join the water running down the drain. 

 In one quick movement, I pulled the diaper away from my tummy and looked inside it, where I could see my hot wee pouring out of me in what looked like two separate, uncontrolled streams, a half a second before it hit the padded wall in front of it, where a little whirlpool-style puddle had formed that redirected itself in all directions, left, right, up and down, and no matter which direction it went, it was almost instantly escaping through the little diapers ineffective padding. The bottom of my butt cheeks felt like they were sitting in a warm puddle, and piss was streaming freely down the backs of both legs. 

 SON-OF-A-BITCH! 

 I swear, I almost came right there on the spot without even touching myself. 

 It was the most mind blowing, real, planned-but-unplanned accident that I’d had yet. In public. Unstoppable. Big. So much more enjoyable than wetting my pants outside the liquor store, or next door in the toilet. 

 What made it feel so good was the physical and mental feelings were the same, as in the build up, urgency, desperation, and the dreaded knowledge that it’s going to happen and can’t stop it, but this time there was no embarrassment, and I’d gotten to watch myself accidentally pee. That was unusual, not counting my bed pee fountain of course! 🤣

 I wordlessly stumbled back against the cold tiles, which made me jump forward a bit in surprise, and I shivered, suddenly a bit cold. Without thinking about what I was doing, I stepped forward again, but stopped before I hit the water stream. Pulling the front of my nappy open, I thrust my hips forward, letting the water hit my tummy, where it ran straight down into my sodden padding, making me sigh with relief with the sudden warmth. Stepping back again, I looked at how my little owl was now hanging low, and felt a rumbling from deep inside my bowels. 

 “Oh really? Now? You’ve got to be kidding me,” I muttered. “I’m just about to get in!” I winced and clenched my buttocks a bit, as the urge to poop swept across me. 

 I blame Devil Voice for what happened next, and I could almost swear that it wasn’t planned, but I stepped under the water, squatted down as low as I could with my feet spread wide, and pushed, instantly feeling what can only be described as a large, soft log, sliding effortlessly out of my anus, where it comfortably nestled itself deeply into the hot, saturated padding. Hot water was running down my back, finding its way through the waistband, then trickling down between my dirty ass cheeks, as I farted loudly, pushing a bit more waste out at the same time. 

 I suddenly felt lightheaded, and realised I’d been holding my breath while I shit myself, so I fell forward onto my knees, naturally avoiding the other option of sitting on my full diaper.

 After I’d regained my breath, I tore the sides of my pull up open, and carefully slid it out from underneath me, folding it closed and putting it safely out of the way of the water near the door. Then, while still on my hands and knees, I crawled backwards a foot or two, letting the hot water rush through my ass cheeks, hoping to rinse the cavity as clean as I possibly could before I had to use my hands. 

 Surprisingly, the cleanup was okay. Not as horrible as trying to do it with wet wipes inside the van, although the smell in the steamy shower was very unpleasant, even with the exhaust fan on. I was very pleased when I heard the person in the other shower finish, and leave the building before I’d finished washing. 

 I wrapped myself in my towel, and hurried out, dripping water everywhere, carrying my filled diaper to the baby changing area where a diaper disposal bin was built into the wall, then scurried back inside the cubicle to finish getting dry and dressed. 

 Freshly attired with clean socks and t-shirt, a new butterfly pull up, and my sweats and jumper, I wasted no time in getting home. I couldn’t really tell if that lingering smell was a figment of my imagination or not, but I didn’t want to be caught in here just in case! Besides, I had stuff to look at on my computer! 

 I took the time to swap my Goodnite for a big Molicare, complete with a large amount of baby powder and oil, and left my sweat pants off, preferring to remain in just my jumper, nappy and socks again, then poured myself another glass of wine, which I downed immediately, then opened a beer to wash it down with. I lit another naughty, inside cigarette, and fired up my laptop, logging in the webpage details that had been supplied to me. 

 After a fraction of a second, my screen was filled with pictures. 

 

Pictures of adult sized, but baby themed training pants.......

 

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Barry, you won the Omo internet today. Actually no, you won the ENTIRE internet today with this one quote:

"We all had different reasons behind why we liked them, but regardless of whatever those might be, at the end of the day we all enjoyed the same thing for whatever our personal motivation might be."

This is a great story. Mostly erotic but the fact that you add in comedy relief making her shit herself like that, utterly hilarious and I spit my beer when I read it. I know this is based in Oz but whenever she blasts her clothes with turds, all I can think of it North Carolina. Extremely creative writing. Please continue. 

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Chapter 27

 

My head was spinning for a number of reasons. The alcohol played a part, although it wasn’t the dizzy spells that one would normally associate with drinking, but it was making it harder for me to concentrate or focus on any particular issue or idea. 

 I had Angel Voice on one shoulder, completely aghast that I’d pooped my pants on purpose in the shower. She was disgusted with me. On the other shoulder sat Devil Voice, reassuring me that it had been a victimless crime and nobody would ever know about it, and besides, it was super cute and naughty, so that’s all that mattered. Both voices agreed that my last two accidents, the squirting and wetting my pull up in the shower, were two of the hottest things that (The Three Of Us) we had experienced thus far. We all also liked how I was currently attired, in my big, super thick grownup nappy, pretty socks, and jumper. I was such a cute, naughty little girl! 

 Then there was this. (Gestures vaguely at computer screen) 

 Adult sized training pants, just as my new acquaintance had promised! Super thick, lots of extra built in padding, washable, in either plain colours or with childish prints and designs. 

 Up until now, I hadn’t really explored the Adult Baby side of this fetish, and to be honest, it didn’t really hold much appeal for me. I mean I could see the attraction for some people for sure, but it still weirded me out a little bit. 

 Having said that, I was really starting to get totally into the “CUTE” side of things by then. Walking around in only a diaper, cute socks, adorable cartoon print pull ups, that sort of thing. I didn’t really want to share this side of me with anybody else, but feeling little and cute was becoming a major influence on my playtime, although I couldn’t picture myself using a pacifier or stuffed animal at any time in the immediate future! Although to be fair, if you’d told me last week that I’d be a committed diaper lover by now, I would’ve laughed in your face, especially if you said I’d be pooping one inside a public shower! 

 I guess one of the nice things about this fetish is the broad spectrum of stuff to experience and try. You guys know what I’m talking about. After all, if you’re reading this you’re obviously a member here for some reason. For me at that time, I was still a noob, and beginning to understand where my tastes lay in the omorashi community, and the future held almost infinite possibilities. 

 At that stage, I knew that I liked wetting myself, and preferred using diapers over doing it in my pants, although that was still fun as well. I liked desperation and holding, but mostly confined to the safety and privacy of my own home, although a well padded and protected public hold had a certain charm all of it’s own. The jury was still out on the messing bit. I’d done it twice now, and had really enjoyed the act of doing it on purpose as opposed to accidentally, but I wasn’t a big fan of the clean up. I’d learned that I’d much rather clean up in the shower than with wet wipes. 

 But the biggest common denominator of everything that I’d experienced, was the feeling of cuteness that I experienced. Virtually every aspect that I’d tried, had made me feel this way, even my accidental poop. The obvious exceptions had been my public wet pants incidents. They hadn’t been fun at all at the time, although afterwards, I’d been able to look back on them somewhat fondly I suppose. 

 Yup. Cute and naughty. They were my biggest draw cards. What had started as an experiment to deal with my minor IC conditions, had strongly morphed into me getting aroused by wearing and using diapers, and specifically how cute and naughty that they made me feel. 

 Now here, right in front of me, was simply the cutest, most adorable diaper themed products that I’d ever imagined possible. 

 Training pants. 

 I fell in love with the sight of them straight away! I began voraciously reading the reviews on them, and became even more enamoured by the idea. 

 These were absolutely perfect for my daily needs, even more so than diapers, providing that I could successfully potty train myself again starting from tommorow. It was apparent that they couldn’t and wouldn’t hold a proper, large wetting, especially with any real volume involved, but every review raved about how fantastic they were for absorbing little leaks and dribbles, which were the very thing that had led me to trying diapers in the first place! The plastic pants looked absolutely adorable as well, but I couldn’t picture myself wearing those to work, as a lot of people remarked on how noisy they were when one was walking. 

 But for something to be worn at home? Maybe over a little pull up as well? Perhaps over or between a combination of trainers and a pull up at the same time? Hmmmmmm! 

 I realised that I was just beginning to feel the first mild stage of needing to pee again, and I didn’t waste any time. I stood up, opened my legs, bent forward, and pushed, sighing in contentment as that familiar comforting warmth spread throughout my thicker padding. It was over in a matter of seconds, and I sat down again, wiggling my butt into the hot wet lining. 

 I sighed in contentment. There was something that was just so nice and comforting about being able to deliberately go potty in your pants whenever you felt like it. Relaxing, comforting, fun, naughty, cute. It ticked all the boxes. My left hand squished the crotch of my diaper while my right hand scrolled down the page, as I tried to absorb the information in front of me just as my nappy absorbed my pee. 

 As my new friend had told me, these looked perfect. Probably not the cheapest underwear that I’d ever bought, but I could easily save the costs back over time by not buying as many pull ups, plus it was a much more environmentally friendly option as well. The biggest bonus of all, was that there was an Australian stockist of them, and their warehouse was located in the nearest capital city to me! With a small surcharge for express posting, I could have these in my possession within forty eight hours! I had to have them. I just had to. 

 Normally I wouldn’t spend too much online without first trying a small purchase first, but the number of people on here that personally recommended them, and the amount of good reviews on their page was enough to convince me to just go for it! Besides, they were a lot cheaper buying in a bulk order. I could get five for the price of four, and three pairs of plastic pants for the price of two, so I was able to convince Angel Voice that it wasn’t a silly idea. 

 I bought five pairs of the thickest, most absorbent training paints. Plain white, plain pink, white with cupcake pictures, white with colourful dinosaur pictures, and light blue with little cars. I was adding three pairs of plastic pants to my cart, (white/yellow/blue) when I realised that I was slowly leaking again, this time with no warning or effort on my behalf. Apparently I was back to involuntary free-peeing again, and I couldn’t of been happier about it. It only lasted for a couple of seconds, but the warm trickle running over my slit made me shiver and smile. I knew that as of tomorrow I’d need to take a more serious approach to this, but I was happily drunk enough just then to not give a shit. 

 Over the next few hours, I made dinner, finished my vodka, drank a shitload of water, another couple of beers, two more glasses of wine, and let myself leak at least ten more times, sometimes deliberately, and sometimes not, while I alternated between this site, the adult baby shop, stream-of-consciousness writing, and general social media. 

 By ten o’clock, I was pretty drunk and very wet. It was bedtime, so I shut the computer down, put on my dressing gown, and snuck outside for a smoke. Shit. I only had a couple left. I’d have to get more tomorrow. (Angel Voice chirped up, reminding me that I’d promised myself that I’d only buy that one packet and no more, but I wasn’t really listening.)

 I needed to pee one more time before going to bed. Actually I didn’t feel like I NEEDED to go at all, but I should try, although my big diaper was already hanging down low, heavy, and discoloured between my legs. It was so full, it wasn’t even touching my princess parts anymore, but was kind of bouncing freely between my upper thighs as I waddled out the door. 

 Standing outside in the moonlight, enjoying my cigarette, I opened my legs up and pushed hard, trying to force as much out of me as I possibly could, and I was rewarded with fresh wetness that ran straight down both of my legs. That wasn’t an issue at all though, and I stayed spread-legged and pushing until my bladder was finally empty, and my socks were saturated. 

 It was then that the spins started. The smoke, cool night air and alcohol all combined to make me suddenly go very light headed and dizzy, making me realise that enough was enough for now. I almost fell over at the door trying to peel my wet socks off, and I missed the empty laundry basket when I threw them in it’s general direction. 

 I stumbled into the van again with my head spinning, and fumble-ripped my big nappy open, letting it fall to the floor with a heavy wet splat. I’d deliberately eased up on my liquid consumption over the last hour, knowing that I’d probably wet the bed anyway, but I didn’t want to flood it. Angel Voice insisted that I drink a bit more water first though, as I really didn’t want a hangover tomorrow morning. I almost fell over trying to step into a new pull up, and had to sit on the bed to get my feet into it, which left a damp patch where my bare bottom had been. I managed to place a towel over the sheet and a fresh pee pad on top, before switching the lights off and literally crawling in, smiling at the crinkly noises emanating from underneath me. I could only hope that I wasn’t going to be too hungover or unwell for my 8:30am Zoom meeting. 

 Gee. I really wish that I’d remembered to set my alarm…..

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3 hours ago, Stanley79 said:

Stumbled onto a drawing.

1747057724_Devil1.png.64e9e79e2960acc0ef491df07945efbb.png

Perfect mate! Angel/Devil voice. Although Angel looks naughty! 

On 6/14/2021 at 12:16 PM, DiminishingReturns said:

Barry, you won the Omo internet today. Actually no, you won the ENTIRE internet today with this one quote:

"We all had different reasons behind why we liked them, but regardless of whatever those might be, at the end of the day we all enjoyed the same thing for whatever our personal motivation might be."

This is a great story. Mostly erotic but the fact that you add in comedy relief making her shit herself like that, utterly hilarious and I spit my beer when I read it. I know this is based in Oz but whenever she blasts her clothes with turds, all I can think of it North Carolina. Extremely creative writing. Please continue. 

Thank you! Appreciate that a lot! 

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This is my favorite chapter so far. I can relate to having woken up in a very wet diaper and bed, late for a meeting and having to rush to get ready.  I only wet in my sleep so haven't had this issue on a Zoom call but, I never turn my camera on and haven't had any pushback for it. 

Poor Paige though; I hope she will learn and accept that being diapered is something she needs to take more seriously if she ever wants to be a big girl. I find myself wishing I was her house keeper xD

Keep up the great work Barry. Stories like this are better than most of the vids out there because they stimulate the mental, and emotional components of Omo which, to me are more powerful than the physical ones.

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On 6/3/2021 at 8:27 PM, Barry said:

She’s Australian. Be glad she’s not mixing vegemite in it! 🤣

Oddly, we have a product by the same name (but capitalized).  It's a dark brown goo for refiling ant and roach traps.  It contains yeast to attract the insects and so much salt it destroys their metabolism.  It's definitely inedible.

Maybe Paige could be located in Killili / Gascoyne Junction.  (The Wikipedia must have left a K off the population.  The number it gives could neither have been declared a township nor placed on a map.)  According to the article, Killili does contain at least two caravan parks.  It also, appears to have affordable(?) land for Paige's new construction.

Now my devil reason for wanting this setup:  Imagine Paige out walking when she sees a couple adolescents about to pass her going the other way.  A plastic pant rustles.  Paige momentarily forgets she decided against plastic diaper covers and tries to silence the non-existent undergarment.  Simultaneously, the adolescents do likewise.  All three stare at each other for a moment.  Then they hurry on their ways.  Paige realizes she pointlessly outed herself and hopes the kids won't gossip.

At bit later Paige returns to her caravan.   The same adolescents hang our with a woman who is chatting with the manager.  The strangers drive off.  Paige tiptoes to the manager and asks a weak, "Who?"

"Construction worker's wife.  They've a refurbishment contract on the coast.  Needed supplies they hadn't expected to.  No supply house open.  So they offered me good money for my spares.  The kids came along hoping to see a merino stamped."  (And wore diaper covers for the long drive.)

OK.  Another really bad idea.  Obviously, even though Paige is great, I'm looking forward to your other story resuming.

 

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