Barry 1,608 Posted April 19, 2021 Popular Post Share Posted April 19, 2021 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 to tell my story. (Spoiler Alert: The heading pretty much sums up my story! 🤣) First, some background. I’m female, (duh!) 27 years old, and an aspiring writer. Up until recently, I’ve never had any sort of pee fetish, but I have dealt with OAB, over-active bladder issues like forever. The OAB isn’t really too bad I suppose. It’s just sometimes, I can get a sudden urge to urinate, and I’ll need to get to a bathroom ASAP. If I don’t, there’s a good chance that I’ll wet my pants a bit, or even worse, a lot. It’s not a daily, or even weekly occurrence, but it does happen sometimes, and has done ever since I was a little girl. Speaking of “Way Back Then,” I had a few instances of wet pants growing up, more than most kids did I suppose, although as I got older, my parents and I slowly worked out what could trigger it. Basically, caffeine or sugar. If I drank too much soda or energy style drinks, it would really make me start having sudden urgency and occasional accidents. It also doesn’t help that I’ve always been a really shy girl. In junior school I wet myself in class a couple of times simply because I was too shy to put my hand up and ask. Even today, I’m very shy by nature, and enjoy my own company over others, although I’m nowhere near being that shy, emotional little wreck that I was until my mid-teens. I’m probably over analysing things, but I think my childhood accidents were a lot to blame. Let’s face it. There’s nothing more mortifying for a tween aged girl than to wet herself at school in front of her classmates. As for bed wetting back then, yeah, it happened a few times, but not too often. If I can remember correctly, I think I wore pull ups to bed till I was around five? Maybe a bit older, but I was certainly not needing them by the time I’d turned six. I did wake up to wet sheets on a handful of occasions after that, but by then we were starting to get a handle on what would trigger it, and my night time liquid intake was closely monitored. It turned out that I could drink all the water or milk that I wanted to, within reason of course, but carbonated beverages were a big no-no. Of course my daytime consumption of said beverages was frowned upon as well, but it’s almost impossible to stop a kid from partaking in the illicit stuff occasionally. Think birthday parties, family gatherings, weddings and stuff. On those occasions I’d be allowed a glass or two, but my bathroom usage would be closely monitored! But, overall, my minor bladder issue was never a super big deal. Over the years I grew used to carrying spare panties in my bag, or shorts in my school stuff, and by the time that puberty really kicked in, it was almost, ALMOST, a non-event. This has obviously changed quite a bit since then..... Stardust33, LilMiss, Ashley2D and 13 others 13 3 Quote Link to comment
Bedwettingchik12 322 Posted April 20, 2021 Share Posted April 20, 2021 Love it so far! Barry and DerekOmoso 1 1 Quote Link to comment
mikey mike 346 Posted April 20, 2021 Share Posted April 20, 2021 Great start Barry! Look forward to seeing how you develop this new story DerekOmoso and Barry 1 1 Quote Link to comment
Barry 1,608 Posted April 20, 2021 Author Popular Post Share Posted April 20, 2021 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 some point, and I was no different. By the time I was sixteen, sneaking a drink here or there was just a thing that was done. My friends and I certainly didn’t drink excessively, or even all that often, but we did sneak a few when we could. I discovered that I actually liked beer, but waking up in a wet bed at sixteen is even worse than at ten, so I quickly learned to avoid it. It’s amazing how much cringe is involved when you have to tell your mum that you’ve wet the bed, then admit that you’d been drinking. I tried the flavoured vodka drinks a few times, and thought that they were nice, although I did pee in my jeans walking home from a party one night. Thank goodness I got away with that! Now, as a mature adult, (lol) I’ve discovered that white wine is my safest bet. Whatever the reason, it doesn’t aggravate my bladder at all. It still makes me need to pee, as most anything does, but it doesn’t give me the severe sudden urgency that other stuff does. I’ll still enjoy a beer or two if I’m safe, like at home or on the beach, but never at a party or in public. My bladder just becomes way too sensitive and unreliable. For this reason, even to this day, I make sure that I always have a fitted, waterproof mattress protector on my bed. Mines good. Completely silent. I’ve shared my bed with a few people over the years, and nobody has ever noticed it. Best investment that I’ve ever made. Until a few months ago, I’d only ever wet my bed as an adult a handful of times, and alcohol was the cause of it each time. So it didn’t happen often, but I was nicely prepared for it when it did. One thing I learned, was wetting the bed as an adult was slightly annoying, but way less embarrassing, especially because I could deal with it myself. On the occasions that it happened, I wasn’t upset, humiliated or even overly bothered by it, apart from the extra washing that it led to. I’m sure it would be much worse if I was sharing my bed with a partner, but thankfully that’s never happened. As of this moment I’m still happily single, although I’d like a partner one day, except I dread the thought of explaining my night time accidents to him. Especially now. Now that I’m a nightly bed wetter who needs to wear nappies to bed...... mikey mike, Stardust33, YuriChaosLord and 9 others 11 1 Quote Link to comment
mikey mike 346 Posted April 20, 2021 Share Posted April 20, 2021 This really is good Barry! Perhaps it would be good if you could elaborate a bit on how Paige became a nightly wetter..... DerekOmoso 1 Quote Link to comment
Barry 1,608 Posted April 20, 2021 Author Share Posted April 20, 2021 14 hours ago, mikey mike said: This really is good Barry! Perhaps it would be good if you could elaborate a bit on how Paige became a nightly wetter..... Ahhh....you need chapter four my friend! Chapter 3 is done. Only short, but sets it all up from there. Im working chapter four now, and believe me, it really takes off from there. I’m trying to keep one chapter in front, so once I’ve finished four, I’ll post three. DerekOmoso and mikey mike 1 1 Quote Link to comment
mikey mike 346 Posted April 21, 2021 Share Posted April 21, 2021 Thanks Barry! I look forward to reading these new chapters when you post them. Quote Link to comment
Barry 1,608 Posted April 21, 2021 Author Popular Post Share Posted April 21, 2021 Chapter Three. How It All Began. Okay, okay! I’ll bet you guys are waiting to hear the interesting bits! I’m almost there, just have to fill y’all in on how my current living situation resulted in my current incontinence issues. I’ll make it short and sweet, promise. Like I said. I’m shy. Not as bad now, but I still prefer my own company. I guess that’s why I went down the career path that I did. I want to be a writer. After always getting top marks in English at high school, I went on to study journalism and English Literature at college, and aced it. I always knew that my quiet personality didn’t exactly lead towards a career as a hard hitting journalist, but if I wanted to one day actually write a book, I’d need to garner some life experiences. I was very nervous with my applications though. I couldn’t put myself into a position of asking tough questions to important people in a crowd, for example, political journalist. Besides, I hate politics. Sport doesn’t interest me, nor does crime, which narrowed my chosen field down by a lot. Until one day, BINGO! I landed an entry level job at a newspaper in a small city a few states away. I was never going to win a Pulitzer, and most of my job was reporting on local current affairs and community events, but I quickly fell in love with it. You might not think that reporting on the local bake sale or kids holiday activities would be fun, but I really enjoy it. It also forces me out of my shell, and makes me talk to and listen to people, all of which helps me with my novel. It was perfect! Well, not completely perfect. Nothing ever is, I guess. It meant I had to move. That’s probably not a huge deal overall, but I had to keep sharing a house, with strangers again, just like college. Now back then, I’d lucked out and gotten a room in a house with three other girls, whom were all really nice. We’re still friends to this day, although it’s more a social media type of friendship these days. It was kind of funny back then. I wet my pants a couple of times, but they never treated it as a big deal, nor did they mind that one time I wet my bed after a party. Actually, all four of us wet our pants at least a couple of times, and we treated it as a joke. Much better than high school. Happy times. But this time I had rented a room in a boarding house, run by a middle aged lady named Kylie. Kylie is fantastic. A genuinely lovely person, but not exactly a friend, if you know what I mean? I remember the day that I drove there. Up early, on the road by five, grabbed a coffee on the way to help me stay alert. Although I limit my caffeine intake, I do enjoy a cappuccino, albeit rarely. I could go into great detail about how I ended up stuck in traffic, and completely pissed myself in my car, but I won’t. This is a story about my new night time problems, nothing else, although I guess if you can the image of me awkwardly trying to change out of my piss soaked jeans and into a pair of leggings in the back seat, while parked in a shopping centre car park, then having to lay some towels on the seat before I eventually found Kylie’s house, then you might get an idea. So. I lived there quietly and happily for a year, until I finished my probation, and got a permanent position on the staff as a bonafide journalist, and I finally started my novel. Once I felt comfortable enough with where I was heading, I put a deposit down on a new house. Only small. Three beds and two bath, but it will be perfect for me, when it finally gets finished. I thought everything was going perfectly, until the day Kylie called me in, and told me that regretfully, she was selling the house, and I’d have to move. Her mum was sick, and she was selling up and moving closer to take care of her. There wasn’t really anything I could do. I didn’t have a lease, we just had a month by month agreement, and even a lease wouldn’t have been much good under the circumstances. This put me in a bit of a bind, obviously. My new house build was still a couple of months (at least) short of completion, and I was about to become homeless. I couldn’t really take on a standard six month lease anywhere, as I would lose money by breaking it when my house was built, and I really, REALLY, didn’t want to move into a share house again. But, thankfully, Kylie came through for me, God Bless her. She knew the people who owned a caravan park just out of town, and with winter fast approaching, they were quiet. The park had on-site vans permanently fixed, and it was soon arranged that I could move in there on a monthly lease until my house was completed. It was a pretty neat arrangement really. I was almost devoid of possessions anyway, as I was planning on buying all new furniture when I moved, so apart from the clothes on my back, there was nothing I needed to store. I moved in towards the end of autumn, and that’s when my descent into incontinence really began...... DerekOmoso, Stardust33, OkiF and 8 others 7 4 Quote Link to comment
mikey mike 346 Posted April 21, 2021 Share Posted April 21, 2021 You're doing a fine job with this Barry; I'm looking forward to reading part 4 when you have it finished. Quote Link to comment
Barry 1,608 Posted April 21, 2021 Author Popular Post Share Posted April 21, 2021 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 issues came to the fore. I don’t mean like a real curse of course, that would be stupid, but from Day One I always seemed to be getting myself into situations where accidents happened. I took the Friday off work to move my meagre possessions in, and to do some shopping for some much needed supplies. I needed an alarm clock, kettle, toaster, cutlery and crockery, and a lot of other minor items, plus groceries of course. I spent a very pleasant morning setting up my new tiny home on wheels. The van was pretty neat. It was an older model, and quite large, permanently fixed on a concrete slab, with a large solid annex attached to the side. The annex was in two parts, a cosy carpeted living room, and a small kitchenette attached to the back, that featured a sink, fridge, gas stove, and a front loader washing machine. Cooking was supposed to be done in the annex, to minimise cooking smells collecting within. Inside the van there was a Queen sized bed at the back, a booth with a table and two bench seats, and lots of storage. The only thing that it lacked, was a bathroom...... I’d have to use the communal shower and toilet block to wash and go to the toilet. My van was reasonably close I guess, just a couple of rows back, but I knew that walking outside to the toilet or shower block would be a pain in the arse. But, it was a minor inconvenience in the grand scheme of things, and would do until my new house was built. At least the park was quiet this time of year. Only a few permanent residents and winter travellers remained, so my part of the park was nice and peaceful, perfect for starting work on my novel. My first accident happened on the first day. I’d had an orange juice while shopping, but also made sure to use the bathroom before leaving the mall. OAB Rule One: Never bypass an opportunity to use a toilet if there’s one available! But, even after relieving myself at the mall, I found a minor need to pee sneaking up on me during the drive home. It really wasn’t bad, certainly not to the point of sending the familiar warning signs of impending doom that I’m familiar with, just a normal, slight feeling of needing to go a bit. I had to drive directly past the toilet block on my way to my van, but there wasn’t really any place to park, and besides, I only lived perhaps 200 meters away. Getting out of my hatchback at home, I almost walked straight back to the toilet, but now I was standing up, the urge seemed a lot more manageable than while I was driving, almost nonexistent in fact. Besides, I had ice cream and a bag of ice that I really needed to put in the freezer immediately. Anyway, like I said, this was just a minor, regulation style urge, nothing like the sudden sharp onset of an OAB attack, not to mention that I’d only just emptied my bladder an hour ago. Surely the OJ couldn’t have gone through my system already? No way! I carried my purchases inside, then, without thinking, I kicked my shoes off, and mentally cursed myself for doing so straight away. That was dumb. I’d only be putting them on again shortly to go pee. After all, the ground was damp thanks to a morning shower, and I wasn’t going to be walking around outside in my socks. First stop was the kitchenette, where I stored my cold stuff in the big fridge/freezer provided. Next, was inside, where I started happily pottering around, unpacking my new purchases and finding places to put them away. After plugging in my new alarm clock, I realised that I hadn’t fitted my waterproof mattress protector to the bed as yet, so I decided it was as good as time as any to do so. While I wasn’t expecting any wet beds, I couldn’t afford to replace the mattress if something did go wrong. The bed was big, the space was small, and after I unpacked my new sheets, I began the battle. My trusty mattress protector went on easily, but the fitted cotton ones turned out to be a pain. It wasn’t long before I found myself muttering curse words under my breath as I tried to keep the corners of the fitted sheets in place over my sheet of shame. After banging my shin one time too many, I paused, taking a big drink from a bottle of water that I’d purchased earlier, in a vain attempt to calm myself down a bit. Suddenly, as I drank deeply of the cold water, I felt what could only be described as a contraction around my pee hole, as a strong sense of sudden urgency overwhelmed me. “Ah fuck. Not now,” I thought, familiar with the feeling of suddenly needing to pee very badly. Recognising the feeling of impending doom, I slammed my water bottle down on the bench hard enough to spill it, clamped my thighs tightly together, bent forward sharply at the waist, and jammed a clenched fist firmly against my crotch. You guys know what it’s like to pee, right? I mean of course you do, but I mean that feeling when you let go, and feel the warmth starting to move through your body, the release of pressure in your bladder, and the knowledge that it’s about to come out and you’re past the point of stopping it? All good if you’re sitting on the loo or standing in the shower or the ocean. I wasn’t. I was wearing jeans, and standing inside a fucking caravan. My pee hole started twitching, regardless of how much pressure my fist presented, and with no control available to me, a heavy jet of pee shot out into my panties. My face scrunched up as I leant forward even more, clenching my holding muscles as tightly as I could, as I felt a warm wetness beneath my hand, and a tickling trickle of shame ran down my right thigh. I stayed hunched over, waiting for the urgency to go away, but it didn’t. I wasn’t peeing, but I could feel my pent up urine sitting just inside my girl bits, which were literally throbbing in discomfort. I couldn’t move. I knew if I did, I was going to wet myself even more, probably all the way. I was stuck. After a solid ten seconds or so of this, while my jeans continued to soak up the big squirt and spread the wet spot even more, the feeling started to ease. I still needed to go very badly, but the discomfort lessened a bit, but I was resigned to the fact that my ordeal wasn’t over. I surveyed my surroundings. The floor of the van was vinyl, but the annex was carpeted, so it was much wiser to stay where I was, as the thought of the bucket in my little laundry crossed my mind. My eyes fell upon the little sink inside the van, and I grimaced. Although I wasn’t cooking inside the actual van, it was technically a kitchen sink nonetheless, and the idea of doing a wee in it was kinda gross, although it would be easy enough to clean. The drawer under the bed! I’d just put my towels in there! Because of my bent over stance, it was easy to slide the big drawer out and remove a thick, fluffy towel from within. Sliding the drawer shut with my socked foot, I tossed the towel in the general direction of the floor in front of the sink, took a deep breath, and stood up. Standing up delivered an even bigger jet of pee than before, all the urine that had been trapped due to my stance, and even with my thighs pressed tightly together, a hot, dark stain began to spread across the front thighs on my jeans, instantly warming them. It only lasted a few seconds, but the wet spot was huge, halfway to my knees on both legs. My heart was literally pounding, and my legs felt weak, but I forced myself to take a couple of hurried steps to stand on the towel. Suddenly, the urge was back tenfold. My bladder, now ever so partially relieved, demanded a full and immediate release. The sink or towel was my only option. I started struggling with the button on my jeans, which were fashionably tight, and I had to suck my tummy in a bit to undo it. That was it. The battle was lost. As I started pulling my pants down, my bladder let go altogether. I pushed them down to my ankles, as a strong stream of wee blasted its way through my already sodden panties, down my legs, and into my pulled down pants, then onto my socks and the towel I was standing on. I managed to get my left foot free, then spun around and hoisted my bottom up and over the sink, peeing freely the entire time, then I sighed deeply as I finished wetting through my knickers over the sink. I was disgusted, ashamed, and embarrassed. But to be honest, I was a little excited as well, although I didn’t know why to be honest. After all, it was just another in a long line of accidents I’d had over the years, but I think I have an idea I guess. Most of my mishaps had always involved a sense of shame, coupled with a nervousness about being discovered. At school, at home with my parents, my friends, Kylie, or at work. Even the little accidents, the occasional leaks or squirts were always something that I’d needed to hide. I’d gotten away with literally dozens of tiny, manageable accidents over the years, but even those were scary at the time because of my fear of someone finding out that I’d wet myself, although the pad I usually wore in my undies usually absorbed these little dribbles. But now, no. I was alone, by myself, in my own place, with my own washing machine, and no one would ever know. I would usually have been wearing a pad then, although there was no way a pad would’ve absorbed that accident anyway, it would’ve helped a bit. But I’d run out. Pads were one of the things I’d just purchased at the mall that morning. My soaked jeans were dangling from my right foot, and I kicked them off and jumped down. Examining the damage, I saw that I’d peed down the front of the cupboard door beneath the sink, and left a trail of drops across the floor. I carried my jeans to the little laundry, then went back, picked up the towel, and began wiping everything down, before scrubbing the metal sink with bleach. I left my wet panties and socks on as I cleaned, and found myself occasionally touching myself briefly through the soaked cotton gusset of my knickers, and running a hand across my wet backside as well. Only after I’d finished, did I take my panties and socks off, padded naked from the waist down back into the laundry to deposit them with my jeans, then mop the floor. The entire experience, was, interesting, somehow liberating I suppose. I was no stranger to the occasional accident, but this was probably the first time that I’d ever had one, a large one, that didn’t seem to matter. I know. That sounds crazy. Stupid even. But after years of sneaking around spare underpants, incontinence pads, changes of clothes, mattress protectors and such, it was kind of nice (if that’s the right way to explain it) to suffer from my problem and not have to hide it from anyone. It was still only the afternoon, but I poured myself a wine, and sat my naked butt down at the dining table. I thought back to many conversations had with doctors over the years, as well as internet information that I’d gathered, and how many times the idea of perhaps wearing diapers had been mentioned. I’d never really seriously considered that before, as I’d always lived with other people around, and had been too scared that they would find out. But now, I was finally on my own. Perhaps they might be a viable solution? I fired up my laptop, sipped my wine, and began to search options for incontinence, diapers, and pull ups. Although vinyl seat was cool against my bare butt, my body was flushed with an internal heat as I read..... OkiF, LittlePunkGirl, YuriChaosLord and 10 others 8 2 3 Quote Link to comment
mikey mike 346 Posted April 22, 2021 Share Posted April 22, 2021 that was excellent Barry! It is great to have you back writing stories on here; I'm sure I speak for many when I say you've been missed! Quote Link to comment
Barry 1,608 Posted April 23, 2021 Author Popular Post Share Posted April 23, 2021 Chapter Five The Idea Forms. I must’ve sat there for two hours or more, only getting my bare arse up twice to refresh my wine, and it was the darkening shadows that eventually snapped me back out of my trance. That, and the need to pee again. My third glass of wine was empty, and I realised that I was starting to get a bit buzzed. It was cooling down now, and I shivered a bit as I came to my senses, knowing I’d have to make the trek to the bathroom. Opening my wardrobe, I took my running shorts out of a drawer, and slipped them on, sans panties, as my eyes fell upon the sink again, and the temptation to use it once more snuck in. No. I had to use the bathroom. I hadn’t even seen the inside of it yet. I sighed, got up, and stepped into the annex, then opened the door. Yuck. The park lights had come on in the gloom, and it was lightly raining again. I hadn’t even noticed, such was my trancelike state while researching diapers online, and my brain was spinning with a mixture of wine, as well as the (silly?) idea that I could perhaps actually wear nappies. From what I’d read, even the kids pull ups would fit me in the larger sizes, and they didn’t look much thicker than normal underpants. I wasn’t sure how effective they’d be dealing with an adult bladder, but surely they had to be more effective than the slimline incontinence pads that I wore daily to work or exercise? Didn’t they? A strong gust of wind blew directly at me, bringing with it a few cold raindrops onto my face, and I shivered, pressing my legs together as I felt the pressure in my bladder increase. It wasn’t like the OAB attack earlier, but it might go that way if I didn’t hurry up and get to the toilet. Maybe it was the wine, or perhaps the naughty thoughts that had been careening across my brain, but a thought started running through my head. “Man. This is definitely one of those times where a diaper would be sooooo handy, wouldn’t it?” “Yeah but,” I started to mentally argue with myself, but I stopped. My first thought was right. A diaper would definitely be handy just then. I crossed my legs as I considered this, and looked at my crocs just inside the door, then looked outside again, noting that the rain was getting harder. Damn. I’d really have to get myself an umbrella. I started to bob up and down, and rubbed one foot on top of the other, while my right hand, the one not holding the door, started pulling aimlessly at the back of my baggy running shorts. I was starting to march on the spot. There was no doubt in my mind, I wouldn’t make it to the toilet without wetting myself. It wasn’t like earlier really, because then my OAB had suddenly kicked in, (I blame the juice?) but now, I still had control, but the sight of the wind and rain was enough to make me realise that I’d lose that control as soon as I started getting rained on. I shut and locked the door, now resigned to peeing in the sink again, but then my eyes swept pass the opening to the kitchen/laundry area as I turned, then paused, as a brilliant idea just came to me. I did have a diaper! Sort of..... Something almost as good as, and this would be an absolutely perfect time to test out my new idea of trying them. I had the towel that already had my pee on it! It needed washing anyway, so I could try peeing into that, just like a nappy! It was probably the three glasses of wine doing the thinking for me I suppose, fuelled by my internet search on the subject. Something about it had obviously struck a chord with me subconsciously, as I’d never once in my life looked for something to pee into. (Somewhere TO pee maybe, but that’s different, lol) but I didn’t even think twice about it. I hurried into the laundry, and pulled my shorts off straight away, just in case. I was on the vinyl floor that had a drain in it now, so the world wouldn’t end if my experiment failed, but there was no need to get my shorts wet. I wanted to go for a jog the next day, you know, to run the wine calories off. (I try to stay fit and keep the weight off, it’s important for my bladder condition. But, as a result, I was sure that I could fit into XL kids pull-ups, perhaps even an L...😉) I could feel my heart beating faster, and I wasn’t sure if it was my desperation or newfound excitement about diapers that was causing it, and I didn’t even try to analyse it. I was again back to wearing my strappy sleeveless t-shirt, and nothing else, as I pulled the damp towel out of the plastic oval tub that also contained my saturated jeans, panties, and damp socks. My bare feet started their little march-on-the-spot routine again, as I folded the towel in half lengthwise, then started rolling it the same way, making a “towel-tube” that was quite thick, and about a foot, or 30 centimetres long, as I felt a teeny spot of warm wetness grace the top of my thigh. Acting on autopilot more than anything else, I stepped into the tub, opened my thighs up, and pressed the rolled up towel firmly against my vagina, holding its dampness tightly against me with one hand. A certain excited heat started to swell within me, as the feeling of my bladder loosening kicked in, and the thick, fluffy towel tube exploded with a wet warmth. My toes scrunched up, my body shivered, my breathing was staggered, and I pushed the towel firmly against my sex, trapping part of it in my butt crack, as it grew hot and heavy between my legs. I let myself go completely for maybe ten seconds, then clamped down on my holding muscles, not stopping the flow, but slowing it, controlling or regulating it if you will, before eventually making it stop before my bladder had completely emptied. This was important, as the idea of using a diaper wasn’t just to completely piss myself whenever I wanted to, but to give myself a tool to help control my OAB, something that would help me to contain an accident if I got caught in a position where I wouldn’t make it to the toilet on time. My nipples were as stiff as they’d ever been. I looked down at the red towel between my legs, which was now a dark maroon colour, and saw my fingers trembling as they squished the wet fabric tightly against my sex. The towel had worked brilliantly, and not a drop of wee had escaped. I clamped my thighs together to hold the towel in place, removed my hand, then squeezed my legs tightly together, and was instantly rewarded with a pee trail running down both legs. It felt divine. Opening my stance, the soiled towel fell into the tub between my feet with a heavy wet splat, and I sighed, feeling in control again. Then, I bowed my knees open as wide as I could inside the tub, squatted down and pushed, releasing the last of my wee into it, and onto the towel, jeans, socks and panties within. It made a loud splattering sound, like rain on a tin roof, as I peed all over my feet. It was heavenly. I had to use a dish cloth from the kitchen drawer beside the stove to wipe my legs and feet with as I got out of the tub, and I was out of breath. I knew that I needed a shower, but I wasn’t going out in the weather now. I’d clean myself up with some hot water and soap in the laundry sink instead. A shower could wait until after my run tomorrow. I made a mental note to buy some sort of baby wipes when I bought my diapers. After putting my wet clothes in the washing machine, which I didn’t turn on yet, and rinsing the tub out, I put some talcum powder on, then my baggy sweatpants. I didn’t drink anymore alcohol that day, as I didn’t want to risk a wet bed, but I continued my research after microwaving a frozen meal. Maybe if the diapers worked okay, I could risk drinking a bit more before going to bed? I’d have to experiment and find out. Eventually I switched to Netflix for a few hours, and I peed in the sink twice more before going to bed, making sure the curtains were tightly closed and the lights in the van off when I did it. It was amazing. For the first time in my life, I wasn’t a slave to my condition. I could just pee when I wanted to, without having to share a bathroom with anyone, or waiting or worrying if one was nearby or vacant. I even held on a bit longer than I usually would before going, safe in the knowledge that if I did have an accident, nobody would ever know anyway. I felt free. I was no longer a prisoner of my untrustworthy bladder, and it felt magnificent! I eventually went to bed, sober, and found my hand rubbing at the hardened nub above my wet slit, as I thought back on what I’d done that day. It wasn’t long before I had the most intense orgasm that I’d ever had, before falling into the most relaxing sleep that I’d had in years. My dreams were dotted with images and thoughts of diapers, and using them, but although I slept soundly all night without waking, and had those amazing diaper/pee dreams, I woke up dry, but needing to go again eight hours later. Upon awakening with a full bladder, in the bright morning light, I was suddenly a bit unsure of what I’d been planning. Now it was daylight, and a nice sunny autumn day, my previous days plans didn’t seem as rational as what they had done yesterday, when it was dark and rainy, and I’d been a bit tipsy. I suddenly had second thoughts about the whole thing. I pulled my grey sweats on again, turned the kettle on, then proceeded to actually walk to the bathroom for the first time. It was that walk that made me see that my diaper plans were actually a smart idea..... LittlePunkGirl, PrincessEsther, LilMiss and 8 others 7 2 2 Quote Link to comment
mikey mike 346 Posted April 23, 2021 Share Posted April 23, 2021 Tremendous chapter Barry; well done! Quote Link to comment
Barry 1,608 Posted April 26, 2021 Author Popular Post Share Posted April 26, 2021 Chapter Six The Idea Solidifies. My first walk to the bathroom started off okay at least. It was around 7.30 am, the sun was up, the sky was clear, and it was cool. I was wearing my green crocs, (No socks. Even I have limits) an old pair of bikini cut blue cotton panties, complete with little pink roses, and an old period stain in them. (I have a collection of stained knickers that I wear to sleep in, exercise in, or hang around the house, but I always wear spotlessly clean ones to work or socialise. I have a LOT of knickers with permanent pee stains.) my baggy grey sweats, and the same sleeveless strappy yellow top from yesterday. I needed to pee, but not urgently, at least when I first stepped outside. It was only a couple of dozen steps into my 200 metre trek before I started getting second thoughts. The morning breeze was cool against my bare shoulders and arms, and it seemed to accelerate my need to release my morning pee. I’d only reached the next row of vans when the idea of turning around and heading back to use the sink or plastic tub crossed my mind. Yesterday, it had seemed like a no-brainer, but today, in bright daylight and completely sober, the memories of what I’d done made me cringe. God knows what I’d been thinking at the time! Still, though. The fact remained that wearing a diaper yesterday would’ve been a lot easier, I thought. Of that I had no doubt. “Even now,” I thought, as I tried to pick at my crotch nonchalantly, hoping that nobody was looking. The sink was looking better and better with every shaky step, but suddenly, I was halfway. We have a saying here, “Six of one, half a dozen of the other,” which kinda means “Whatever.” It doesn’t matter what you do, you have a 50-50 chance of winning or losing, so I kept walking, the toilet block now in sight, about 100 meters away. It’s probably not the most exciting story, but I almost made it. Almost. But not quite. The “Six of one” rule fell against me. One thing worked in my favour though, I didn’t see another person during my desperate walk. I got into the toilet block, for the first time, but only took the barest opportunity to look around as I headed straight towards the stalls. It looked clean, modern, and as pleasant as a public toilet could be. It looked like salvation. My feet quickly took me towards the nearest cubicle. I opened the door, saw the toilet.....and started wetting myself. Something about the sight of salvation right in front of me made my tensed holding muscles relax, and once again, a big jet of pee shot out, making me act as before, bending over, crossing my legs and holding myself. Again, my hand and leg detected warm wetness, and I clenched my muscles as tightly as I could, before managing to somehow close and lock the door, get both my sweats AND panties down, turn around, and sit down in almost one fluid movement. I sighed with relief as my bladder emptied, then glanced nervously into my pants, that were puddled around my ankles. The crotch of my light blue panties was now dark blue, but even worse was the dark grey stain that covered the crotch and front of my baggy sweats. After I’d finished my wee, I stuck my legs out wide, and pulled my knickers aside to check the damage. It was significant. The immediate area between my legs was soaked, there was a tennis ball sized round wet patch on the front of them, making it look as though a boy had wet himself while wearing them. I slipped my feet out of my crocs, and pulled my sweats off, holding them up in front of my face, while I tried to keep my feet hovering above the tiled floor. I couldn’t, so I shuffled around a bit until I got my shoes on again. I sighed. My light grey baggy sweats had a big dark wet spot on the front, and the crotch was noticeably wet. There was a dark stripe a few inches long on the inner right leg. Suddenly, my stomach gurgled. Not surprising I suppose, as I hadn’t moved my bowels for nearly eighteen hours. Standing up quickly, I hung my sweats on the door hook, and sat back down again, my wet underwear already starting to feel cold and clammy around my ankles. I relaxed my bowels, and gave a gentle push, and was rewarded with the comforting feeling of voiding into the toilet. I was finishing up wiping myself, when I heard the bathroom door open, making me sigh soundlessly. I was now stuck. It probably sounds weird, but I was a victim of my own shyness. I really didn’t want to draw any attention to the fact that I was hiding in a cubicle with wet pants. A similar situation had played itself out a few times at school, and it sucked. If only I’d been wearing a dress or skirt it would’ve been okay. I could’ve just left my saturated knickers on, or hid them in a pocket or something, but my visibly wet sweats were hanging right in front of my face, showing me exactly how noticeable my accident was. I couldn’t risk going outside and letting anyone see what had happened. Footsteps headed into a cubicle a few doors down, and the door shut. I stood up as fast and silently as I could, pulled my panties up, scrunching my face at the feeling of cold wet cotton pressing on my girl bits, then slid my pants on again. I was about to flush the toilet and make a run for it. I’d wash my hands once I got back home, but just then the front door opened again, and the other toilet flushed. I sat down silently again, trying not to look inside the bowl. I didn’t want to flush yet, as that would tell anyone out there that I’d finished, and it would be super weird if I didn’t exit the stall straight away. The lady came out of her stall, and said hello to the newcomer. Apparently they knew each other, and started talking, as I gritted my teeth in frustration. It was a bit stinky in there, and I just wanted to flush and leave. After a minute of mindless chit chat, a voice said “I’ve really got to go Penny. I’m about to wet myself,” and they both laughed, as I heard the exit door and a stall door open at the same time. Here was my chance. I stood up, flushed, opened the door, and came face to face with a young girl of around eleven or twelve. She must’ve come in at the same time that “Penny’s Friend” had left. The girl gave me a shy smile, then her eyes fell to my crotch area, and then widened, before snapping towards my face again. I felt myself blushing brightly, but I managed a watery smile and a weak shrug, as I walked past her towards the sinks. As I washed my hands, I could see my own reflection staring back at me, complete with a resplendent wet patch the size of a mango on my pants, and that the kid had paused, and was looking at me as I washed. I really wanted to yell “Yes! I pissed my pants! I had an accident, okay? Do you want to take a picture? It’ll last longer!” But of course I didn’t. I waited for her to turn towards the stalls, then I was out the door, just as Penny’s friend was emerging from her cubicle. My shirt was too short to cover my shame, and there was no way to hide it, so I started off on a fast walk. I saw yet another lady approaching me from well beyond the other side of my van. Fuck. Did every single female here all use the damn bathroom at the same time? I started into a jog, and made it back inside before she got too close, although I have no idea whether or not she saw my pissy pants. After I locked the annex door, I stepped up into the van, and sat my wet arse onto the vinyl bench seat at the table, where my laptop was. I was mad now. Like actually mad. It wasn’t often that I felt anger towards my condition. I was too used to it. It wasn’t something that I usually dwelled upon as much as I had done over the past eighteen hours or so, as it was something that I was simply resigned to dealing with. It had been the hand of cards that life had dealt me. I was long past any type of “Woe Is Me” self pity kind of thing. I was young, fit, and healthy. I had a job I loved, and my first home was being built. I had friends, and money in the bank. Life was actually pretty good. My OAB wasn’t life threatening at all, and a quick look inside any hospital would certainly show that there were a hell of a lot of people who were worse off than I was. But just at that moment, I allowed myself an ounce of self pity. IT JUST WASN’T FAIR! For fucks sake. All I wanted to do was go and use the toilet like a normal person. No sink, no towel, no buckets, and certainly no pants. I mean, it wasn’t even the fact that I’d wet myself again that upset me. It was the fact that I’d been seen wearing them afterwards that was maddening. I slammed my open palm down so hard on the laminex table that the loud sound made me jump. I was so over this. Once my breathing was back under control, I walked into the kitchenette and re-heated the kettle again, adding my sweats and knickers into the building load of washing in the machine, all of it pee damaged stuff, and yet again I found myself naked apart from my strappy shirt. I made a coffee. Although I don’t drink a lot of it, I needed to go for a run now, to clear my head if nothing else, and a coffee would help. I wouldn’t be gone too long, and besides, my pants would be at least a little bit damp after anyway. They always were after a run. I dressed myself as I drank. My shirt was the first non-peed on thing that I added to the machine, and now totally naked, I went back into the van. Socks first. White ankle ones with a pink heel and toe. Fresh panties, cotton, bikini cut, pink, with a discolouration in the crotch from a pee accident months ago, where I’d taken them off wet at work, and hidden them in the trunk of my car, then forgot about them. I didn’t find them for a week, and by that stage they had dried with a permanent yellowish stain in them. As usual, I added an incontinence pad to them, and I knew it would be wet by the time I’d finished. My baggy black running shorts were next. They’re a loose fit with a drawstring waist, and a fairly high cut leg. Last item was my white Nike t-shirt. I did five minutes of stretches in the annex before slipping my running shoes on, and by that time, my mind was starting to function normally again as the first of the endorphins were released. It wasn’t that I actually liked running a lot, but I always found that it was useful when I needed to think about things. I never wore ear buds or listened to music, as my own thoughts were enough to keep me company, and running was a great way to work out problems or things that were bugging me. I’d solved quite a few plot lines and twists in my novel during my thrice weekly runs. Today I wouldn’t be thinking about my novel, work, or my living situation. I was going to clear my head, and give some hard thought towards my diaper idea. Yesterday, after a few wines, I had been excited by the thought. Then today, it had seemed absolutely ridiculous at first, but my accident in the toilet had swung my thinking back to where it had been before. A doable idea. It just seemed like such a drastic thing to do though. I’d (kind of) managed my OAB and minor incontinence problem reasonably well up till now. Did I really want to resort to wearing diapers? I opened the door, and started jogging. It only took me a few minutes to make it to the park entrance, and by then my thoughts on the subject were taking shape. It’s always a source of wonder for me how running makes my thoughts clearer. I turned left, my plan was to circle the outside of the park in an anti-clockwise direction, plus a couple of blocks. This would lead me to a small cafe just to the right of the park entrance, and I estimated the total distance to be around three kilometres, which I could comfortably do in around thirty minutes or so, according to my Fitbit. As it’s prone to do, my mind automatically started working through the issues that were troubling me, namely my nagging incontinence problem, and the possibility of a padded solution. Yesterday, my alcohol fuzzed brain had kept playing with it, but with no real focus, now however, I was able to consider things critically. Item One: It appeared to me that I actually kind of liked the idea of wearing diapers at home, which was surprising. It had been suggested to me before by doctors and the faceless WWW, but I’d never really given it any serious thought. The idea had first popped into my head after wetting my pants and peeing in the sink, leading to my first proper research into the subject, even though I don’t reckon that I was really thinking about it seriously at first. It had become a serious thought only when I’d been faced with walking in the rain to the toilet, leading to my towel experiment. I had to be honest with myself as well. During my internet searches, I’d stumbled across a LOT of stories and sites that featured grown adults who actually wore diapers for fun. Some liked to play as babies, others just liked to wear them, and although at first glance it appeared to be just another sexual kink, it didn’t have to be. Some just liked the feeling of wearing them, or for the convenience they provided. I knew that I didn’t want to pretend to be a baby. That shit just seems a bit weird to me, but to each their own. I could certainly make a case for using for convenience, especially after yesterday and then this morning’s little episode. A diaper would’ve saved me a lot of embarrassment an hour ago. But, the embarrassing truth lay somewhere halfway between. Yes, the convenience side of wearing in my van was undeniable, but I also did feel a bit turned on by the thought of wearing them. I’d been really aroused by some of the pictures I’d seen of grown adults like myself, looking very cute in diapers, especially the kids pull ups with the bright cartoon style prints, even more so when their little nappies looked wet and saggy. I felt myself blushing a bit as I admitted to myself that I was turned on by the idea. Item Two: Adult diapers. These sounded brilliant, especially the pull up ones. I didn’t want to use tape up ones. The grownup ones sounded seriously useful for my situation, more so than the kids ones did. It was very obvious from the stories and pictures that the kids ones would leak easily, especially dealing with a grownup bladder. But, the kids ones could be good to wear to work, just to stop the little occasional leaks or dribbles. They would certainly be better suited than my regular pads. The big adult ones would be so super handy for days like yesterday when it was too cold or rainy to go to the bathroom, but they looked, well, so “medical.” Yeah yeah. I know. Dumb statement. They ARE medical. But it was like I’d be acknowledging my bladder problems as something more serious by resorting to those. They just didn’t look as cute, or as much fun. But, they would be absolutely perfect to wear to bed if I thought that a sleep wetting incident might occur, such as after an evening of drinking alcohol or something. Heck. I might actually be able to drink beer in the evening if I let myself wear one of those big, thick, fluffy white pull ups! Item Three: Wearing in public. Would I? Could I? I don’t know. Perhaps. Maybe. At least the kids ones, if they were discreet enough. At work, I wore either a skirt or dress with pantyhose, or dress slacks. My slacks were a loose fit around my bum, and not clingy, so I didn’t think that they would be at all noticeable, but my natural shyness made me think that I’d never be brave enough to do that anyway. Although, if they worked? Maybe. I’d definitely be happy to try both sorts out in the safety and privacy of my van. I thought of sitting there by myself, watching tv or writing, and wearing a big thick nappy, and just relaxing and using it, instead of going to the toilet, especially at night. Of course I could just as easily pee in the sink or tub, or maybe a bottle, but the thought of releasing my bladder deliberately into a nappy without caring was divine. I grinned to myself as a different sort of warm moisture graced the top of my pad, and my vaginal lips rubbed against each other easily thanks to their own natural lubricant. Turning the third corner, and starting my return trip, I was able to put things into some sort of perspective at last. 1: I had some minor bladder control issues. 2: There was a solution at hand to help me control it. 3: I liked the idea of what the solution entailed. In fact I was turned on by it. 4: The convenience factor. So what if I liked it? Wearing a diaper actually made a lot of sense, especially for bathroom breaks with any sort of urgency, like first thing in the morning, or on a rainy day or cold dark night. Christ. What about long car trips? The accident on the way to Kylie’s place a year ago still burned inside me. What about plane travel? If I flew back home to see my folks, I’d feel much safer with a big nappy under my dress. I was approaching the cafe, and I made a snap decision. I was going to stop and have a cappuccino! Two coffees in a single morning was unheard of! It was just asking for trouble! But I didn’t care. I’d have a shower when I got home shortly, and make sure I peed a couple of times before leaving for the shops, which were only a short drive away, where I’d buy some diapers to try. My mind made up, I turned my attention to the newspaper on the table, and sipped my cappuccino. As usual, the paper was filled with Covid news again. Where I live, we’re pretty lucky. It’s been controlled, and we haven’t done more than a couple of snap lockdowns, and wearing masks wasn’t compulsory. Yet. According to the newspaper, that might be about to change. It looked like another trip to the shops might be worth it, irrespective of any diaper purchases. It wouldn’t hurt to stock up on some canned and long life food. Shit. I really hoped another lockdown wasn’t going to happen. As I read, I glanced around, making sure I was alone at my outside table, before slipping my right hand under the table, where I felt the gusset of my shorts. They were wet. I slipped a couple of fingers up the inside leg of my shorts, and into my underpants. My pad was saturated, and my knickers were very wet as well. That’s the downside to jogging. I leak, and don’t feel myself doing so. At least my black shorts didn’t show it. I finished my coffee, and the Covid doom and gloom news, then stood up and headed back to the park, walking now, and feeling the wetness between my legs. I knew that any wetness on my shorts was basically invisible, as they were just wet in the gusset, not between the legs, not against my crotch, and my legs and front were still dry, so I allowed myself to relax for a change, and not stress over it. I kind of ground my thighs together a couple of times, and I could just detect a cooling dampness against my sex, and I imagined that I was wearing a diaper right then. The toilet and shower blocks were coming up, and although I didn’t actually feel a need to go, and in fact I was planning on just grabbing a towel and a change of clothes before coming straight back here, I decided to err on the side of caution instead, so I went back to the ladies room. It was empty this time, and I took a moment to stand in front of the mirror and look at my reflection, double checking that any wetness on my pants was invisible, and it was, even when I turned around, bent over, and wiggled my bum seductively at my reflection. Safely inside a stall again, I pulled down my shorts and panties, then removed the soaked pad and disposed of it, just as an impulse hit me. I pulled my damp panties back up, then sat on the toilet and relaxed, and within a few seconds I was peeing through them, just like I had done yesterday over the sink. The hot pee sort of bubbled out the front, then ran down the crotch towards my butt crack, where it formed a heavy stream that started splashing loudly into the bowl water, as my underpants wicked the pee up and around the front and back of my pink knickers, wetting them from just under the elastic waistband on the front, to halfway across my butt cheeks. I closed my eyes and sighed, aware that my toes were curled up inside my shoes. It felt divine. After I’d finished, I blotted them with toilet paper as best I could, leaving them on, before flushing and pulling my shorts back up. This was a new experience for me. Not only had I deliberately wet myself in public, but I’d left my wet pants on as well, almost challenging life itself to turn this against me. My arse felt lovely and warm as I washed my hands, when the door suddenly opened behind me, and an older lady walked in. We made eye contact with each other in the mirror, and she smiled and nodded as she walked past, hurrying towards the stalls. I gave this some thought as I wandered back to my van. I’d completely wet myself, at least my panties, and she hadn’t noticed it. The act of wetting myself had felt really nice, especially since it was in public. For the first time ever, I hadn’t tried to hide it or do anything about it, and it actually felt really good. Would this be what wearing a diaper would feel like? I fully intended to find out.... YuriChaosLord, mikey mike, WetNick88 and 4 others 6 1 Quote Link to comment
mikey mike 346 Posted April 26, 2021 Share Posted April 26, 2021 Tremendous chapter Barry; well done! I hope that as you've sort of indicated In this chapter that the story does swing between nappy and knicker wetting..... Quote Link to comment
Barry 1,608 Posted April 29, 2021 Author Popular Post Share Posted April 29, 2021 Chapter 7 I returned to the van, where I opened a cold bottle of water. While I usually was very careful about my fluid intake, I was throwing caution to the wind today. Besides, I was pretty thirsty after my run, the forbidden second coffee not doing anything to quench my thirst. I knew that I was taking a risk, especially before going shopping, but I would make sure that I peed as often as I could before coming home. Also, I wanted to start building up some fluid in my bladder by then, as I was committed to the idea of buying and trying some diapers, and I thought that if I could actually set myself up for an accident later whilst wearing them, it would give me a much greater idea of their effectiveness and capacity, instead of just deliberately wetting myself. After all, using them for controlling my accidents was every bit as important as using them for convenience, and I could experiment with that side of things at any time I wanted. I left my wet pants on, as I started getting organised. After the last 24 hours and the wetting mishaps that had occurred, coupled with my run, I really needed a shower, but I wasn’t exactly sure what the shower etiquette would be, and I hadn’t even been into the shower block yet. My underpants stayed reasonably warm as I moved around, trying to get organised. I needed a towel, change of clothes, shampoo and conditioner, and my toiletries bag. The only clothing I removed was my shoes and socks, which I swapped for the flip flops that I planned to wear in the shower. There was no way I’d use a public shower without them. Gross. I selected two pairs of fresh panties, (More on that shortly 😉) a warm baggy jumper, and my three quarter length baggy camouflage pattern capri pants. The jumper was long enough to almost cover my bottom, and the camo capris wouldn’t show up any stain if I did have a little accident, and they were reasonably absorbent as well. This I knew from past experience. I put my belongings in a plastic shopping bag, and headed to the shower block that was adjoining the toilets. To my pleasant surprise, the shower block was very nice. A row of individual cubicles, all with high tiled walls and solid doors, offering complete privacy. It was a nice set up. You opened the door, and entered a little change room, only about 6 foot square, but with a tiled floor, wooden bench seat, hooks on the walls, and a full length mirror on the inside of the door. Kind of like a stores changing room I suppose. From there, you stepped into the actual shower room, which also featured a sink and wall mirror. I found that I could stand in the shower, and see my reflection in the door mirror of the small anteroom. With my toiletries on the sink, and my clothes on the bench, I stood in the shower and watched my reflection as I pushed on my bladder muscles, sensing the warm wetness in my pants seconds before my reflection had pee running down her legs. It wasn’t much, as I’d just emptied my bladder not long ago, but it felt nice, and my toes curled in my flip flops as the urine poured all over my feet. God. It felt good. So good that I almost masturbated, although I couldn’t do so comfortably in a public shower. I took my t-shirt off, feeling it brush over my erect nipples, but I began my shower with my shorts and undies on, giving them a good rinsing before removing them and washing myself thoroughly down there. I may not have “gotten off,” but I couldn’t stop my thoughts from drifting along the lines of how good it felt to just relax and deliberately pee in my pants. On purpose. My occasional little accidents had been a thorn in my side for years, but now I had discovered the joy of deliberate wetting, I was becoming hooked. I tried to pee just one more time before I finished my shower, but for the time being at least, my bladder was empty. I was going to make it my mission to have it at least half full or more by the time I came back from shopping, as long as I could be careful enough to not wet my pants in the meantime. I dried off, tying my straight brown hair back into a no-nonsense ponytail, brushed my teeth, and used the last of my lavender talc. Another item to add to the shopping list. Weekends aren’t for makeup, so it was time to get dressed. I started with my underwear. I put one pair on, white cotton, and added the obligatory pad. Then I put a second pair on over the top, red, complete with a second pad. I was hoping that the double padding would suffice if I did have a leak before I came home. If I didn’t, I’d probably experiment with wetting like that as well. A fresh t-shirt, my baggy jumper and camo pants almost completed my ensemble. I added some thick, fluffy white socks and sneakers when I got back to the van. I also drank another bottle of water. Just because. The closest mall was only a short drive away, and I listened to the news on the radio as I drove. The news wasn’t great. There had been another case of community transmitted Covid in the state, and we were waiting for the State Premier to make an announcement. It looked like another lockdown was on the cards. I sighed in frustration. As I said before, my area has had it pretty good. A couple of short term lockdowns, which meant compulsory masks and businesses shutting down, but not for awhile. The past couple of months we had contained the virus really well. The only active cases had been returned travellers in hotel quarantine, but now, it had somehow escaped into the community again. The official announcement was due in a few hours, but I already knew what that would mean. Schools, non-essential shops, restaurants, pubs, cinemas, gyms, hairdressers and the like would close. Masks would become compulsory once more, and the stupid panic buying would begin again. Seriously, why the fuck did people think that they needed a hundred rolls of toilet paper for? It became a self fulfilling prophecy. You’d find yourself stocking up on stuff that you didn’t need. I would be guilty as well I guessed. Technically, I didn’t need toilet paper, as the park supplied it, but now I’d buy some, just in case. As I drove I noticed that there were already more people wearing masks than usual. Although they weren’t compulsory yet, they were encouraged, especially on public transport and the like, but suddenly lots more people were already wearing them. It was another item I’d need to get, as well as more hand sanitizer. Every cloud has a silver lining though. I realised that I could put my mask on as I shopped, and it would give me some much needed anonymity when I bought my nappies! The kids Goodnights weren’t an issue, as I’d simply add them to my trolley with my shopping, but I’d been absolutely dreading visiting the pharmacy to buy the adult ones! You need to remember, that although I’m certainly not famous by any stretch, I AM a reporter, complete with a grainy black and white photo attached to my byline, and I do meet a lot of people in my job. I’d been cringing a bit at the thought of being recognised while buying the adult pull ups, although I was probably giving my level of “fame” way to much mileage! Still, wearing a mask and paying cash would hopefully prevent me from being recognised. We do live in a small city after all, and I had to consider that. I found a parking spot at the mall easy enough, although the incoming traffic was already starting to build up, with everyone pre-empting the upcoming lockdown announcement. The panic shopping was about to start. I took my cloth mask from the glove compartment, where it had languished untouched for months, took a deep breath, donned it, and entered the mall. There was definitely a weird vibe going on. The mask wearers outnumbered the bare faced, and people looked somehow fidgety. There was a kind of tension in the atmosphere. No trouble, but you could taste the worry in the air. For me personally, I wasn’t concerned. I lived by myself, and generally preferred my own company. I wasn’t a big restaurant-goer or pub patron, and if we did lockdown, I’d be able to spend some quality time on my novel. I was still doing an ever changing draft copy, but I felt like it might actually be time to finally start writing it properly. I needed a bit more online research to tidy up a few things, (I have no freaking idea how a nuclear reactor works! 🤣) but I could start fleshing out the plot. I didn’t go to work during the last lockdown. There simply wasn’t any community events to report on! As I considered my options, I kept walking down the mall, taking my time, window shopping, also thinking about how I should have a bladder filling beverage, but probably also try a tactical bathroom visit before I actually got stuck in a supermarket line. You know. Just in case. I found a cafe with a vacant table, and I took a seat, removing my mask. Within a minute I had a young girl asking to take my order. “Skim milk cappuccino and eggs Benedict please,” I said without thinking, then suddenly remembered that I’d already had two coffees today already, and it still wasn’t even lunchtime! Fuuuuuck. I honestly don’t recall ever having three coffees before lunchtime in my life. I mentally shrugged. I’d pee before shopping, and it would certainly help to irritate my bladder later on this afternoon. I’d have to drink more water, or I’d get that burning-peeing sensation that caffeine sometimes gave me. Success! She returned with a carafe of ice water before I’d even considered asking. (Shyness. Duh.) I poured myself a glass, and got a generous gulp in, when my phone rang. It was my editor from work, a.k.a my boss. I’m not generally a fan of people who talk on their phones in public for more than a whispered couple of seconds. “I’m here. Where are you” “What was it you wanted again?” That sort of things okay. Not conversations. But, you know, it’s like my Boss... “Hi Max. What’s up?” Maxine is my boss, but we call her Max. She’s lovely. “Hi Paige. Sorry to bother you on the weekend, but I thought you might appreciate an early heads up. Bad news I’m afraid.” This sounded serious, especially her tone of voice and on an after work call as well. Something was up. Of course I asked. “We have another lockdown coming,” she said gravely. “Premier is going to make it an official announcement at two o’clock. Our inside guy knows it’s a definite, but we’re obviously not going to try and say anything before the press conference. Gentlemen’s agreement type of shit. But it’s going to happen. The whole lockdown mask thing again.” I sighed. It wasn’t unexpected, but still sucky. “So what’s it mean for me Max? Next week.......” “Sorry Paige,” she replied. Looks like you’re taking another week off. You can use your holidays if you want to. But my advice to you is, go to the bloody shops now. Before the madness starts again after the announcement. The natives smell blood already, so you don’t want to be trying to shop later today.” “Thanks boss,” I replied. “I’m actually at the shops now, and it looks like it’s getting busier. I’ll get it done after eat. I’m in a cafe now.” “Ok Paige. I’ll let you go enjoy lunch. But take my advice. Buy stuff that you can keep and store, and buy extra of it. I know the shops will still be open tomorrow, but there will be a run on staple items today. Get a couple of days worth.” My meal was arriving, so I thanked Max for the call, and of course me being me, I apologised profusely to the young girl for talking on my phone. She thanked me, but gave me a weird look. I thought about his advice. Buy long life staples, and buy extras. Hmmm. Did that include diapers? The thought of diapers out of nowhere seemed to make me want to pee all of a sudden. It looked like the 2.5 cups of coffee I’d had today were starting to work through me. I poured another glass of water, and drank half of it. I’d pee before I went shopping, I didn’t want to wet my pants till later..... PrincessEsther, WetWinter, Emma Bailey and 6 others 9 Quote Link to comment
mikey mike 346 Posted April 30, 2021 Share Posted April 30, 2021 It just gets better and better Barry. The way you write this we really get a feel of Paige's innermost thoughts. Quote Link to comment
Barry 1,608 Posted May 4, 2021 Author Popular Post Share Posted May 4, 2021 Chapter 8 My eggs benedict was nice, as was the coffee, but still somewhat bland, the overshadowing bad news taking the full enjoyment out of what was before a day full of fun possibilities. I could still continue with my experiment of course, but it looked like I’d have all the time in the world for it anyway, with another lockdown imminent. I finished me meal, including the carafe of water, and stood up, immediately feeling the heaviness in my bladder. I’d found the toilets yesterday, and knew I had to visit them again before I started shopping. On my way there, I noticed how many more people had arrived in the short space of time that I’d been seated. My bathroom visit was thankfully uneventful this time, the sight of the toilet not triggering an accident like it had done earlier on that morning. Both pairs of panties and pads were still dry, and I made sure to make every effort to completely drain my bladder, because I didn’t want them to get wet. Not yet anyway... Wearing my cloth face mask gave me the anonymity that I craved, and I entered the supermarket with my trolley, as butterflies danced with excitement in my tummy. I was nervous about buying diapers, but my anticipation far outweighed my nerves. Not wanting to make an obvious beeline for the pull ups, I started at the side, in the fruit and vegetable section, and tried to focus my thoughts on stocking up on whatever essentials that I could. Now I’m a looonnnng way from ever being on MasterChef, so my stay in fresh produce wasn’t long. Got some fruit and potatoes basically. Frozen or tinned would be good enough for me, especially during a lockdown. The store got busier as I threaded my way through it, my excitement building with every step closer that I came to the baby aisle. I loaded my trolley up a lot more than what I usually would, making sure that I had enough of basically everything, including spare stuff like light bulbs, candles, sticky tape and lots of miscellaneous items. Nearly every household in the world has “That Drawer,” where you can just magically find stuff like spare pens, rubber bands or paper clips, but mine didn’t as yet. It certainly would by this afternoon. I soon realised that I was actually procrastinating a bit, slowing myself down before I reached the forbidden fruits of the diaper aisle. There was one glaring omission to my purchases as well. Period pads. My period was due in a week or so, and I was nearly out of them, and my incontinence pads weren’t suitable for the task, but I didn’t buy any. I’d committed myself to wearing pull ups instead, just to see how it would go, to kind of force myself into being padded 24/7 for a week. It wasn’t really a big deal. If it was too messy, or I simply didn’t like it, I could always buy pads later. Suddenly, I was there. The nappy aisle. Just looking at the many different packages on display made me think about wetting myself, although I didn’t need to go yet. My last pee had been less than half an hour ago, although I did momentarily grind my thighs together in anticipation of later. Now thanks to my research, I already knew exactly what I wanted, and I found them instantly, and feeling safely anonymous behind my mask, I allowed myself a good minute or so of just browsing, picking up and examining different packages. I’d had my heart set on the XL Goodnights with the purple butterfly design, but hadn’t really expected to find them, but I did, as well as some owl pattern ones, and even some boys camouflage ones! They matched my capris, so I bought those as well. It was a bit embarrassing putting three different packs of pull ups in my trolley, but I kind of hid them under other stuff. They also had baby powder, skin lotion, and zinc cream there, along with disposable gloves, wet wipes, and plastic, scented disposal bags. I bought some of everything. I was weirdly excited about the baby powder as well. I hadn’t used it for years, but I loved the smell, and after running out of talc earlier, this was a great alternative. Y’all know the classic cartoon of someone standing there with a little devil and angel on each shoulder, whispering in their ear? Well, I definitely had the devil at least. Although I didn’t need to go, the sight of all of those lovely diapers made me want to, and the package I was holding felt so soft and squishy in my hands. I blame the mask for making me feel overconfident, but I suddenly had a serious urge to just wet myself a little bit. After all, double panties and pads, absorbent camouflage pants, and a nearly empty bladder all made it seem like a great idea. I didn’t have much pee inside me at that stage, so I literally couldn’t lose control and have a big “accident,” but I really wanted my remaining wee to be in my pants instead of my body. I didn’t even look around, and I have no idea how many people walked past me, or if they looked at the camo-pantsed girl wearing the big cloth mask as she leaned against her trolley while studying the pack of boys pull ups in her hands, and I didn’t care. I wasn’t consciously holding on anyway, but I made an effort to concentrate on relaxing my bladder muscles altogether, and my body tingled with excitement as I felt a small movement from deep within. Kind of a minuscule version of what an OAB attack can be like, when I know it’s about to happen and I can’t stop it. The difference was of course that this time I COULD stop it, and it certainly wasn’t desperate or urgent, but it was still that familiar feeling of impending doom as I felt my wee moving towards my pee hole. There was a brief moment of panic as I hit the point of no return, the Angel voice furiously asking me what the actual fuck did I think I was doing, but it was too late. It wasn’t like my last two actual accidents, where my full bladder had firmly squirted it’s contents forcefully into my pants with no control, but more like my towel pee, where I was in control, although with almost zero urgency this time. I closed my eyes for a second as I felt the tiny trickle emerge, and spread itself delicately across the lips of my freshly shaved pussy before the pad swiftly drew it away. It only lasted a second or two, and stopped all by itself, but it was enough to give me a warm wet spot on the pad that was brushing against my vagina. Bliss. The rest of the supermarket trip is a bit hazy. I switched on to autopilot as I pushed my trolley around, loading it up with anything and everything I wanted. I let my self restraint disappear, and found myself adding stuff that I wouldn’t normally buy, like Coca-Cola and a four pack of Monster energy drinks. Both taboo items that would end up irritating my bladder, just like the coffee would, but that was just part of the excitement. I’d planned to use the self-service checkout, because of my delicate purchases, but of course me being the idiot that I am, I had forgotten to bring my collection of plastic bags with me, plus my trolley was nearly full, so I hit up a freshly vacated register, adding a cold bottle of ice tea from the little fridge that is set up perfectly for impulse buys like that. But hey, this was quickly becoming a day for being impulsive anyway I thought, feeling the little spot of warmth around my vagina. Now my shyness had built this up to being a huge moment, and I found myself almost holding my breath as the older lady scanned my purchases through, as I was waiting for some sort of comment about the little nappies, something along the lines of “That’s a lot of pull ups! Do you have girls and boys?” Or perhaps a sudden raised eyebrow or knowing look, or a sly grin, (which would’ve been completely unnoticed behind her mask anyway 🙄) but of course nothing like that happened. She simply scanned and bagged my purchases, putting the three packs of Goodnights together in the same bag. I could feel the warmth on my cheeks glowing behind my mask, but like the tiny spot of warmth in my knickers, she couldn’t see it. Outside the supermarket, in the mall once more, I took a seat and opened my iced tea, and drank deeply, enjoying its fruity coldness, while I considered my next move. I really hadn’t planned this as well as I could have. My trolley was full, and I still needed to visit the pharmacy for the big diapers, plus I wanted alcohol as well, and there was one more shop that I wanted to visit, a discount store that I’d passed on the way in. I really should have done those things first, before getting my groceries which included frozen stuff. It wasn’t a very warm day, so I decided my groceries would be safe enough in the car for a little bit while I did my final bit of shopping, and I headed to the car park, where I put my stuff in the car, and drained the last of my tea, throwing the empty bottle into the back as well. The scary bit of my trip was about to start. Purchasing adult diapers, so of course I procrastinated, visiting the discount store first. On my way past it yesterday, I’d seen a display of yoga mats inside, and had meant to get one, but I’d forgotten, and there were lots of household items in there as well. Now that I was officially Adulting Solo, there were a lot of small items that I needed. I bought a couple of extra pots, a cheap entry mat, a new plastic bucket, and a pink yoga mat. On impulse, I also bought a rubber backed picnic blanket, about 7 foot or 2.1 meters square. I thought that it would be a good thing to put over the carpet in my lounge room annex, so I could experiment with my diapers in there, where there was a lot more room, and I wouldn’t get pee on the carpet. This made me think of peeing again of course, and made me want to get home quickly so I could try my nappies out, which seemed more important than getting my frozen food put away. I did a mental examination of my bladder status. Still no urgency or even real need to go, so when I found myself studying a display of adult colouring books, I decided to let another tiny leak in my pants. For the moment, I was alone in that section, so I repeated the same process as before. I slightly spread my legs, closed my eyes, and relaxed. Although I didn’t feel a need to go just then, it happened again, and a lot easier and quicker than before. I felt my bladder loosen, then my urine beginning to move, but a lot more sudden this time. A wave of panic hit me as I discovered that this time I actually had more inside me to let out, and I clamped my holding muscles tightly as a much stronger leak than before squirted out. This was similar to the kind of accident that sometimes happens if I cough, laugh, or sneeze with a full bladder. A lot bigger and stronger than my deliberate leak earlier, but not a full drenching explosion like I’d been having at home. My pee holding muscles tensed firmly close, but not before I felt a spreading heat between my legs. My pad did it’s job just like it’s designed to do, but I was experienced enough to know that my panties would be wet as well this time. At least the first pair. I could feel the warm wetness touching me as I walked to the checkout, and the sudden realisation that I’d started something this time, something that I really needed to control. I’d successfully shut the flow off, but I could feel the unreleased bit sloshing around inside me, and quickly worked out that I actually did need to go a bit now. The coffee, water and tea had been filtering its way to my bladder, and although I hadn’t needed to go before, now I’d let a bit more out, the rest wanted to join it. I gave a fleeting touch between my legs as I stood there and detected no wetness on my pants at all, but now I was beginning to feel my bladder building up. There was a display of cheap beach towels there, and remembering my big accident in the car a year ago, I impulsively added one to my trolley to protect my car seat on the way home. I wasn’t planning on wetting myself on purpose till later, but now I could feel it building, and knowing how much bladder irritating liquid that I’d already consumed, I also knew that a real accident was a distinct possibility. Better safe than sorry. Next stop was the liquor store. As I said before, I really don’t drink a great lot as a rule, but breaking that rule was something else that I was looking forward to, especially with beer. It might be odd for a girl, but I actually really like beer, I just don’t often drink it. But the same applies to soda and energy drinks as well, and they were already in my car waiting for me. I bought a full box of beer, 24 stubbies, and a mixed dozen of white wine, adding a single cold can of Mother to drink right away. To hell with caution. I was going to wet myself a lot later on. I felt slightly guilty buying all of that alcohol, but I wasn’t the only one. The shop was packed, and everyone was panic buying for the coming lockdown. I was dreading how much I was loading on to my credit card, but I wouldn’t need to spend any more money for a week or more, especially if I was stuck at home. I stood off to one side of the mall, out of the way of the traffic, and spent a few minutes checking my phone as I drank my Mother energy drink. It was sooooo good! I hadn’t had one for years! I’d swear I actually felt a bolt of energy surging through my body as I drank it! I’d pay for it later, but meh. That was the whole idea of it, and I felt more free and unconstrained than I had done for years. Maybe it was the caffeine, but man, was I on a high just then! It didn’t help my nerves though, with the upcoming diaper purchases to go. As it was, I’d seen a few people that I recognised while I shopped, but stayed safely anonymous behind my mask, and hoped no one had recognised me as well. I would pay cash for my big nappies, as I didn’t even want to risk anyone seeing my name on my credit card. The nervousness was starting to play havoc with my bladder now, as it continued to fill up. I wasn’t desperate yet, but I would’ve been using the bathroom by now even under normal circumstances, let alone after drinking the quantity of caffeine rich beverages that I had been consuming all day. I actually considered going to the toilet then, but what could I do with my trolley full of alcohol? I couldn’t take it with me, nor leave it unattended. I thought about taking it back to the car first, but the walk might be my undoing, and perhaps I wouldn’t make it back with dry pants. I knew from experience that with my current level of desperation, I’d be safe for another twenty minutes or so, unless I suddenly sneezed or coughed, and I also didn’t know how my fluid intake was going to affect me either. But, the pharmacy was just there, and so it really was a no brainer. I’d be in and out in a few minutes, and out of the mall within ten. After that, I really didn’t give a fuck what happened! There were people standing in front of the incontinence section of course, but I ignored them, and steeled myself to take my time and think about what I was doing. I acted just like I had done in the kiddie pull up department of the supermarket, actually picking up and reading the packages, as my bladder kicked itself up yet another notch. It took a supreme effort not to cross my legs as I stood there. This was now actually getting a bit scary, and I was coming to the realisation that I’d probably pushed myself past my limits. I knew then that I was going to be wetting myself well before I got home, but I couldn’t allow that to happen here, in the pharmacy, whilst I was buying diapers. I stopped procrastinating and browsing. Like the little pull ups, I’d already researched the big diapers, and new what I needed, but I’d enjoyed looking and feeling all the options. I added two packages of big pull ups, and two packets of Tena briefs, and tried not to waddle as I approached the service desk, to take my spot third in line to get served. I kept my breathing calm, as my bladder continued to swell, sending all the traditional warning signals to my brain, but I was stuck for the moment. So far it was just a rather bad urge to pee, and I was praying that a full blown OAB attack wouldn’t suddenly hit me. The first person got served and moved on, but of course the one in front of me needed help, and the lady behind the counter had to go get something, and at the sight of her leaving, my pee hole started trembling. Disaster was imminent. She was only gone for a few seconds, but it seemed like an eternity, as my thighs pressed tightly together, and my toes scrunched up inside my sneakers, as I felt myself cranking my holding ability up to maximum levels, and I busied myself by fumbling the cash from my purse as I tried my absolute best not to go into a potty dance, which would look even more obvious with my four packages of incontinence pants on display in my trolley. Then I leaked. I didn’t squirt or gush, but leaked, a gentle trickle escaping, spreading its heat slowly through my double pads and panties, and I felt a tiny trickle on my leg. “Yes? Can I help you?” Wow. I was being served. I hadn’t even seen the other person leave. I felt the blush creeping up behind my mask as I fumbled my purchases onto the counter, waiting for an awkward question or conversation. “Hi. Um. Just these thanks,” I mumbled, feeling more warmth downstairs. I was losing a little dribble again as she rung my purchases up. “Would you like a bag?” She asked, and I quickly agreed. I didn’t want to walk through the mall with these sticking out of my trolley. I mumbled my thanks, and cheeks burning with shame, I scurried out, making a mental note to buy these online next time, should I ever decide to buy them again. Once outside the shop and in the mall again, I quickly pulled at the crotch of my capris, and my fingers touched wet cloth. My outer pants were a little bit wet, and I pulled my baggy jumper down as far as I could as I began walking swiftly towards the exit, which led past the toilets. I looked wistfully down the side corridor that led to the rest rooms, and the sight of the door sent another small wave of warmth into my knickers as I hurried on past, and into the parking lot. I sighed in relief to be outside away from everyone as I headed to my car, but also knowing that I couldn’t hold on much longer, and I was about to wet myself. I leaked again as I unpacked my stuff, and it was bigger than before, enough to send a hot trickle down my right leg to my knee. Looking down, I could see that it was visible, the camouflage pattern unable to completely hide what I’d done. Luckily there was a trolley bay right next to my car, so I got rid of it, and rubbed a hand across my buttocks, discovering the bottom of my butt cheeks had a wet patch as well. It was an incredible range of emotions that I was feeling. I was used to shame and embarrassment after an accident, and at first I felt exactly that, looking around guiltily, glad that nobody was around to see me. But the devil-angel voices were arguing again, as I told myself that I really shouldn’t feel any shame this time, as I’d deliberately set myself up for this, and if anything, I should be proud of myself for making it outside before soaking myself. The little self-talk made me feel better, although not any less full. But what to do next? I was about to completely lose control. Even if I could make it back inside to use the bathroom, I certainly couldn’t do it with my pants now visibly wet. I felt another wave of almost pure desperation sweeping over me, and it wasn’t just my pee hole, but my entire pubic mound that was pulsating with urgency. I considered just standing by my car and letting go, but that would be messy. I was holding enough pee inside me to completely drench myself all the way down to my socks and shoes, and leave me standing in a puddle. As more cars and people were arriving around me, I knew that that wasn’t a viable option. I’d have to use the towel that I’d just bought for this particular scenario. I took it, and a can of Coke from the back, folded the towel a few times, placed it on the seat, then finally got in and closed the door. Sitting down seemed to make it worse, but I didn’t care then, I was safe. I opened yet another forbidden beverage, and took a sip, and as the cold soda washed down my throat, my pee hole gave up, and an uncontrollable gush of urine exploded into my pants. It shot out at great pressure, and I’d later swear that I could hear the hissing, as my pants became drenched. I watched as the wet patch expanded in every direction, flowing down my thighs, across the front of my pants, and the white towel I sat on turned darker as a big wet patch spread in all directions, and my arse got coated in a rapidly spreading heat. Even the bottom of my jumper got wet as it rested on my crotch. I sighed, then shivered as my bladder continued to empty itself independently of any voluntary actions of myself. I was helpless to do anything, so I calmly sipped my Coke, and simply tried to enjoy the moment, which felt weird, but enjoy it I did. I remained sitting there after I’d finally stopped wetting myself, and finished my drink first. After all, I needed to keep my bladder full if I was to do the exact same thing later, whilst wearing a diaper..... LilMiss, Stardust33, Dlaper Dude and 8 others 11 Quote Link to comment
Barry 1,608 Posted May 5, 2021 Author Popular Post Share Posted May 5, 2021 So is anybody actually reading this, or am I just wasting my time? Lol. It doesn’t matter. I’m enjoying writing it. But maybe perhaps leave a comment and let me know if you guys are enjoying it or not? LilMiss, YuriChaosLord, akromaangel777 and 4 others 5 2 Quote Link to comment
Stanley79 636 Posted May 5, 2021 Share Posted May 5, 2021 (edited) Barry, Yes. Definitely reading this. If or when omorashi comes out of the closet, this would fit into a "Literature of Omorashi" class. Most pieces on omorashi.org tell wetting-doll stories. We know little about the characters other than the wetting situations. Often the characters have occupations, identifying wardrobes, skills and even a quest. We know them in the way we know game characters -- sort of Mario Cart with peeing. But your characters reveal themselves in a deeper way. They see to jump out of the screen and share their hearts with the readers. Edited May 5, 2021 by Stanley79 word usage (see edit history) Dlaper Dude 1 Quote Link to comment
Barry 1,608 Posted May 5, 2021 Author Share Posted May 5, 2021 15 minutes ago, Stanley79 said: Barry, Yes. Definitely reading this. If or when omorashi comes out of the closet, this would fit into a "Literature of Omorashi" class. Most pieces on omorashi.org tell wetting-doll stories. We know little about the characters other than the wetting situations. Often the characters have occupations, identifying wardrobes, skills and even a quest. We know them in the way we know game characters -- sort of Mario Cart with peeing. But your characters reveal themselves in a deeper way. They see to jump out of the screen and share their hearts with the readers. Thanks mate. Really glad you’re enjoying it. I know you and @mikey mike are reading it at least! It just gets a bit annoying when you check in randomly, and see that people are looking at it, but it’s only a few of you guys that bother to comment, or even like it. Appreciate your comments buddy. mikey mike, Stanley79, akromaangel777 and 1 other 2 2 Quote Link to comment
mikey mike 346 Posted May 5, 2021 Share Posted May 5, 2021 I'm enjoying it very much Barry and look forward to each new chapter! The problem for me at least Is that I don't know how to say how much I approve of what you've written in a different way. The one thing I will say though is that I really do approve of, is your decision to make it a mixture of pants and nappy wetting. Please continue with this story but don't forger about D&A 😊 Quote Link to comment
IceCreamCandy 7 Posted May 5, 2021 Share Posted May 5, 2021 Of course I’m reading haha. I just don’t want to interrupt the flow (unintentional but) it’s so well written Stanley79 1 Quote Link to comment
Barry 1,608 Posted May 5, 2021 Author Popular Post Share Posted May 5, 2021 Chapter 9 The Beginnings Of My Downfall It was kinda weird how my mood kept changing over the whole wetting thing. I’d swung between being almost childishly excited to be buying diapers, to suddenly feeling daring enough to deliberately pee in my pants a little bit whilst shopping, then panic, when I thought I’d pushed my luck too far. That was followed by nervousness and being scared when I knew that I’d managed to trap myself into a position where wetting myself, in public, was no longer just an option, but inevitable, quickly followed by one of the most relieved feelings that I’d ever had after making it safely to my car before it happened. Afterwards, it became an almost Zen-like state, while my bladder emptied more than half of its contents at least into my pants as I sat behind the wheel. Guilt came next, and strangely enough, it stemmed more from the banned drinks that I’d been guzzling, rather than the fact that I’d wet my pants like a little kid. I guess that I was more used to occasionally wetting myself, than I was when it came to drinking illicit stuff like soda, coffee, iced tea, and energy drinks. I’d spent nearly twenty years knowing that these things were bad for me, and not only had I broken the rule, I’d snapped it into a million pieces and scattered them to the four corners of the Earth. There was also a genuine excitement about what I’d been doing, but I guess getting away with breaking the rules is something that holds its own secret pleasure for most of us on some level. Now, as I headed home, I was switching backwards and forwards between being more relaxed than what I’d been in years, and a bubbling excitement about what lay ahead, not unlike a child on Christmas morning. I was also a bit scared and worried too. I really needed to get home and safely inside without being seen. This would not be a good time to get pulled up by the police, or God forbid, be involved in a car accident or breakdown. But the feeling of an overwhelming calmness was probably the predominant one. As is usually the case when you overthink things, the worry ended up being for naught. I made it home quickly and safely, and parked my car beside my new home on wheels, pleased that there wasn’t anybody around to see me get out. In fact, the only bad part about it, was my pants were cold, wet, sticky and uncomfortable by the time I’d got there. After double and triple checking my surroundings, I quickly exited my car, peeling off the saturated towel on which I’d been sitting. It was soaked through, and the seat beneath it was wet, and I was pleased my seats were leather, not cloth. I used a dry corner of the towel to wipe it down, before scurrying inside before anyone saw my soaking wet butt. Although I didn’t want anyone else to see it, I wanted to, so my first stop was the full length mirror on my wardrobe, where I breathlessly inspected the damage. My arse was saturated, the camouflage not hiding the wetness at all, and I had two big wet half moons on the back of my thighs, as well as a bit of discolouration on the front and back of my cream jumper. After admiring my wet reflection, I hurried to the laundry area to strip off, adding even more pee soaked clothes to my rapidly filling washing machine. My only dry items of clothing were my sports bra, and my thick white socks. I took the bra off, leaving me naked in my socks, and I rubbed a finger across my bald pussy, relishing just how naughty I had been. I was as horny as what I’d ever been just then, but I needed to unpack my groceries, and I knew that I had nothing but time in front of me from now on to satisfy any need that I felt building. Very shortly, I’d actually be wearing diapers, and any self pleasuring could wait till then. I threw my two soaked pee pads into the trash, then padded back into the van to dress. Although the day was rapidly cooling down again, I didn’t need to dress warmly, choosing to put the living rooms electric heater on instead, so I threw on some sweats and a t-shirt. I didn’t bother with giving myself much more than a perfunctory wipe down either, although my lower regions had been coated with pee. I’d use some wipes and baby powder later, and I’d probably need another shower by then anyway. I started unpacking the car, breaking my own golden rule of fashion by putting my socked feet into my green crocs first. Fuck it. Nobody was going to see me anyway. The first thing I grabbed was the beer, and I opened one, and drained a quarter of it in a few big gulps. It was heavenly, even better than the soda and energy drink, and my knees automatically squeezed together at the thought of what I was doing. Although I’d peed my pants in the car, I knew that I hadn’t fully emptied my bladder, and the beer released a warning signal in my brain to be careful, like an automated reminder that this was a major trigger for my incontinence. “Shut up brain,” I mumbled to myself. “That’s kinda the whole idea after all.” Y’all know what delayed gratification is all about? Well that’s what I did. I didn’t even look at my diaper stuff, just dumped all the supplies on my bed, while I unpacked everything else, stowing my groceries away, and finding just enough room in the fridge for some Coke, the energy drink, two bottles of wine, and ten beers. It was ten because I was already on my second bottle out of two six packs! I didn’t plan on getting drunk, although I was aiming for getting tipsy, and I could handle beer really well, except for the fact that it makes me pee, lol. It wasn’t until I’d unfurled the picnic blanket and yoga mat that I finally locked the door, and went inside the van to decide on which diapers I’d begin with. The decision wasn’t difficult. It was a no-brainer actually. I’d taken an immediate liking to the purple butterfly print pull-ups from the first time that I’d seen them, so I put the other ones away, and scattered the extra supplies on the bed, my hands shaking with excitement the whole time, and I took a deep breath to calm my nerves. It had only been twenty four hours or so since this strange idea to wear diapers had first occurred to me, but it felt like a lifetime, and I was so excited that i was starting to feel the need to pee again already. It was quickly becoming obvious that my bladder hadn’t entirely emptied itself in the car. I removed my sweatpants, opened the wet wipes, and began to wipe myself clean front and back downstairs. The lanolin wipes were soft, smelled divine, and their cool caress across my freshly shaved pussy was like the kiss of an Angel, (probably not the same one that had been sitting on my shoulder whispering to me, hehe) and again I had to use a lot of self restraint not to rub myself harder and faster, and I didn’t. Next was the lanolin skin moisturiser. So cool, oily and smooth. Yum. That probably would have been enough, but I needed to try all the products that I’d bought, so a splash of baby oil came next. (I nearly came as well, but managed not to) I wanted the baby powder as well, but my girl parts and bottom were so slippery, and smooth, even greasy to be honest, and I didn’t want to change that, so I put powder on my chest and armpits, just so I could relish the smell. Finally, the moment had arrived. I wiped my hands and opened the package, removing my very first pull up since my childhood bed wetting days. Holding my breath in anticipation, I slipped one socked foot, then the other inside it, and gently pulled it up, over my hips, and pressed the padded crotch softly into my slippery vagina, and again, I felt the internal electric shock of an approaching orgasm surging through my caffeine fuelled body. It fitted perfectly, and I sighed with relief and pleasure, allowing myself to slump down backwards onto the edge of the bed, trembling with excitement. I was so excited, that I felt a tiny dribble of pee escape. It wasn’t much, no more than a spoonful, and the little diaper quickly absorbed it, leaving just a soft warmth in its wake. I didn’t think much of it at the time. After all, little leaks weren’t unusual as such, except that I was usually expecting them, or at least knew when they were likely. This tiny one was like a complete surprise, but I laughed it off. It was pretty inconsequential really, and no more of a bigger deal than if a kid has a minor leak while laughing, playing, or running around. More humorous than anything, certainly less of a big deal than the two big accidents that I’d recently had since moving in here yesterday. I didn’t even consider my car wetting in that category, as I’d deliberately set myself up to fail with that! So although accidental, I chose to not count that because I’d purposely avoided the bathroom and made a conscious choice to drink the wrong things. Like now. I took another sip of beer. I simply put it down to my caffeine levels, fluid intake, and the pure excitement of the moment. I didn’t realise at the time, that my first step towards real incontinence issues had begun..... YuriChaosLord, LittlePunkGirl, LilMiss and 8 others 9 1 1 Quote Link to comment
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