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


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Chapter 10    My phone buzzed. It was a message from Max, obviously sent as a group message to the entire reporting team.   “Alright everyone, it’s about to start. Here’s a link.....”

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 pr

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

Chapter 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......

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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. 

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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......

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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.....

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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....

 

 

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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.....

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Posted (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 by Stanley79
word usage (see edit history)
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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. 

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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 😊

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