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A Self-Fulfilling Prophecy by brucejedi Numerous posts on omorashi.org inspired this story. The most immediate is Noface’s “An Inconvenient Entanglement” that imagines a world where all women are assumed incontinent. Readers will notice many similarities between his “green” world and mine, though also some important differences. A second inspiration comes from stories where girls must wait until adolescence to toilet-train, and thus experience it as a rite of passage. Satyr’s magnificent “Developmental Biology” is the best example I know. Both story types normalize female incontinence, allowing the characters to experience it without the customary stigmatization and without ABDL undertones. In that sense, the story I present here answers Tits’s call to combine omorashi and omutsu, where “a full-grown woman is…struggling with keeping her pants dry” and ends up “failing toilet-training”—or does she? Chapter 1. Diapers and Panties Courtney hit the search button once again, not expecting much from the bizarre string of terms she’d entered. Her literature review on women’s athleticwear essentially complete, she was merely checking for anything she’d missed. She was about to close the program when a strange title caught her eye: “Wolcott, J. (2020). A self-fulfilling prophecy? An environmental theory of female urinary incontinence.” Intrigued, she clicked on the link. <Access Denied> Weird, Courtney thought, never had that happen before. The creak of her boss’s door shook her back to reality. She clicked off the window and looked up from her screen. “Good morning, Mr. Mills,” she said in her most cheerful voice. “How’s your work going?” “Well enough. Did you finish the lit review?” “Just now I did, yes. Shall I send it over?” “Yeah, I’ll need it for my 10 o’clock.” “Certainly, sir.” Courtney took a deep breath to calm her nerves. Now was her best chance. She’d rehearsed the words all morning, but still she felt her pulse quicken. “I also…wanted to ask you something?” “Can you make it quick? My meeting’s in five.” “I was wondering, do you think I could give Monday’s presentation myself?” He seemed to consider it briefly but then said, “You know, Courtney, I better handle it.” “But…I’ve worked so hard on all the prep, and I feel like I know it so well…” The corner of his mouth turned upward. “I’m sure you do, but…could you make through the whole presentation?” “Of course! I mean, I’d have the slides to fall back on, and—” “—No, that’s not what I meant. Could you make it through?” Courtney’s confidence deflated like a struck balloon. “I mean…I assume so…I—” “—Right…but what if you couldn’t? What if you wet yourself in the middle of the presentation—in front of all our best clients?” As if on cue, she felt warmth spread between her thighs. The image he conjured must have triggered something in her subconscious. Keep it together, Courtney. He can’t have noticed it. Did he notice? She scanned his face for a sign, then stuttered, “I mean…I’d be wearing protection…” “Sorry, Courtney. Listen, you’re a fine research assistant, one of the best. But I think you can understand why the answer must be no. Have my slides ready by noon, okay?” And with that, he left for his 10 o’clock meeting. “Kettle’s hot!” she called after him. Then she reached under her skirt to the symbol of her subservience. Her diaper was bulging badly, almost to the point of leaking. Like her boss said, maybe she was better off behind a desk. * * * As she entered the changing room, Courtney caught glimpse of her friend Krystal. The young receptionist was sprawled out on one of the padded benches, wet-wipes in hand. A low divider hid her naked crotch from view. “Oh, hi Courtney!” she said. “Hi,” Courtney replied solemnly, lying back on the adjacent bench. “Someone’s having a bad morning.” Courtney hiked up her skirt and lifted her fanny. She undid the tapes and carefully folded her sopping wet diaper. She sighed a deep sigh. “Your boss, again, huh?” Courtney took a wet-wipe from her purse and began dabbing her crotch and butt. “Maybe it’s too much to ask,” she said, “but a teensy bit of respect would go a long way.” “Tell me about it!” said Krystal. Courtney fished around in her purse. “Crap!” she muttered. Krystal peaked over. “Oh no—all out? I’ve got plenty. You want pink or flowers?” “Whichever is more absorbent. I almost overflooded mine just now—too much coffee.” Krystal laughed. “Flowers, then. I love this brand—they’re almost like overnights.” “Thanks,” said Courtney, fastening the thick diaper around her hips. It felt comforting, especially after the stressful morning. “I’m sorry about Mr. Mills,” said Krystal. “He can be a real douchebag.” Courtney glanced at the toilet stall in the corner, her mind flipping between the exchange with her boss and the strange title of that article. Out of the blue, she asked, “You think we’d gain more respect if we weren’t in diapers?” “Wait, what?” Krystal looked confused. “How would wetting our clothes gain us respect?” “No, silly. Like if we didn’t need diapers. Like if we had…control down there…like men do.” “Oh, I see what you meant!” Krystal laughed. “Yeah, that would be awesome. Keep dreaming, right?” Courtney sighed again. “Wait, you’re serious, aren’t you?” Krystal suppressed another giggle. “Didn’t you pay attention in health class? We don’t have penises, remember? Control isn’t possible without one—everyone knows that! Fun to imagine, though, huh?” Krystal touched up her makeup before waving goodbye. * * * That evening, Courtney sat at her laptop, entering in search after search, but nothing more than the mysterious title ever came up: “Self-fulfilling prophecy”—what could that mean? A twinge between her legs caught her attention. Often she didn’t feel it coming, but this time she did. She rolled her hips around, hoping to maybe suppress it? But the feeling only intensified. She pressed her thighs together. Nope, that didn’t work either. A trickle emerged, erupting into a spray. Changing her diaper could wait, though. That was one nice thing, at least—using the bathroom at your own convenience, not when natured called. She tried a new idea. “Wolcott, J.”—what could that stand for: John? Jake? James? Still no hits. Ah ha! How about this? She typed in, “Jane Wolcott female incontinence.” And there it was, the top hit: A video of the woman being interviewed by some obscure local news channel. Courtney leaned back and clicked play. ~ ~ A balding newsman stared into the camera. “We end tonight with a heartwarming story about a medical researcher chasing women’s equality. Over to you, Kate.” The screen switched to a young redhead with impeccable makeup. “Thanks, Bob. My guest tonight is Jane Wolcott, who believes she’s uncovered a vast conspiracy targeted at women. I know I’m all ears. So Miss Wolcott, can you tell us about your theory?” “Thank you for having me. It’s Dr. Wolcott, by the way.” Kate the newscaster smiled politely as her guest continued: “Did you know that boys’ and girls’ urinary tracts are virtually identical at birth, save for the final portion?” “I didn’t,” answered Kate, “that’s so interesting. So then, why are women naturally incontinent?” “Well, that’s just it,” Jane replied, “I’m not sure we are. We possess all the necessary anatomy—the urethral sphincter, nerves around the bladder. We just need to learn to use it all. I see no reason why females cannot toilet-train like males can.” “Wow,” said Kate, “you mean I could be saving a whole lot on diapers?” Jane smiled. “And that’s not all. Think of it: Freed from diapers, women could finally gain equal status. A lot of the excuses for excluding us from sports leagues, leadership positions, and high-powered jobs, begin to melt away. No one could claim, ‘But what if your diaper leaks in the middle of [fill in the blank]?’” “We’ve all heard that one!” laughed Kate. “So I hear you brought something to show us?” Dr. Wolcott held up a strange garment, similar to men’s briefs but without a fly. A hint of lace adorned the waistline. “Those are pretty,” said Kate. “What are they?” “Female underwear, patent pending.” Kate felt the fabric. “They’re so silky and delicate! I’d love to wear those—not that I could, but…” “What makes you so sure? Like most women I’ve spoken with, I imagine you’ve never once tried to end your dependence on diapers.” “Well,” said Kate, “there was that time in tenth grade. Vending machines were out, friends were out. It was the end of the school day, and I thought I could make it home in just a skirt. We’ve all been there, right?” “Did you make it?” “This may be TMI for cable television, but as I was walking home, I didn’t even feel it coming.” Kate laughed. “It went all down my legs. I can still remember the squishing sound my shoes made the rest of the way. When I got home, my little brother watched me flee to my room in a wet skirt. Since then, I’ve never been so careless.” Jane nodded. “Every woman has a story like that. The level of self-doubt I see is enormous. But consider how young boys potty-train. It takes time and effort, with no shortage of mishaps. What if the same were expected of young girls?” “Fun to imagine, isn’t it? In the meantime, is there any hope for the rest of us?” “Well, that’s where my research comes in. The goal, of course, is to get to these”—Jane held up the silk underwear again—“but we start with these.” In her other hand, she displayed a slightly thicker pair, almost like a woman’s diaper with no tapes. They vaguely resembled something a little boy might wear. “The techniques we use would sound familiar to anyone with a male toddler—for example, setting a timer to remind yourself to try peeing on the toilet.” “Wow,” said Kate. “Sounds really annoying and difficult. Had any success?” “Well,” said Jane, “the results are still preliminary. But I’m quite confident that if—” “—What do the results show?” Kate cut in. “Unfortunately, the grant agencies haven’t funded a long enough trial. A few subjects start to show progress, but then the funds run dry. It’s quite frustrating.” “Speaking of which, that’s all the time we have. Thank you for sharing your fascinating work, Miss Wolcott. To all the ladies out there, how would your life be different if you weren’t reliant on diapers? Share your thoughts on our website! Back to you, Bob.” “Thanks, Kate,” the balding man replied. “It’s fun to hear divergent views, isn’t it—no matter how far-fetched. So Kate, would you wear those—what should I call them, ‘panties’ maybe?” He smirked. “I’ll stick with diapers, thanks. I prefer my clothes to stay dry.” “And there you’ve heard it from our very own Kate Kovac! Good night, everyone!” ~ ~ Courtney sat staring at the screen. “Crap!” she muttered, noticing the time. Her boyfriend would be home at any minute, and she hated greeting him with her diaper this wet. She retreated to the bathroom to change. * * * An hour later, Courtney lay naked next to her lover, a broad smile across her face. A plastic lined towel beneath her protected the sheets and mattress. “That felt awesome, babe,” she sighed. “Could you hand me my diaper? Don’t worry, it’s dry.” “You mean this one?” Kyle dangled it just out of reach. “Hey, stop! Can I have it, please?” “Whoops!” He tossed it on the floor beside him. “You’re mean,” Courtney said with a pout. She reached across him to grab it. “Wait. What if you left it off for a bit?” A chill ran through her. “You serious?” “Like, how long do you think you could last?” “Without making a mess? I have no idea—it’s totally random.” He touched her arm gently. “Do you ever feel warning signs?” “Sometimes.” “Suppose you felt one right now. Think you could make it to the toilet?” The thought scared her. She gazed down longingly at the diaper on the floor. “Why are you asking, sweetheart?” “I’m curious.” “Um…honestly no, I don’t think I could.” He hugged her from behind, clutching her naked chest in his arms. “What does it feel like when you wet?” “Well, this is getting rather personal…” She glanced at her exposed crotch. “Are you sure you want me in your lap like this?” He pulled the towel up around her bottom, shielding himself and the bed—but not her legs—from a possible accident. “How’s that, better?” He brought his hand down close to her sex. “So what’s it feel like?” She considered the question. “A lot of times, like nothing. If it’s just a leak, I feel a bit of warmth in my diaper—that’s about it.” “You don’t feel when it starts to come out?” Courtney shook her head. “But if it’s a larger wetting, I do. A sudden pressure builds…and then releases.” As she spoke, something hard pressed against her back. “Oh my gosh, this is turning you on, isn’t it?” A lot of men had wetting fetishes, but she didn’t know that about Kyle. He seemed embarrassed, so she turned the conversation in a new direction. “What’s it feel like for you?” “Hmm, I guess like that pressure you describe, but building much more slowly. I hardly think about it until I know I have to go.” “How do you know?” Courtney asked with genuine curiosity. “It’s instinctual, I guess. As a girl, I’m sure it’s hard for you to understand.” He retrieved her diaper from the floor and held it up. “I like the lace details on this style,” he said. “Cute, right? Honey, I really need it back now. I’m getting nervous.” He smiled and placed it in her lap. Relief washed over her as she fastened it. She had not yet had an accident in bed with him, and she intended to keep it that way.

How about relating childhood memories (your own or of siblings) of potty training in RL. I suspect many of us are here because of childhood potty training. In my case (late 1940s) I was trained very early and only have some vague memories. But I do remember younger siblings and some other kids in the neighborhood being potty trained in this era. For one thing I do remember a rather strict schedule for being put on the potty chair. The minute after getting up (night or nap) out of a diaper and onto the potty. Directly after a meal. And at something like a hour interval at first, this increased later but even at five she insisted we stopped what we were doing probably every two hours. Later as adults for our own kids we did have an actual schedule. It was based on when they had went in the past or when we thought it was likely. I will relate more memories in a little while but maybe you will share some of your own memories. But mine were of a rigid formal process that was required of the child. Not like today when the child sort of decides when to be trained.

Did anyone else like to secretly read the toilet training chapters of your parents’ baby care books as a kid? And/or the parts about accidents, and bedwetting, and diapers....? Did you ever look up words related to wetting and diapers in the dictionary, and the library catalogue? Find all the diaper-related ads in catalogues, grocery store flyers and magazines? Walk down the diaper aisle at the store at every opportunity? Remember every single mention of someone being desperate, or needing their diaper changed, or ‘having an accident’ in every story you ever read and every conversation you heard? What else did you do like this? Here's how some of it started for me. About 5 seconds into puberty I accidentally gave myself some very good feelings wriggling around trying to hold it in when I was desperate to pee. I didn’t have an accident or anything, but suddenly I was really aroused by imagining having one. Holding until I couldn’t, and helplessly wetting my pants or bed like I often had as a younger kid. Memories came ‘flooding back,’ and with them a sudden bunch of questions I’d never thought about before. How old was I when I was potty trained? What was it like for my parents when I was not-quite-potty-trained? Did I really just have accidents everywhere for a while? What must it feel like to be in diapers? Being nerdy and bookish and genuinely curious, I found my parents’ copy of Dr. Spock's Baby and Child Care. Along with learning a few basic facts about my diaper years, I quickly discovered that reading about all this gave me lots of tingly feelings and urges about doing it. Some of my earliest pee play consisted of wearing makeshift diapers (or just my pyjamas or pants), making myself desperate and literally wetting myself like a baby to the words and sentences in that book that made me feel that way. Not long afterwards, I was doing the same to ads for Pampers and plastic baby pants in my parents’ magazines. I kind of discovered ageplay this way, imagining being the babies in the ads as I really did what babies do in their diapers. Or I’d be a 2 or 3 or 4 year old in the Dr. Spock chapter, failing potty training in my diapers or pants in any of a hundred ways… Forgetting to go and doing it where I sat... Not being able to hold it any more in a car or a store... Hurrying to the bathroom clutching myself a minute too late, and feeling it running all down my pantlegs on the way. Which all felt so freeing, exciting and good that I still have favourite sentences from that chapter and some of those ads memorized.

Dan was a troubled 16yr old boy, he wasn't good at school, his grades were falling, although he tried his best. He was also wetting the bed and not cleaning up after himself after a bowel movement. His parents, George and Brenda getting fed up with his laziness, and Tina decided that she would put a plan into action into getting him to stop acting like such a toddler..... It all started when he came home from school one Friday evening. He was late in, he had detention and he had lied to his mom saying he had a soccer match. Although she knew he lied and she hated lying. Dan walks in his house, nervous and hoping no one was home, but boy was he in for a shock......