Rainbow Diapers

“Welcome, Kara. You might be tired. It is late evening already. Would you like to go to bed now?” Azumi turned to Kara, “tomorrow, you will meet your mates.”

Nothing more than normal aging with being really overweight and having type 2 diabetes.  Still fully continent but I drink a lot to keep my kidney's flushed (don't want any more kidney stones) and I drink more diet soda than I should.  I pee more frequently now than when I was in my 20's, but even in my 20's I'd get up at least 3 times a night to pee.  Now I get up 6 times at night to pee and average going to the bathroom every hour to hour and a half in the day.  I was a bedwetter until almost age 6.

PART TWO: I rolled over in bed as the light woke me up. Unsurprisingly, my sheets were soaked. More surprisingly they weren't my sheets. The sense of being in the wrong place sent me into panic. I had wet someone else's bed. Jen's bed. She was going to be so mad at me.  I rolled over, looking for her. She was nowhere to be found. She was so annoyed that I'd peed all over her that she had run away and left me alone in the house. Wait, no.  That was silly.  I was being ridiculous. She was probably just so disgusted that she had left the room to sleep downstairs. I laid in bed wondering what to do. I was in an unfamiliar bed, in my girlfriend's house. My clothes were no doubt still soaking wet, and my underwear was ready to be thrown out. And my car was still broken down outside. Somehow I had to get out of the house, make my broken car work, and get myself home, all without any clothes. My planning, if it could be described as such, was interrupted by Jen opening the bedroom door with a mug of coffee in hand, “ooh, you're awake, how you feeling?” “Ok” I said, “I wet the bed. I’m sorry.” Jen shrugged, “I know. I was in it until about ten minutes ago. I’ve brought you a coffee, and your jeans are in the wash.” “Thank you” I replied, pulling back the duvet and climbing out of the bed. “Hop in the shower, and I’ll get some jogging bottoms you can borrow.” I did as I was told, heading into the bathroom and cleaning the stale pee from myself. It didn’t take too long, and by the time I was done I felt a lot more human. On my way out, I picked my t-shirt up off the floor, and wandered out of the bathroom looking like Winnie the Pooh - with clothing on my top half, and bare below my belly. This caused Jen to giggle as I walked back into the bedroom. True to her word, she had found a suitable set of joggers. They looked a little worse for wear, but were at least clean and dry. For now.  “I’m going to go make us some breakfast,” Jen said, “Sausage sandwiches OK for you?”  I nodded, “I don’t want to be a nag, or make you uncomfortable, but can you sit on the toilet and try to go while I make it?”  “I guess” I said, feeling very much condescended to, but also understanding why she had made the request, “I don’t really have to though.” Jen smiled and gave me a little kiss on my forehead, “I know you probably don’t, but it might help avoid a repeat of last night.” I blushed, “OK”. As Jen went downstairs to make breakfast, I went back into the bathroom and sat on the toilet. I tried my hardest to use it, and I think a few dribbles of pee trickled out into the bowl, but in spite of trying really hard, I definitely couldn’t poo, no matter how much I strained to.  Eventually I gave up. I pulled the jogging bottoms up, grabbed my coffee from the bedroom, and wandered downstairs. “How did you do?” Jen asked as I entered the room.  “I didn’t go” I said, shaking my head.  “That’s OK, you can try again after breakfast.” I would have protested this, but given I was wearing Jen’s clothes, and no underwear, her concern about accidents seemed valid. Instead, I sat down at the table and started eating my breakfast. “So, now I’ve finally got you to stay over,” Jen said, between mouthfuls, “can it happen more often?” I smiled, “I’d really like that.” “I'd still like to go see the dinosaurs today,” she continued, “so what I'm thinking is we don't worry about your car today. Instead I drive you home so you can pick up some clothes, then we go to the museum, and you stay here tonight.” “That sounds like a lot of fun”, “There's a catch though” I didn't say anything, waiting for her to continue. “Have you ever used,” she paused, trying to find the right word, “protection, for your accidents?” “I have a plastic sheet on my bed” I replied, knowing where this was going, but not wanting to help it along. “I meant incontinence pads” she continued, unfazed, “A girl I knew at school used to have accidents, and she would wear pull ups, like for potty training.” I thought about this for a moment. So far Jen had been incredibly accepting of everything, but my experience with incontinence pads was incredibly complicated.I decided honesty was the best way forward, “Kind of” I began, “I didn’t wear them growing up, but I was interested in trying them. Except every time anyone suggested it, I threw a tantrum and they gave up.” Jen nodded, “That makes sense,” she agreed, “I know my friend was really embarrassed about wearing them.” I kept going, “When I grew up I tried them, and they helped a bit, but it was weird.” I paused for a moment, “because I found wearing them kind of arousing.” Jen raised an eyebrow. “I don’t really understand why. But because of that, I felt uncomfortable wearing them, because I felt like a bit of a fraud. I had gone long enough without ‘protection’, so I didn’t need them, I just needed to try harder to avoid accidents.” “I can see how that would be confusing.” Jen said, “Have you got any pads at home at the moment?” “No” I replied, “I threw them out a while ago because I felt silly having them.” Jen nodded, “OK, I’d like for us to go get you some before we do anything else today. If you’re staying over again, it’ll be easier on both of us, and you don’t have to worry about being a fraud, because I’m asking you to wear them. OK?” “Yeah, that’s OK” I said, once again feeling better because of Jen’s support. “But before we go out,” she continued, “I want you to try to go sit on the toilet again while I strip the bedding off” “I don’t need to” I protested weakly, then caught the uncompromising look Jen was giving me, “but I’ll try.” I got up, put the plate in the dishwasher, then walked to the downstairs toilet. I pulled the jogging bottoms down and sat there once again, trying to pee and poop. I pulled out my phone and started scrolling, reading through my social media feeds and kind of losing track of time. I didn’t realise how much time I’d been sitting there until I heard a knock on the door,  “Are you OK in there?” Jen asked. “Yeah,” I called out. My legs had gone numb from sitting for so long.  “Any luck?”  I wasn’t sure. I didn’t think so. But it seemed like Jen would be on my case until I was successful. “I…. Maybe.” I didn’t want to lie. I stood up and looked in the bowl. There was a slight yellow tinge. “I peed a little.” “Well done” she said, through the door. I wiped myself, just in case, pulled my jogging bottoms up, washed my hands, and stepped out of the bathroom. Jen was outside, smiling. “Sorry to nag you,” Jen said, “I promise I’ll go easier when you have some protection on.”   “It’s OK,” I said, “I understand.” *** I put my address into the sat nav, and we set off for my house, with Jen driving. “You said you had another friend who had accidents?” I asked, only now processing the conversation we had had that morning. “Yeah,” Jen replied, “Amy. She was in my class when we were kids.” I nodded, in acknowledgment, hoping to hear more. “She was really funny and interesting. We ended up being friends for years.” “Are you still in touch?” “Kind of. We text one another every so often, but you know how life gets in the way.” “Yeah,” I agreed, “I’m guessing that’s why you aren’t too bothered about my accidents then?” “Maybe. I think that’s mostly because I’m not a dick.” Jen joked, “but you’re definitely not the first person I know who has pooped themselves around me, and I helped her occasionally too.” We passed a small parade of shops, and Jen pulled the car over. I looked at her with a touch of confusion. “There’s a pharmacy here,” she said, “I thought it would be the best place to get pads for you.” I had never bought incontinence pads in person, I always did it online in the past. I started to feel a little nervous. I got out of the car, and followed Jen in. WIthout even realising I’d done it, I reached out for Jen’s hand and held it as we went in.  The incontinence pad selection was surprisingly large, with plenty of options, ranging from sanitary pad-type liners, to adult-sized tape on nappies, as well as bed pads, wipes and disposal bags. I stood there, feeling simultaneously amazed, excited and humiliated.  “Do you know what you need?” Jen asked, keeping her voice low so we weren’t overheard. “Not really” I replied, a little overwhelmed by the selection. She picked up a pack of the pull-up pants and started looking at the description on the label.  “These seem to be for daytime wetting” she explained, then put them back. “I guess they probably don’t hold enough for overnight.” I shrugged. “What sort of pads have you used before?” I pointed to one of the packs of tape on nappies. The label described them as, ‘slips’.  Jen picked up the pack and examined it, “Were they OK for overnight?”  I nodded. The sense of embarrassment was beginning to become a little overwhelming. “We’ll get these then.” she said, double checking she had the most absorbent pack. “Any idea about size?”  “Medium” I replied. I wasn’t certain about this, but it seemed right.Most of the ones I’d worn before were small or medium, and they’d been largely fine. “So for daytime,” Jen continued, “I think we should try pull ups. Amy used to wear them because they were pretty discreet, and let her still try to use the toilet.” Jen grabbed some of the lower absorbency ones, as well as a pack of higher absorbency ones. Then picked up a pack of bed pads, which she handed to me, “Can you carry these for me?” “Sure” I replied, taking the pack.  “We should probably get some wipes to make cleaning up easier, and some bags to throw everything away.” She added these to our haul, then started walking towards the counter, picking up a pot of rash cream and some baby powder as we approached. I felt a knot in my stomach as we got closer.  “I feel sick” I said.  Jen gave me a smile, “They won’t know it’s for you, it’s OK.” We put the haul on the counter, and Jen paid. As I was standing there, I felt a little relieved, The woman behind the counter didn’t actually say anything, and the process was pretty painless. As the anxiety left my body, I suddenly became aware of another sensation. I needed to pee. Right now.  “Jen” I said, a little urgency in my voice, “I need to go pee.” “Can you hold it until we get to yours?” she asked. I shook my head. “I’m not sure there’s anywhere nearby we can stop.” She was right. But that didn’t stop me looking pretty upset about it. We got to the car and loaded everything onto the back seats. Then Jen had an idea. She opened the pack of bed pads, and laid one out on the passenger seat. “Try to hold it” she explained, “but if you can’t, it’s not a problem.” I sat myself down on the bedpad, and did my best to hold on, fidgeting even before the car started.  It was only a ten minute drive to my house from here, but every second was agony. I kept bracing my legs, grabbing the seat, fidgeting and fighting desperately to hold off from wetting myself.  “Just go” Jen said, calmly. I shook my head.  “Honestly, it’s OK.” she continued, “don’t make yourself uncomfortable trying to hold it. We’ve still got five minutes. Just wet yourself. It’s not a problem.” As Jen said this, my body relaxed. I felt my bladder release, and a torrent of warm pee flooded out soaking the jogging bottoms almost down to the knees. I felt hot, I was clammy with sweat, but I was also incredibly relieved.  “Feeling better?” Jen asked. “Yeah” I replied.  “With any luck, this’ll be the last time you have to deal with wet clothes” She said, trying to reassure me.  “I guess” I wasn’t convinced. We pulled up outside my house, and got out of the car. The jogging bottoms were completely soaked. Disastrously so, but the bed pad had saved the car seat. Jen leaned over and bundled it up, ready to throw away, then grabbed one of the packs of pull ups. I would have worried about the neighbours seeing, but at this point it was so common for me to walk to my front door soaked in piss that I’m sure they wouldn’t bat an eyelid. I let us in, and closed the door. “Ooh, this is nice.” she said. I suddenly remembered that I hadn’t actually invited her round before.  “Thank you” I replied, “I’ll have to give you a proper tour when I’m not…” I gestured to my soaked state. ”Yeah, let’s get you cleaned up and changed. Shall we go up to your bedroom?” I was a little reticent about showing Jen my bedroom, given that there were clothes everywhere, and no doubt a lingering smell of stale pee, but it was also where all of my clothes were, so even if I cleaned up in the bathroom, we would still end up in there.  “OK” I agreed, “this way.” I walked upstairs, waddling a little to stop my soaked thighs chafing as we did, then opened the door to my room. It was, fortunately, less of a mess than I remember it being. Jen walked in and sat on the bed, the thick plastic sheet crinkling as she did. Meanwhile, I stood beside it, knowing what was about to happen, but somehow failing to engage with the process without instruction. Instead I watched as Jen took a pull up out of the packet, laid out the wipes, and a disposal bag, then turned her attention to me.  “Joggers off” she said. I did as I was told, which left me standing there in just a t-shirt and socks. Jen took some wipes and began cleaning me. It felt cold, but it was nice to no longer be covered in stale pee. When she was done, Jen grabbed the pull up and held it open for me to step into. I followed her unspoken instruction, and she pulled it up my legs.She rewarded me with a kiss on my forehead. “How does it feel?” “Comfy” I replied, a smile on my face.  “Good. Although you should probably wear something over it when we’re out”.  I walked over to my wardrobe and started looking for clothes. I pulled out a pair of jeans, which seemed like a sensible way to hide my pull up.  “Might as well bring stuff to change into tomorrow, as well” Jen pointed out, “and pyjamas for tonight. And a bag to carry changing stuff while we’re out.”  “Good point” I replied, taking clothes out as instructed.  “And something to go in the changing bag in case of leaks.” I gave her a slightly exasperated glance, “anything else?” “An overnight bag to carry the stuff that’s not going in your change bag?” By the time I was done there was a small pile of clothing on the bed, along with a holdall for my overnight stuff and a backpack for my change bag. Jen started packing the changing bag, while I piled the overnight stuff into the holdall. When we were close to done, Jen held up a pair of jeans, “I'm not sure there's enough space to squeeze these in the change bag” “I guess not” She held up a pair of shorts, “how about these?”  I nodded, “I don't think they'll be very discrete, but I suppose they're better than nothing.” “Speaking of discrete,” Jen smiled, “you really ought to put something on over that pull up.” I looked down, realising I was still standing around without anything covering my legs. I took the pair of jeans Jen hadn't been able to fit into my change bag, and pulled them on. “This better?”  “Much.” Jen replied, “let’s get your toothbrush and head off.” Jen followed me into the bathroom where I slipped my toothbrush and some toothpaste into a washbag, and dropped that into my holdall. I glanced over at the toilet. “Do you think you should try to go before we set off?” she asked. This felt a little bit like a trap. I didn’t feel like I needed to go, and I didn’t particularly want to spend yet more time sitting on the toilet, but I also felt like if I didn’t try, then Jen would be annoyed. Particularly if I had an accident on the way to the museum.  “I’ll try” “Good kitty” Jen smiled, as she gave me a little kiss on my forehead. I put the bag down and waited for Jen to leave the room. She didn’t, and simply stayed where she was, looking at me. “Are you going to try?” “With you in the room?” Jen shrugged, “yep.” I wanted to argue, but Jen had cleaned up two of my accidents in the last day, and was likely to have to deal with more later. And I got the impression she hadn’t believed me when I told her I had peed earlier. So instead of arguing, I just pulled down my jeans and my pull up and sat on the toilet.  It felt really, really awkward sitting there with her in the room, but I did my best to try to go. I farted a little, which caused Jen to giggle, but that was the limit of my success. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to go” I confessed. “Well done for trying,” Jen replied. You’re doing really well. “I doesn’t feel like it.” I mumbled.  Jen crouched down to my eye level, which made me feel even more childish, “You are.” she said, her tone encouraging, rather than chastising, “You’re doing something that you feel awkward about to help us both have a better time, and you’re not arguing when I try to help. That’s great in my eyes. I don’t mind about the accidents at all, I’m just happy that you’re letting me help you.” “Thank you” I said, not entirely convinced by her words, but at least pleased that she tried. 

How I sleep depends on how I'm dressed in the evening.  Some nights I'll be wearing a ruffle butt onesies, doubles as a nightie.  Others, I'll sleep in my plastic panties and t-shirt.  I also have some little gurl nighties I wear and lately I've been sleeping in just a diaper and t-shirt.

chances are the cost less than glass containers with lids and labels. Also they don't worry about bad pours showing through the glass.