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diaper dimension Lights! Camera! ...What?!? - Chapter 195 - 12/27/2025 Saturday Night Special Chapter 1 2 3 4 167
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Baby Suzy the Super Soaker Now At 35 onwards - Big Kids Having Kids, or Is It The Littlest Little In The World? Congratulations… its both! (or from Teen Baby to Adult Baby to Mother of a Baby) 1 2 3
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I find that model of diaper to be possibly the most comfortable disposable diaper to wet in that I've experienced: almost cloth-like. They're also capacious although for prolonged seated usage I've found them to be slightly vulnerable to leaking at the rear thighs. For me, this risk can be somewhat moderated with wide-crotch plastic pants. I use them occasionally for "long haul" day diapers when I know it will be up to 12 hours before I can easily change. -
For me it was initially just practice but as years went by for me (I've been 24/7 for about 7 years), never holding any pee became a self-reinforcing behaviour. These days things have flipped on their head. If I DON'T think about it, I will wet very frequently in very small volumes. Even if I DO think about it, I have limited range and strong urgency now. Generally the best course of action now is just to use my nappy. Trying to hold on would be more likely to cause later problems unless I know I can get to a bathroom quickly. My experience was that nappy leaks became a LOT rarer once my bladder had shrunk enough to no longer permit "flooding". Whilst leaks still happen, they are not at all common and usually minor to the point of invisible (black pants are your friends).
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And like yesterday’s bean burrito, Christmas is behind us. The two day festival conducted down at the kid’s place, unfortunately, did not surprise. The “celebrations” were about as bleak as I’d expected involving as they did, a very large amount of standing about awkwardly watching a toddler lick brightly coloured plastic objects amongst way-too-many toys whilst “Bluey” ran in an infinite loop on the large, wall-mounted flat-screen TV that dominated the small living room. Conversational topics were limited to toddlerhood: one toddlerhood in particular. Alcohol was frowned upon (I sneaked some beer anyway). No catering allowances were made for my inability to tolerate Christmas pudding (no problems: at least I didn’t over-eat) and the fleet of large dogs was periodically unleashed into the room to clean the toddler-discarded food remnants from the floor. Curfew was 9pm – already too late for the toddler. Alone with beloved, we found some grown-up YouTube and sneakily drank some wine until around 11pm. The guest bedroom was small, hot, cluttered and airless. Imagine attempting to spend a summer night in the trunk of an abandoned Buick somewhere in the Mojave desert. I didn’t wet the bed. I didn’t even wet my night nappy (much). This was partly because I was perpetually dehydrated but mostly because I didn’t sleep: at all. I just couldn’t. I was too hot and too uncomfortable. Just before bed I’d already had to endure pulling out a clean nappy and terry-lined plastic pants from a rucksack under my beloved’s thoughtful gaze. There was nowhere else to do it. Looking at the state of the guest bathroom, I decided to forgo a shower. Instead I cleaned myself as best as I could with wipes as I changed from a mildly-wet daytime Rearz Inspire Mega into a Colin (Rearz InControl Night Premium). For safety, I wore pyjama pants over the top in order to waddle the short distances from the bathroom back to our guest-room even though it was way past toddler bedtime and only dogs were there to escort me. Sleep then failed to appear. At around 1am, I realised I needed a wee. Aware of my fully-awake status and the difficulty in disposing of wet nappies (my wet day nappy was balled up in my rucksack beside me where I could hopefully stop one of the dogs retrieving it – my beloved watched me stuff it there) I decided to risk the dog-gauntlet and just get up to use the toilet. So I did. I didn’t care about how getting out of my bed resets my body into “awake” mode. I was awake anyway. At 3am, I did that again. At least it helped pass the time. At 5am, a dog roused me, nuzzling at my elbow and whining. I must have dozed a little. The dog needed a pee and so did I. Standing orders from daughter #1 were to unleash the hounds in just such an eventuality. So I got up and did so. The dog fled outdoors with the accelerative enthusiasm of a champagne cork departing a bottle. Since I was up, I decided (for the third time that night) to pee in a toilet. I then went back to bed. I must have dozed a little more but by about 6am, it was again toddler-time and so carpe-ing the diem was compulsory. I was pretty much dry. There may have been a few fugitive drips but this Colin could live to fight another day. I find the Rearz Night Premium to be a poor daytime choice, prone to bulk and sagging when tugged by the surly bonds of gravity with the wearer upright so I changed. Alone in the guestroom (beloved having headed into the living room to watch some “Bluey” with a toddler), I changed myself into another Rearz Inspire whilst standing against the closed door to ensure privacy and hoped that it would last until I got home. It did. The heat, humidity and limited access to fluids meant that I used my nappy very little across the next day which was again, overwhelmingly devoted to watching a toddler run amok amongst a pathological excess of toys whilst discussing said toddler’s various special needs and interests. On the upside, at around 3pm my beloved took pity on me and announced that it was time for us to head home in order to “beat the traffic”. Really it was just an escape. Even more on the upside, the traffic was better than I expected. The Christmas day trip down had already worked very well. Having negotiated for Christmas dinner instead of lunch, I was able to drive at lunchtime on Christmas day. Practically the only things on the highway at this time were speed cameras (I noticed five on the road down). Most people were sitting down to lunch. The drive back on Boxing Day was a little slower than normal but to be fair, still quicker than I’d anticipated. Maybe everybody else was still in a food coma from Christmas day. I was perfectly sober but in reality, probably too fatigued to be driving but this couldn’t be helped. Mindful of my sleep deprivation I was extra careful. My beloved chatted with me on the drive back. “What’s this business of getting out of bed to go to the toilet at night? That was doing my head in!” I explained: “I was completely awake. I couldn’t sleep. I CAN stay dry if I’m awake. It’s just very inconvenient but with the kid, the dogs, space et cetera and realising that I was highly unlikely to get ANY sleep anyway, I just thought I’d try to stay dry at night to simplify things a bit.” This explanation was accepted with little comment. She was still very grateful that I’d given up pretty much any hope of enjoying my own Christmas with what she fully well knew would be a fairly bleak couple of days for me. On the upside, we got home before 6pm. I had a long shower followed by a beer, some more beers then some wine and some YouTube that wasn’t “Bluey”. At around 10pm, by this time having been awake for nearly 40 hours, I staggered with a near-jetlag state of fatigue into our cool, spacious air-conditioned bedroom and fell asleep pretty much instantly. I then proceeded to stay asleep, gloriously, abundantly and apparently dreamlessly bedwetting all night before greeting the post-festivities dawn some 10 hours later with an empty bladder and a birdbath-bum-wet Colin nappy. Normal transmission had been resumed.
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By Lionsheart · Posted
I have so many theories yet I'm still confused and can't guess what will happen next, you have truly created a riddle here! Probably 20 chapters ago I suspected maybe Brock was a double agent. Now that Isadora said the last statement: A lightbulb went off that maybe he is working with the Arrencanni this whole time to hypnotize Isadora and make her believe there is no crime there. I have no idea why Brock would go to this length but I had to reread the beginning and how he was so annoyed to have a partner. Maybe he just put her 'in a box' which was the Pink Room so he could do other things. I just don't fully understand his intentions still(which you did an excellent job in writing that even with all of the chapters, Brock is still a mystery!) so I guess I'll find out as the story progresses. Great chapter and excited for Stella to meet her Daddy(if she's good enough that is)!
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