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Hey I was wondering if there are other incontinent desiring video gamers out there that have found they have issues letting go while playing video games. For me I find I get very tense while I play games and I end up clenching all my muscles making it hard to pee. I was wondering if this has been an issue to anyone one else and if anyone has any suggestions in how to stay calm and relaxed while playing a fast passed action game? Bye and hope you all have a great day

“Are you sure?” Sarah asked. I nodded my head once again, gritting my teeth a little as I did. “When I need to go, I’ll go. You don’t need to remind me”. She didn’t look convinced. Which, I suppose, was fair. Much as I didn’t like to admit it, I’d had more than a few wet patches and skid marks recently. It wasn’t like there was anything medically wrong, I just sometimes held it a little too long. Well, a lot too long, really. At first Sarah hadn’t noticed the accidents. Or at least, she hadn’t mentioned them, but then there was the night when I was undressing for bed and as soon as I took my jeans off she noticed a smell. I was oblivious to it, so when she asked me to turn around I didn’t think much of it. Until she came up behind me and pulled my boxers down. We were a pretty kinky couple, and we often switched roles between top and bottom. And it wasn’t unusual for us to start a scene spontaneously, but even still, it was a bit of a surprise when she bent me over and gave me ten hard swats on my butt. “What was that for?” I asked, with a slightly more whiny tone than I’d intended. “If you’re going to stain your underwear like a child,” she chided me, “then you’ll be punished like one”. She took my hand tightly and dragged me to the bathroom, where she had me grab my ankles while she wiped my butt, scolding me all the while. After that night our relationship changed a little. Most of the time we were like an ordinary couple, but she was hyper alert to every sign I needed the bathroom, and would remind me to go like I was a toddler. Similarly she would make snap inspections of my underwear, and any marks or stains were met with spankings. It was about two weeks into this new regime when the first proper accident happened. We’d booked a weekend at a hotel on the coast, and it was a couple of hours drive away. She’d made me go to the bathroom before we left, even going so far as to stand over me while I sat on the toilet, but no matter how hard I tried, I just couldn’t go. After several minutes of sitting there I eventually squeezed out enough pee to turn the water yellow, and she let me get up, but she gave me a stern warning to tell her in plenty of time if I needed to go to the bathroom on the journey. We’d just passed a sign for the rest stop when the urge hit me. I felt my bladder twinge, and considered telling her that I needed to pull over to pee. The thing was, we were making good time. We’d be there in twenty minutes, and I assumed I could easily hold it until then. I’d like to pretend the reason I failed was because we got caught in a traffic jam, or the car broke down, but the truth is, I was just terrible at guessing how long I could go without peeing. I realised there was going to be a problem just as we sped past the turn off for the rest stop. Within a couple of minutes I was stretching my toes and fingers, trying to distract from the burning in my bladder. It wasn’t long after that that the squirming began in earnest. Of course my girlfriend noticed. “Why didn’t you tell me you need to go when you saw the sign for the rest stop?” “I didn’t need to go then.” I snapped back. “Really? You’re about to piss your pants in my car and you’re getting snippy with me?” “I’m sorry” I tried to placate her, but it was too late. “Apology accepted, but your attitude just earned you a punishment when we get to the hotel” “A spanking?” I ventured. “A punishment, not a funishment. It’s not going to be something you’ll enjoy”. I was too busy trying to hold my bladder to consider what the punishment would be. I pulled my phone out and checked Google Maps. Five minutes to the hotel. I watched as the little dot followed the path… four minutes… three minutes. Then, without warning, the car stopped. “What’s happening? Why’d you stop?” My sense of panic was obvious in my voice. “I told you you weren’t going to like your punishment. Nothing else I’m doing is teaching you a lesson, so now you’re going to have to suffer some real consequences”. My eyes went wide. “The hotel is about a mile away. It’ll take you about twenty minutes to get there. If you’re lucky you might find somewhere en route that’ll let you use their bathroom.” I didn’t move. “Get going, you’re wasting time here. I’ll meet you at the hotel.” Not quite believing what was going on, I eased myself out of the car, careful not to lose control as I did so. Sarah kept the car stationary as she watched me stagger stiff-legged for a few steps, before stopping dead in my tracks and absolutely soaking myself. She pulled forward a little, wound the window down. “I’ll see you at the hotel, honey. I love you”. With that she drove off, leaving me to walk through the town with piss-drenched pants on display for the world. The walk was more tolerable than I’d expected. I only passed a handful of people, but although each one gave me a very strange look it wasn’t as humiliating as I’d expected. That wasn’t the case when I reached the hotel. Sarah clearly thought the walk wasn’t bad enough, and had decided to up the ante. She was waiting for me as I got to the front door, cases beside her, and a shopping bag in her hand. When she saw me she exclaimed so loud people in the next town could likely have heard it, “Oh honey, you wet yourself again. I’m so sorry. Is it just wet or did you mess yourself too?” Without giving me time to answer, she reached into the bag and handed my a package of Tena adult pull ups, “Here you go. These should make it easier to hide your next little accident”. I turned a deep shade of crimson as I took the package from her. I should have been furious, but somewhere between the humiliation and the fact that it was genuinely quite funny, I went with it. After that weekend, she tended to keep me in pull ups most of the time. Every so often I’d be trusted with underwear, but as they were always dirty or damp by the pre-bed check, I’d be back to pull ups the following day. For a brief while that led to a kind of calm equilibrium between us - if I had an accident it was relatively easy to just put a clean pull up on, so although I still got spanked for having an them, she eased off on reminding me to use the bathroom. The problem was, that meant I put off going even longer, and so the accidents not only got more frequent, but worse. The wet spots turned to floodings, and the skid marks turned into full on messings, and more often than not both kinds of accident led to leaks. Things changed with the restaurant incident. We’d both had a busy week, and decided to treat ourselves to a meal out. Nothing grandiose, just a chinese at the local buffet. As usual, I was in a pull up, and as usual I was far more bothered about things going on around me than I was about using the bathroom. I was aware of a rumbling in my belly, but I was also in line for the desert station, and I didn’t want to lose out on a slice of cake just because I’d had to poop. Besides, I’d already soaked one pull up today, which meant a spanking this evening, so I didn’t think a few skid marks would really matter in the grand scheme of things. As I got a slice of cake for each of us, my tummy gave a deep rumble, and I let out a silent but very smelly fart. I was going to have to drop the cake at the table and head straight to the bathroom. I crept across the room, desperate to hold on, but I was less than half-way to the table when my sphincter gave out, and I crapped my pull up. It wasn’t a huge mess, but I was definitely aware of it, and it felt like clean up would be tricky. That left me with a decision to make: I could drop the cakes with Sarah and head to the bathroom to try to clean up, I could tell her what had happened and we could pay up and go, or I could carry on as if nothing had happened and hope she didn’t notice I’d pooped myself until after we’d left the restaurant. True to form, I went with option three. I sat back down at the table, set the cakes in front of us, and began to eat. At first Sarah did the same, but then she paused, taking a sniff of the air. “Ew, can you smell that?” she asked. I thought best to play along, I sniffed the air, “It smells like the drains are backed up, probably the glass washer or something”. She glanced over toward the bar. It was the other side of the room. She shook her head, then locked eyes with me, “It only started when you came back…” She trailed off a little as she realized what had happened, “Oh. My. God. You messed yourself here?!” “I’m sorry,” I squeaked as my eyes fell down to the table, although not before I’d caught the genuine fury in her eyes. “It’s one thing that you shit your pants”, she seethed, as people at the tables around us caught notice of what was going on, “but then you didn’t even try to deal with it? Really?!” I don’t know why exactly, but I began to shake. She caught my eye once again, and calmed down almost instantly, “I know you’re upset. I know it’s not your fault, but I also know that you knew full well what had happened, and when it does happen you need to tell me. Straight away. OK?” I nodded, “We may as well finish this, then you can wait in the car while I pay”. As soon as we got home, I got the spanking of my life, still in my messy pull up. After that we had a talk. She knew I hated being humiliated, and that it really was an accident, but she also made it clear that we couldn’t go on like this. It was the first time diapers were discussed, and the ultimatum was clear, the next time I left anything other than skid marks in my pull up, or I had a serious wetting accident, I’d be wearing diapers until she said otherwise. Since then she’s been super hot on reminding me to go to the bathroom, and for the last six weeks that’s meant that although I’ve had skidmarks and wet patches, she hasn’t had to go through with the threat of diapers. The thing is, I’ve been kind of a brat about it, and have begun snapping at her for nagging me. I know she’s helping, but it kind of makes me feel like a child. Which brings us up to now, and the moment I pushed her too far. “You don’t need to remind me” “But I do, don’t I? Or else you end up holding until you have an accident.” “I haven’t had one for six weeks” “Because I’ve been making sure you go to the bathroom” “Yeah, the second I need to go, like I can’t hold on for five minutes” For a moment she just stared at me, saying nothing. Finally, after a deep breath, she continued, “You think you’re good to hold it? Fine. Come with me.” She took me by the hand and led me into the bathroom. “I’m going to set you a little challenge. You succeed, and I’ll stop nagging you. You can have whatever accidents you like, embarrass yourself however you want, and I won’t say a thing. Fail, and you’ll be back in diapers.” I nodded my head. “Pull your pants down and bend over the bathtub please” I did as she instructed. “When we’re done here I want you to drive to the store in town, when you get there you’re going to buy a cake for us to share, then you’re going to come back and give it to me. Do you understand?” I nodded my head, “I think I can do that”. “Good job.” I felt her finger rubbing around my butt hole. “What’s happening?” “I’m going to make your little shopping trip a bit more exciting” That was when she slipped the suppository inside me. I gave a little involuntary yelp. I’d done anal play before, but this was a surprise. “What was that?” “A suppository. You think you’re so good at holding, now you have something to try to hold.” I made a slight groaning noise, as her finger slid back out. “I’d hurry up if I were you, you’ve got about ten minutes before it takes full effect.” I didn’t need to be told twice. Within two minutes my pull up and pants were back round my waist and I was out the door. Within six minutes I was pulling up to the store. As I got out the car I could feel it churning away, making my belly and my sphincter tingle. I gritted my teeth and headed into the store. The tingling got more apparent with every step I took, and as I reached the cake aisle my belly began to rumble. I reached over to grab the cake off the shelf, and in doing so I stopped concentrating on holding my bowels. I felt something very runny slip past my sphincter, immediately braced myself, trying to hold off the inevitable. I squeezed my butt cheeks together hard, and waddled to the checkout. It only took me a few moments to pay, but every single second was agony. I fumbled as I tried to get my money out, then fumbled with my change when the cashier gave it back to me. By the time she’d given me my receipt, I was sweating, tripping over my feet, and had couldn’t stop passing gas. Never mind not making it back home without an accident, I wasn’t going to make it out of the store. As I stumbled away from the checkout I felt like my whole body was on fire. I was fighting to avoid an accident with every fibre of my being, but no matter how hard I fought I was losing, and losing badly. With each step I took I felt my control slipping. I had terrible wind, and the farts felt lumpy. I finally lost it completely just as I walked out of the store. In full view of everyone, inside and out, I doubled over and filled my pull up. I felt the sludge trying to escape the leg bands as I struggled to my car, finally pushing past them as I sat down. I managed to drive home, but the smell and the sense of humiliation were overwhelming. I don’t remember getting out of the car, or ringing the doorbell, but I remember the look on Sarah’s face as she opened the door and saw me. And smelled me. She ushered me inside, straight to the bathroom, and had me stand in the shower as she stripped off all my clothes. “Well, this is horrific” she muttered, glancing at my stained jeans and the overflowing pull-up. I didn’t respond. Instead I just stared straight ahead. “I think the suppository might have been a mistake. I’m sorry I put you through this” I managed a little nod of my head in acknowledgement. “We can stop doing this if you like,” she continued, “After I clean you up, you can just go back to underwear.” I shook my head, squeaked out a “no.” She seemed surprised. I continued, “Please... “ I began to stutter, “I… I… want the the diapers, please.” She got the shower head down and used it to wash the poop off of me. As the water, then her hands, caressed my thighs I couldn't hold back a smile. “Are you enjoying this?” I nodded, a little shy. My thumb slipped into my mouth. “You little pervert” she grinned. “Let’s get you dried off and in your diaper then” She led me to the bed and laid me on the fluffy, thick diaper. It was far from discrete and there’d be no hiding the fact that I was padded like a toddler. “You’re not going to have to worry about me reminding you to use the bathroom now”, she said, smiling at me. “I suppose not,” I replied, relieved at the thought. “Although I will be checking your diapers.” she said, taping the diaper shut, “And as you’ve proved you can’t be trusted to make decisions about when to use the bathroom, from now on I’m taking that out of your hands.” I had figured this would be the case. I smiled back at her, “Thank you. I love you.” “I love you too, stinky butt” she said, as she leaned down to kiss me.

The Problem With Mikey Mikey was very excited. Tomorrow his father had promised him that he’d be wearing his trainer pants instead of the diaper he always wore. This was a huge event for the 14 year-old, it was in recognition that he’d gone three months without any kind of accident in his pants and was now on the verge of becoming a ‘big boy’. He’d tried trainer pants before. When he was three, and after a great deal of effort, the potty training had eventually succeeded and his parents, with a huge sigh of relief, had hoped that their son would finally be able to negotiate its use, as well as know when to use it properly. Alas, the training pants had made the boy confident he was becoming a ‘big boy’ (growing up in fact) but, alas, that info had not been delivered to his bowel and bladder. Time after time what looked like success was soon followed by the messy failure contained in his briefs. Diapers were the only solution as pull-ups just weren’t absorbent enough for Mikey’s random but full scale incontinence assault. # His younger brother and sister were both potty trained and had no such problem but Mikey continued to wear diapers and thick plastic pants 24/7, it was the only way to ensure that there was no embarrassment for him and no mess for others to experience. At first he’d disliked having to wear them to school but, after some very messy events in class and in public, the solution was obvious – to be on the safe side he needed constant protection. His school mates had long since run out of comments, and those that did still make them got no response from Mikey and worse, no response from their peers. What was the point of trying to embarrassing someone if they weren’t embarrassed and your audience weren’t party to the supposed ridicule? Besides, if he did the deed whilst in class, he was always allowed to go immediately to the nurse to be changed. He’d put up his hand and, no questions asked, he was excused because in truth, no one really wanted a damp or smelly kid sitting next to them. Had he been brighter then no doubt he could have turned this ‘inconvenience’ to his advantage but Mikey wasn’t like that, he didn’t plot, scheme or tell lies. # As mentioned, Mikey wasn’t the brightest boy in class, in fact it could be said that he was a bit slow. To some this totally explained why he was incontinent, while others just thought he was lazy and just couldn’t be bothered. The difficulty he had was that his younger siblings, 12 year-old Peter and 10 year-old Mary, were both very bright. They were in their top stream at school, were always reading, asking questions and doing things, whereas Mikey often had no idea what was going on around him. He’d happily sit all day in front of the TV watching cartoons and the only books he was interested in were those he could colour or were full of pictures. His choice of bedroom furniture was that of a toddler. Where other boys his age would have cars, spaceships, models, pop stars etc all over their walls, Mikey liked animals, he especially liked cartoon animals and those were what greeted you when you entered. He also had a vast array of stuffed and cuddly animals on display. Despite this he was very loving and loyal to everyone. Loved his parents, always happy to play with his brother and sister and was usually welcome in neighbour’s homes, liked by his friends (although often the butt of jokes he didn’t really understand) and could regularly be seen taking the family dog out for a run… he was a normal 14 year-old who mentally could at times quite easily pass as a toddler. In spite of his cumbersome diaper and rubber pants Mikey was happy. He understood that all this extra ‘attention’ was needed so as not to be a burden on others who had to clean up after him. Sometimes, when the family were all going out together, or he’d gone some period of time with no mess, he was allowed to wear disposables (with tight-fitting plastic pants) which didn’t feel as chunky or as restricting as the thick cloth diapers he usually wore. When this happened he was happy because he hoped that it signalled he was growing up, a ‘big boy’, and overcoming his problem. Unfortunately, as soon as he was home and getting ready for bed the heavy stuff would come out and he was wrapped in a thick, thick diaper and thick rubber pants. He never argued or complained about this return to the ‘normaility’ but, inside, he was a little crushed that he couldn’t sustain his brief ‘big boy’ status. His mattress had been covered in a waterproof sheet since he had made the transition from a crib to a single bed, so he’d always been used to the distinct smell and texture of his rubberised sleeping arrangements. His parents had tried to make this a fun time and not a punishment but, as slow as Mikey was, he knew it was something he should be over by his age but he just couldn’t help himself. Doctors, medicine and psychiatrists had all been involved in an attempt to ‘cure’ Mikey, as well as many articles read to try and alleviate his unfortunate disposition. When small victories had been attained, a setback was nearly always close behind and a sorrowful and apologetic Mikey would be sobbing as he sat in his messy diaper with the hope his mother or someone would come and change him. Now the family was used to it there was no trauma involved it was just simply acknowledging the situation and getting Mikey as dry and clean as soon as possible. Sometimes he’d go days, sometimes over a week, without any accidents and everyone would get hopeful but, sad to say, it never lasted. # However, he’d gone three months now without any real dramatic accidents. With an unbelievable effort on his part he’d been able to recognise when he needed to go and had been able to get to the toilet in good time… more often than not. So, training pants were going to be tried for the second time in his turbulent toilet-training life and everyone hoped this would signal an end to his problem. His father had bought some layered, brightly coloured pants that looked almost the same as a boy’s regular pair of briefs only slightly thicker. Mikey couldn’t wait to get up, get out of his night time diaper, take a shower and try on his new pants. Now, without either of his parents fastening him into a thick disposable, he was able to pull on the pants himself… and he loved the independence and sense of achievement this small act gave him. He even paraded himself in front of the mirror and enjoyed the look of the brightly coloured pants (with the waterproof interior) hugging his boy bits. Where once there was an obvious diaper, he now wore his new underwear with pride. His confidence grew and, although whilst playing with Peter and Mary he found himself having to constantly tell himself to go to the toilet, the weekend was a relative success. Even at night, as an experiment, he was allowed to wear just a pair of pull-ups under his training pants and Mikey couldn’t get over how different it felt to go to bed without his heavy protection. To be truthful, he didn’t sleep very well. He was constantly making trips, unnecessary trips at that, to the bathroom and somehow, the nightly hug his previous bulky protection had given him had made sleep easier and instant. However, snuggled under his mouse, rabbit and teddy bear decorated duvet cover he tried his best to get the rest his parents said a growing boy needed. # Monday morning arrived and he got himself up and ready for school. He wore a different pair of the special trainer pants under his jeans and, like always, looked forward to another day in class with all his friends. Just as he stepped out the door to go and catch the school bus he suddenly felt strange. It was like some kind of fear gripped his tummy and he felt sick, at the same instant his bladder gave way, which was quickly followed by the seat of his pants filling up with a dirty brown liquid. Unfortunately, his training pants, as good as they were, could not contain the elements that were so forcefully dumped in them, and soon his jeans and shirt appeared to be absorbing all that his pants couldn’t. A tearful Mikey stood in the doorway unable to move. He was overcome with both the debris of his body and with the shock to his system. It had all been going so well and this was a tremendous setback for all concerned. After taking care of her sorrowful son, Mikey’s worried mother called the school and then the doctor. After a long chat and a desperate plea for some further help, he recommended she try and get an appointment with a Doctor Mark Thompson, a man who was said to be having huge success in his field of Child Psychology, especially with those who had a similar problem to Mikey. Back in ultra-thick diapers and rubber pants Mikey and his anxious mother were in the Doctor’s office awaiting their appointment. Without any fuss Mikey had accepted his situation and was actually playing with another, but much younger, child on the floor as they battled with a couple of dinosaurs. Mikey’s mother, although desperate for her eldest son to grow up and enjoy the things that any teenage boy should be doing, still loved seeing the innocent way he played and interacted with others. The fact that he was most content when doing childish things didn’t seem to matter she just wanted him to be happy and hoped the Doctor had an amicable solution. # Doctor Mark Thompson’s reputation and accomplishments in dealing with the child psyche had come on in leaps and bounds over the past couple of years: Anger, violence, fear, timidity, self-loathing, self-harm… indeed, the entire panoply of youthful psychoses had been diagnosed and treated by this eminent man with extensive and successful results in this particular field. Please see ref: https://www.dailydiapers.com/board/index.php?/topic/60763-never-more-content-part-1-5-end/ # Doctor Thompson read Mikey’s file and after a brief interview with his mother asked if it would be OK to chat with the patient on his own. She would have liked to have stayed but the Doctor said that he often got more information if the subject didn’t have any distractions. He explained to her that to begin with he would just talk with Mikey but that eventually, he would like to hypnotise him and see if he could regress him back to the part in his life when the ‘problem’ started. This, he pointed out, was often the trigger to where many children develop their fixation, phobia or obsession and, if this can be identified, it offers a starting point to possibly finding an antidote. Once Mikey’s mother was back in the waiting room the Doctor arranged groups of toys around the room and asked his new (and it had to be said, cute) patient what he’d like to play with. As the boy chose from the selection the Doctor couldn’t get over the bulky bulge under his trousers but that this rather sweet boy appeared to have no hang-ups about his situation. It may have caused him to waddle slightly but he was definitely not a baby and had managed to come to terms with his situation and deal with its awkward presence. Mikey settled on the floor surrounded by a selection of soft toys, dolls and a colourful kiddie’s jigsaw. The Doctor got down on the carpet with him and together they began to play and chat… and as they played the Doctor slipped in some questions. He found the boy a joy to talk with. No side to him, no hiding his feelings, in fact, no pretence of any kind. Obviously the boy had some kind of baggage, otherwise he wouldn’t still be messing himself, but other than that the Doctor loved the openness and innocence of the lad. After their session was over the Doctor took Mikey’s mother aside and suggested that if they could afford it, he would like to have her son as a patient at his clinic. This would mean that the boy would be away from home for a week or so but with him being close on hand he could give him regular and continuous attention and assessment, which he hoped would speed the process of solving Mikey’s problem. Two weeks later, and after 14 days of mess, Mikey’s mother delivered him to Doctor Mark Thompson and the treatment could begin. # Dressed only in his diaper and plastic pants Mikey was allowed to play with all the other similarly dressed kids, who were also the Doctor’s patients. Observing how they all interacted gave him a keen insight into many of their underlying problems. Individually, each child was then given one to one psychotherapy, whilst some were hypnotised so the therapist could dig deeper. The Doctor loved seeing his charges playing in only their protection. He found that without their normal clothing his young patients strangely appeared less inhibited and he enjoyed the spectacle of their colorful, padded bottoms in simple and pure interaction. There was no denying his success with the therapy he used even if some might see it as diametrically opposed to the norm. However, the effectiveness and success of his procedure was the main criteria and he was way ahead of anyone else in this area of psychoanalysis on these important counts. Under hypnosis the Doctor regressed Mikey through various stages of his life. He was a dream patient; quick to put under, willing to reveal all, no sense of anger, betrayal or thankfully any indication of sexual abuse. Indeed, as Mikey lay on the sofa wearing his ultra-thick padding, he looked as innocent, happy and relaxed as any toddler might who’d just been put down for his afternoon nap. It wasn’t long or difficult to get to the bottom of Mikey’s trouble, the only thing was, how to fix it? # Mikey’s voice got quieter and more childish the further the Doctor delved, this was normal and it was when he was three that something happened. As Mikey explained the Doctor wondered if such a rather small and in general, insignificant event could be the root to his dilemma. Mikey explained in his own childish way: He was standing in his room. He was wearing only a soggy diaper and looking at his reflection in the mirror when his mother came in and announced that he was going to have a baby brother. As she was changing him she was telling him that now he would have to be a ‘big boy’ and help look after the new baby who would soon be arriving. She emphasised that his diaper days should soon be behind him and he would be both a ‘big boy’ and a ‘big brother’ and would be responsible in helping look after the new arrival. The Doctor realised that the young Mikey just wasn’t prepared for such an obligation and was instantly scared at the prospect of having to be so responsible. That image of the soggy diaper stuck in his mind as the last link to him being treated special as from then on, his little baby brother would hold that position. Three year-olds can and do take in an awful lot that parents don’t necessarily understand or comprehend. Some can take it in their stride as they grow up, some relish the responsibility, while others, like Mikey, dread being told he was expected to act in a certain way. # Reluctantly, over the next few days, the good Doctor slowly coaxed Mikey away from his childish dependency. He wished he could have taken the lovely lad away and, like his own teen-toddler Little Robbie, let him enjoy being a tot permanently. However, Mikey was no cast-off or neglected child, he was a precious and loved member of the family despite his problem and so he saw it as his duty to try and help the loving family as much as he could. When Mikey’s mum came to collect him on his final day, he was no longer in thick diapers, plastic pants or any protection at all. Mikey was no more intelligent but he was now able to go to the toilet when he needed to and understand that he no longer needed a diaper. He was proud of his cartoon briefs and wore them with confidence. However, the Doctor did tell his mother the reason for her son’s dependence on diapers (even if the boy was unaware of the cause) and that occasionally, and in future moments when things feel like they might get on top of him, he may crave the security of his diapers. He suggested that they keep a supply handy more for that reason than the fact that he’d start wetting again. ++ TBC ++

I wrote this a while ago, and posted it elsewhere previously. Anyway, enjoy, and let me know if you like it, or would like more. I slipped my shoes on and grabbed my jacket. To be honest, I probably didn’t need it, summer had hit full force, and I was already sweating in just my t-shirt, but I liked to have it with me, just in case the weather took an unexpected turn. Just as I was about to head out the door, Sir grabbed my arm, spinning me around to look into his eyes. Before I knew what was happening, he had undone my belt, and pulled my pants and boxers down a few inches, and cupped his hand around the front of my diaper. Not entirely satisfied with the squeeze test, he tugged my pants down a little further, and slipped his finger into the leg hole. He discovered exactly what I would have told him had he simply asked - I was bone dry. Of course, this was only part one. In one fluid movement, he spun me back around, and pulled back the top of my diaper. “I could have sworn I smelled something” he said. “Not from me”, I offered, “Clean and dry”. “We’ll I’ll change you into a thick one when we get to the theatre anyway, so if you need to go in the car, don’t hold it”. I nodded. The instruction to not hold it was part of our little game, but it was based on something very real. While not exactly incontinent, I had begun having a few issues with with my ability to hold on for very long. If I felt the urge, I’d need to reach the bathroom pretty swiftly, or I’d be soggy. Or worse. Under the circumstances, padding was just a sensible precaution. Given that diapers were already part of our play, and that trying to stay clean and dry was usually an exercise in painful futility, Sir quickly decided to work a rule against holding into the mix. With the diaper check complete, and my pants back around my waist, I grabbed my change bag and headed to Sir’s truck. The ride to the movie theatre was pretty swift, and with the hot weather I really didn’t need to pee at all, but as we pulled into the parking lot I knew Sir would expect me to have used the diaper a little, so I bore down on my bladder and forced out enough pee to avoid a punishment later. Apart from a handful of staff on duty,.the foyer of the theatre was almost completely empty. That was a mixed blessing. Although there weren’t loads of people there to witness sir lead me into the disabled bathroom, the few people who were there definitely saw. I was a little concerned they would think we were going in there for some sort of lewd purpose. Evidently so was sir. His solution to this was to add a stuffer to the already thick diaper he’d planned for me to wear, so that it was abundantly clear we’d gone in the bathroom to change me. As I came out the bulge was pretty apparent, but even more of a giveaway was the used diaper Sir had me carry to the trash can. To make up for my improptu and unintended humiliation, Sir offered to pay for snacks. Which is how I ended up with a hotdog, nachos, ice cream and a big ass drink. Given how thick it was, I was certain the diaper could take it. It actually took me two trips to carry my haul in. Fortunately we had the screen to ourselves, so there was no one to witness my gluttony. Particularly fortunate as I’d polished off the hot dog and half the ice cream before the end of the trailers. The film was OK, but halfway through , I started to feel all that food, as well as the big breakfast I’d had before I left, take its toll. I squirmed in my seat, squishing against the already damp padding around my butt. This caught Sir’s attention and he started rubbing my back. “Do you need to potty?” I shook my head, “I’m fine. Just a little numb-bum from the seat” Sir didn’t believe me “Just use your diaper, that’s what it’s there for” I shook my head again, slightly more vigorously than I had intended as my fight to hold onto my bowels continued. Sir took my hand in his, and started rubbing it, “If you keep holding, it’ll start to hurt” I grimmaced, “I really don’t want to have an accident now.” “It’s fine, we’re the only people in here” he reassured me, I don’t know if it was him calming me down, or just the sheer pressure, but at that point I lost my battle, and Iet out an awkward fart as my poop splorched out into my diaper.I’d barely had a chance to lift myself off the seat, so the load found itself channeled throughout the padding, up my back and right to the edges of the thighs. Throughout all this, sir kept watching me, and rubbing my hand.. “Feeling better?” I nodded, staying stiff for fear of a blow out. Sir noticed this too. He stayed seated, while he lifted my hand and ushered me up. With my butt right at the height of his face, he took a quick sniff. There was no mistaking what I’d just done for a fart, I stank. “Undo your belt please” I did as I was told, and Sir pulled my pants down slightly. He stood, tugged back the waistband, and inspected the damage. Satisfied the back was survivable, he tugged my pants down further, and inspected the butt area, as well as the leg bands. While he’d been doing this, I’d stayed focused on the movie. Partly because it was good, but mostly to avoid acknowledging that I was in a public movie theatre - albeit a deserted one - having my messy diaper checked like a toddler. Whether Sir realised what my reasoning for watching the movie was I didn’t know, but after he pulled my pants back up he lowered me back into my seat, “I’ll probably have to wash your jeans, but don’t worry, you won’t have to miss any of the movie”. He was definitely right about washing the jeans. As my butt came to rest on the seat cushion, I felt the leg bands of the diaper give way, and spent the remaining 30 minutes of the movie feeling the poop squelch all over my butt. I still had to poop a little more and although the urge was minimal, it kept making me fart. Every time that happened, the air would ripple through the semi-solid poop that filled my diaper, like I was sitting in a volcanic mud pool. Eventually, the film came to an end, and Sir lead me out of the screen. He had originally intended to change me in the same disabled bathroom we used when we came in, but as we emerged into the foyer, it had gone from empty to packed. Seeing the look of panic on my face, Sir had led me through the crowd, into the parking lot, and straight to his truck, Where once again I had to sit down, and once again, the mess did it’s very best to escape my padding. I should have felt humiliated walking through all those people, and certainly as the smell began to fill up the cab of Sir’s truck, but sir kept hold of my hand, and kept telling me that he was proud of me for doing as he’d told me without any hesitation. Somehow, in spite of my state, his constant reinforcement really did make me feel a little hint of pride. We pulled onto the driveway, and stopped in front of the garage door. It took a moment before the remote worked, and in that time my heart sank as I imagined Sir was going to make me get out of the truck, into the street where we lived, with a full diaper. To say that I was relieved when the door began to slide up and the truck pulled inside would be a serious understatement. It was, I suspect, that final rush of adrenalin that sent me over the edge. Up until now I’d been fully aware of events, but as we pulled into the garage, I started to disappear into a world of my own. So much so that it wasn’t until Sir opened my door and helped me out that I realised the car had stopped. As he raised me out of the seat, I looked down. There were two half-moon-shaped damp patches on the seat. Fortunately it was wipe clean leather, but there was no mistaking how the back of my jeans would look. I wasn’t that bad in the theatre. I had obviously peed myself in the car without realising. Clearly this realisation was playing on my face, as Sir asked, “what’s wrong?” “Nothing, Sir. I just think I peed myself.” Sir looked down at my butt, a degree of incredulity in his eyes.”Not just peed yourself”. “No, I mean without realising”. Sir shrugged. “Well, that’s what you’re wearing padding for” he began leading me out of the garage and into the hallway, “now come on, young man, your messy butt is starting to stink up the house”. I didn’t move. “What’s wrong?” I snapped my hand away from his, “What’s wrong is that I just peed myself, and all you can do is shrug.” Sir stood his ground, as I began to lose my temper at him. “For fuck’s sake, I shit myself in a movie theatre, and you’re perfectly cool with it. What’s wrong with you?” Sir smiled and gently shook his head, “Nothing is wrong with me. I just honestly don’t care what underwear you’re wearing, or what state it’s in.” Almost instantly, his calm manner calmed me down too. “To be honest, son, I find you particularly cute when you’re like this.” I hung my head, suddenly ashamed at my outburst. Sir held out his arms and I came in for a hug. “Now, I was going to change you, but after that little show, I think you need to be reminded of how this works.” Sir said, once again taking my hand in his. He walked briskly, and I had trouble keeping up with him because I was waddling so badly. That, and I knew where he was leading me, and didn’t really want to go. Unfortunately, the house isn’t that big, so within moments Sir opened the door to the punishment room, and led me inside. Surveying the implements, my eyes went wide. It wasn’t that I was unfamiliar with the room, far from it, but it was rare I was in here in quite this state. I seemed to have caught Sir’s eye, as he smiled at me, “don’t worry, we won’t be doing anything too strenuous”, he reassured me. He draped me over a spanking bench, and secured my hands in place. Then he went into the bathroom and grabbed a brought out a bar of soap. Even the sight of it made me retch as my sense filled with the memory of the last time I’d been made to suck on it. I began to shake my head, “No, no no….” Once again, Sir smiled. He placed the soap down just in front of my face. “Now you remember why you shouldn’t say naughty words then?” I nodded. “OK, well I won’t make you put it in your mouth. It can stay there as a reminder”. For at least the third time today, an enormous sense of relief came over me. That lasted for all of a few seconds, as Sir began to rain blows down against my butt. It wasn’t painful. Not exactly, anyway; the padding and the mess formed a pretty good barrier against the sharp force of the spanking, but the sense of humiliation I felt as each blow landed, sending a dull thudding sensation into my butt cheeks and forward, toward my genitals, was wonderful. It was fortunate Sir hadn’t asked me to count the blows, I’d have had no chance. I began to drift off somewhere between agony, humiliation and ecstasy. By the time Sir unstrapped me from the bench, I was a wreck. “You took your punishment very well. I think I should reward you”, At some point, between the spanking and the release, Sir had laid a changing mat down on the floor. He lowered me down onto it, and instinctively I spread my legs, ready for my change. Sir knelt down infront of me, but rather than undoing the tapes of my diaper, he began to rub the front. I smiled in gratitude, “You did well, young man”, he said, as he produced the magic wand and started vibrating the front of my diaper. I was in heaven. He moved the wand down towards my anus, the vibrations sent shivers up my spine. “Please sir, may I cum?” He nodded. “You may.”. I let the orgasm overtake me, and shuddered as I released yet another fluid into my already wrecked diaper. As I lay on my back in post orgasmic reverie, Sir set to work on the unenviable task of changing my diaper. I kept my eyes closed, and enjoyed the sensations as he cleaned me up. By the time Sir took my hand and helped me stand back up, I was clean, dry, and comfortable, and very pleased that I’d followed Sir’s advice and had an accident on our trip out.

For awhile now, I've been increasingly losing interest in wearing AB style diapers. I'm still a DL and will never stop being one. I'll probably wear diapers for the rest of my life. Guess I'm just distancing myself from being an AB. Maybe it's because I'm getting older. I'd rather wear diapers like they sell at NorthShore or other online incontinence suppliers. I think it has to do with age. It's like the taboo is gone and I've accepted this as a part of my life. Also, sometimes I need protection when I'm out for extended periods of time. It has gotten harder to "hold the flow". So, I just discreetly wear protection inside my underwear. Maybe it's just a phase I'm experiencing. Any others going or have gone through this?

As I’ve written of elsewhere, since last summer, when I returned to wearing diapers and reconnected here, I’ve been wrestling emotionally with my relationship with diapers. Like the swings of Hegel’s Dialectic, I starting wearing diapers every day, then pushed them to the back of my cupboard (years ago, I learned that disposing of diapers was nothing but a terrible expense and mistake—the absence of diapers didn’t deter me in the way I wished and it was then necessary to expend more money when the compulsion to be in diapers reasserted itself) and denied that I needed diapers. The swings became wider, the compulsion returned. I would spend hours in the chat, then days away from it while ‘not diapered’. In fact my life was divided between ‘being diapered’ and ‘not diapered’. I’ve worn diapers since 1996. I started in part because of need and most definitely also for sexual pleasure. It was a tortuous path. As a form of sexual excitement, I would imagine myself slipping into, or being forced into, incontinence. Then, it nearly happened. My work keep me in a car for stretches of 5-6, even 8 hours sometimes.. Type A, I would resist pee stops for as long as possible—somtimes hours until extremis. Then, one day I stopped at a rest stop—aching to pee—releived myself and climbed back into the car. As I returned onto the highway, I wet myself. I had, the urologist said, an distended bladder. I wasn’t getting the necessary signal from a full bladder and still had essentially a full bladder after relieving myself. I took to wearing diapers and just wetting in the car. A workable solution it seemed. The urologist was furious. This, he said, would lead to incontinence—permanent incontinence. Over the years, I played with that notion. Why being incontinent held appeal I just don’t know. But, the idea of slipping into incontinence enticed me. In her last year of life, my mother asked if I would return home, live with her and take care of her. She wanted to pass away at home, in her own bed. She knew my siblings wouldn’t allow it. I promised her. At the same time, I was taking finally after years of hormone therapy begining my life publically as a woman. Suddenly, as a woman I was battling with my siblings to protect my mother’s wises, and justifying who I had become. I became incontinent at night, regressing into infancy to protect myself. My psychologist put me into the disability healthcare plan where I’ve remained. Continence did return. After gender reassignment surgery (I have the most beautiful vagina now) another issue presented—the susceptibility to UTIs. When that happened I was again incontinent. The disability program did cover the cost of diapers and the counsellor gave me the forms to apply. I was simply too embarassed, and, true be known ashamed because I felt so excited by the prospect. Which brings me to the present and the issue I face today. I love being in diapers—I don’t know why. In the period since last summer, I again requested the forms for my healthcare to cover the cost of diapers. You have to personally request the forms. I did. They said on my desk for months. The forms require a doctor’s verification of need. I got a UTI, another of many, at least 3 or 4 a year which I get and when to the doctor’s for antibiotics. Although, with me, in my purse, I didn’t have the nerve to ask. ”Well, we’re done, Is there anything else?” ”I have forms here that will provide diapers for me while incontinent. Will you sign them?” He took the forms and read them. “This is for fulltime permanent incontinence. Is that what you need?”” ”Well, I’m already wearing diapers a lot, so it’s just easier to wear them all the time.” ”Are you sure?” ”Yes... I like wearing diapers.” He excused himself to consult another doctor. He returned with the forms signed. “I’ll chart you as permanently incontinent. Certainly, you’re not quite there, but I suspect that you will become incontinent with time, given that you’re already in diapers.” I took the signed form. I had become “permanently incontinent”. My stomach was in knots. The forms sat on my desk for a week. I chatted here. I fretted. What am I doing? Why am I doing this? I was both scared and so excited. Finally, I sent the forms in to my counsellor for approval. My counsellor now had in writing that I was “permanently incontinent”. A day passed and I finally phoned a supplier. She was ever so kind and arranged to send sample diapers and connect with my counsellor. Diapers would come every month, enough pull-ups for 5 changes during the day and a proper diaper for each night. These would arrive each month, and my face flushed as I realized just how big the boxes would be. “We have you as a client now.” I’m now “permanently incontinent”. In the next week, as I wait for the first shipment, I’m wearing cloth diapers and plastic panties. I’ve started wearing full-time. I sense when I’m about to wet, then it just happens. Yesterday, regret and shame came over me and I changed into panties. Do I want this to happen? Can I slow the drift into incontinence? The afternoon in panties became uncomfortable. There wasn’t a moment I didn’t feel the need to pee. I began to fret. Finally, in the everting, I diapered. As I made a sandwich in the kitchen not 10 minutes later, I only realized that I was wetting by the wet warmth and changing weight of my diaper. My heart and stomach lurched. Could I get through the night, now? At bedtime, I spread out a diaper pad for security. Could I go the night without a diaper? Can this actually happen this fast? It’s not possible, I knew but put on a diaper. I didn’t have the courage not to wear a diaper. Is that how incontinence takes hold? Not by actual need but because your confidence slips away and once in diapers, your body simply decides not to care. Today, I tried the same thing. Waking in a wet diaper, I bathed and diapered. I wet every few minutes, small amounts. I changed after the 3rd wetting. At lunch, I bathed and put on panties. I tried to do some housework, some reading, to be busy. There was no moment that I didn’t feel that I was about to wet myself. It was so tiring. I decided to walk the dog but stood conflicted at the door in panties: “What if I wet myself on the walk?” I changed into a diaper. I wet myself on the walk. I did sense it, but to hold until I was home would be a strain. I relaxed... and pooped as I wet. I’ve had a bath and put on a diaper wash. I had dinner without having a diaper on. I read a bit lying on the couch. With a diaper sheet under me. I decided to write this and put on a diaper. And as I’ve written, I’ve wet myself. I’m not trying to be incontinent, but I am surely allowing it to happen. For my counsellor and doctor and a supplier I am “permanently incontinent”. A few days ago, I told my best friend that I wore diapers at night. Her initial reaction with sympathy, but I told her that I liked being in diapers. To my surprise, the next day, she hugged me and said she felt ‘so special’ that I had shared wearing diapers with her and allowed that as a mother of two she was also challenged with wetting herself during the day. For her a change of panties and a pad was sufficient. Expense was always the impediment to me just allowing myself to slip into incontinence. I’ve yet to figure out why I wish this. I’m certainly concerned about the implications of incontinence. I’m 64 and live with a roommate, with whom I share my house. She is a minister. I have recently told her that I wear diapers—a bit late probably because she’s seen my cloth diapers and plastic panties in the dryer or clean laundry hamper. I’m writing this as much for myself as you. It’s just minutes from 7:00pm. I’m diapered and wet. In just days, if I put on a diaper, it seems that I just wet; if I don’t wear a diaper, I fret. If I have to take the bus, will I now be too afraid to go undiapered. If I want to walk my dog will I now be too afraid to wear just panties? Am I suddenly “permanently incontinent”.

I posted an article on my blog with the same title as the title of this thread, but I thought I'd post an excerpt here since I have commenting turned off on my blog. And the group here is never short or suggestions or comments on this topic. Why People Fail in Their Goal to Start Bedwetting: They do not have a workable plan. They think they can just drink a bunch of water or whatever before bedtime and it will magically start. They are not confident that their diapers will work. Or they worry about leaks. You must be 100% comfortable with wetting your bed in any position at any time, and must be completely indifferent to the possibility of leaks. If they wake up with the urge to go, they have to get themselves into position or check things out before letting go. That’s a brick wall in your progress. They give up too soon Here's the full article: http://ourbedwettingfun.com/why-people-fail-in-the-goal-to-start-bedwetting/

One thing I've found to be a useful consideration as I considered and discussed pursuing intentional incontinence has been the idea of 'reinforcement'.

I am disabled, I have Pervasive Developmental Disorder Not Otherwise Specified with traits of Aspergers Syndrome, Epilepsy and multiple learning Difficulties. What does that mean ? I have autism, while I am generally High functioning, I also have traits of low functioning autism as well, sensory issues, communication difficulties and stimming One problem I have with sensory processing disorder, is that I am hypo-tactile, meaning I don't get the same stimulation from something touching me as you would. Because of this I have always enjoyed the sensation of a poopy diaper, as it is kind of a sensory input for me. Being epileptic when I have a seizure (between 1 and 3 times a month) I am usually incontinent. Aside from that I have full control over my bladder and bowel The problem I have is because I am mostly High Functioning, I am overly smart, I can talk about all kinds of things, from Integral and Differential Calculus to Philosophy, from Material Science to Sociology, and I am a Computer Geek and a science nerd. I hate being so intelligent, and such a know it all, because it makes it hard to find friends with similar interests. I honestly wish I was Severely Disabled, and functioned on the cognitive level of a 2 year old, so I wouldn't know any better, and could be looked after 24/7 Knowledge is scary, and it can be used as a weapon as well as a tool.

Hi all- I have recently become incontinent.

Hi! I thought I would write this post so that I could try and help anyone who thinks they might suffer from incontinence. Do you have uncontrollable urges to urinate? Do you leak urine when you cough, sneeze or laugh? Do you constantly urinate without any control whatsoever? These are all forms of incontinence. It is estimated that there are quite literally millions of people in the United States alone under 50 years of age that suffer from some loss of bladder control at present. So, it is not just an

Hi guys. I've only recently joined this forum, while having had an attraction to the lifestyle for as long as I can remember I want to take it to the next step. I've read through the twelve month program as well as other posts on 24/7 wearing with the aim of losing control, and was wondering if anyone has any personal tips/experience that could help pad out(phrasing) the program. I've been wearing every night for little over a week now and am starting to wear more and more through the day, and just recently wore out in public while in the company of a friend (I can say the fact no one gave me a sideways glance was liberating, though it will be a while before I'm confident to

I am over 50 and began tio have stress incontinence issues about four years ago, graduating from pull ups to diapers for security.

Enuresis was struggling she couldn't believe these two mortals had captured her so easy. One had her by her yellow gossamer wings. She could not be seen by mortals because they didn't know for sure if Fairies existed and she didn't want to be the one to remove all doubt. She fluttered her wings but just couldn't free herself but she was in a great position and when she kicked out she got #2 in the place where mortal men hate to get kicked. She was able to get around enough to bite #1 mortal in the thumb. She heard "You bitch! She was smashed against the wall, that was the last she remembered for a while. When she came to #1 &2 were both passed out, both had been drunk when they caught her, that was why she was so surprised when they had actually caught her. She checked her wing and one was good the other was bent at an awkward angle. She had heard of it but didn't believe it until now, that was when Fairies and mortal meet the Fairy looses control of their bladders she was wet, her gown was wet she waved her wand and both mortals lost control of their bladders. She knew she couldn't fly to the kingdom, but how far could it be? She began walking and she noticed that the sun was getting low in the East. Night was over she found a place to sleep in an old hollow log. When the sun was getting low in the West she crawled out of the log. Her body didn't hurt as bad as earlier her wing was still out of commission, and she was wetter than she was last time, hopeful that goes away soon she thought. About 3 hours later she arrived at the Kingdom and when the other fairies saw her condition she was rushed t the Royal Fairy Hospital. when she awoke again her wing was straight but had a frame on it to straighten it out! She looked between her legs and she had wet diaper on. The Doctor said I'm Doctor Fairyhealer your in somewhat bad shape. What kind of mortal contact did you have? They almost captured me, but I fought them off, they were drunks. She said trying to minimize the contact.

Very interesting piece on the adult diaper "boom" so to speak. It's definitely going to climb with baby boomers getting back into diapers once again hehe. But mainly just discussing the logistics of it and how it's affecting paper sales in general. It didn't get to specific but I think they were almost entirely talking about disposables and even more so it seemed like depends based on the picture they had with it. Take a read for yourselves!

Ive been on this site before and come back for another go and after reading a lot of posts etc. I decided to make one myself and tell you all a little about my story. Gather round, it might take a while. My name is Gemma, born and bred in the mountainous region of North Wales in the sunny British Isles. Im 27

https://surveyplanet.com/592b0e942237ce4c3136094eI'm looking for as many AB, DL, IC, and bedwetting folks to answer my survey as possible. Hopefully we can gain some insight into the current state of the diaper market, so manufacturers and retailers can better serve customers like us. Leaving an email address is completely optional, so you can be as anonymous as you like.Thank you for participating!

Chapter One "It's a big decision," Claire's mother worriedly commented. "Are you sure it's something you want to do at your age?" she asked, knowing that the answer would be the same as last time, and every time before that, ever since Claire had informed Kathy of her intentions six months ago. "Ugh, yes mum," the nineteen-year-old whined from the other room, exactly as Kathy expected. "Besides," Claire continued, lowering her voice to room temperature as she lugged a box into the kitchen, "It'll only be sixth weeks at a time, at least at first." Claire dropped the large brown cardboard box on the table with what she hoped would be a conversation-ending thud, but was disappointingly a merely a muffled comma. Her mother looked up from her rapidly cooling cup of tea, and was about to begin a new tack when Claire cut her off: "Anyway, it's not like they don't have the internet in Germany! And you know I'll always be a few hours flight away." It was the trip of a lifetime, and what's more, it tied into her studies at university, and so would even count towards her degree! She certainly wasn't going to let her neurotic mother get in the way. Kathy had always been more than a little nervous about Claire's various escapades, even something as little as a sleepover with school friends. Of course, Kathy had a little more reason to be worried than most parents. Claire had been, until the age of about 14, what they used to euphemistically call a 'bedwetter', but in the last few years had become known as 'wetters'. As it became clear that the new generation was increasingly likely to be only fully out of diapers by five, and a significant minority of about 20% were in need of night-time diapers until mid-adolescence, new phrases had begun to creep into common usage. The Government initially used the term "incontinence sufferers", but this was rapidly thrown out by the younger generation as patronising. They then moved onto "those who use toilets less", until settling for the simple, catch-all phrase "diaper wearers". Never one to miss an opportunity, of course, the diaper industry had thrived with this increase in marketing potential. Claire remembered the old "Drynites" brand vaguely, and shuddered at the thought of the unfortunate souls who had to wear them. Flimsy, low-capacity and small, they were quickly replaced by increasingly large sizes of baby diapers, and by the time Claire had finally outgrown her bedwetting, most large supermarkets sold tape-up diapers all the way up to a 32" waist, with capacity and print variations to suit plenty of tastes. Kathy's concern for her daughter was more of a hangover from the perceptions of bedwetters from her day - Claire would always tell her not to worry, as usually at least one other girl would be in diapers at any sleepover. Kathy, however, worried nonetheless, and Claire was quietly grateful. It was better, she thought, to have a mum who cared too much, instead of too little. So, 5 years free from diapers, Claire was here, packing for her first big trip abroad - six weeks working at the University in Cologne! Claire opened the large brown box and began placing its contents on the kitchen table. Books, pencil cases, protractors, notepaper - it was all here, stationary she hadn't needed since school days, neatly packed away by Kathy. Kathy, oblivious to Claire's silent thanks, began to fuss, "Well don't get it all out here! Take it up to your room, that's where your clothes and suitcases are!". Knowing she was right, Claire grunted in annoyed approval and began to quickly place the items back in the box. As she threw in the last pencil case, she felt her hand brush up against a familiar surface - a sort of fine cotton - but ironically she couldn't quite put her finger on what it reminded her of. Eager to escape her now irritated mother, she bustled upstairs, trying hard not to drop her now unbalanced box of school things as she went. Laying the stationary out on the slightly dusty floor of her bright, modern bedroom, she began to make piles - "take", "keep", and "throw away". Ikea pencils went in "throw away", treasured teenage doodles went in "keep", and her best pens went in "take", ready to packed off to Germany. As she reached the bottom of the box, having filled the "keep" pile far larger than her mother would have liked, Claire's hand again brushed up against that family fabric. Curious, she looked into the box. There, at the bottom in the corner, was a solitary diaper. It was clearly unused, and it was clearly hers - first, it was covered in a little blue flower pattern, and second, it looked about the size and thickness of a small parcel, certainly big enough for her 24" waist. Her heart beating imperceptibly faster, Claire reached down and picked it up. First, she went to put it into the throw away pile, "After all," she reasoned to herself, "No one would want one old diaper, and I certainly don't need it". But she stayed her hand, and placed it down in the "keep" pile. "Who knows," she though, "I might need it in the future - maybe I'll get the flu, and won't be able to make it to the toilet". She stood up, and was about to go downstairs when the blue and white diaper, perched on a pile of half-used school books and potentially useful post-it notes, caught her eye one more time. "Well, if I am going to be in Germany for 6 weeks, why wouldn't I need it then? Besides, I don't know what exactly the diaper situation is over there, so it may be the only thing I can find." To be on the safe side, then, she moved it to the "take" pile, ready to be packed. But first she went down stairs for a nice cup of tea.

I will be travelling to the U.S. in a few months time and as I am incontinent I will be wearing a nappy or large incontinence pad. Also I will have spare pads and nappies etc in my carry on luggage will it be a problem at airport security.

Hello to all the special people, who got (or want to get) urinary incontinent by wearing diapers 24/7. And hello also to all people, who are actually on this struggling way with incontinence desires... I

A University in Japan has developed a sensor for a diaper that requires no battery. It uses urine in the diaper to form an integral part of the power generation to send a wifi signal when the diaper is sufficiently wet.

hi i have to go to asia to work (singapore, but travelling around malaysia, thailand and hopefully more) anyone here with experience of buying adult diapers in asia? Except for singapore, most other countries are developing countries and do not really have an elderly care sector. i bought online from singapore and its actually even better in america as they deliver to me in 1 day, and prices are cheap. i bought from this site Adult diapers tena pants