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*** disclaimer English is not my first language so pls forgive my mistakes Chapter 1 I m sitting on a marvelous couch in a 10 million or probably more dollars house in L.A.. Should be enjoying life right? Well if this were a year ago I would. My brother is set to come home any minute which is actually a good thing cause even though we technically don't share a dad and have a huge age gap , we get along great. We never really lived together much as he was older than me by 1.5 decades almost and started off his quite successful acting carrier early on meaning he is off in distant location filming his next film. So like I said if this were a year ago , I'd be thrilled to be hanging at Chris's place with him, But a lot happens in a year... Let me go back a little ... So I was young and stupid . It was about 8 months ago. Trying to impress some chick I met the night before. I m not even sure what made me get on that motorbike. Most of the events after that are a blur. Even the first days or maybe weeks kinda hard to tell in the hospital are nothing but hazy memories . Some memories are clearer than others. To cut it short I fractured bones, busted my right knee , got a concussion and to top it off a spine injury. I should make a pretty close to full recovery . That's what all the experts said. It will take months of rehabilitation and basically the least fun year of my life. Espcially as I just turned 21. Well I was kicked out of college 2 years earlier and my dad suddenly died 6 months after that so I guess I could say that my past few years weren't too much fun. Maybe that's why I was trying to impress girls so much . But back to the story - I did recover. Well almost completely . Thats the thing . Fractures healed. Concussion is gone. My knee is quite okay. But my spine injury left something behind. At first it wasn't obvious. Well at first I was bed bound for months basically . And I had a catheter. If you are lucky enough not knowing what that is its a tube going up to your bladder and draining your urine into a sack. Constantly with no control. Now that's the thing - the control. I thought it was temporary . So everyone said . But as time went by I had to realize that though most of the time I was fine it was not all the time. I started to wet the bed, not that it never happened before but most definetly not in the last 7-8 years. If that wasn't embarrassing enough - wetting my bed at the age of 21 at a rehabilitation facility where of course I was surrounded by young hot nurses... Well wetting during the night wasn't the only thing. As much as I didn't want to admit it I have "accidents" during the day. What do I mean by that ? Is that I could be chilling on the couch like am right now, have a sudden urge to pee and basically I can barely get to a tiolet which is right in the next door before bum I m standing in a puddle . The doctors still say it is likely to get better and I need to be patient. So now here comes the thing. Almost 2 months ago I was set to be released from the rehabilitation center. I'd be thrilled right . Just that I didn't exactly have a place to go to. As I said before I was young and stupid . No steady job no place of my own ( I rented but after the accident of course I couldn't pay rent) so it seemed like my only choice was moving back home with my mom. Don't get me wrong I love mom she is great . The thing is no one knows about these accidents. I mean of course my doctors and the nurses knew but not my family. I m the youngest of 3 and I grew up known as the baby of the family . And In certain ways I was always treated like that especially by my mom and sister. My dad never babied me but that's an other story . Chris was I guess as the eldest just protective , and in the past years he started treating me with much more respect . So moving back with my mom seemed like the logical thing to do however there are 2 buts. 1 as I said before she always treated me as her baby if she found out about my accidents especially with my sister around I'd never live it down. 2 she just got her first serious new relationship after my dad. So I wouldn't just have to hide my secret from her but from some guy I don't really know living there now. So when Chris offered that I could "crash" at his place and watch it for him while works while I get back on my feet was a god send. It made it easier to hide the fact that now I wear protection basically all the time . There is no one in the house now but Martha the house keeper. Luckily most of the protection I wear is quite discreet of course not the night ones nor the fact that one drawer of my dresser is filled with them rather than with underwear. But only Martha comes in to my bedroom from time to time and I made sure not to leave anything out in the open for her to see. We don't interact much. With Chris gone she doesn't have too much to do and as she is middle aged we don't have too much in common , and mostly cause the easiest way I know to keep things hidden is by avoiding having to interact with people for too long we pretty much stayed out of each others way. I m kind of paranoid that somehow people will know I m wearing protective underwear though to be honest it does look pretty normal and not very obvious . I should be really gretaful to Annie , 1 of the nurses who cared for me. She is maybe a year older than I m so having her changing my wet sheets or even worse taking my wet pants to wash was humiliating beyond words . She was the 1 who suggested I try absorbent briefs for men. During the day anyway. Night is a humiliation of another type. I m still not ready to use the d word. But she was quite good at making brand suggestions and it does so me to be quite doable to hide. So with all of this, accidents which luckily stayed hidden by my protection and things went fine. But now Chris is coming home. And he will be staying . Exactly how long I m not sure. Sometimes he is only here for a few days sometimes he takes a job in a series and stays for months . I m hoping he will be working most of the time. Cause as I said no one in my family knows, and if he stays for long it will be hard work keeping this secret.

I would say my number one fetish (slightly above ABDL) is desperation and wetting. I love the feeling of having an achingly full bladder and being desperate to use the toliet, holding it until I end up wetting myself. I also love, love, love watching someone else wiggle, dance, moan, whine, and beg to use the bathroom before inevitably soaking their pants.

Hey there folks. Long time lurker, I'm talking since 2011 here, but I dislike making accounts on websites from forums to social media. Today I decided to take the plunge and make a post, a plea for help if you will. This will be TMI, so be warned. I've been into this whole deal. As long as I can remember. Earliest memory? Three years old, perched on all fours over a beanbag pretending the bag behind me was my pants full of poop. Finally tried diapers a few years ago after years of only one successful pants pooping, because the thing is this. I don't know if it's a mental or physical block or what, but I can't poop my pants or diaper. Not even sitting on the toilet, not even letting it start to come out then pulling my underwear up, not even if I push until it hurts. I can go with marshmallows and/or bananas, sure, but I experience no urgency even after 1+ hours. I think I felt urgency once, ironically at a terrible time. Had just put them in and realized I had no diapers left. I knew I have a ring of steel, so I went out to buy some knowing I likely wouldn't even feel an urge like every other time I'd done it. And I was right, until I was 5 minutes from home. Felt an urge, strong urge, so I walked home really quickly, whacked diaper on, relaxed. Nothing. I had to push. Like, as I got in the door I was close to exploding and it was glorious because this had never happened before, the closest I had been to this state before was age 5 when I had a soft poop and feared I'd get diarrhoea which I hated so I held it for 5 days and struggled a bit on day 4, then my parents forced me to go on day 5. But yeah - as soon as I got in safely, got diapered (well, goodnited) up, I had to push to go. And even then, pee came out first. Few years later (2015) I tried Milk of Magnesia. I drank the whole bottle. I felt nothing. Then, I sharted. Tiny little thing. Put diaper on, no urgency even for several hours after. I couldn't feel a thing. Then I pushed, and wham. Ton of it. I did that a few times, and I always, always ALWAYS had to push. And even when I did start to feel it, long rumbles and growls and feeling heat travelling down and wanting out, I never had an accident. No explosion. I could feel it right there, POISED to come out, it never did. The urgent wave passed, and that was that. Got back into this recently. I bought my first tape on diapers, I'm old and late to the party and have been sufficing with goodnites and these things from the ladies' menstruation section (only buying when the aisle is empty, didn't want to be seen staring at pads and stuff) and I decided to use a different method for each one, as I can never go naturally. Diaper #1, Milk of Magnesia. Whole bottle. Lot of water. No urgency, just a slight need. Pushed to get it started. Had minor cramping, but no strong urges. Always had to push. I needed to go when I drank the stuff and I pushed and pushed but the solid part (which was very soft, too) never came out. Not until I gave up and went on the toilet. (Sidenote: first time I ever used MoM, the solid stuff came out with difficulty. It also came out recently with an enema, with a whole load of pushing and straining. When I go normally I never have to push or strain, I don't get constipated, it's never runny, I have NO ISSUES EVER.) Diaper #2, Last results of the previous night's MoM. I got excited, I had to. I did have plans for 5 different methods but ... yeah, no. I gave in. Anyway, required pushing even though urge was present and it was liquid. Diaper #3: Enema. Now, I've done them before. Never got so much of an urge, always pushed it out after 5-10 minutes. I'm impatient. This time, I decided to hold this close to 4L water and oil enema until the urge was so strong it exploded beyond my control. So I did. 15 minutes in, I thought I was there. I felt it, I felt liquid close to the exit, I held on, I waited ... It went away. An hour in, I got bored. Pushed. Teaspoon volume of water came out. Push again. Nothing. Kept pushing for several hours, and all I can feel is something solid - I hadn't needed to go before doing the enema, and lo and behold, I'd held it long enough that I DID need to go, it was solid, there was no more water than the teaspoon, and even this urge was barely an urge that didn't become prominent and normal level urge until THE NEXT DAY! Diaper #4, Prunes. I had never had prunes before. I don't do a lot of fibre, just average. I ate a ton of them. Drank a ton of water. Hours later, not even a normal urge or anything solid to need to come. So I shoved some marshmallows in, held 20 minutes, got bored and pushed them out because I'd given up by this point. Diaper #5, I bought some suppositories. I bought them online, waiting on them to arrive in a few weeks. I can't do it in person, everyone around here knows me and I have issues talking about this thing. I'm several dissociating right now enabling me to do it anonymously online. I'll insert two (200mg) with 20 minutes in between if it permits. But I know I will ultimately fail, and be able to hold it too long. Any advice on making myself LESS able to hold stuff? I don't mean self mutilation, I just mean increasing the urge. Like if I need to go (naturally) and hold it a few days, any way to make it feel urgent and not just present? I've gone 4-5 days holding in my adult life, no issues, no urgency, still can't go in pants/diaper. Note: don't recommend laxatives or oils or other things I haven't mentioned trying. First of all I can't get them in this small town, second of all I'm poor and barely scraping buy. Seriously, I saved up months to be able to afford $20 of diapers on eBay. MONTHS. Two weeks for a bottle of Milk of Magnesia. I have the WORST enema kit ever, it arrived damaged, but it was $2 on Wish. I'm THAT poor. So I can't listen to any recommendations of different laxatives. More info for you: I work out casually a few times a week and walk a minimum 5km daily. No foods cause reactions in me, from spicy things to fibre loaded things to dairy. Coffee also does nothing, I drink strength 10 stuff every day and it has no influence. I feel like an immovable anomaly with a sphincter made of steel and insides of the same. Help. I want to have an accident or as close to it as possible. That always has been my only enjoyment factor of this whole stupid fetish I spent so long wishing I didn't have in the first place. One last thing, weird thing of note: used to be able to pee my pants/diaper as a kid or adult with no problems. Now it takes either deep, long concentration or pushing. Haven't suffered any illness or injury or traumatic event to change anything. It's weird.

As I start to wear more often, I realize sometimes I have accidents. Like without really noticing. Luckily they've happened at home. Has anyone else had this? If so did you do anything about it?

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

“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.

My Nightmares Have Become Dreams Part 1 The crowd is cheering as I stand almost on the halfway line at Wembley Stadium. I have just scored the most spectacular long-range goal of my career in this, the final game that will determine the Premier League title. One hundred thousand people are shouting my name “Joey, Joey, Joey”. One hundred thousand people’s eyes are on me as I become aware that… all was not what it appears. I don’t understand. As I stand with my arms held aloft in celebration, everything suddenly goes quiet. Where has my shirt disappeared to? Why are my shorts suddenly slipping down my thighs… and why can I do nothing to prevent this from happening? Here I am, alone in the middle of the pitch, naked but for a thick nappy and the crowd starts laughing at me. I see my image up on the big screen. The terry-towelling nappy is held together at the front by a single huge pink safety pin. It all looks so thick and immense in close-up. The laughter grows as I try to hide my embarrassment; the big screen captures every detail. There is nowhere to hide and I can do nothing to conceal my shame. There appears to be no one else on this hallowed turf to protect me. No team mates, no opposing team… where have they all gone? The supporter’s laughter reaches hysterical levels as they point and shout - wondering if I wanted my mummy… ‘Do you want your bot-bot changing?’ ‘Do you need a dummy?’ ‘Ahhh, poor widdle baby’. They all appear to be screaming baby-talk at me and as they do so, the flow of warm piss into my nappy is picked up by the camera, as is the fact that I am now on the verge of tears. The crowd’s mocking intensifies. Abruptly, as if from nowhere, a man in black appears by my side. I recognise him as a referee and he is carrying something. He pulls a whistle from his mouth and sticks it in my own but it isn’t his whistle, it’s a dummy, all pink and bulbous. I suck on it briefly and it restores some calm but then he thrusts a teddy bear into my arms, which for some reason I gratefully accept and start to cuddle. That’s when my bowels let loose and I fill my nappy once more only now, the camera picks out the huge discolouration on the seat. The big screen displays my disgrace, while a hundred thousand voices rise in laughter filling my head as I am led crying from the field of play, waddling slowly in my heavy, sagging nappy, towards the exit. **** The noise rouses me from my sweaty dream. The alarm clock radio was on full blast and playing some heavy hard thrash music. This isn’t what I want to wake up to but neither is the state of my bed and worst of all, my PJs. This is the fourth night in a row that I’ve had the same dream. A moment of absolute triumph is destroyed to become a distressing nightmare. This is also the fourth time I have messed my bed and the commotion of my noisy alarm clock and my sudden yelp of realisation as to what has happened had brought mum into my room. There is no getting away from the evidence; the mess, the smell and my guilty face are all she needs to know that it has happened again. She screws up her nose and says quite calmly “That’s it.” I instantly know what she means. She isn’t going to put up with my ‘problem’ anymore and she already told me, after the first incident, that I should sleep with protection to save my embarrassment and her having to wash and clean up after me. She isn’t a terrible woman, but at 18 I should be able to control my body. My two younger brothers have no trouble getting up in the night and only my little baby sister Maria (a very late arrival to the family) needs help with her toilet requirements. Mum has already indicated that, to spare my blushes she wasn’t going to tell anyone else about my problem but, and there are no buts to her argument, I will be wearing a nappy and plastic pants to bed for the foreseeable future. It’s what my baby sister needs and that is exactly how I will be treated. She did add that if I can go an entire month without wetting or messing then she’ll rethink my extra night time ‘equipment’. Meanwhile, she put in a call to her colleagues at the hospital where she worked (that was before the arrival of the baby) and got her plans underway. As the eldest son I have my own room, which I have made clear to my younger brothers they do not enter (on pain of some unspoken evil) without my express permission but I did notice that they both caught a whiff of my bodily secretions and may already have guessed what had happened. I didn’t get chance to disagree with my mum especially when dad told me that I was lucky that was all that was required of me. His stern expression emphasising that arguing would not only be pointless but might make for a more severe punishment (although mum didn’t see it as a punishment, merely sensible protection). My dad wasn’t convinced that I couldn’t do anything to stop what was happening and thought I was just being an uppity, slovenly teenager. He had very little time for his eldest son, who in his opinion, seemed to have regressed to a little baby and he had enough responsibility with his (unexpected) youngest child to cope with. **** The school year was almost over, exams taken and lessons more or less abandoned as we lazily went through the actions of those final days. I had no idea why my dream should cause me so much anxiety; I liked football but it wasn’t going to be my career. I’d breezed through the exams and assumed I’d done pretty well but, with the holidays looming, I still hadn’t found a part time job to see me through summer and my eventual results. What was more embarrassing was that my two younger brothers both had jobs. Gary, who is 12, has a paper round and Steve, who is 15, works with his mate on his father’s fruit and veg stall in the market over the weekend. Dad has refused to finance, what he sees as my lazy attitude to work, so I have no money. He thinks I could have found something, anything, if I’d tried but to him this is all part of my lethargic and disinterested way I live my life, always depending on others. This bout of bed wetting is just further proof of my ‘indolence’ of ‘can’t be bothered even getting up and going to the bathroom’ and his anger with me is on the cusp. I feel that if I argue, complain or in any way annoy him he’ll just explode and it will be worse for me. **** I had planned a first holiday with my girlfriend Kate to start the week after the school year finished. We thought we’d take a break before she had to start work whilst waiting for our results and eventually university. We’d planned on going to the same one, although taking different courses, and hoped we’d be able to get accommodation together. I hoped many things for my future but one of the main things that I yearned for was to be able to get into Kate’s knickers once we were away from home and living together. We’d been doing everything except that last real bit of sex and the frustration was driving me mad but, she said, she wasn’t going to lose her virginity just because I wanted her to, she could be quite controlling in that way. Mind you, in my current ‘situation’ I wasn’t keen on sleeping with her just in case I made a mess – I’m sure that would be the kiss of death to any relationship. Now I couldn’t afford to go, even camping would have been too expensive and, my dad would have seen it once again that I was running away from my responsibilities. It’s not that the family is poor. Dad has a well-paid job and up until the baby, mum was pretty well paid in her exec capacity at the hospital. However, Dad’s ethos has always been ‘you get nothing for nothing’ so, although I sought my escape in the prospect of university, I really was relying on my family to support me up until I went away. It wasn’t that I hadn’t tried to get work, well, I had tried but there were few opportunities around and I guess I was just too picky, thinking I was better than what was on offer. Mum had arranged for a part-time job at the hospital but I really didn’t want to be carting bodies around the wards with all those ill people – uuurggh! Mum was OK with my decision, saying it wasn’t a job for everybody but dad was furious and called me a little kid, scared of work and getting my hands dirty. The fact that I was now wetting the bed on a regular basis added nothing to his low opinion of me… and I suppose I could see his point. **** Mum had got her supplies from the hospital and I was greeted with them when I went to bed that night. Grown-up disposables and plastic pants were laid out on my bed and mum insisted that I wear them as she was damned if she was going to be mopping up after me anymore. I’m fairly easy going and don’t like conflict, that’s why I rarely argue with mum or dad, but I could see her argument on this and, I have to say, as reluctant to take this step as I was I thought it was the easiest of solutions to my immediate problem. Mum said it was only until the problem disappeared, hopefully, as quickly as it had arrived. That night it felt strange wrapping myself in the thick disposable (mum had offered to help but I told her I could manage) and it took a few attempts at getting the tapes tight enough for the damn thing to stay up. Eventually it appeared to be in place and I looked in the mirror and burst into fits of laughter – I looked a right loon. I even did a little dance I thought I looked so stupid… the whole thing was hilarious. I slipped the plastic pants, a sort of thick creamy colour, over it all and to hide the bulge pulled on my PJ pants. The bulkiness was something I thought I’d never get used to. When I was standing up and dancing around, it had all seemed so funny but now, as I tried to get to sleep, it felt hot and uncomfortable. The slickness of the plastic pants meant that my hand kept stroking the front of my bulge but I could hardly feel my cock through the thickness, this I found quite disconcerting. The plastic had a texture of its own which, I surprisingly found stimulating and continued to play around with the silky mound until I fell asleep. The dream was slightly different this time. Instead of being at Wembley I was on a camping holiday with Kate and it was she who was consoling as I wet myself. She pulled down my drenched pants and checked my soaked nappy and proceeded to start to change me in full view of the passing public (who on this occasion were a group of young hikers… all of whom were laughing at me). Kate was not putting up with my protests and insisted that I let her see to my needs or we were through, she wasn’t going to put up with a baby who didn’t want to be changed and that was that. I had no alternative but let her get on with it but the growing audience of a troop of scouts and an old folks walking group only added to my embarrassment. I started to cry. **tbc**

Update. 1-2017 Because this is my own personal fantasy based on my life i often come back to this and rewrite certain things or add things here or there depending on what I'm into at the time so this is the most current rewrite version 2.0

Hi there! This is my first post, so bare with me

So over the past year I have been having problems holding my bladder. I've never had problems with holding it before but since my problems started they only seem to be getting worse and I really have no clue what to do. It all started about a year a go. I would be at work and out of no where I would really have to pee. I would just focus on holding it in and it would pass and ten minutes later I would get a stronger sudden urge to pee. I could normally ignore it three or four times before I would head to the bathroom. Every now and then I would have to stop whatever I was doing and go straight to the bathroom . I was working two jobs at the time. The one I could run to the bathroom when ever and the other was a Land Scaping job so I could only go places where customers couldn't see me. There would be times where I would really have to go and for half an hour of feeling like I was going burst any minute I would crawl under a bush and go. Eventually the problem went away and I thought it was just a phase or something.

Ive messed my diapy a few times before without even thinking about it. I remember one instance was that I was playing with my dogs on my bed and drawing, sucking my binky. Then after some time I started to smell poopie, at first I though it was one of the dogs, but then I checked my diapy and sure enough I went poopie, but what was also odd was how I did not notice it, I usually always notice, there was only a few times I actually had not noticed at first, but that was due to some serious distraction. I think that this happens because usually when I have on a diapy I keep my bowels and bladder mostly relaxed (as to have little to no control, like a toddler hehe) But even then I am usually thinking about it, and notice it. I worry that this could me accidents. Should I try to keep myself in control more so I dont end up having an accident when not babying out? Cause so far I haven't had an accident because of this.Has this happened to anyone else? If so, do tell about it, thanks