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I sat there, stunned, my painted lips curled into a big 'O'. Shock had overcome me, for something had happened that had never happened to me before, not even in the time in my life when it was... not acceptable, but still thought to happen once in a while. I had lost the need for protection at an incredibly early age, had never experienced rousing to clothing sticking to my skin. That's why I was so shocked. That's why I was stunned as I heard the faint dripping noise as my own urine fell to the ground beneath my seat, third from the door, in fourth period grade eleven English.
I stole a look downwards, to examine the damage; all it did was strengthen my shock, which quickly turned to extreme embarrassment. My tight faded blue jeans were completely soaked in the crotch area, with the splotch trailing outwards down my pant-leg, to drip onto the floor. Some part of my brain wondered how in the world my bladder had held all that.
My face had not had time to register blushing, but it suddenly flared when my neighbor suddenly took it upon herself to announce my predicament to the whole class in a loud, startling matter.
'Holy crap! <ns0:place>Erin</ns0:place> just peed her pants!'
This statement was met with my neighbor jumping up out of her seat, stepping backwards and pointing at my crotch, her hand on her chin, a mixture of laughter and disgust on her face, as if there were a giant spider crawling out of my fly. I wished that it was that good.
Suddenly the whole class was practically on top of me, and in the next second several steps away from me, seeing what they wanted to see, and then trying to force as much ridicule upon me as possible.
'Oh my Erin! Are you ok?' Ms. Barter cried, coming to stand right next to me and putting her hand on my shoulder. I looked up at her, and saw the sympathy in her eyes. 'Come dear, lets get you down to the head office. We'll call your parents.'
Shakily I rose from my seat, with a slight squishing sound (my shoes had a bit of liquid in them...), and carefully moved towards the door, waddling slightly, my thighs rubbing together noticeably. Behind me the students were silent, but laughing at the same time. Ms. Barter had a way with silence.
Ms. Barter turned back to her class as I put my hand on the door knob, blushing so hard from embarrassment I swore that my cheeks were on fire; I wanted to cry.
'Now, accidents happen to everyone.' She said, layering on the authority in her voice, 'I want you all to sit back down in your seats, and be quite till I come back. Anyone does anything and I will make you have an accident.'
That sure didn't help me. I turned the knob, feeling my fellow classmate's stares in the back of my head, and proceeded out of the class. Luckily, fourth period English was on the third floor, and incredibly close to the head office. Ms. Barter exited the classroom, glaring inside the whole time, and closed the door.
Silently I shuffled down the hall, towards the stairs, Ms. Barter in tow. It was a miracle that no one was in the halls to see me. My shoes squished as I walked.
This was by far the most embarrassing thing that had ever happened in my life. Not the few times when my bra slipped off last year, not the frequent embarrassing moments in the girls change room in grade nine, none of those incidents had been nearly as embarrassing as this; people would remember this for years to come. My pants were soaked; it felt like I wasn't wearing any underwear because I was so drenched.
Finally I arrived at the office. I walked through the always open door to stand before the three secretaries. Immediately all of their faces widened in shock, and sympathy.
'Oh my goodness <ns0:place>Erin</ns0:place>!' said the nearest secretary, a sweet woman who had been with the school for a long time. She jumped up and ran towards me, her hand coming to rest on my shoulder sincerely. 'Don't worry honey, we'll get you a change of pants and call your parents. How did this happen?'
I stood for a second, stuttering. 'I-I, don't know! One second I was fine then the next I was sitting soaking wet. I didn't even feel myself doing it...'
The two other secretaries had gone back to work, seeing that Ms. Messenger had everything under control. Ms. Messenger nodded, smiling down at me. 'It's ok. Accidents happen. Come, let's get you fixed up.'
Ms. Messenger led me softly into a washroom down a hallway. She unlocked the door (apparently students could not be trusted to use it...), and ushered me inside. 'Alright sweets, you get that wet clothing off. I'll get a change of clothes, and then we'll call your mom. Everything is going to be O.K.' she said, with a bright smile. The door closed.
I took a step backwards into the center of the washroom, my leg brushing against the toilet and my back pressing against the sink. Easy for her to say, I thought, as I pulled my fly down and undid the metal button, she didn't have to come back to face my friends after peeing ones pants. I slid my jeans down and stepped out of them, then moved to my panties, sliding those down my slick, shining legs. I put those on top of my pants, and stood naked in the bathroom for a second.
I might as well wash myself a bit, I thought. I turned around and grabbed a fistful of paper towel from the aged rack on the wall. Wetting them, I proceeded to wash up and down my legs.
Suddenly I stopped. Something was wrong.
I gasped as I stared at my crotch; my perfectly hairless crotch.
Dropping the paper towel, I grabbed my soaked underwear. Sure enough, it had a thin coating of dark brown hair on it. I was flabbergasted. Dropping the underwear, I proceeded to feel all around between my legs, confirming my thoughts. I was completely clean-shaven.
Now, I occasionally trimmed up once in a while, but had never completely shaved myself off. It was a strange feeling, for my skin felt like it did not have any hair at all, not even the tiniest hint of stubble. Did peeing my pants do this?
I forced myself to calm down. It was at this moment that I realized that I was really thirsty. I turned to the sink, bent over and turned the tap, gulping in the cold fresh water that sprouted forth. I was really thirsty.
There came a knock at the door, which startled me. I quickly shut off the water shut off the water, my thirst half satisfied. Grasping the door handle tightly, I twisted it and pulled open the door a fraction of an inch. Ms. Messenger stood outside holding a bundle of jeans in her hand.
'Here you go sweets.' She said, carefully sliding the clothing through the small opening I peered through. I took the clothing with relish. 'Is everything O.K.?'
I turned back from placing the clothing on the sink. 'Yeah, everything's find. I'm just a bit shocked.'
'Ok.' Ms. Messenger said comfortingly, turning to go. 'We called your mom, and she's on her way. Call if you need anything.'
'Thanks,' I muttered weakly.
I closed the door completely. Turning around I grabbed the tap again and gulped another couple of mouthfuls. My thirst was satisfied now. I sighed, calming myself again. I forced myself to carry out some further inspection. I arched my back, and stared at my crotch again, pushing my hair out of the way. Sure enough, it was still bare. This was really weird.
Sighing again, I straitened up and turned back to my new clothing which I would have to clean and return to the school as soon as possible. Ms. Messenger had probably taken it from the girl's lost and found. It was a pair of really faded old jeans, with red, stitched flowers crawling up the pant legs. Stashed in the pants were an equally old pair of red underwear, a little bit large, but (after a quick sniff), would do. I quickly pulled the underwear on and the pants, fixed my hair in the mirror, and finally stuffed my soiled clothing into a plastic grocery bag that had also been with the borrowed clothing.
I opened the door and crept outside. I realized that I did not have any shoes, or socks.
That problem was fixed when I tripped over the pair that Ms. Messenger had set outside the bathroom door. I picked them up, a pair of socks inside them, and retreated back into the bathroom. Sitting on the toilet seat cover, pulled the slightly dirty pink socks, which came to barely my ankles, then pulled each of the used, dirty, dark black running shoes. After quickly doing up the laces, I quickly grabbed another gulp of water. I left the bathroom thinking that the excessive drinking must be to the lack of water in my system because of the incident.
I returned to the main office, calmly sitting down in one of the hard chairs, casually putting my hands between my legs. The office was deserted, my teacher having left. I realized that the bell must have rung signaling lunch. I hoped that no one who knew (or had heard) of my spill would walk in.
As I sat in the seat, I rubbed my hand slightly against my crotch. For some reason this aroused me far more then it should have. Maybe it was because of the lack of pubic hair, but I had no way of knowing.
For nearly ten minutes I sat in the office alone, waiting, till finally my mother popped her head into the office door, a kind smile on her face. My mother looked just like me, just with a few more wrinkles.
'You O.K. honey?' she asked. Just like the secretary, I thought.
I nodded, standing up. A sudden shock of pleasure shot through me. I realized that my underwear had snagged onto the old jeans, which then had in-turn rubbed against me in such a way that had sent a shock of pleasure through my body, but with a force that shouldn't have been possible unless my fingers were involved. The surge of ecstasy had not affected my body physically, and my mother did not notice it. What in the world was going on?
'Come on <ns0:place>Erin</ns0:place>. We'll go home and relax.' My mom said comfortingly. I nodded again, and walked foreword, my mom put her arm around my shoulders.
The two of us turned and headed for the exit.
I didn't know what was happening until I shifted after a particularly wide turn. My painted mouth twisted into an expression of fear this time, not shock.
'MOM! Stop the car, stop the car!' I shouted.
My mom complied, slamming her foot on the brake, and pulled the car onto the soft-shoulder. Throwing my seatbelt off, I pulled the door open, letting the van door slide barely two feet before I jumped out of the car. My mom did the same, flinging her door open with force.
I stood at the edge of the road, staring down at my legs, as a constant stream of pee leaked into my borrowed clothing. Very quickly all of the pants were darker with wet, the jeans stuck to my skin. My mother was frantic. First she checked the car seat, seeing that there was minimal damage, and then turned back to me, yelling at me to get it to stop.
But I couldn't stop it. For at least a whole minute (not exaggerated), a constant flow, and it was a good strong flow, entered my pants, completely soaking them and my borrowed socks and shoes. Again I couldn't feel my underwear I was so wet. I tried so hard to push the muscles that would close my waterway, but no matter how hard I tried, it felt like the muscles weren't even there. Maybe they weren't.
Finally, after every drop of water I had drunk earlier had left my body, I stopped peeing. I felt incredibly drained, and yet strangely refreshed.
'Honey!' my mom called to me, her words barely reaching me in my delirious state. 'What was that!? You're completely soaked!' I knew that. She didn't have to tell me that. I was so humiliated, so confused as to what was happening to my body. I wanted to cry. I did cry.
I stood there, beside my family van, my pants completely soaked through with my own pee, crying like a baby. I choked, gasping for air. I was sobbing hard. My mom walked over to me and put her arms around me, comfortingly, but cautious, so as not to get her own clothing wet.
I cried for a good five minutes.
After the tears had stopped falling (well, I'd actually run out of moisture long before), and I'd stopped gasping for air and had calmed down, my mother held me at arms length, examining me. 'Sweetie.' She said. 'Something's obviously wrong. Lets go to the hospital. O.K.?' I nodded. My mom smiled. 'Ok. Take off all of your wet clothing.'
I complied, stripping then and there, not worrying about who'd see me; I was too distraught. I bundled up my dripping jeans, underwear, socks and shoes and stuffed them into the back of the car. Then, half naked, I crawled back into the car, over wet spot on the seat, and then settled into the other seat in the van. My mom crawled back into the front seat. We both put on our seatbelt and the car started.
I sat there, the upholstery rubbing against my skin. Once again it felt incredibly good. I sat there, savoring every bump that caused a new surge of pleasure. I was so tempted to reach down to my now hairless crotch and use my fingers to increase my pleasure, but decided against it because of the company I was in.
We took an exit that would eventually lead us to the hospital, my mom driving too fast. I was really hoping we didn't get pulled over. After about five minutes we finally pulled into the hospital parking lot.
My mom got out of the car, telling me that she was going to get me a hospital gown. I sat there, being incredibly thankful for the tinted windows. Again after about 5 minutes, my mom returned with a hospital gown in her hand, handing it to me as I coward in the back seat. I quickly pulled it around myself (having taken off my seatbelt before), doing up the metal buttons. I quickly examined myself; the hospital gown was not very thick, and I felt slightly silly wearing it, but it would do. I slid open the door and jumped out.
We entered the hospital through the emergency entrance. There was no one else in the waiting room, which was odd, for the couple of times that I had seen the waiting room it had contained many sick people. We walked right up the receptionist desk, where an old nurse was sitting at, writing. She looked up and smiled at us.
At this moment I zoned out completely for some reason. I didn't register anything my mom was saying to the nurse, I didn't flinch as she explained my embarrassing incident (well, I assumed that she was explaining my embarrassing incident). I did catch that we were going to see my family doctor, who was in today, and who was not busy at all and could take an emergency appointment. I mechanically followed my mom away from the receptionist desk and out of the waiting room, down a well lit hallway that smelt like hospital.
Along the way, I stopped at a water fountain. I realized that I was once again really thirsty, and I quickly gulped down several mouthfuls of water. This thirst was very odd, and I was not liking it a lot.
Dr. Sherman, my family doctor, worked every odd day at the hospital. I was glad that it was an odd day, so that I wouldn't have to face an unfamiliar doctor. After climbing a stairwell and walking down another well lit hallway, we turned into Dr. Sherman's office. I zoned back in at this point.
Dr. Sherman was a young woman, not thirty, but close to that. She was leaning against a wall of cabinets, filling a stack of paperwork out. She looked up as we entered, smiling at me kindly. The receptionist had apparently called down already, setting up the emergency appointment.
'Hello <ns0:place>Erin</ns0:place>!' She said, stacking up her stack of papers and putting them into a drawer. 'It's been a bit since you were last in. Apparently you're having a bit of a problem.'
My mother, not missing a beat, jumped right into a detailed explanation of my accidents, voicing her concern as this had never ever happened to me before. I stood idly by, listening to my mother, watching Dr. Sherman. A bit of fear set through me as I saw Dr. Sherman's brow furrow more and more as my mom finished explaining. Dr. Sherman nodded.
'Well, you don't need to worry. Come and jump up here <ns0:place>Erin</ns0:place>. Could you take off the gown please?' Dr. Sherman said calmly, patting the examination table beside her, then exited the small room. I complied, pulling off the thin clothing and balling it, handing it to my mother. I nimbly jumped up onto the examination table, putting my hands between my legs shyly.
Dr. Sherman returned with a stethoscope around her neck, wearing lab coat. She walked right up to me, kindly asking me to move my shirt. I did, balling my shirt up too and handing it to my mother. <ns0:address><ns0:Street>Next Dr.</ns0:Street> <ns0:City>Sherman</ns0:City></ns0:address> took her stethoscope and pressed the cold metal against my chest. It startled me slightly, but I endured it. After moving the stethoscope around my front several times, she removed it from her ears, letting it fall around her shoulder.
'Your hearts fine,' she said. 'But now let's see if there's anything else wrong with you. Could you please spread your legs?" I did shyly, embarrassed. Dr. Sherman smiled kindly, but then frowned. '<ns0:place>Erin</ns0:place>, did you shave?' She asked.
I gulped. 'N-no... for some reason after I peed my pants the first time, all my pubic hair was gone. I don't know why...'
Dr. Sherman's eyes widened at this statement. My mother's surprise was immense. 'Well, that's interesting...' said Dr. Sherman, scratching her head. 'Well, anyways, let's take a look what might be the problem.'
With cold fingers Dr. Sherman carefully prodded my crotch. I blushed, but felt silly doing it. Dr. Sherman continued to prod, actually touching certain things that almost made me giggle.
What happened next was something that I would never have expected. Dr. Sherman touched a certain part of me, and a surge of pleasure shot through my body. Suddenly, I was peeing. Dr. Sherman jumped back with surprise as a sudden gush of urine shot out of me. Every drop that I had left in my system exited me, falling onto the examination table and the floor. I stared in disbelief.
Several second later, I stopped peeing. A small pool of pee sat around my crotch, while the majority of the urine was on the floor. I felt like crying again, but resisted the urge.
Dr. Sherman was slightly flabbergasted, but she quickly recollected herself. Walking over, she placed her hand on my shoulder. 'I think I understand what's going on.' She said. I looked up at her, relieved.
After helping to clean up my mess and donning my hospital gown again, I sat in on the now clean examination table. Dr. Sherman asked my mother if she could come into her office for a moment, and she complied. I sat there, staring at the cabinets. I wasn't scared, as I expected I should have been because my mother was discussing me in another room, and there was a potential that it was bad news that Dr. Sherman was telling her. Instead, I felt relieved, relieved that this predicament was almost over.
Finally, after about five minutes, Dr. Sherman exited her office and confronted me. She was smiling, but not in a 'Well, your going to die, but it's not that bad!' way.
'<ns0:place>Erin</ns0:place>, could you please step into my office.' She said.
I complied, sliding off the table carefully, so that I would not brush any 'un-wanted' places, and cause another surge of pleasure.
I entered Dr. Sherman's office, which looked exactly like any PHD doctor's office, and took a seat in one of the comfortable chairs; Dr. Sherman took her respective place at the desk.
Dr. Sherman sighed, and then took a deep breath. '<ns0:place>Erin</ns0:place>, there is something wrong with you, and it is permanent. I need you to understand that this is not going to control your life, but it will change it. Do you understand?' I nodded. 'Good. I've just explained to your mother all of this and what must be done. <ns0:place>Erin</ns0:place> you have a condition that is called Urination from Stimulation. It is not uncommon in older men, but very rare for someone such as you, especially because you are female. Urination from Stimulation is a condition in which you will have uncontrollable urination whenever you feel stimulation such as pleasure. The actual condition is the increase in the amount of pleasure one feels, and then because of that, the stimulation is so much that you urinate. To put it simply, from now on whenever you feel physical pleasure, you will completely empty your bladder.' She paused for a second. 'Does that make sense?'
It took me a second for it too all sink in, but when it did, everything fell together. 'Yes!' I said. 'In English, my desk chair has a raised part. I must have brushed against it. And in the car, I was rubbing against my borrowed pants... wow; it doesn't take much to set it off, does it...'
Dr. Sherman smiled again. 'I'm glad that you're taking this so well. Now comes the tricky part: what must be done. Your mother has already heard this and has agreed. You may not like it, but this is the only way. Do you want to hear it?'
I nodded. 'Yes.'
Dr. Sherman nodded also. 'Alright,' she said. 'Whenever you feel physical pleasure, you will pee. Because it is impossible for you to avoid physical pleasure completely, you are going to need some protection. That means that you're going to have to wear a diaper, twenty-four seven.'
My eyes widened at this news. Diapers? Like a little girl? All the time? I stared at the Dr. Sherman's face, seeing that she was indeed, serious. 'So, like, I'd have to go to school in a pull-up?' I asked.
'Not necessarily' said Dr. Sherman. 'You can wear anything you want, but some kind of protection is needed, unless you want to constantly pee yourself all day, and let it go on the floor. Basically you need to wear something that will catch urine.'
'But why can't I just wear something that stops that?' I asked. 'Like a plastic cover that'll stop me from ever feeling anything?'
Dr. Sherman shook her head. 'What happens if you accidentally arouse yourself? Your mother and I have discussed this, and we cannot find another method. You never know, something else may present itself, but for now, this is necessary.'
Dr. Sherman turned to my mom. 'You have the information I gave you?' she asked her.
'Yes. The list is in my pocket.'
'Good.' Said Dr. Sherman. 'Don't worry. For your information many young people have to wear diapers because of problems similar to your own. Incontinence is a common problem. Everything is going to be fine; you just need to instill some confidence in yourself.'
Dr. Sherman stood up from her seat; my mother and I did the same. My mom smiled weakly at the doctor, who smiled back. She then looked at me directly. 'Your mother's a pretty capable woman. She's going to take care of you. Just remember, diapers can be also being a good thing.'
I had no idea how, but I believed her.
I sat on my living room couch oh so very carefully, so that I wouldn't accidentally cause any unwanted accidents; I'd just sucked down a thousand glasses of water, and did not want it to come spilling out onto the couch, and the clean jeans I'd put on. I was alone in the house, my mother having gone out (I'm an only child and my dad passed away a while ago) shopping. I knew what she was buying: diapers. All through the car ride home, then for the short time I'd been on the couch, I'd thought about diapers.
The initial thought of them was disgusting; peeing into ones pants, then having to sit in it, was a repulsive thought. But once I'd started thinking, I began to realize that there were advantages to wearing diapers. The big one: I'd never have to go to the washroom; I'd be wearing it; no matter how disgusting that this may appear. If I was in a long car ride or in a class with a teacher that wouldn't let me leave, I wouldn't have to worry. I even went so far to think about the advantages of eliminating the use of tampons. The advantages were endless, but the disadvantages still left me slightly depressed. Dr. Sherman was right: diapers were- no, can be, I wasn't going to succumb yet, a good thing.
I watched TV for a long time, around five hours. Finally, the sun had set; I heard my mom's car pull into the driveway, the doors slamming shut. I sat in anticipation. I heard the trunk close, then several seconds later, the front door open. I started to rise carefully.
'Hold on missy!' called my mother from the vestibule. 'Do not go anywhere! Just stay where you are. I'll call you when you can come. I'm going into your room.'
I wanted to cry out in protest at my mother entering my room, but decided against it. I sank back into the cushions, waiting in dread. Five minutes passes, ten minutes. Finally, fifteen minutes later, my mom called me from down the hall. I stood carefully, walking around the couch slowly. I strode down the hallway, turned, and entered my room.
Everything looked exactly the same as usual; my bed sat against one wall, my desk in the far corner, my dresser beside it and the rest of the wall space was covered with cabinets, shelves or posters, the floor was spotless, as that was a pet-peeve of mine; my mom leant against the dresser. The only thing that was different in the room was a clear white container that was pushed into the corner of the room with a lid on it; the diaper-pail. My mom motioned for the to sit on the bed. I shuffled over and flopped down on the soft comforter.
'Alright <ns0:place>Erin</ns0:place>.' She started, 'I'm going to explain the rules. First off, you need to know that the bathroom is not off-limits; I'm not saying you can't when you have to go. Second, and most important, is that you have to wear a diaper twenty-four seven. This I'm enforcing. If I catch you without one at a time that you are expected, you will be severely punished. We don't want any accidents. Now, let me show you the repertoire.'
My mom turned around and pulled open the most top left draw, pulling out a folded pull ups with Disney princesses on the front. 'In this drawer there are pull-ups and diapers that are similar. You've got a pretty small figure, so you should be able to fit into them. I'm suggesting that you wear these to school, or at times when you don't think you're going to be drinking a lot. But, just in case, there are these.' Placing the pull up back into the drawer, my mom pulled out something from the same drawer. 'Whenever you wear a pull up, you have to wear one of these also. It's a plastic cover so that the pull up doesn't leak accidentally. Dr. Sherman suggested it.'
Now I understood what it was. Initially, I had no idea what the heck the plastic thing was, but now I saw that the panty-looking thing was to stop leaking. Interesting.
My mother moved down a column, pulling open the second top drawer. 'By the way, I'm Getting rid of all of your panties. No buts. If this ever stops, you'll be able to buy more.' I frowned at this news. My mom pulled an item out of the second drawer. It was a larger diaper, white, with a blue wetness indicator running up it. 'These are Depends diapers. There a lot more absorbent then the pull ups, but there a lot more bulky. These you should also wear to school, and other things. I've bought you a couple more skirts, because I don't know if a few of your jeans will fit over a diaper. You should be able to put these on yourself. You can wear the plastic coverings if you want, but I'm not going to enforce it.'
My mom put the diaper back into the drawer and closed it. She moved down another column, pulling open the last drawer in the dresser. She pulled from the drawer another diaper, except this was different. 'These are special over-night diapers. There incredibly thick, and can hold almost as much as two of the 'medium' diapers can. You are going to wear these always at night, because Dr. Sherman said that that is the most prominent wetting time. It's near your bedtime, so let's get you in one of these. These things are pretty thick, so I doubt you'll be able to put this on yourself.'
So this was it. Judgment day. My first diaper in many, many years, and the first of many, many to come. I was going to be strong. My mom walked over to me, an over-night diaper in one hand, and a bottle of baby power she'd also had in the drawer in her other hand. She placed the bottle on the on the edge of the bed. She stared down at me, sitting on the bed. I had no idea what to do.
'Well take off your clothes!' my mother shouted.
I stood and stripped my pants and underwear off carefully; my mom grabbed the panties and threw them in a box in the corner I hadn't noticed. I lay down far on the bed, so only my knees were hanging.
'Now, you know that you don't-well, actually, I don't want you to-poop in your diapers.' Said my mom, 'It'll be a real mess, and I've experienced enough to know that it'll be ten times worse then when you were little. Ok, let's do this.'
My mom advanced, unfolding the diaper. I saw that it was very big, and very thick. With ease my mom lifted my legs and bum up and slid the thick diaper under me. It felt soft and cushiony under me. My mom took the bottle of baby powder off the edge and softly sprinkled it onto my 'diaper area,' taking care to cover as much as she could, including the diaper itself. Slowly she pulled the front of the diaper up between my legs, placing it, and then pulled up one side, did the four tapes up lightly, far into the middle, and pulled the other side and did the same. My mom fixed the edges so that it was comfortable, and stood back.
'There you go! Your first diaper!' said my mom proudly. 'Now you cannot take that off until the morning or if you have to poop. Tomorrows Saturday, you don't have school, so you can get accustomed to wearing them.'
I stood. Immediately I was conscious of the thick padding between my legs. It wasn't uncomfortable, but it would make me waddle a little. I walked around a tiny bit checking it out; I did waddle. My mother laughed.
'You're so cute! Why didn't we do this before?' my mother said, grabbing me and pushing me back onto the bed. I grabbed one of my pillows and bashed my mother over the head. She grabbed my other pillow and started to hit me over the head too. We continued to play-fight for several minutes, I just wearing a diaper and my T-shirt. Suddenly, I stopped; my mother bashed me over the head one last time.
I stared downwards at my diaper, stared in astonishment as a large wet stain appeared, causing the blue wetness indicator to disappear. I didn't know what had set it off, but I was conscious this time of the start of my peeing; it must have been because of the diaper. The diaper absorbed all of the pee, not even hinting that it was even close to full. I stood up off the bed. The diaper sagged slightly, and the lower-crotch part was wet, but it had held all of the pee. I reached down and touched the wet diaper, pushing it against my skin. It was warm, and in a strange way it felt good.
My mother smiled at me from the bed. 'Your first wetting.' She said. 'You can't take it off though. It's nowhere near full. Maybe we'll stop with the rough-housing for now.' My mother glanced at her watch. 'It's nearly <ns0:time ns1:Minute="0" ns1:Hour="9"> nine o'clock</ns0:time>; you should be getting to bed.'
I looked up from my diaper, my hand falling away from the plastic. 'Sure. I'll go brush my teeth.' I said, there was still a little bit of surprise in my voice. My mom got up from the bed, kissing my head and playfully slapping my diapered bottom, exited the room. 'Good night sweetie.' She called back into the room. 'If you have any problems during the night, wake me up.' She left.
I looked down at my diaper again, my hand moving to press against it again. It wasn't as hot as before, but was still warm against my skin. So this was my new life, I thought to myself. Peeing into a diaper whenever I feel any kind of excitement. I knew that this would take some getting used too.
Before I went to brush my teeth I decided to take a closer look at this repertoire of diapers. I walked, waddled a little bit more now because of the added pee, over to my dresser and pulled open the first drawer. In it, in near little rows were twenty or so pink, Disney princess-covered pull ups. Beside them were four plastic covers, and I realized that they were all different. One was pure rubber, designed to fit snugly over; another had clasps on the sides; the last two were the one that my mom had shown me, except one was smaller then the other. I closed the drawer and moved to the next one.
I pulled it open and glanced inside. Inside were thirty or so depends diapers; these were true diaper shape and design, and I saw that they varied in size. They all looked thicker then the pull ups, but defiantly not as thick as the over-night ones. I would probably have to be careful with these at school, because if I wanted to keep my diaper-wearing a secret, I would have to make sure that these were covered. I closed the drawer and moved over to the last drawer.
The drawer was packed with thick over-night diapers, but there were only about fifteen in the drawer. Some were different then the one I was wearing; they had designs on them, and I saw that two were even thicker! Beside the diapers were a bunch of diaper paraphernalia: baby power (I reached backwards and grabbed the bottle my mom used and put it back in the drawer), baby wipes, and rash cream. I closed the drawer.
Next I bent down, noticing the, now cold, pee pushing against my skin, and checked all of my other drawers. All of my underwear was gone, that I knew already. I glanced back and saw that my mother had actually taken the box with them in them as she had left. Also in my pants drawer were three new, expensive, long skirts that had a fanning design to them; perfect for concealing a diaper under.
So this was it. Everything my mom had set up. If anything, there wasn't much of a difference when I looked at it in a positive way; all that was different now was that I had to wear diapers now instead of panties. Sure, whenever I felt any stimulation such as pleasure, fear, shock, or any type powerful emotion, I would uncontrollably pee, but that wasn't that bad.
While I was thinking about it, I decided to experiment. I turned back to my bed and bashed my hand against the bed post, causing my hand to throb painfully. Sure enough, I felt a small stream of pee escape into my diaper. Through this I discovered something else: the more powerful the emotion the more I would pee. Light pain caused a light pee. An intense emotion such as a pillow-fight or rubbing caused a lot of pee.
But this still didn't explain the increase in the amount of pleasure I felt, and the falling out of my pubic hair. Dr. Sherman had noted this, but hadn't explained it. I didn't have any idea, and probably wouldn't ever.
Shifting my diaper a tiny bit, for it had sank down slightly; I waddled out of my room and towards the bathroom. I heard the sound of the TV from the living room, and knew that my mom was taking a rest.
It felt weird not taking a pee before I went to bed, because that was my usual routine; I should have gone before I put my diaper on. I quickly brushed my teeth, washed my face, and then walked back to my room. I crawled into my bed, laid on my back, and pulled the covers on top of me.
The last thing I remember from one of the most confusing days of my life was thinking about how fast everything had happened, and playing with my diaper with my hands...
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