accident haver

“I know it’s embarrassing sweetie, that’s what makes it fun”

“Oh, this is embarrassing? But you’re so wet…”

“Aww, you’d feel silly doing that? Good. Embarrass yourself for me.”

“Why am I doing this? Because I love how dumb and helpless you look when you blush”

-spills diuretics into your coffee- sorry accident

-ignores your requests to look for a toilet-

-drives past the restroom-

-convince you to drink more-

- "you're wearing those till you write 100 things you like about yourself"

- "no more potty till you ask out that girl you have a crush on"

- "you can stop wearing when you finish that project you're always talking about"

I don't wanna wear diapers today? That's my choice but that pack isn't going anywhere.

In fact, my mommy will keep on ordering cases of diapers as if I was wearing them full time

She has my favorite diapers on an auto reorder, stuffers sent over with every other shipment, and buys samples of diapers she thinks I'll look cute in

Eventually I'm going to run out of space to hide them, and the cases are going to start piling up in every room of the house

It won't matter if im wearing them, any of my friends and family who come over will clearly see the mass amount of diapers bags with my name sharpied on them will give me away.

Nothing but a big, helpless toddler in thick, absorbent Huggies.

Being taken straight to the bedroom for a change and night-night. Having a kiss planted on your cheek as you lay in your bed, alongside a sinister promise:

thick enough that you’re completely unable to lay on your side, the swaddling bulk bunching up uncomfortably between your thighs when your legs aren’t amply spaced.

so thick finding clothes to accommodate them is near impossible, your padded undergarments a visual alarm sounding straight through whatever you could possibly try to pull over them.

with an unreasonable amount of inserts, enough that the outside doesn’t look like you’ve had an accident without soaking through your all of your layers. Wetness indicators become leaking indicators.

“No-o, please Ty, please-! I can’t hold on much longer-”

I smiled knowingly into the webcam as the image of my writhing, diapered girlfriend filled my screen. Of course she wouldn’t be able to hold on. She never did… and yet, somehow, she kept on trying. Every single time.

It was kind of pathetic, really. Sweet, and admirable, and pathetic.

“Ellie, you know the rules, baby. You set them up yourself, remember? ‘Oh, Ty, I want you to control me, to humiliate me…’“ I mimicked in a singsong falsetto. “You’re the one who even showed me that sweet little vibrator! So why are you complaining now, when you’re getting exactly what you want?” I lowered my voice and bent toward the mic. “Exactly what you… deserve.”

God, it was heavenly to watch her squeal, for at that exact moment I bumped the Lush vibrator, tucked tightly away inside that adorable diaper of hers, up a notch.

“Now, now, remember! An enema for every time you cum in your Pampers, baby girl. You don’t want another enema on top of the one you just got, now, do you?” “No, no, please, no!” she babbled in desperation, her hips wriggling in obvious arousal and distress. “It’s just- Fuck, it’s so intense! And I’ve gotta take a shit too- so bad-”

“Do you now?” I couldn’t help but chuckle as she stared up imploringly into the camera. “I guess a double Fleet enema will kinda do that, won’t it? Listen, why don’t you just quit fighting it, baby? Go on. I know you’re going to eventually. Just fill your diaper up like a good girl, and we can get this taken care of…”

Of course she eventually did: face scrunched in humiliation, her upturned diaper swelling and sagging with the shameful, mushy load. I stared, transfixed in arousal and longing to be there—to feel the infantile swelling and bulging of her dirty Pampers beneath my hand. There she was, filling her diaper before my eyes, just like the good little baby I was slowly turning her into…

And you know, such good behavior has to be rewarded.

“No, Ty-y-y-!!!” And then she was dissolving into orgasmic convulsions of pleasure, the hapless victim of my remote ministrations. I had the controller, after all, and I knew better than anyone exactly how to send her senses reeling, to set her off cumming and squirting helplessly into her now-filthy diaper.

When the glorious little show was all over, I grinned quietly into the camera once more like the sadist I was. “Well, well! Guess that’s one more enema for you, hmm? Guess we’ll just have to try again tomorrow, baby…”

Not gonna lie. Her sweet, defeated little whimper was almost enough to send me over the edge myself.

Image Credit: @ukdiapergirls (check them out at UKDiaperGirls.com!)

Because Mommy said so, obviously! And because she loves thinking about your poor little bladder muscles turning into tired, quivering bundles of mush.

Not being allowed to take it off or push it to one side, girlie has to just endure having the magic wand pushed against her special area, all safely taped up behind the thick rustling plastic and all of her wet warm accidents that smush against her. (It’s the only pleasure she’s accustom to anymore.) softly moaning into her pacifier as she screams, being hit with waves of pleasure. She doesn’t get any control at all. The grown ups hold the vibrating wand under the guise of “she’s too little” to do anything for herself. She doesn’t decide when it ends, that’s not her choice either. It could be one orgasm or she could be repeatedly forced to cum over and over again until she’s a sobby, soar, overstimulated, hot blushy mess.

After princess has had her fun, give her some gentle encouraging pats and send her off to play or to take a nap. She’s not allowed a change. In the post orgasm glow and come down she can feel all of the shame that’s resulted in her humiliating herself to this level. Peeing her pants and making messy accidents just to own the grown ups approval to cum. Sitting in her nappy -well soaked with all of her many different types of accidents princess can reflect about the decisions she’s made that have leak her to this point in her life.

Jester’s Best™️ Lil Trainee’s

A comically thick pampers-styled diaper. Once laden it’s hard to even imagine crawling, let alone walking. It’s exterior is designed with circus animals and laden with polka dolts, fade-when-wet balloons, and an adorable clown-girl mascot clad in a frilly red-blue jester’s suit with a diaper outline much too droopy to be fresh.

The more time you spend in it, the more ridiculously outlandish the design becomes. With accident after accident the mascot on the front cycles actions as the once white background becomes more clouded with humiliating imagery. Maybe she’ll be undoing her bottoms, allowing the visage of her soaked padding to pop out on display for an audience of just you. On certain occasions you’re almost certain she becomes animated, bending over ever so slightly and furrowing her brow as a lump expands out of the seat of her pants.

After a day or so of dribbling into the padding it’s a testament to the silliness of an adult getting off on sitting around in Huggies: A raucous mess of colorful imagery overlapping together with the only common thread being imagery of thick, colorful padding and humiliating encouragements from your new most best-est friend!

The Padding of Midas

This diaper is cursed and spooky, found buried deep underground with an ancient warning: “Turn back, or turn back.” Upon inspection it looks to be a bit worn from time, probably from around the 90’s. The once colorful design is now faded, but it’s curiously modern in that respect. It features ghostly characters in cutesy, impressively dynamic poses. There’s a little skeleton, a whisper of a ghost, and a loosely-wrapped mummy interacting with each other in different poses throughout its plastic-backed exterior.

You don’t realize you should have heeded the warnings until you’re taped up snug. Your brain is immediately fogged over in a light haze, framing the world in a wonderfully distorted lens. This is by intention, so as to keep you docile and clueless as the diaper truly takes its course on your very being.

Once donned, every single item the diaper’s crinkly exterior comes into contact with is morphed instantaneously into an analog of your wildest and most infantile dreams. The bed you were laying in to get nice and changed? Now a crib crowded with stickers of your favorite childhood cartoon. The pillow you humped your diaper into once you were pulled deeper into a baby-brained stupor? Now a comically large stuffed Elmo equipped with a vibrating crotch. Even the home office is eventually morphed into a giant toddler’s play gym, and what was once file upon file of paper work is now just a box of action figures and play-sets. In no time your entire house is replaced by an oversized daycare, it’s every room now a twisted analog made for an oversized tot that never quite got the hang of potty training.

Back-to-Basics™️ Learning Pants

This diaper sticks out a bit by comparison. It starts out plain and white, its extremely thick cloth exterior decorated only by a “Back-to-Basics” logo in plain font. Once it’s wrapped snugly around your waist designs manifest from nowhere, being scribbled down in what looks like crayon by some invisible force. Each doodle is a small circle with a bit of text detailing a piece of your knowledge. The scribbles add up to the sum of everything you know, all of your years of learning written neatly into little groups on the outside of your diaper.

But there’s a nasty little trick. Those aren’t designs, they’re wetness indicators! With each failure to reach the potty a new portion of your knowledge is faded along with its corresponding indicator. It’s designed to be a slow-drip, and the less-important adult functionalities such as your adult education, emotional regulation, and self-control abilities are positioned closer to your crouch and are thus plucked from your mind after just an accident or two.

The real intrigue begins however after a half a day or so, once you’re a soggy mess stranded on your bottom in whichever room you peed-away the “Walking” indicator. With one last accident, you reach the indicators on the very back of your padding, just below the back waistband. The big three, if you will.

First, “Potty Training,” allowing any remaining inhibition to flow right out of you and into your pants. The next, “Inhibition,” leaves you a giggly, bubbly mess of yourself, more occupied by squishy-diaper feelings and spittles of drool falling onto your chest than anything like, say, the complete erosion of your adult self. The final piece of the puzzle eventually fades, positioned highest on your pamper’s backing: “Humility.”

but either way, she ends up buying them. tells herself it's just to try wearing them, not to use. she plans to spend her night off watching movies on the couch, and decides to put one on. seems like a good enough time; there's no one around to see it bunch up or hear the crinkling. and she's home, so she can take it off as soon as she starts feeling weird about it.

and when she goes to change into it, she has to make a conscious effort to ignore how wet she is already.

it's embarrassing how comforting she finds the padding. she has to sit there for a moment just to process it. it's so soft, and so much more comfortable than the panties she usually wears.

she shakes off her thoughts and goes back to the couch, settling in with a snack and a drink. maybe some wine? starts sipping on it as the movie begins. the diaper fades to the back of her mind as she fades into tipsy, relaxed bliss.

but an hour or so later, she feels her bladder start to fill. the little twitch takes her mind off the show, even though it isn't that bad yet. the frustration at having to pause the movie and get up is at the forefront of her mind. the couch is just so comfy, and she's warm, and the bathroom is so far away-

and without thinking about it, she finds herself shifting her position on the couch a little bit. adjusting her hips and back so she's sitting up straighter. her eyes dart around the room, a little shy despite being alone in the house, and then lock onto the screen. taking a deep breath in, she begins to let go.

just a little. a few drops, if that. the gasp she lets out at the feeling is obscene and far closer to a whine than she'd like to admit. her hands clench on the blanket as she begins to relax her bladder even more, allowing a larger spurt to escape. and god, it feels good. the relief, even to her half-full bladder, is sweet and perfect and motivation enough to keep going.

with a sigh, she relaxes her body and lets go. her head falls back against the couch as her stream starts, tentative but soon strong. the movie is long-since forgotten; the only thought in her mind is "i'm peeing, i'm peeing, i'm peeing." the relief is amazing, and the feeling of getting it while sitting in her living room is so weird. but to her surprise, she doesn't hate it.

(understatement of the year.)

Aww, it's so cute! They're so convinced that they're still adults with full control over their bladder. And for the most part, they might even be succeeding!

But...

Are they really potty-trained if they're running to the bathroom desperately every hour? Can they really consider themselves as having an adult level of control when they're so close to not making it?

That's why you, as their Big, need to test them a bit more! For every time they successfully make it to the big-person potty, try adding another rule or a tiny bit more of a challenge:

Have them wear one extra layer of clothing to remove: panties over their pull-up, a bodysuit, and then maybe even a onesie or overalls. Surely a big kid with full control won't have an accident while they undo layer after layer of clothing, right?

Make the bathroom a bit harder to access. Maybe one of those spinny covers on the knob? Lock it with a key that they have, but that is on a ring with twenty other identical-looking keys? Use a timed lock that only opens every two hours?

Speaking of timed locks, why not add one to their pants? They say an adult pees generally 4-8 times per day - surely they can wait a few hours in between each potty, right?

Give them more liquids. You have to keep them hydrated, after all! And what kind of bladder control can you really say you have if you only drink a few times per day? Maybe prescribe one extra drink for every time they make it!

Make them acknowledge their own limitations. If they have to ask you for permission to use the potty, or if they have to announce it, it will remind them just how embarrassingly often they need the potty.

Got any others to add? Let us know!