But, Daaadyyyy!

So of course the guy offers to walk them home so they can keep talking on the way. And since they're in a hurry he can't bring himself to ask them to wait. Walking provides a new set of challenges - it's not harder to hold but it is harder to hide that he's holding. His date at one point jokes that he doesn't need to be so nervous, but the guy manages to laugh it off.

Finally they get to the date's house, and the date has to rush to make their meeting, but they still give the guy a goodnight kiss. As soon as the door is shut the guy grabs for his crotch and starts hobbling away to try and find the nearest bathroom. Where is the nearest bathroom? Shit, is there one nearby at all? It already feels like he's going to-

Barely two steps from the door, his bladder gives out. The guy is helplessly pissing himself right there on the sidewalk, two coffees on top of everything he'd already been holding before that bursting out of him at full force. He tries to stop, twists his body and squeezes himself, but there's nothing he can do. He has to grit his teeth and try not to gasp or moan too loudly, just in case his date hears it, and that alone is a struggle because it feels so good to finally let this all out.

By the time he's finished his pants, shoes, and hands are all soaked, and there's an absolutely massive puddle on the concrete.

He's humiliated, but also relieved. Not just to be empty, but that this happened after his date was inside. If it had been as little as a minute sooner he doesn't think he'd ever be able to face them again. It's evening, it's summer, nobody was around to see it. The puddle will be dry by tomorrow, and even if it's not his date will never guess where it came from. He's never going to make that mistake again, but at least it worked out!

Little does he know, the next morning his date thinks it would be fun to check their doorbell camera to see if it captured their kiss.

It did. As well as what happened afterward. His frantic grab as soon as he was out of sight. His desperate waddle as he tried to walk away. The way his body stiffened as he lost control. His squirms and shivers as he tried - and failed - to regain it. Especially the flood of liquid that poured from his pants and spread so far across the sidewalk that it ran into the grass. And when he turned back to check if he'd been seen, it also captured his soaked pants and the look of embarrassed relief on his face.

It’s warm, and I’m getting really sleepy. She’s drinking some more juice and asks me if I want some. I have a sip, but my bladder starts to feel really uncomfortable. We drive past a rest stop. I just notice it and then it’s gone and I’m really mad at myself for not saying anything. I’m nibbling my lip.

“How long do you think it’ll be?” I say.

She tells me about an hour and forty minutes. That’s nothing, I can hold that long. I shut my eyes. I remember being a kid and having to go real bad in the back of the car, and asking them to stop but they wouldn’t. I remember a little bit leaking out and then a little bit more. It felt so warm. Uh-oh, I realise that’s the wrong thing to think about, because I gotta go even more.

I look for more rest stops, but I don’t think there are any before the hotel. We’re turning off the main road now, and onto the windy country roads with way less people and less chance to pull over. I feel kinda shy about my need even though I don’t think my friend would be annoyed. It’s better not to say anything. I nibble my thumb.

Then two bad things happen: we get stuck behind a really slow tractor for ages, and the next road we’re on is really rough and full of holes and I feel it right in my bladder. My hand goes between my legs and I really gotta go and I feel little and anxious.

“Uh oh,” I say. That’s not a very grown-up thing to say but I feel so anxious and all I can think about is that I gotta pee.

“What’s wrong?” my friend says.

I chew my lip. “I gotta pee really bad,” I say at last.

“Oh dear,” she says. “How bad?”

“Ummm.” I squeeze my hand between my legs. It really hurts now. “I don’t think I can make it much longer.”

She puts her hand on my knee. “It’s about an hour, still, to the hotel. We lost time behind that damn tractor.”

I whimper. I can’t help it. “I gotta go now. I’m sorry. Can we pull over?”

“I’ll try,” she says. The road isn’t busy, but it’s really narrow, and there are houses all round with big gardens. There’s no place I could go behind a bush, but no restaurants or shops either.

I hadn’t realised it was so bad. At first I felt sleepy and it seemed like I could just hold it. But I gotta go like burning now, and I keep wriggling. I feel almost like I might panic, you know, because it’s so bad and I can’t keep it in, but I have to and I don’t know what to do.

“There’s a towel in the backseat for emergencies,” my friend says.

I’m not sure what she means. Is she giving me permission to pee myself? But wouldn’t she be mad at me if I did that? We talked about omo a few times before, but it’s never been a reality. My cheeks are hot. “Uhh?” I ask her.

“It’s OK, you can sit on it. If you leak, it’s OK.”

“I feel like I might burst,” I tell her honestly. “I gotta go so so bad. I’m sorry.”

“It’s OK. I don’t mind,” she says. “We’ve talked about this before, remember.”

I grab the towel. I’m shifting from one thigh to the other and each bump in the road makes me feel like I’m going to let go. “But it’s different when it’s your car,” I say.

I put the towel under my butt. I’m tearing up. I don’t mean to but I just have to go so bad and it’s so sore and I don’t want it to happen. I nibble my thumb. Then I feel it, a little hot leak in my pants, and I whimper.

“Did you go a little?”

“Uh-huh.” My eyes are full of tears, one run downs my cheek.

“Aww, honey. You should just let go. We did drink a lot of juice.”

“Don’t talk about juice,” I try to joke. I squirm hard. It hurts so bad. Now that one leak has come out, I find myself relaxing just a little, and another leak comes out and wets my bottom. Ooooh. That does feel a little better, but once I clamp down I’ve got to go as bad as ever.

“Are you sure you won’t be mad if I get your car wet?” I say.

“Don’t worry, honey,” she says. “I’ve been there.”

I’m still looking out the window for someplace to stop. But I can’t help letting a little more out. It feels so good. I ball my hands into fists, trying to hold tight. When I move my hands away from my crotch I can see that it’s soaked, and it’s super obvious because I’m wearing thin beige trousers.

“I’m having an accident,” I say softly, as I feel another trickle come out. It’s SO HARD to hold on now that I’ve started, and I feel it running down my leg, a long warm gush.

“I know,” my friend says. “It’s OK, you can clean up at the hotel.”

I whimper again. I feel so little and so warm in the car, and so naughty. Even though she’s said it’s OK I can’t believe I’m letting this happen. I feel it run between my legs, and suddenly I’m really letting go, it’s too hard to stop, and there’s a loud hissing sound and I’m just going and going.

The pee soaks through the towel and ends up on the floor of the car too. I can’t believe it. It feels so good too, now it’s begun I suddenly feel so relaxed, so warm and safe and wet. “Uh oh,” I find myself whispering, as I feel my shoes squelch.

“Don’t worry,” my friend says. “It’s pretty hot, actually. And I’m glad you’re not sore any more.”

“I’ve never done anything like that before,” I say.

“It doesn’t feel so bad, does it?” she says.

*tries to be extra good and cute for daddy in my pony panties that I insisted I was big enough to wear while I color*

*doesn’t realize how bad I have to potty until the last second, gasps and drops my colored pencil as I start having an accident in my favorite big girl panties*

*finishes going potty in my panties and gets super blushy as I try to figure out how to clean up and hide my accident from daddy before he finds out what I did*

*gets caught by daddy mid clean-up, insists it was the pony on my panties that made the suspicious yellow puddle on the floor, and is then promptly changed into a pull-up and told to sit and wait quietly for my punishment for lying to daddy while he goes to get proper cleaning supplies and his belt*

TLDR/Take-away lesson for other littles: Always go potty before you start coloring when your daddy/mommy lets you wear big girl/boy undies 🙈🙈🙈

If I'm silly enough to insist I can get by just wearing a pullup, Daddy will, of course, oblige. He's very fair and kind that way.

What Daddy didn't say though, is that he would let me go to the potty while wearing my pullups. We're much too busy for bathroom breaks! So of course I inevitably wet. And that wet spot gets bigger. And my pullup gets soggier. Until it leaks. Because pullups always leak, silly girl.

But leaks are leaks, little one. And leaking through your protection means that you need more protection. Extra thick protection. Because it's embarrassing to leak and make a potty stain on your pretty clothes, isn't it? Much better to have a thick, heavy diaper keeping all of my accidents hidden, isn't it? Even if the diapers are "a little" noticeable. And don't worry, Daddy will keep you in extra padding until he's certain you won't have any embarrassing leaks.

Her babyness is showing a bit :3 

I’m not sure why I love the sight of a nappy peeking out from short shorts / dungarees so much. I like it even more than upskirts. 

This outfit gave her a very lovely round butt. She was out with me around Shibuya most of the afternoon like this and I made her carry her own pack of pullups at the store, which was pretty blushy. 

It had taken months of training but Ally had finally been regressed to the perfect baby girl.

Increasingly large hollow butt plugs and forced orgasms every time she wet herself had taught her body to lose all bladder and bowel control. While swift punishments for misbehaving, like talking like a big girl or trying to walk, quickly corrected her behaviour - after a bottle of prune juice and caster oil followed by three hours on the hard naughty chair, she decided it was better to do as she was told.