(shouting over the loud music to the guy next to me at a crowded bar) no no listen. there's two types of piss kink, okay? there's the wetting kind and the golden showers kind. the wetting kind is all about loss of control. desperation. it's about surrendering yourself to your irresistible physical urges. it makes pissing a submissive act. sit back down i'm not finished. the golden showers kind is about pissing as a dominant act. it's about degradation. objectification. turning a person with agency into something dirty to be used for relief. there's overlap between the two but both can be used to reinforce different power dynamics in bdsm contexts. where are you going
i loveee middle coded accident phrases . like toddler words like "did oopsies" or "went pottypants" are cute and all but once you're old enough that no one else is required to keep spare clothes at school there's a much more universal shame in how you talk about it
"i went to the bathroom in my pants.."
"i think i sorta peed the bed"
"i didn't make it in time..."
"i can't hold it anymore!"
"i pooped in my underwear.."
"i went number one on myself"
"it just... came out!"
yeah
honorable mention to crying and gasping "oh no! oh no!" when you realize you're going in your pants
Today, my little one and I go on a big adventure to the store. The doors whoosh open like they’re saying, Hello, Marsh! The lights are bright like sunshine, and the floor is so shiny that his shoes squeak with every step. Squeak, squeak. My baby laughs, and I laugh too.
We pass the fruit, stacked up high like colorful mountains. We pass the cereal boxes with silly mascots staring back at us. Marsh points at everything, because everything feels interesting today. Being little in a big store is kind of like being a curious puppy, so much to see, so much to sniff, so much to explore.
My little one is learning something new right now. Marsh is learning how to listen to their body and use the potty. That is a big job. Bigger than pushing the cart. Bigger than choosing snacks. It’s a learning job, like when baby ducks learn to swim or when kittens learn to land on their feet.
As we walk, I notice Marsh slow down. There’s a wiggle. Then another wiggle. I know this wiggle. It’s the same wiggle a penguin does before it slides into the water.
“Hmm,” I think gently. Marsh’s body is talking.
But bodies don’t always talk very clearly yet. His body is still learning its words.
Before we can get to the potty, before Marsh can say anything, the body makes a surprise decision. Uh-oh. He squats down and pushes out all his poo-poo.
Right here in the big, shiny store.
I don’t get upset. I don’t make a big noise. I kneel down so my eyes are right where Marsh’s eyes are. I use my calm, warm voice—the same voice I use for bedtime stories and scraped knees.
“Oh, Marsh,” I say softly. “That’s okay.”
I give a hug, because hugs help everything feel better. “Lots and lots of kids have potty accidents,” I tell him. “Just like puppies sometimes poop inside while they’re learning, and just like baby elephants don’t always know where to put their giant feet.”
We step away to clean up. I move slowly. There is no rush. This isn’t an emergency—it’s just learning. Marsh watches me, and I want Marsh to see my peaceful face.
“Your body is still practicing,” I explain. “Learning to use the potty is like learning to ride a bike. Sometimes you wobble. Sometimes you fall. That doesn’t mean you stop riding forever.”
Marsh listens quietly, holding my hand.
“For now,” I say, “we’re going to wear a diaper again.” I say it like it’s no big deal—because it isn’t. “Diapers are helpers. They’re like training wheels or like a turtle’s shell. They help keep you comfy while your body learns.”
The diaper goes on, and Marsh sighs a little, like he knows this is where he belongs.
“We will try again later,” I promise. “Not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But one day, when your body is ready, we’ll try big boy undies again.” I smile.
We head back into the store. The adventure continues. Without having to worry about making it to the potty, my baby is happily taking the world in.
Nothing is ruined. Nothing is wrong.
As we walk, I remind Marsh, “You did a good job trying. Trying is the brave part.” I squeeze Marsh’s hand. “I’m proud of you.”
ONE MORE. imagine a little who's in potty training and kind of not doing so well at it at the daycare, and so anytime they say they have to go, the teachers rush them to the potty super fast because they might just pee themself on the spot since they only ever ask at the last second.
then, they discover they can use this tactic to get out of punishments! made to sit in the corner for throwing blocks at someone? they just have to say they need to go potty, and one of the teachers will rush them in to the potty, even if they don't actually go.
unfortunately, this backfires. Uh oh! now the teachers have caught onto their trick. and now.... they don't believe the little when they really DO need to go potty. they're squirming and squeezing and whining and fidgeting in the corner and begging, saying they're sorry for lying before and they really have to go and can't hold it, and they're not wearing a pullup today and don't want to wet their big kid underwear!
whether the teachers really don't believe them, or just want them to learn their lesson, they're not taking the little to the potty, even when their face is flushed and wet with tears and their crotch is wet from multiple leaks. and they keep resetting the timer every time the little comes out of the corner to beg for the potty!
finally, they can't hold it at all anymore. it comes out in spurts, between their little fingers, soaking through their undies and overalls and pooling on the mat under them. one gushing wave after another. when the accident is over, they sob and wail and one of the teachers holds and rocks them. when they're calm, the teacher asks, "what did you learn?"
the little hiccups and answers with a shaky voice. "i shouldn't lie about having to go potty?"
the teacher smiles. "close, but not quite. today, you learned that the potty is a privilege, and it's just been taken away from you. sorry, sweetie."
thinking about gently touching a sub while they’re desperately full. fingers moving slow between their legs. them whimpering. me cooing softly. “shh, you’re okay, baby. i’ve got you.” stroking their cheek while maintaining rhythm. “the pressure makes everything more sensitive, doesn’t it?” catching tears tenderly. “that’s good. that means you’re feeling everything.” kissing their temple. “just hold on a bit more, sweetheart. you’re doing beautifully. focus on my hand. on how good i’m making you feel.”
“What are you up to over here?” He’s squatting next to the coffee table, holding his book.
“Um um um nothing! I’m just reading!” He looks over his shoulder.
“Uh-huh…I know what you’re doing. I’m not dumb, silly. That’s a diaper activity. And what are you wearing right now?”
“Panties…” He looks away.
“Your special, thick training panties. What are those for? What do they help you with?”
“If I can’t make it in time…and leak a little bit…”
“And what are you doing instead?”
He’s blushing so much. “…pooping…”
“That’s right. You’re pooping your pants. Not very mature, is that?”
“Uh-uh. No, it isn’t…”
I reach my hands under his armpits and pull him up to his full 6ft.
“Look at that sag. Turn around. Oh. You peed all over yourself, too. Did any get on the floor?”
He looks down. “No.”
“Okay, let’s get this taken care of.” I wrap a hand around his wrist and hold it firmly, pulling him to the bedroom. I hoist him up into sitting on the changing table and he whines.
“My butt’s mushy now.”
“Yeah, and who’s fault is that?” I pull out my supplies.
He lies down on his back and pull off his elastic shorts. “I guess it’s laundry day.” I drop them in the hamper.
I pull off his training pants. It’s hard not to get a little mess on his legs. There’s a lot. “Dude, really? How come you were pooping yourself?”
“I…I…I just didn’t want to get up. I really liked my book and I was at an exciting part and…”
“And…?”
“And it um, it um, it kind of felt good…”
“Right. That’s the answer I was looking for.”
“I just like it,” he says in a rush. “I just like the feeling when I push it out and I like how it pushes on my butt and I like how it makes me start to go pee too and I like how easy it is to just…”
“Ohh. That’s a lot of words.” He falls silent. I’m wiping him down, pushing into his skin and massaging it as I clean him up. “You can keep going. You like it because…”
“It feels good…it makes me get hard and…”
“Ohh, I see. It turns you on a little?”
“It just, uh, it turns me on feeling so little and…” he covers his face with his arms.
“Are you embarrassed now? Are you shy after you told me all that?” I lean over and kiss, kiss, kiss him.
He nods his head behind his arms.
“Aww…” I’m almost done wiping. I start in with lotion, again pressing firmly over his butt, his inner thighs, the soft skin right over his privates…”
“Ugh…I’m…”
“Leaking a little bit? I can tell.” I wrap my fingers around the head of his penis and push down slowly, spreading his precum all the way down his shaft.
He moans and says “oh!” like he surprised himself, arms still covering his face.
“I want to see,” I tell him, leaning up between his legs and gently pulling his arms down. He watches as I wrap my hand around him again, slowly easing it up and down.
“I’m…I need to…”
“What? Have another accident? After you got all flustered from pooping your pants? After you got all worked up from being naughty, from the feeling of it pressing against you…”
“I’m…oh. Oh…”
I grab a wipe from the packet and let him fill it up with cum. I lean forward again, showing it to him. “Look at how much you needed to go. Wow. All that from messing your training panties.”
“I…oh my. I didn’t…”
“I didn’t know you had that much in you, either.” I fold up the wipe and drop it in the trash. I get him a diaper and pull his hips up to get it under him.
“I get a diaper?”
“Yes, silly. Did you think you were getting away with anything short of that?”
“I thought maybe if I was sneaky…”
“Sneaky? Pooping yourself in plain sight in the living room is being sneaky somehow?”
“No, I…I guess it’s not, really…”
“Okay, let me tape this up so we have time to get to the grocery store before they close.”
I pull him up. He looks a little disoriented, hair all mussed up, eyes wide.
“We’re going grocery shopping? With me in this?” He looks down at his diaper like he’s never worn one before.
“Uh, yeah. I don’t know what’s going to happen at the store, but you’re not embarrassing yourself by shitting yourself in an aisle.”
“Stop!! I wouldn’t!!”
“Uh-huh…” I help him down and find him shorts to pull on.
“I can’t go to the store like this,” he says, looking over his shoulder at his waistband peeking out.
“Sure you can. I’ll get you a sweater to throw on. And don’t worry, I’ll tell you if it’s showing. Okay, baby?”
“Okay.” He chews on his finger. “I told you it was on purpose…I can still control it…”
“Right, but I’m not trusting someone who still poops his pants, regardless of whether it’s on purpose or not.”
being asked to fill out one of these forms through tears and sniffles, feeling so incredibly embarrassed that you couldn't hold it. holy fuck. It's so cute.
The idea of someone "potty training" me and acting really sweet and nice but secretly making their goal to un-potty train me and slowly break me down into a baby is like my biggest fantasy... I have an accident and she's very insistent on it so I'm like, okay, whatever, I'll play along. I'm an adult with a functional bladder anyway, so it's not like I'll actually need to use these training underwear. And at least they're fabric ones, it's not like they're pull ups or diapers or anything.
She loads me up on water and juice and is taking me to the potty every 15 minutes before our road trip, so I'm "plenty hydrated, but can still get it all out before we get going!" I'm still allowed to use the big potty toilet, for now, as long as she walks me over and holds my hand while I go. I don't know what "rapid desperation" is, but I do end up peeing a little every time, since I've been drinking so much water and juice. And... the attention is nice. The way she says "good job, baby boy!" after every time I go makes my whole face red with embarrassment, but it also makes me feel really good. Like I did a good job and she's proud of me.
Then comes the road trip to our weekend getaway It's a short one, only 2 hours. Usually on a drive that short I wouldn't even need to think about the bathroom. But this time... Oh boy. I'm looking around frantically about halfway through, even though I know there are no rest stops nearby. I'm pressing my legs together as tightly as I can, trying not to show how badly I need to go. She clocks it right away, of course. "Do you need the potty?" She asks, sounding a little amused. My face goes red again.
"Nooo..." I say. I sound horribly unconvincing. Horribly unconvincing and small. That's not allowed, stop that. I straighten up in my seat. "I, uh. I could use the bathroom for sure. But, I think I can hold it?" Big voice. That's better.
(readmore bc this got Long!) sorry
"Are you sure?" She says, a knowing look on her face. "You look pretty tense. If you need to go, I brought a potty— it's in the trunk. I can pull over."
I shake my head. "I think I'll be fine. I should be good. Let's just focus on something else." I try to keep my eyes on the road.
About twenty minutes later, the urgency has only gotten worse, and I realize that I just leaked. We were listening to an episode of a podcast, something about dinosaurs, and it was making me laugh, and a little piss spurted out, I can feel the warmth of it and then the rapid cooling as the wet spot soaks into my training underwear. I frantically feel the front of my jeans. No wetness yet. But I need to go. The pressure is intense, I can feel it continuing to build up and I rock back and forth in my seat a little. "I really, really have to go," I admit with a whine.
"The potty's right back there, baby." She reminds me. "Want me to pull over? It's our last chance before we get into town."
I briefly consider it, but... I really don't want to use that potty, especially not on the side of the road where someone might drive by and see me. "No," I insist, although my confidence in my bladder is shrinking. "I think I'll be okay."
Twenty minutes later, I am not okay. I'm leaning forward in my seat with my head and arms resting on the dashboard, hunched over my bladder, trying desperately to keep everything in. I can't do it, I leak again. It's a big one this time. I don't even need to check to see if it's showing through the front of my pants, I know it is. I need to go, the strain on my bladder hurts. I let out a moan, muffled by my arms. "I need to go, I can't hold it, can you please pull over, please," I beg, even though I know the answer. We're in town now, so I can't do that, everyone would see, and I can't let go, because I'm in her car, so I have to hold it.
She puts a hand on my shoulder. "Just a little further, baby. Almost there."
When we get to the airbnb place, I almost lose it as soon as I step out of the car. I stagger towards the door, then freeze as I leak again, substantially. There's a huge wet patch halfway down my legs when I manage to get it to stop. I can't do words, it's too much. Luckily, she interprets what I need, and grabs the potty from the trunk and tugs me inside.
I don't even think about the potty or what it looks like. I'm grateful when she sets it on the floor behind me, and I shove my half-wet pants and the utterly soaked training underwear down to my ankles and sit down and piss, my stream audibly spraying the plastic. It feels like I'm going forever. It's a few moments before the relief kicks in, and I sigh as the tension slowly leaves my body along with the contents of my overfull bladder. I worry, irrationally, for a moment that I might overfill the potty. But it's an adult-sized one, and it has plenty of room.
As my flow peters off, the stream going from a spray to a stream to a dribble, I can see the situation more clearly and I begin to realize how embarrassing it is. I'm sitting on the potty, a white plastic thing adorned with primary colors, and my cold, soggy pants and training undies are down around my ankles. I "made it," sure, technically, but I only made it to the plastic training potty right in front of the door, and I sure leaked a substantial amount— my pants are soaked. I shamefully wipe myself, although my legs are damp with piss too. I'll need a shower if I don't want to get a rash.
I stand up, trying to decide what to do about my wet pants. I know I shouldn't just walk upstairs with my pants around my ankles, but I'm not asking her to get new pants for me, that would be rude. But I can't make myself pull the cold wet pants up, or take my shoes off, they're wet and yucky too, so I can get the pants off.
It's all just a little too much, and to my further embarrassment, I start to cry. I'm trying not to, so it's quiet. But I can feel the tears rolling down my cheeks. I sit back down on the potty. I'm sure she's going to hate me. She's been watching from afar, but now she comes closer.
"What's wrong, honey?" She asks. Her voice is soft. I can't get the words out at first, but she's patient. She puts her hands on my shoulders. I hold onto them.
"I, it's yucky, I'm yucky," I manage to get out before the crying starts again and cuts me off. I just wanna get clean and dry but I'm not sure how to make that happen at the moment, I'm crazy overstimulated and embarrassed and regressed, which I've never done around her, I shouldn't let myself, but I can't make myself be big right now, it's just not happening.
"Okay, baby. Want me to make it better?" She asks.
She's... not mad? I nod. I need her to make it better, I need her help. She begins undoing my shoes, and I start crying again, because they're yucky and she's so nice and she shouldn't have to touch them just to help a stupid baby like me. But she does, and takes them off, then slips my wet pants off as well. Then, she offers me her hand, and I take it, and follow her upstairs wordlessly. She's murmuring little encouragements to me.
We get to the bathroom, and I wait for her to turn on the shower, or to leave me to do it, but she starts a bath, instead. And she puts bubbles in it. Then she takes my shirt off and tells me to get in, so I do.
The water is warm and comfy and it immediately washes away the drying pee that was starting to get a little itchy on my legs. And she brought me a bath toy, the kind that suctions onto the wall and you can pour water in and watch it go through different little sections, along with cups in bright primary colors to pour the water. I reach for it, then hesitate. I'm not supposed to be little, it's already too much for me to be accepting the bath like this. She smiles. "Can you help me out? I need someone to please pour some water in the toy for me. I want to make sure it works."
I nod. I can do that. I am a good helper. I take the little blue cup on the rim of the tub and diligently pour a cupful of bath water into the toy. It dribbles down and makes the sections spin. I smile. It's cool! I pour another cup, then another, forgetting myself and my reservations entirely. I like the bath.
She watches me play, and joins in with the yellow cup, splashing me occasionally. I giggle. Eventually, the tub starts to get cold, and I'm getting a little hungry and sleepy. She pulls the plug and allllll the water goes down the drain. Bye bye bath time.
I step out and dry off. She gets me dressed in some comfy pajamas and then we go downstairs and eat the dinner we packed for tonight. I'm so sleepy after the ordeal of the day. I normally would have slept on the drive over, but I didn't due to my desperation.
I use the bathroom, again with her supervision, and then I'm ready for bed. I'm about to climb in under the covers when she stops me. "Baby, one second."
I stop, yawning. "What's up?"
She's holding something in her hands. I squint. Is that a diaper? "Is that a diaper?" I ask, out loud, realizing I've just been standing there staring.
"No, no," she reassures me. "It's just a nighttime pull-up. Just for tonight, you know? I know you ended up making it to the potty today, but you still left quite a mess. And I had to clean it up, you know."
"I'm so sorry!" I exclaim, crestfallen. I hadn't even thought about the dribbles I must have left on my way to the potty, or my soaked pants and shoes, or anything. She had cleaned them up and not even said a word. Guilt lodges itself in my stomach. "You didn't have to do that, I really am sorry. I promise I'll make it up to you, somehow. Is there anything I can do?"
"Yes, there is." She says, putting it simply. "You can wear one of these tonight." She waggles the nighttime pull-up up and down with her hands. "That way, we can guarantee there are no more accidents. Is that okay with you?"
I nod, my face going red again. I don't want to, but... I do want to make it up to her. So I put it on, and we both go to bed.
I just love the situation of thinking you're pushing out a fart but you accidentally poop yourself.
The realisation of "uhohhh I had an accident" is so cute, especially having to explain to someone. So embarrassing but so cute
"What's that honey? You thought you were going to fart, but you poopied yourself? Aww darling, it's okay, accidents happen..even good little princesses like you can have big messes in their panties."
Then, having to be embarrassingly cleaned up, changed, and even put in a diapie if "you can't be trusted with having clean panties"
k!nk discourse below the cut, 18+ only, this is NOT sfw
so at what point will it be common knowledge that one person can engage with both 'innocent' ag3r3 and k!nky ag3pl@y, AND both can be therapeutic (depending on the individual and their needs)
If 'pure/impure ag3r3' terminology helps you describe your experiences and find joy/healing, I will never knock you for it. but can we Please stop being dicks to each other over the semantics and psychological ethics of pretending to be 5.
they bulge out so nice, its hard to hide whats happening. seeing it grow and knowing theyre actively going is so fucking hot. someone crouching and ur looking at them like "???" until u see the Very Obvious Bulge pushing thru their panties. they frantically apologize bc they couldnt hold it and it was coming out but all u can do is ogle them. bonus points if they also pee🙏
gamerboy who spends hours grinding online games and doesn't want to get up to go to the bathroom, so he sits in his chair without pants on and pisses all over his chair and all over the floor without thinking about it once.
gaymerboy who has been pissing at his desk all day and now he's starting to feel those tell-tale tummy gurgles signalling that he needs to shit. he hasn't been able to poop in three days because all of the junk food he's eaten has clogged him up good. he can't possible leave his desk now, he's doing something super important and there's a time limit he really can't miss.
he tries his hardest to hold it, grinding down into his pissy chair cushion to help keep his poop inside, but his hole is starting to flex open against his will and oh fuck, it's starting to turtlehead. his bowels push hard and he feels the tip of the log crown and press against the chair under his butt, hard and huge and stretching him painfully wide.
he clenches as tightly as he can, legs shaking with the effort, but he can't get it to suck back in at all. his game pings- he's taking damage, he almost dies before he manages to pull his focus back to the game and gets his character to safety. he can't afford to make that mistake again, there's a legendary item at stake here.
there's only one option.
gaymerboy who concedes that, since he's been pissing all over the carpet all day, anyway, he might as well give himself a reason to deep-clean it. Without taking his eyes off of the screen, he pushes his chair back a touch and then scoots to the front edge. the over-eager turd presses out more and more each time he lifts his ass to move forwards, no doubt smearing against his seat.
the second his butt is in the right place he bares down with a grunt, trying to take a shit as fast as possible so he can devote 100% of his focus back to his game. his asshole stings as the log of shit gets wider, the noises from the boss battle barely covering the sound of his poop crackling out, and certainly not doing a thing to conceal his groans of pleasure. the first turd hits the wet carpet with a thud, the second and third following soon after with puffs of hot gas escaping between each of them. He's pressing keys randomly at this point, moving his mouse in frantic swings. suddenly there's another chime; he's won, he's got the artifact. he still feels so full.
he could try and clench his muscles and run to the toilet, but his mind is hazy and his body aches at the thought. another grunt and softer shit starts to pour out of him and slap against the pile of turds between his feet. his cock twitches as his bladder gives way and piss starts to splash against the underside of his desk thanks to the strain of him pushing out burst after burst of mush.
gamerboy who doesn't even care about the mess he's going to have to clear up as he starts to jerk off.
gamerboy who promises to himself that he'll do this again.
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