Back home... with an accident

I decide to go home to gather my thoughts a bit, as it’s all a bit much for me. I’m really struggling to walk because the diaper in my pants is quite thick – they’re too tight and not designed to contain it – and my legs are wobbling a bit after the pleasure I’ve just experienced.

I leave the park and walk back up the street, but suddenly I get a pain in my tummy that makes me bend over double. This time, it’s a number two coming on and I can feel I’m struggling to hold it in. I’ve been potty trained for 20 years, so I should be able to hold it in, but I’m finding it incredibly difficult, as if some force were making me go. I try to take a step, but I realise it’s going to be impossible to get home before I have a poo. I try to hold it in… but no, the pain gets worse the longer I hold it in, and I end up falling to the ground on all fours.

Then my bum bursts and lets everything out, so I do a massive poo in my diaper. The sensation is incredibly liberating and, at the same time, wearing such tight pants gives me a pleasant feeling, as if I were confined... Finally, my pants can't hold any longer and tear completely, with a loud ripping sound… My nappy has swollen considerably! It’s so soft, the fabric so warm, and I feel good on all fours…

I stay on the floor for a few moments to catch my breath, because the sensation was incredible – like letting go completely. Just then, a pretty redhead comes over to me and asks if I’m all right. I don’t reply, gasping for breath. She asks me, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, whether I fancy staying on all fours or if I’d like some help getting up, as if I could actually choose which I’d prefer.

So I try to get up and she gives me a bit of a hand, and I realise that my diaper – which has become so huge – is now on full display for everyone to see. She says to me, “Hold on, this isn’t practical – I’ll help you.” So she starts to pull my pants down. But I say, “Everyone’s going to see me!”, and she looks at me strangely at first, as if I’d said something odd, then she laughs: “Well, yes,” she replies, “that’s the point, hi hi ! You look really cute like that." I blush. She gives me a little pat on the bottom. "But if you’d rather get dressed, that’s fine too. Look, there’s a clothes shop over there."

She asks me if I need help getting there, and whether I want to go standing up or on all fours. But I tell her I’m fine, because I’m still feeling very self-conscious about the situation, so I’d rather manage on my own and don’t think for a moment that I could take advantage of the fact that she finds me cute.