Stressed Out

(Fiction based on actual events)
Note: This story contains Female Desperation & Wetting, Bed Wetting, and & Masturbation. Work has been hell recently. I have really been under pressure to complete a major project to get some complex documentation complete and the whole thing has been dogged by problems. As a result I have had sleepless nights and have felt really stressed out, the eventual result of which proved rather embarassing. At the end of a particularly bad week my friends persuaded me to go out for a drink on Friday night. I arrived home more relaxed and rather drunk, though not excessively so, took a quick shower and tumbled into bed. Around 6.30, half asleep and confused, I realized something was wrong – why was I all wet. In my sleepy stupor I couldn’t understand what was going on, what was happening, why did I feel wet? Throwing the bedclothes back I got out and just stood there, feeling myself all over. I certainly was wet, my satin pyjama pants were soaked back and front and part way down one leg, and the lower back of the jacket was damp. Even as I felt my wet bottom I still did not understand what had happened. Then I saw the large dark patch of wetness on the sheet where I had been lying. Reaching out I felt it, then felt my pants again. Then realisation dawned. My God,I had wet the bed!I just burst into tears and it was a few minutes before I composed myself. Here I was, a career woman of 28, tough at work, known for my resilience and I had just woken up in a wet bed. How could I have wet myself in my sleep, I hadn’t been that drunk so may be it was just that I was over tired and slept too deeply. I vaguely remembered a dream about our evening in the pub and rushing to the loo when I had let myself wait until desperate. I rationalised the situation and decided that it must have been a combination of all of these things – stress, drink, over tiredness and that strange dream that had made do something so embarrassing.I stripped off my wet things and showered. Coming back to the bedroom I dressed, then, in trepidation as to the state of my mattress pulled off the wet sheet and underblanket. A large circular damp patch on the mattress cover did not bode well but to my surprise the mattress beneath was dry. Looking at the label I discovered that there was a waterproof layer in the quilted cover. Thank goodness for that I thought as I spent the morning washing bedding.Nervous that I might have another night time accident I made up the bed without the underblanket and with a thick towel between the sheet and the mattress cover. I was very relieved when I woke up dry the next morning – it must have been the drink, there was nothing wrong with me.There was no repetition of my accident during the following week and I began to forget about it. On Saturday I went shopping in the local town. After browsing round the shops for a while and stopping for a coffee or two at a street cafe I began to feel the need to wee. It wasn’t urgent so I wandered slowly along towards the toilets, window shopping as I went. Close to the loos I stopped to look at a rather nice dress in a window when it happened – I suddenly felt a hot wetness in my knickers and realised with horror that I was wetting myself. I managed to stop the stream and stood there for a moment, my face scarlet, a wet trickle running down my leg.As quickly as I could I headed for the toilets, feeling a steady dribble of wee into my pants as I did so. Fortunately there was a cubicle free but as I turned to lock the door my bladder just emptied itself. I managed to lift my skirt clear as a flood began pouring down my legs and quickly sat down on the toilet, weeing uncontrollably into my knickers. I sat there for what seemed like ages trying to understand what had happened. One minute I needed to wee, though not badly, and the next I was wetting my knickers without any warning at all. Drying my legs with toilet paper I squeezed out my knickers and pondered the walk back to my car. Would people know that I had wet myself, more importantly would I meet any of my friends? Luckily the toilets were close to the car park and I reached my car without incident. A carrier bag on the seat prevented a wet patch.At home I just burst into tears again. Last week I had wet my bed and now, in the middle of a shopping centre I had just wet my knickers. Something was wrong. The next morning it happened again. After a restless night during which I dreamt about my accident in the mall I woke up again to that warm wet feeling. I had wet my bed for the second time in a week.I lay there in the warm wetness, finding the feeling of my wet satin pyjamas against my bottom actually quite pleasant. Without really thinking about it I gently rubbed my pussy through the soggy material. To my surprise I began to feel quite turned on sexually, my juices adding to the wetness in my pants. Without warning I came to a shattering orgasm and promptly wet myself again, a hot stream running over my hand and buttocks, soaking the sheets still further. I lay there for some time, confused but intrigued by the feelings.Eventually I returned to reality and the worry that I might again wet myself uncontrollably in public or at work. At least the wet beds were a private thing, for the present anyway. Afraid that I might have an infection that was causing me to be incontinent I booked a doctors appointment, though I knew it was going to be very embarrassing to admit that I wet myself. I managed to avoid any further accidents for the next few days by visiting the loo at every opportunity and managed to keep my bed dry as well. I returned to the doctor onThursday for the test results, which were clear. Apparently the problem was due to an unstable and irritable bladder, probably a symptom of the stress I was under at work. The recommended treatment was a long holiday, impossible at that time, resulting in a discussion with the continence adviser. I left the surgery with a large pack of incontinence pads and several pairs of waterproof pants!Looking at these at home I wasn’t sure which was more embarrassing, wetting my knickers in public or someone realising that I was wearing an adult nappy. I had a drink ortwo and plucked up the courage to try them on. Unlike a real nappy they did not wrap right round me nor were they held by tapes. Rather like an oversize pair of well padded knickers – an adult–sized pull–up nappy in fact. The waterproof pants actually looked like very large but ordinary knickers, made of polyester with a waterproof coating on the inside. I put them on and looked at myself in the mirror. The slimline pad made me look slightly fatter than usual and the bulk between my legs, though initially uncomfortable, was no worse that a large sanitary towel. Under a loose skirt my protection was not really noticeable.That night I wore a nappy to bed, partly out of curiosity and partly to save washing as I knew there was a good chance of more wet beds before I regained proper control. I woke up dry and thought about wearing protection to work but was too embarrassed. I managed to stay dry though had to rush to the loo a couple of times to avoid an accident, though my knickers were damp on both occasions.This unsettled me as I realised that a few moments longer and I would have wet my knickers at my desk. At home I put on my protective underwear, realising that I needed to know if it would save me if the worst happened. Putting on my coat I drove to the park for a walk. On the way back I realised I needed to wee, but felt strangely confident. As I parked the car my bladder went into one of its now familiar spasms. This time I didn’t really try to control it, I simply wet myself as I sat there, feeling the hot flood tickle my bottom as it soaked into the nappy. Cautiously I felt beneath myself, finding my skirt and the seat dry. Back indoors I again inspected myself. My outer clothes were completely dry, my legs were dry, there was no puddle on my car seat. The warm wetness and the weight of the wet nappy inside my waterproof pants told me and me alone what I had done. I went to the bathroom to change, savouring the new and exciting feelings. Squeezing myself through the wet mass I brought myself to a lovely climax. Well, I thought, I may be dressed like anincontinent old lady but it’s not all bad.I showered and again put on a nappy before going to bed. This time I needed it. In fact I did not even know at first that I had wet myself in my sleep. It was only when I went to the bathroom and started to remove the nappy that I realised that it was wet. While at home I wore only my usual satin knickers but before going out shopping I put on my protective pants again, taking a couple of spare pairs of the Tena pants in my shopping bag. Halfway through my expedition my bladder spasmed again. This time I wasn’t worried, and simply let nature take its course, standing in the middle of the shop and looking at a blouse as I emptied my bladder into my padded and waterproof knickers. I didn’t even feel especially embarrassed.Making my way to the toilets I locked myself in the cubicle, removed the wet pull–up pants and put on a dry pair. This wasn’t as difficult as I thought. The wet pad I wrapped in a plastic bag and deposited in the bin. Change completed I carried on with my shopping as if nothing untoward had happened. I did not even bother to use the loo before driving home, with the inevitable result that I wet my incontinence knickers again as I sat in a traffic queue.After this I did not worry about wearing protection at work. Over the next few weeks I was often to be found with wet (protective) underwear both at my desk and even on one occasion in the middle of a meeting – rather than rush out I simply wet myself as I sat there, praying that the look on my face gave nothing away! At home I didn’t bother much with the incontinence pants, except for week day nights when washing would have been a problem. Often, if I wet my knickers at home I didn’t bother to change, regularly masturbating by rubbing myself though my wet pants. A wet bed in the morning resulted in similar pleasures.With a change of boss and easier work load my stress levels reduced and after some four months I noticed that my accidents occurred less often. After a dry fortnight I ventured out without my protection and returned without accident. I gradually stopped wearing the incontinence pants as normal wear but even though I don’t actually need them now I still wear them when I am in situations where stress levels will be high or I might have to wait for the loo. Several times I have wet myself deliberately simply out of convenience when so dressed.I still have the occasional wet bed, usually when I dream that I am desperate and only just reach a loo in time or resort to using my incontinence pants. A wet orgasm usually results, as it does when I give in to my urges and deliberately wet my satin knickers. My incontinence is cured, at least for now, but accidents more or less under my control can be a real pleasure.
By: Poseidon