Amber Fountaine stories contain sexually explicit descriptions of consensual sexual activity and are not suitable for reading by anyone under the age of 18, or anyone offended by reading such material. These acts include gay and bisexual activity as well as any combination of piss play, diapers, cross-dressing and other fetishes and perversions that may please the author's whims. The characters in these stories are fictional, but are based on the author's true experiences, as well as the experiences of others he has met.
This is a story that was passed on to me by a man that had read, "The Accident." He told me that story reminded him a lot of what had happened to him. I asked for details and permission to use the material. The following is that story, slightly edited, with the names changed and locations omitted.
The Secret
(Bisexual, Urination)
Edited by Amber Fountaine
I used to have a secret. In all of my 37 years, only six people had known my secret - assuming that none of those six had ever told anyone else. And of those six, one, my dad was dead and three of the other five were also family. I wasn't worried about them, since it was something that might be discussed inside the family, but you wouldn't want to brag about my secret to anyone else.
Outside of my family, only my ex-wife and my current girlfriend knew that I'd been wearing and wetting diapers almost all of my life. There'd been a few others over the years that had learned I wore diapers, but they all thought it was due to some medical malady and had not mentioned it to anyone.
My girlfriend is the only one that knows I also enjoy other forms of piss play and water sports. She concluded, as soon - and I mean within minutes - as I told her that I liked to spend my free time wetting myself, that she'd be glad to help. She began by helping me wet my diaper and within a month, she was wetting me from head to toe. That's when I concluded that we should at least live together.
Then came the day of the big wreck. I know for years I'd heard ads or stories about wearing seatbelts that said something about most accidents happening within a few blocks of home. But who would expect to have a major accident, while sitting still, not even out in the roadway, three blocks from home? It happened to me.
It was a Sunday morning, late, as I'd been out to a party the night before. And because I'd slept late, someone - I live fairly close to one of those subsidized apartment complexes - had helped themselves to the Sunday paper out of my yard. Then, when I went to fix a bowl of cereal, I discovered my girlfriend had finished the milk again and hadn't bothered to say anything. She has a few habits that drive me up the wall, but when the sex is fantastic, you live with it.
Now for me, the very best part of a weekend is wetting myself; being able to put on a diaper before bed and begin wetting it before I ever fall asleep. >From years of practice, if my diaper is already wet, I can continue to wet it in my sleep and wake the next morning in a nice, warm, piss-soaked diaper that I can wear around the house for a few hours or longer. I use the very best, thick disposable diapers and then add the maximum capacity pads as boosters. That makes a nice thick diaper, gives me the greatest pleasure, and keeps the bed dry too. While I enjoy a wet bed occasionally, my girlfriend Kate is not too fond of it unless she's in a playful mood, and helps wet it with me in it.
So when it became obvious that one of us was going to have to run to the store, I volunteered to go and slipped on a pair of shorts over my soggy diapers and topped that with a t-shirt. After all, the convenience store was only three blocks and I'd be back in ten minutes.
The shorts I'd grabbed and thrown on were gym shorts and didn't have front pockets. They only had one pocket in the back and I didn't realize the problem that would cause until after I'd gotten the milk and paper and had gotten back in the car to drive home. Then I couldn't reach my keys with the safety belt in place. So I unhooked it, started the car, and figuring I was only going three blocks, never hooked the belt back up. But as it turned out, I never got out of the convenience store driveway.
The Handy-Mart was at the intersection of the interstate. As I sat waiting for traffic to clear on the cross street to my left so I could pull out to cross the access road and go under the expressway, a guy came down the exit ramp at 60+ mph, never slowed, and after crossing the intersection at an angle, ran straight into my car without ever hitting the brakes. My last thought, before my world went dark, was wondering why the guy I was watching and waiting on, coming down the street toward me from the left, had suddenly slammed on his brakes for no reason. There was no one in front of him that I could see.
For the next few days, I was semi-conscious at best. I'd been thrown against the steering wheel and had jammed my head against the frame of the windshield. In addition to a concussion and crushed vertebra in my neck, I had a broken collarbone, a broken arm, a few cracked ribs, a cracked pelvis, a dislocated hip, and more bruises than an NFL football player on Monday morning.
The visions I remember were faces of everyone I'd ever known, going back to when I was two or three, looking down at me and asking how I felt. I think I tried to smile in reply, but really couldn't say anything. I also remember thinking the room was always moving. I later learned that was because they kept taking me for x-rays and I was aware of the walls and hallway ceiling as they pushed me back and forth.
Then there were doctors and nurses that would ask me the same questions over and over and I remember that made me mad. I remember thinking that it was the medications that the doctors and nurses were giving me, or something they'd done to me, that kept me from answering and they should have known better than to ask a question in the first place. It turned out that my throat had been crushed and I had a tracheal tube for most of the time I was semi-conscious.
It was a week before they eased me off whatever was keeping me in la-la land and the first thing I noticed, when I became aware of my surroundings, was that I was in a room that looked to me like it had more electronic equipment than a space shuttle, that I had a room full of people, and laying out for all to see on the table next to my bed, was a stack of diapers and a smaller stack of booster pads, just like on my dresser at home. I desperately wanted to reach under the bed sheet to see if I was really wearing a diaper, or if I was still drifting and dreaming. But because of the tubes in each arm, plus the cast on one, my arms were tied down or hooked up to something in such a way that I couldn't move them. Since I was going to have to have help to find out anything, I decided to ask.
Kate was standing at the foot of the bed, talking to my mom, my boss from work, and two people I didn't recognize. Without so much as a "Hello," I asked, "What happened?" That scared the heck out of all of them. Then they all started talking at once and then two nurses ran in and I decided it was all way too much confusion for me. So I closed my eyes and nodded back out.
The next time I came to, the room was dark and Kate was asleep in a chair near my bed. I knew for her to sleep in that position she had to be tired and while I hated to wake her, I desperately needed to find out what had happened. The diapers and pads were still there and they looked like mine from home. It didn't make sense that the hospital would need to borrow diapers from me. But it sure felt like I was wearing one and it was wet.
Once I had her awake, I had a horrible time understanding her. The medication had been cut back, but not out. It sounded to me like she was talking faster than a Yankee on crack cocaine. Her words were coming at me like machine gun bullets. I didn't realize she was talking with her customary southern drawl, but I was hearing her through a sedated fog and my senses were so slowed, I was lucky to catch every tenth word.
Eventually she was able to tell me what had happened. Then I asked about the diapers.
"Well, considering all the people that have been here to check on you, I'd say your secret is out. Almost all of them noticed the diapers and plan to tease you about it. But they don't know you were wearing them before the accident. So if you want, you could start wearing them all the time and everyone will think it's because you go hurt."
That made sense, but then it didn't. I'd been in the hospital twice before and each time they'd catheterized me and recorded my urine output. So I asked Kate about that.
"Thank me," she told me. "Your neighbor saw the wreck happen and came and got me. We got to the hospital almost at the same time you did. The doctor asked if I was familiar with your medical history and I told him yes. So he wanted to know why you were wearing a diaper that seemed to be very wet and I told him you had some sort of bladder problem and there was some reason you couldn't wear one of those bags and I wasn't sure which doctor you were seeing about that, but that you had to wear diapers all the time. The ones this hospital uses are pieces of crap, so I brought some of yours from home. You've missed all the fun. For the last week, one of the nurses has been coming in several times a day to change your diaper - by the way, the male nurse that does that at night thinks you have a nice cock - and then they take the wet one back with them and weigh it and that's how they've been making sure your kidneys are working. They subtract the dry weight from the wet weight. Aren't you glad you fell in love with a former nurse?"
I was - very glad. And I told her so. I also thanked her for the heads-up on the male nurse. I've been actively bisexual since the eighth grade. Kate and I had discussed, but at that point hadn't tried, having a three-some with a guy we could share. Her glowing description of the guy that had been changing my diapers on the night shift led me to believe she'd like him to be our first. He was, beginning two nights later in my hospital room, when he sucked my cock while Kate sucked his, but that's another whole story in itself.
And she was right about my friends and co-workers teasing me about the diapers. In fact, they still do every once in a while, and that wreck was over ten years ago. You see, I figured if Kate was willing to put up with a bedwetting, diaper wearing old fool like me, who was I to pass up the opportunity to do something I'd always wanted to do. And even sweeter, the insurance company for the man that hit me (if you're gonna have a wreck, be sure the guy that hits you is an old man that has a heart attack while driving a well-insured Cadillac), added a six figure bonus to the settlement because I told them I'd be wearing diapers day and night for the rest of my life.
No, I didn't lie to them. What I told them was exactly what I wrote; that I'd be wearing diapers, not that I 'had' to wear diapers. They just assumed I'd be wearing them because I had to. They never suspected I'd be wearing them and wetting them because I love to.
So come to think of it, I guess I still have a secret after all!
Comments and questions will be forwarded: amber_fountaine@hotmail.com