(Finished) Johns Accident at the Urologist -- (Author) bedwetterdavid

[llsadmin]

############################################################################################################################################################################################################################################################################################################
Author: bedwetterdavid
Timestamp: Mar 4, 2025 at 1:34 AM
Content: *Themes: Omorashi, accident in public, diaper humiliation, medical*

John sat behind the wheel of his car, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter than usual as he pulled into the clinic parking lot. His bladder throbbed with urgency, a sharp reminder that he had followed his urologist’s instructions to the letter—no voiding before his appointment. It was a frustrating but necessary requirement. His doctor, Dr. Carmichael, wanted an accurate post-void residual reading to understand how much urine he was retaining, and emptying his bladder too early would make the test meaningless.

John knew 39 was young to be dealing with an enlarging prostate, but the symptoms had been undeniable. The frequent nighttime trips to the bathroom, the sudden urgency, the lingering sensation that he hadn’t quite emptied his bladder—it had all led him here. Dr. Carmichael assured him there were options, but first, they needed to monitor the situation.

Now, as he sat parked, his bladder swollen and aching from over an hour of restraint, he realized just how close he was to his limit. Every movement sent another wave of pressure through him, his body screaming for relief. But he had to hold it—just a little longer. With a deep breath, he opened the door, threw his backpack over his shoulder, and stepped out into the crisp air, willing himself to focus on anything other than the desperate fullness inside him.

Inside the clinic, the waiting room was crowded with patients, nurses, and staff moving efficiently from one task to the next. John checked in at the front desk, shifting his weight from foot to foot as he gave his name. The receptionist barely looked up as she handed him a clipboard.

“Have a seat and fill out the survey. The nurse will call you soon.”

Sitting was out of the question. He scanned the room, found an empty corner, and leaned against the wall, breathing slowly. He could feel sweat forming at the base of his neck, his hands flexing at his sides as he fought the increasingly overwhelming urge to let go. He quickly scribbled his answers to the questions on the survey. Every question asked about his urinary symptoms and was a painful reminder of his aching bladder.

It felt like an eternity before a voice called his name.

“John?”

He turned to see the nurse, a beautiful woman with dark, intelligent eyes and a calm demeanor. Her badge read “Camille”. John estimated that she was slightly older than him, but he felt a strong attraction to her and fought to hide his desperate state as he gingerly walked toward her.

“Come on back,” she said in a Filipino accent, holding the door for him and offering a polite smile.

John nodded stiffly and followed her through the door and down the hallway, his steps slow and measured. The closer they got to the exam area, the harder it became to stand up straight. He could feel the muscles in his abdomen trembling, his thighs pressing together instinctively.

Camille led him to the vitals station, gesturing toward the scale.

“Let’s get your weight first,” she said.

John hesitated. Standing completely still right now felt like an impossible request. He clenched his jaw and stepped up, every fiber of his being focused on keeping his bladder locked down. He bounced, squeezing his thighs tight.

“Hold still for me,” Camille instructed as she adjusted the settings.

John swallowed hard, shifting from foot to foot in a vain attempt to relieve the unbearable pressure. Nothing was working.

“I’m sorry, it’s just I really have to pee.” John mentally rolled his eyes at his own understatement.

“I just need you to stand still for a second,” she said again, her tone gentle but firm.

John forced himself to comply. The moment he stopped moving, his body betrayed him. A sudden, unstoppable release surged through him, warmth flooding his pants in an instant. His breath caught in his throat as the sheer relief momentarily overtook the horror of what was happening.

He was wetting himself.

The feeling of hot urine soaking through his jeans, running down his legs, was undeniable. His heart pounded as he stood frozen, paralyzed by the humiliation of losing control right in front of her.

Camille noticed immediately. Her eyes flickered downward, and for a brief moment, her lips parted as if to say something. But instead of reacting with shock or disgust, she simply exhaled softly, her expression shifting to quiet sympathy.

“Oh… okay,” she murmured, giving him a moment to compose himself.

John just slowly stepped off the scale and watched as the front of his jeans turned to a dark, glistening blue. The wetness spread from his crotch to his hips and down both legs, eventually puddling on the floor. He was helpless to stop it. John felt like the ground might swallow him whole. He couldn’t look at her. His face burned with shame, but there was no undoing what had just happened.

“Did you bring anything to change into?” Camille asked gently.

John nodded stiffly, voice tight. “I—I brought a Megamax. For the drive home.” He gestured to his backpack.

“Good,” she said, nodding approvingly. “Let’s get you into a room so you can clean up.”

She led him down the hall, her pace steady, professional. John followed, hyper-aware of his soaked jeans, the damp fabric clinging uncomfortably to his legs. His shoes squelched with each step, an audible reminder of his accident. He couldn’t bear to look at anyone they passed, though he was sure everyone noticed.

They reached a restroom, and Camille knocked. A muffled voice answered.

“Sounds like it’s occupied. Wait here; I’m going to see if I can find you some clothes. When they come out, go ahead and change into your diaper,” she instructed.

John watched as Camille disappeared down the hall. He felt embarrassed and alone, standing outside the bathroom with soaked jeans, an obvious announcement to anyone passing that he’d had an accident. He couldn’t hold it. He had wet his pants. The embarrassment was overwhelming as people walked past and glanced down, their eyes drawn to the unmistakable pattern of wetness that spread from his crotch.

After what seemed like an eternity, the bathroom door opened and an elderly woman stepped out. She smiled at him, then noticed his jeans. “Oh, honey I’m sorry…” she began to say. But as soon as she was clear of the door, John reassured her he was fine and slipped inside, closing it behind him.

Alone now, John exhaled shakily and looked down at himself. His jeans were completely soaked. His hands trembled as he unfastened them, peeling them off along with his soaked underwear. Cold air hit his damp skin, sending a fresh wave of shame through him. He dampened some paper towels in the sink and used them to wipe down his legs, hoping to avoid smelling like pee.

He reached into his bag and pulled out the Megamax. The thick, white plastic rustled as he unfolded it, the padding substantial in his hands. Leaning against the wall, he positioned it behind him, adjusting it carefully before pulling the front up snug against him. The bulk between his legs was immediately noticeable as he secured the tapes tightly around his hips. The smooth plastic pressed against his skin, rustling slightly with every movement.

John paused and looked at himself in the mirror. The humiliation was undeniable—he was 39 years old, standing in the bathroom in a thick medical-grade diaper. But at the same time, relief washed over him. He was clean. Dry. Protected. The worst had already happened, and now, at least, there was nothing more to fear.

Three knocks came from the door. John was about to answer but before he could it swung open. Camille stood in the open doorway, holding it open with one arm while holding out a garment with the other.

“I found a hospital gown for you to wear for now, but I’ve asked someone to go to the ER to get you something else. They keep spare pants over there.”

John was somewhat taken aback, looking over her shoulder into the busy hallway as passersby glanced in at him. Suddenly aware that his diaper was on display for others to see, he quickly accepted the gown without question and slipped his arms into it for cover.

“Turn around honey, let me tie it for you,” Camille instructed. John did as he was told and felt her wrap the gown around his back, securing it with the cloth ties. “Perfect!” She smiled. “Now put your wet clothes in this plastic bag and let’s get you to Dr. Carmichael.”

John followed her down the hallway, aware of the crinkle of his diaper as he passed other staff members but was grateful to be covered by the gown. She walked him into the office, where Dr. Carmichael glanced up from his notes.

“He had a little accident,” Camille explained. “But he had one of his diapers for the drive home, so we went ahead and put it on.” John felt his cheeks flush as she mentioned his diaper so flippantly.

Dr. Carmichael barely reacted, nodding as if this were just another part of the job. “Alright, let’s get the ultrasound done.”

John laid back onto the exam table as the doctor prepared the machine. Camille didn’t leave as he had expected, but instead stood next to him. “Lift your gown for me,” Dr. Carmichael instructed, picking up some gel. John paused and glanced up at Camille, but she just smiled at him and placed her hand on his shoulder to reassure him. He reached down, grasping the bottom of the gown, and pulled it up. “Yep, all the way up,” the doctor said nonchalantly. “Hold it up here above your bellybutton so I can get to your bladder.” John did as he was told, realizing his diaper was now on full display for them both.

Dr. Carmichael moved the probe over his bladder, studying the screen.

“You’re still retaining 206cc’s,” Dr. Carmichael remarked. “That’s quite a bit.” He glanced at John. “Do you think you can try to void some more? If you think you can, I’d like you to try and we can check again.”

John nodded hesitantly. “I think I can.” He sat up, then stopped, looking at Camille, then back at the doctor. “If I take the tapes off, the diaper might rip. These tapes are really strong, and sometimes it ruins the diaper…”

“No problem,” the doctor said casually. “We’re running behind anyway, so I’d rather you not leave for the bathroom. Just stay here and use your diaper.”

Heat flooded John’s face again. He had planned to ask for another diaper but had gotten a very different answer than he expected. But he didn’t feel like arguing. He slowly stood and closed his eyes. A few moments later, warmth spread through the thick padding, the Megamax swelling slightly as it absorbed everything.

“Okay, I’m finished,” he said sheepishly, opening his eyes to see the two medical professionals watching him intently.

“Great, lay back down.” This time Dr. Carmichael lifted the gown himself, revealing the now wet diaper. The front was discolored and swollen, confirming that John had indeed wet himself. He applied more gel and repeated the ultrasound. “74cc’s. Much better.” He nodded approvingly. “Good job.”

He turned to Camille. “I want to see him back here in 6 months. Can you make sure they schedule him for a follow up appointment?”

She nodded. Just then there was a knock on the door, and it opened. A young woman in scrubs walked in and stopped short at the sight of John on the exam table, gown pulled up and wet diaper on display as Dr. Carmichael wiped the gel from his belly. “Oh, excuse me…” she said, aware of his compromised state.

“It’s okay April, did you find them?” Camille asked.

“Yeah, they have them but they said only in medium.” She handed them to Camille. “I hope they work,” she glanced over at John again and smiled, then turned and left the room.

“Ok Mr., I got you some pants. Hop up and take off that gown,” Camille said playfully. “But I want you to make sure they fit.”

John didn’t hesitate. He stripped off the gown, exposing his thick, crinkling diaper once again to both of them, then stepped into the sweatpants. They hugged his legs and stretched tight over the bulk, doing nothing to hide the outline of the diaper. He tugged to try to pull them up higher, but they were simply too small to cover the waistband, leaving two inches of white plastic protruding from the top. He sighed.

“Is it noticeable?” he asked, turning slightly.

The nurse hesitated, opened her mouth, then paused again as she inspected his obvious diaper butt. Dr. Carmichael answered first. “Nobody will care. People wear diapers here all the time.”

Camille softened. “Come on, honey. I’ll take you out front to schedule your follow-up and walk you out so nobody says anything about your diapers, okay? But you keep that on until you get home so we don’t have any more accidents.”

She opened the door and with his backpack over his shoulder and his bag of wet clothes in his other hand, John followed Camille out of the exam room and back down the long, crowded corridor. He was now painfully aware of how his diaper sounded when he walked, of the bulk that was so obvious under the tight sweatpants, and of the wet, warm padding that pressed so firmly yet gently between his legs. As they stepped back out into the lobby, John felt like all eyeballs must have been on him. He kept his eyes focused on Camille, and let her do the talking.

“Barb, Dr. Carmichael wants him back in 6 months for a follow up. Can you schedule that?” The receptionist nodded and put an appointment on the calendar. “And one last thing,” Camille said, leaning over the counter and speaking a little softer, “put a note in his chart that he had an accident today, and needs to be in protection for future visits. Thanks honey!”

Camille then turned to John. See you in six months, okay?” She said with a smile. “We’ll do this all over again!”

############################################################################################################################################################################################################################################################################################################
Author: bedwetterdavid
Timestamp: Mar 8, 2025 at 4:58 PM
Content:

Growler0128 said:

i'm 63 and i have BPH and bashful bladder. i am on 2 different Rx meds and have some catheters & the special gel to use "just in case i have problems voiding".(i would love to sleep all nite)

[End of quote]

BPH stinks. I’m 43 and have it. They put me on finasteride but it killed my libido

############################################################################################################################################################################################################################################################################################################
Author: bedwetterdavid
Timestamp: Mar 16, 2025 at 5:41 AM
Content:

PampersTheMan said:

I just ran across this story tonight--another great one! You always have a real knack for conveying the embarrassment of being seen in wet pants.

[End of quote]

Thank you!