This is Cassidy and she has a problem.

Cassidy can't control her bladder. She wets herself multiple times a day despite desperately trying not to. The incidents have become frequent and unrelenting enough that she has to wear an adult diaper nearly 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.

Despite many attempts to try to control her bladder she continues to have accidents, which are sudden and varying in the volume that is released.
Early on, and for a long time, she would merely leak and maybe stain her panties. It wasn't every day that she had an accident and most of the time when she did the release was only a few droplets or a slow dribble. She would clench her pelvic muscles the moment she felt the flow begin and cut it off, panicked that this was going to be the time she fully wet herself. The awkward and quickly paced tightly-closed-thigh shimmy to the bathroom made her sweat fearing she wouldn't make it, then after reaching the bathroom stall she was flooded with humiliation wondering if anyone noticed her embarrassingly rushing to the bathroom like a two-year-old who wasn't potty-trained. The cold dampness felt between her legs as she pulled her panties up after finishing would usually make her let out a depressed sigh.

Cassidy doesn't know why this is happening. She doesn't understand how she can just lose control of her bladder as an adult. There was nothing in her medical history that would account for it. She potty-trained at a normal age and was not prone to accidents as a child. There were no medical issues, like UTI's or issues with her pelvic floor, that came back after she finally decided to go to the doctor to get checked out with bloodwork and an exam, although the exam seemed to push her further into her inability to control her bladder.

Weeks had gone by and Cassidy had become increasingly stressed at work with the amount of times she was going to the bathroom. On some days she would spend half an hour in the bathroom thinking she would just need to come back because the feeling of needing to go was always there. On one day she took her laptop into the stall with her and continued to work, stopping any typing when another woman came into the bathroom so they wouldn't know she was working from the toilet.
The anxiety of going to work had gotten to be too much and, despite fearing an examination and being probed by the doctor she's had since she was 10, she decided to schedule an appointment.

"Dr. Hertzal wants you to try to not empty your bladder prior to your appointment, okay?" The nurse told her over the phone.
"What? Why?" Cassidy replied, shocked and terrified at the idea of an examination with a full bladder.
"He wants to know what's going on in there prior to, uh, um, release," the secretary's tone was apologetic.
Cassidy mumbled something along the lines of a goodbye and hung up, now even more stressed about the idea of an exam.

Dr. Hertzal was in his sixties and had been Cassidy's physician for almost 15 years. He was always nice to her but had a tendency to make inappropriate jokes to try to ease tension, but there wasn't going to be anything that was going to say that would relax her in stirrups with her knees spread.
As she sat in the waiting room she fidgeted and crossed her legs one over the other, then back again the other way. She had worn her yoga pants for quick removal and comfort. For a brief moment she considered wearing a dress for even easier removal but she liked to have more layers of protection in case she leaked in the waiting room, even deciding on wearing an overnight pad despite not being on her period.
The waiting room was full and the appointments were backed up as usual. Cassidy tried to take her mind off of things but the longer she waited to be seen the more she seemed to physically feel her bladder filling up. Typically she wouldn't even ask as to not be a bother, but she went up to the secretary twice to find out how much longer the wait would be.
On Cassidy's third trip across the waiting room the secretary said in a voice with a mild attempt to hide her annoyance, "you're next, Cassidy."
"I um, I, I can't, I, um, I'm sorry," Cassidy mumbled as she darted to the window and gripped the counter as if that could hold back the feeling building in her bladder.
"I'm sorry I can't hold it anymore," she whispered in desperation.
"But you're next," the secretary started to say when she looked at the desperation on Cassidy's face.
"Go ahead, go on into the bathroom dear. Just tell the Dr. Hertzal you couldn't wait anymore."
Cassidy nodded and hurried to the bathroom, locked the door and lunged for the seat while ripping her yoga pants and panties down in a furious motion. The groan was painful but the relief was ecstasy. The steady, heavy stream of her urine hissed into the bowl as the grip on her knees lightened along with volume inside her bladder.
She tossed the overnight pad into the garbage, figuring she may as well get rid of it and avoid a comment from Dr. Jokes-too-much. The possible things he might have said about the puffy, thick overnight pad were too much for her to take so she dropped it in the garbage bin and folded a piece of toilet paper neatly into a square, wiped between her legs and pulled her clothes back into place. As she exited the bathroom the doctor was waiting to take her back.

"Cassidy! So good to see you. It's been a while. I figured you were either completely healthy or dropped dead somewhere," Dr. Hertzal said as he sat down at his computer to review her file. She only gave a polite chuckle in response.
"So, looks like you're having some bladder issues. Not interested in diapers yet, huh? Me neither, but I'm closer than you."

His gigantic smile showed how proud he was of his attempt at humor, but Cassidy mustered all of the strength in her to not break down into tears.
Diapers. That is what she feared. It's the thought that creeps into her mind late at night while she's lying in bed trying to get to sleep. It's the only resolution that washes over her in a cold shiver when she wakes up in a small wet spot in the morning, and as she's running her sheets through the washer for the fifth time in six days, or when she's scrubbing her mattress to prevent stains from settling.
She didn't want to wear a diaper. Not an adult diaper, incontinence underwear, absorbent briefs, none of them.

He looked at her face and her body language and cleared his throat before giving her instructions.

"Why don't you, ahem, go ahead and change into the gown here and sit up on the table. I'll step out. I'll be back in a couple of minutes."

He left and she took a long, deep breath to steady herself. She disrobed, putting her clothes on the couch. Her shirt, her bra, her pants, her panties, her socks. Cassidy took off every piece of clothing and stood naked in the examination room not even thinking that she only needed to remove her panties and leggings. The only thing she could focus on was the word diaper.

With the gown on she hoisted herself onto the table and kept her thighs clamped shut. Something about being exposed to the air freely made her feel as if her bladder would betray her and think it was free to do as it pleases. She often thought of it as if it had a mind of its own, as if it were doing this to her on purpose. It was the only way she could reason it could be happening to her.
After a few moments alone with her torturous thoughts Dr. Hertzal returned and shut the door behind him.

"So, lets have a look at you. Can you put your feet in the stirrups, please?"

Cassidy followed the instruction. She felt weak. Her thighs felt like wet noodles.

"Okay now, to do the examination you're going to have to spread your knees apart," Dr. Hertzal looked at her past her knees locked in a pyramid with his bushy eyebrows and a friendly smile.
She nodded and pursed her lips trying to force out her own smile while her heart began to race. She slowly parted her knees and stopped, thinking it was far enough but Dr. Hertzal would ask after each time, "a little more."
When she was finally spread apart to an appropriate width, he said, "alright, lets take a look under the hood," and she cringed the moment his head dipped down.

At first everything was normal. It felt normal, his fingers touched her in a clinical way and nothing was out of sorts. It wasn't until he began testing her pelvic floor that her eyes shot open and she pulled herself up on her elbows. Her voice caught in her throat and she tried to clear it so she could ask him to stop, so she could try to stop what was about to happen.
With his finger only an inch or two inside of her, Cassidy felt the heat rise to her face and she began to sweat. It all happened in the flash of a moment, the widening of her eyes, the sweating, the heat and before Dr. Hertzal could comment on her tensing up he jumped back from between her legs as a steady stream of urine shot from between her legs. The doctor stumbled backwards, yelping and moving to the side as the initial gush was strong and splattered him from his face to his chest.

He coughed and gagged and spat while wiping his face, then quickly turned to the sink and began scooping water up to his mouth to clean himself off. Cassidy had continued peeing, the stream steady for a few seconds before dying down quickly to a trickle and then finally stopping. The absorbent pads set beneath her were soaked. The urine puddle on the floor sat still beneath her. Cassidy's thighs were wet with droplets and her butt was cold and stained from the end leakage. She was in tears, sobbing.

It all came so fast. There was no warning. The control, the ability to make it stop, had vanished. No amount of clenching her thighs together or squeezing her insides tight was going to stop it. She knew she was going to pee and she couldn't do anything about it so it happened. It happened and she peed on her doctor that was examining her.
It was on the floor.
It was on his clothes.
It was on his face.
Cassidy was mortified.

Dr. Hertzal cleaned himself up, wiping what he could before turning his attention back to Cassidy and offering her some tissue. Nothing was resolved. He went to attempt the exam again but she wouldn't let him, refusing to part her knees and sobbing that she just wanted to go home. After a few minutes he told her she could get dressed and they would talk about what to do next.

He said he would refer to her a urology specialist, that the wait would be a while but he would put a word in to try to get a less of a wait. She said nothing, only looking at the floor. Her face was flush with a blankness and humiliation.

She took home a urine sample cup and some paperwork for bloodwork. Dr. Hertzal's exam, while interrupted, was sufficient. While there was obviously something wrong with Cassidy's ability to control her bladder, there didn't appear to be anything wrong with her from the tests that were done. She was nowhere closer to finding out what was wrong than before the doctor's appointment, but now she was even more humiliated.
And now she couldn't stop thinking about how she actually had urinated on someone. Whenever the feeling hit she went to that place of humiliation and shame. Those thoughts pushed her further and she started to notice her problem was getting worse.
It started at night. She would start her bedtime routine, thinking a pattern and structure might lull her into not thinking about it.
First she would brush her teeth, then sit on the toilet and pee. This would always result in some urine released. Then, at first, she would change into her nighttime wear. In the summer she would sleep in a tank top and shorts and in the winter she would bundle up more. After her accidents began happening more frequently she went without a top to bed and only wore panties so there would be less laundry to do. Even when using a pad, the extra absorbent ones, she would find herself damp in the morning as if her body knew she was trying to prevent waking up wet and it was mocking her.
After she ditched the nighttime wear and stripped down to her panties, also stopping the use of a pad as it just seemed to soak up the urine and feel like a wet piss sponge between her legs when she woke up, she would lay in bed and stare at the ceiling and wait. Sometimes the wait would be five minutes, and other times it would take longer but it always paid off. A second flood would happen and the moment she felt it Cassidy would toss her blankets back and rush to the toilet and a heavy dribble would pour into the bowl.
When she climbed back into bed and went to sleep she knew she would still wet herself but it would be minimal. Her panties would be damp, as long as she didn't have on the pad, and her thighs would feel wet and slightly tacky but most of the time there was a minimal wet spot on the sheets and it didn't soak through to the mattress.

But, ever since her doctor's appointment accident, it was much worse. The first night after it happened she had a dream about it. The doctor was soaked as urine gushed like a spray hose at him. It wouldn't stop pouring out of her, covering the floor and running out into the hall. She could even smell it. The harsh stench overwhelming her until she woke up.
At first she didn't know what happened, looking around in a panic as if her dream was real. There was only a split moment that she could take relief in knowing she was in her bedroom, as she felt the cold and damp feeling all around her. As she moved her legs they dragged over cold wet sheets. The blanket over top of her was heavy and saturated, it stuck to her body as if it had been plastered on.

Cassidy rolled out of bed in a panic again, but nearly the entire way to the edge of the bed she moved onto wetness. The entire bed was soaked in her urine. She stood horrified that she could have peed in her bed so thoroughly to have had it spread that far.
When she turned on the lights and pulled off the blanket she saw that the bed had a deep, dark wet spot from the pillows down below where her knees were and most of the way to each side of the bed. She peeled her panties off and they dripped, then made a squelching thud when she threw them into the shower. She stood naked in her bathroom doorway looking at her bed in disbelief.
That was the first of many consecutive nights of soaking her bed and waking up to the smell of a piss soaked mattress and her body covered in damp urine coated skin.

After a few nights she bought a new mattress, but ruined it that same night despite having a bed cover that she was told would protect it from anything. Her old mattress was so deeply saturated that the moving guys wouldn't take it unless it was covered in plastic. Cassidy told them she had animals that did it, but the two men didn't look convinced. That didn't help her spiraling thoughts.

Finally, after feeling defeated, Cassidy decided to buy adult diapers. They were called leakage prevention underwear, but she knew the were adult diapers. She knew that the elderly wore these so they didn't soak through their clothes when they were out in public. She knew that this is what she needed them for as well.
She tried to use them at first as a training tool, but there was something about slipping them on that her body took as a signal to just let loose. What started out as full emptying of her bladder overnight when she was unconscious began to happen when she was awake, when she was out in public, when she was at work.
Cassidy tried to stand in her diaper and grit her teeth and hold her bladder as long as possible. She would clench her thighs and bear down on her muscles to go longer and longer in holding her pee. She would do her Kegel exercises to strengthen the muscles, and it worked. It worked when she was focused on it all of the time, but the moment she let her mind wander the flood would happen and she would be soaked again. She would replace her diaper and soak that one in an hour or three hours or thirty minutes. Sometimes she would go through an entire pack in a day.

Now, as she stands doing her exercises her mind wanders to places and she tries to bring it back and focus. She burns red with frustration and anxiety as the diaper filled and begins to soak. Cassidy can feel it against her body, the soaking of the urine and how it sits against her. The diaper is heavy as it fills and she notices it. It squishes when its full and she can feel it leak.

This is her life. This is the way Cassidy lives now. She has lost control of her bladder and nearly every day she experiences some kind of new humiliation. The only thing she can hope for now is that nobody that knows her will ever find out that. She doesn't know what she would do if someone knew that she wears a diaper and pisses herself multiple times a day.