A few years ago (I was 15), I accidentally found out that I am highly allergic to honey bees. I was visiting a friend whose parents have an apiary, and she was showing me around. After showing me the honey extractors and the candy making equipment, she took me out to show me the hives, from a "safe" distance.

We were out there only a few minutes when one of the little bastards nailed me! My head felt hot, my arm burned at the site of the sting, and next thing I knew I was crumpling to the ground. My chest was heavy and it was terribly hard to breathe. Jenny ran to the house and grabbed her parents "bee sting kit" which contained some Benedryl and an Epi-Pen (epinephrine injection). She handed me two pills and a cup of water. As I took them down I felt a sharp sting in my thigh, as she injected me just below my shorts. I felt immediate relief and my breathing was cleared, but my eyes felt so heavy I could barely keep them open.

My friend helped me to their couch, where I fell back and closed my eyes. When I opened them again, it was getting dark outside, and she told me that this could be one of the side-effects of the sting treatment. I had slept for three and a half hours! I could feel my diaper was heavy and very wet, and I excused myself to go home. Apparently she never suspected the diaper in spite of the odor, or at least she never mentioned it.

When I arrived home I grabbed a clean pair of underpants out of my dresser, slipped into my bathroom, and removed my dirty diaper. After rinsing the soiled garment in the toilet, I cleaned up, using the underpants as a washcloth, then dropped both the diaper and the underpants into my diaper pail. (I purposely used the underpants, so that mom would think I had pooped in those!) I showered, put on a fresh night diaper, and my PJ's, and headed in to say goodnight to my parents.

I had my extra thick night diaper on under my PJ's when I went down stairs to kiss my mom goodnight. It was a few minutes after 8:00 PM. After a quick kiss and a pat on my bottom, she asked if I was feeling okay, since it was kind of early to be ready for bed. I told her I was just real tired and wanted to go watch some TV and go to sleep. That's when she noticed the mark on my arm, and I told her about the bee sting, Benedryl, and Epi-Pen. I explained that when I felt woozy I had pooped my pants, but I had rinsed them out and put them in my diaper pail. She seemed okay with that, and I watched about a half-hour of TV and then went off to bed.

The next day she didn't say anything about the poop stains in that diaper when she did the laundry, as it was something I still did at night on occasion. Mom had stopped the nightly and morning changes for me when I turned 10, except for the occasional messy diaper. I had really reduced my messy nights by the time I was 13, and after that I was in charge of all diaper related activities. My mother never caught on that I would often wear my night diapers under my clothes. Later that day she took me to the doctor to get checked out, and after a series of tests found out I was allergic to honey bees, but not wasps or hornets.

The doctor told my mom that my friend was a hero by knowing exactly what to do, and told us that it is common to feel very tired and sleepy after taking the benedryl and epi-pen. He also discussed my "late potty-training" and bed-wetting with mom. I was sent home with a clean bill of health and a prescription for an epi-pen two-pack. Every six months I get a refill of another two-pack, so I've got a good little supply on hand.

Two years went by with no problems when I was helping my dad clean out the shed behind our house, after supper, when I got nailed by a bee. I knew what to do, and ran to the house, mom gave me two Benedryl and the Epi-Pen shot in my thigh. I was glad I wasn't sneaking my night diapers that day! But then I probably should have, because when I laid down to take a little nap I soaked through my shorts and pooped my underwear while sleeping. Mom didn't get mad, she just helped me get up, and through my groggy fog, helped me clean up and get ready for bed. That was probably the last time I had my mom help change my diaper since I spent a week diapered with the flu when I was 14, but after all, I was 17 years old!

That fall I started college, and although it was a 30 mile drive, mom insisted that I live at home. She reasoned that it would be hard on me to try to hide my diapers from a roommate, and I had enough to do with college studies and a part time job, with-out having to deal with the added responsibilities of extra laundry. I managed to keep my diapers a secret from all of my school mates, but mom just treated it as normal when she dumped the bucket into the wash every Saturday afternoon. I still managed to sneak a day or two a week of wearing them during my waking hours, and mom didn't seem to catch on that there were usually a couple of extra diapers in the wash. If she asked about it, I would just tell her that I had changed myself in the middle of the night. I was still averaging one or two poopy diapers a week also, but again, mom never mentioned it.

The summer I turned 20 I got my own apartment about 35 miles from home, and I was in heaven! I could wear my diapers as often as I wanted. I discovered adult disposables and that was a great benefit. I wore my cloth diapers every night, and took them home on weekends for mom to wash with my other laundry, but I could wear the disposable diapers every weekday, and I didn't have to account to anyone as to why there were all of these extra wet and messy diapers in the wash! I often sat around in a wet or dirty diaper for hours while watching TV or cruising the internet. There were weeks where I wore diapers from Sunday night until Saturday morning, and just before heading out the door I would throw 6 or 7 pairs of underpants into my diaper pail and stir them around so she would think I was wearing them.

I would sleep over at my parents house on Saturday nights, and without fail, when I would kiss Mom goodnight, she would still pat my bottom to assure that I was protected for the night. Every few weeks I would purposely poop in my night diaper, just so she would understand that I still had an occasional messy accident.