Diaper References

I mostly brew coffee at home.  During the week, I'll take a thermos with me to work.  For the late afternoon hit, I bring a K-cup with me. There are times I go to a local coffee shop.  Starbucks is a go to when traveling.  Although, there are plenty of them near me.

Fifty-Nine: ASSISTANCE NEEDED Should I be resisting more? Should I be kicking, punching, and wriggling with every muscle in my body–pushing my body in some sort of adrenaline-filled last stand? I like the idea of that, but it also seems like so much work. And, well, I’m kind of tired. There’s a lot that I don’t understand about my interdimensional galavanting. Is this, the body I’m inhabiting, my body? Or does my body just get recreated in every new world that I go to? And why am I still incontinent if I haven’t had any milk in… Well, I don’t know how long it's been, but I know it’s been a while. Is it because my body–in the world I originated from–is in some milk-addled stupor? The hell if I know. And it’s not like there’s an instruction manual or anything.  But I am tired. Not like I need to take a nap–though that would be nice too–but like there’s a general worn-out feeling in my bones. A mental fatigue. I’m sick or running. Of worrying. Of stressing.  Right now, I could be fighting or running, but it just seems easier to let this robo-mommy do her thing.  I made little effort to escape as MAMA drew nearer. And now that my wrist is trapped in the tight grip of her fingers, and she’s leading me back upstairs, I just don’t see how I can break free without expending more energy than I think I have. Eventually, yes, I’ll need to get away from her and out of this place. CRAD13, or whatever it’s called. And Audry will need to get out of here too. But we can figure that out later. First, we’ll assess the situation, and then we’ll figure out the best means of busing out. ‘Tommy’ was apparently able to figure that much out, per his journal, so it feels like a good amount of the work is done. Back in the nursery, I see that Audry is already in the crib, kneeling on the plush bottom in a frilly pink dress, a thick diaper that juts out the bottom of it, a pacifier sticking out of her mouth, and her hair tied in pigtails. She does look kind of adorable–which is just as weird to admit to myself as it would be to say it out loud. I’m also kind of impressed with how quickly MAMA, and perhaps the house itself, were able to doll her up like this. I didn’t think I had been downstairs all that long. “Now, little boy, let us get you atop the changing table,” MAMA says. I glance over my shoulder at Audry again. Her hands grip the wooden bars of the crib’s wall, looking like a prisoner. “Save yourself,” her eyes seem to say. “Get out of here.” But I’m sure she feels the same exhaustion that I do. If we think alike–and I’m almost certain that we do–she’s on the same page as me right now: Assess first. Get out later. I lay down on the changing table’s padded surface, and MAMA takes my wrists and ankles and guides my limbs into the right place so that the automated metal straps can wrap around me and hold me in place.  There’s the slightest vibration to the changing table as the mechanical arms begin to emerge all around my body. It’s funny how much different this experience is with the chang of perspective. From this vantage point–on my back on the changing table and looking up–I feel like I’m in some weird horror movie as strange hands appear and disappear from my vision.  There are hands with wipes, and they carefully stroke at the skin of my groin to clean me off. Other hands have a large disposable diaper, and they’re unfolding it and preparing to slide it under me. I see a hand with a bottle of baby powder. A hand hovering above my head plants a pacifier into my mouth, just as it had with Audry earlier. MAMA herself does very little at this juncture. It’s the changing table itself–perhaps the house, at large–that’s doing the actual work of diapering me. MAMA seems to just be supervising. She’s like a conductor, I suppose. I imagine her as the mobile hands of CRAD13, doing all the things that the house itself isn’t able to do on its own. But it’s not like this hurts or anything. The hands are as gentle as they are quick. Dare I say, I even feel strangely comfortable throughout this entire process. Hands slide beneath me and lift my bottom into the air so that the unfurled diaper can be slid beneath me, and then I’m lowered atop it. It’s kinda funny, I guess, how much I’ve come to love the ceremony of a diaper change. I’ll never get over the shared vulnerability involved–the inherent trust between the baby and the caretaker. It’s no wonder that there was a sizable group of ‘adult babies’ in the world–or, at least, the world I come from. They all probably realize that human contact never got any better than what it was like when we first popped out of the womb. Which is to say that this experience right here–getting changed by a fleet of robotic hands–is not the same. There’s no intimacy here. No personal touches or flourishes. It’s all very inhuman and cold. I feel like a product on an assembly line. These hands aren’t diapering a baby, they’re building a refrigerator, or packing crackers into boxes.  I’d feel sorry for the child who was raised in an environment like this–deprived of the human experience of diaper changes. Baby powder is liberally shaken over my midsection, causing new clouds of white dust to drift across the room. The diaper is pulled up through my legs and smoothed over my flaccid penis. The tapes are opened and pulled into place with mathematical precision–like these hands know the exact point they need to be stretched towards for the perfect fit.  The binding bracers retreat from my wrists and ankles and back into the changing table’s surface again, but they’re replaced by new robotic hands, providing temporary restraint while other hands unfold pieces of clothing. A onesie, sailor themed. All white with navy blue trim, collar, and blue kerchief around the neck. It’s…cute. Embarrassingly so. I tilt my head a little to look at Audry’s face. Her cheeks are good and pink, and I think I see the corners of a smile behind her pacifier. She’d probably have something snarky to say about this outfit–not that she’s one to talk, in that babyish dress of hers. The onesie is slipped over my head and pulled down my body, the bottom snapped shut around my thick diaper. Given the way the hands have to pull at the bottom of the onesie to close it, I get the feeling that it’s a tight fit, which somehow makes my cheeks blush a little more. But apparently that’s not all I get to wear. I feel something being pulled onto my head. A hat? But in my periphery, I see white ruffles. The hands below my chin, tying two pieces of ribbon together, confirms it–this is a bonnet. “There you are, little boy,” MAMA says as the hands begin to retreat back into the hidden crevices and cavities they originally came from. “Now you are appropriately dressed.” I’d respond–probably offering a sarcastic ‘thank you’ if I could–but the pacifier in my mouth feels like a message that babies are not to be talking. “You poor babies must be famished,” MAMA says. “Not to worry, you will be fed soon enough. Look forward to scrumptious meals, chock full of the nutrients growing babies like you need.” Audry and I share a look of disgust with each other. What kind of food could this place possibly be serving us? If nobody’s been here in years, it’s hard to believe that there’s anything here that is still in edible condition.  This is going to be how I die, isn’t it? Food poisoning from decades-old baby food. I’m just going to violently poop my diapers until there’s nothing left inside of me. I realize, suddenly, that I’m being picked up. Cradled in MAMA’s arms effortlessly, like I really did weigh as much as a toddler. I won’t lie, this feels kind of nice. She carries me over to the crib, and without her taking any action of her own, one of the panels on the side of the crib slides open automatically so that she can deposit me inside of it, next to Audry. Then she walks away, and the panel closes and clicks shut. “I shall return shortly with your lunch, children,” MAMA says. “Be good boys and girls, yes?” And she just stands there, staring at us. There are times when she almost seems more human-like, but this is not one of those times. She doesn’t breathe, and she doesn’t blink. And she doesn’t make any whirring sounds when she’s not moving either–so she’s just a statue, gazing at us indefinitely. Audry realizes at the same time I do that MAMA is awaiting a response from us. Audry nods her head finally. MAMA’s lips pull into something kind of like a smile before turning and leaving the room. === “Is that not the creepiest thing you’ve ever seen?” Audry asks, motioning towards the door that MAMA just walked out of while spitting her pacifier into her hand. “She’s like the Terminator,” I say, happy I could finally make that joke out loud. “More like…the Momminator,” Audry remarks. “The Term…mom…inator?” “Maternal…nator…” “Okay, okay,” I say. We could attempt to find the perfect ‘Terminator Mommy’ joke all day, but we’ve got bigger things to worry about.  “We’re trapped in here,” she says. “The crib?” I wobble into standing position, using the bars of the crib wall to keep my balance. I can reach the top of the wall, but I’m realizing how freakishly large the crib is now. It’d take a lot of arm strength to pull myself up and over it to escape. More than I have, that’s for sure. Between the height of the walls, and the fact that both Audry and I can comfortably sit in here at the same time, I’m made aware of how this crib isn’t just ‘big,’ it’s ‘freakishly big.’ “There’s no, like, latch or anything either,” she says. “As best as I can tell. Not one that we can reach from inside the crib, at least.” “Probably the way it should be,” I say. “Babies aren’t supposed to be able to escape their cribs, right?” She sighs. “I guess. But isn’t this, like, a fire hazard? Or what if the machines malfunction or something. Then we’re just stuck in this thing until we die?” “I’m, uh, going to hope that those situations aren’t things we have to deal with.” “She’s going to give us old food, isn’t she?” Audry asks. “We’re going to be forced to have food poisoning.” I laugh. “Hey, I had the same thought!” “Okay, but…that doesn’t really help us.” “Hold on,” I say, tapping my chin. I’m looking around the room, taking in everything. Maybe there’s opportunities for escape here we’re overlooking. Audry giggles. “What? What’s so funny.” “I…I dunno. The bonnet? The onesie? You’re a cute little sailor, you know that?” “Oh please,” I sigh. “You wanna talk about cute? Take a look at yourself and that floofy dress you’re wearing. Little princess over there.” She sighs, her cheeks getting almost as pink as the ruffles on her dress now. “Sh-shut up…” “Oh please,” I say. “Just as I know that I like feeling cute and small, I know that you like it too.” “Maybe I’d like it more if I didn’t feel like I was in baby jail right now,” she says. I can’t help but laugh, realizing that this is exactly what it feels like. Not only that, but it seems consistent with my world-hopping experience so far. Held prisoner by giant women. Held in a bunker beneath the ruins of The Cradle by post-apocalyptic cheerleaders. My captivity at the hands of Not-Celia. And now: trapped in CRAD13. “Well, at least we’re trapped together,” I say. “A-and you know…that’s not the worst thing in the world.” She raises a curious eyebrow. I continue: “Like, you know… We could always just…do it.” “Do it,” she repeats. “Right. Pull down our diapers and…” “I-I know what you meant,” she says, cheeks blushing again. “It’s not a bad idea. But…she’s going to be back any minute, isn’t she? And who knows where all those little robot hands are…” I glance around me. “Do you think…they’re in the crib?” She shrugs. “I bet they’re in places we don’t yet know about–just waiting for us to do something ‘naughty’ so that they can pop out and smack us around.” “I mean, here’s something to consider,” I say. “Maybe this place wasn’t designed to house two babies simultaneously.” “Hm.” She seems to be considering this herself now. “I don’t know how to use that to our advantage yet, but…” “Oh,” she says, her eyes getting big. I swear I see a lightbulb appearing above her head for a moment. “Give me a boost. I can stand on your shoulders and if you can get me to the top of the crib…” “So I can get you over,” I say. “But then what about me? And why am I the one who has to help you get out? Why can’t I be the one to get out?” “Because I’m the girl,” she says with a shrug. It’s not a great argument…but it still seems to work on me. “Okay…what then?” “I dunno.” “All you have to do is find a way to get me out too,” I say. “In the journal, it says how the last guy here was able to escape. I think…?” “You think?” “Well…I don’t know if he actually escaped or not. For all I know, he’s dead now and the last entry in his journal isn’t because he left, but because MAMA tossed him out a window or something.” “Not instilling much confidence here, Alfie…” “I don’t think we have much time before MAMA comes back up here,” I say. “If one of us can get out now, we should take that opportunity while we can. We’ll figure out the rest later.” She nods her head. “You wanna give me a boost then?” “Uh, one more time,” I say. “We’re sure we don’t want to just, like, have sex in this crib right now and then leave this world altogether?” She opens her mouth to respond, but pauses before she actually says anything. Maybe this idea is suddenly sounding better to her? Clop. Clop. Clop. They’re faint yet, but we can hear footsteps at the bottom of the stairs beyond this room. Time is more limited than we thought. Scratch the ‘have sex’ plan. “Come on,” I say, waving for her to get closer to me. “Let’s get you out of here.” We’re both nervous. The house–and MAMA herself–are an unknown entity to us. We’ve seen some of their capabilities, but who knows what else this place can do.  I hold out my hands in front of me, palms up, giving her a platform to step onto. She does, and I put my back into helping lift her up.  “Y-y’know,” I say, “I doubt you’re that much lighter than me.” She doesn’t respond verbally, but she looks down at me with a look that says: “Later, I’m going to punch you for that.” It’d probably be well deserved. Me, I’m looking straight up at her diaper as she grips the top of the crib wall and begins to pull herself over it. Not a bad view, if you ask me.  It’s kinda weird though–I don’t really see Audry the same way I do someone like Maxine or Celia. I don’t have, like, a ‘crush’ on Audry. I don’t see myself falling in love with her. Audry’s in this weird space where she’s more like an extension of myself. A reflection. She’s a part of myself, given a body and its own agency. It's extremely strange, and I still haven’t figured it all out yet, but I suppose nobody’s ever really had this experience before now. That I know of. I’d be curious to see if she feels the same way, though this hardly seems like the time to ask. She’s over the wall. She’s dropping down to her feet. She turns to me, putting her hand through the bars, taking mine.  “Let me tell you how to get out of here,” I say. She laughs. “I’m not leaving without you. All I want to do is see how I can shut this stupid thing down.” “Hurry up,” I say, hearing that the footsteps are even closer now. “Go.” Those damn robotic hands are revealing themselves again. They come from the floor and the walls. They are trying to catch Audry–trying to grab at her limbs as she runs past them. I can’t speak for her, but I know that I’ve never really been the poster child for dexterity or athletic skill. If that was me running, I think I’d be captured right away. My luck, I’d probably trip over my own feet. I wouldn’t say that her movements are elegant and effortless, but she shows surprising grace for someone in a thick diaper and a silly dress. MAMA is at the door, and she also reaches out to grab for Audry–though her hands are full–but Audry ducks the robot’s arms and disappears from my view.  MAMA, perhaps not programmed to say something like “Goddammit.” Simply turns towards me, extending a hand towards me that’s holding a baby bottle. There’s a second bottle in her other hand. “I will deal with that naughty child,” she says. “But in the meantime, little boy, you still have to eat.” “I…I’m not hungry,” I say. “Thanks, though.” “The decision is not yours to make, little one,” she says, striding closer to the crib. I can hear that dreaded mechanical whirring in her joints again. So quickly have I come to dread that sound. “What’s even in that bottle?” I ask. “You know it’s been a long time since you’ve cared for someone, right? I, uh, doubt you’ve been getting fresh food delivered here. What is that? Fifteen year old milk? You might just be killing me.” “It is interesting to hear that you care about such things, little one,” MAMA says. “But I can assure you that every morsel of food you are fed here has been properly prepared in a sanitized environment, and scanned thoroughly for potential contaminates. I would not be serving this to you now if it posed a threat to your health.” “Okay,” I say. “But…what is that in the bottle?” “You ask far too many questions, little boy,” she says, at the crib now. Her hand slides through the bars, offering the bottle to me. “Just take this and drink it. When you are finished, I will allow you to leave the crib.” “You will?” I ask. I have to remind myself, though, that being released from the crib doesn’t mean that I’m released from CRAD13, or MAMA’s control. Especially now that Audry is running amok in the house, I imagine I’d be on a short leash. “Be a good boy and drink up, while I look for your sister.” My sister. That’s an interesting way of looking at our relationship–though I can’t say that I like it.  I start to reach for the bottle, thinking that I might just humor her–take the bottle and dump it out when she’s not looking. But before I can wrap my own hands around it, another hand has grasped it instead–another of those damned mechanical hands, this one coming from the ceiling.  There’s more hands. I can’t even tell where they’re all coming from. They’re gripping my arms and my legs. Hands hold my face in place, squeezing my cheeks so that my mouth pops open as another carries the bottle closer to my face. “No…no, please…” Shunk. The nipple slides into my mouth, and a hand forces my mouth to close around it.  I’m drinking. I honestly couldn’t tell you if I’m being made to drink, or if my body has just surrendered and is letting this happen. It’s…not milk, whatever it is. It’s thick, like milk, but the taste is off. It’s strangely sweet. Maybe a little…oaty? It’s not horrible, but it’s certainly not good either. I’m reminded of being back at The Cradle–my Cradle–being fed milk by one of the mommies. I miss that feeling of losing control of myself as the desire to be a big baby overtook me. You could say it was Mother’s milk, but it was just as much that place, I think–it felt good to be in a place where you could let yourself abandon those adult trappings so easily. I’ve missed that feeling more than I thought I did, it seems, because I feel the tightness in my limbs easing as I allow these hands to hold me and feed me. The hell if I know what they’re pumping into my mouth, but I just don’t care at the moment. The bottle emptied, it’s pulled from my mouth and taken elsewhere–handed from hand to hand like a bucket brigade–until it’s set on a table for MAMA to collect later. The hands are now retreating from my body, leaving me free to move on my own, even if I’m still confined within my crib. The feeling of the liquid sloshing in my gut has a somewhat pacifying effect on me, and I rest my back against the crib’s bars and slouch into a semi-laying position.  While I certainly hope Audry’s okay, wherever she is in the house right now, I wouldn’t mind being given a few minutes to just rest here before I’m freed from my crib and have to start running around again. === I space out a little bit as I wait to see what comes of Audry’s schemes. Occasionally I can hear things banging around downstairs. Beeps and boops. Some kind of alarm goes for a few moments.  Meanwhile, I’m just stewing in my diaper. I wet it a little bit ago–absolutely drenched it. It hasn’t happened yet, but I’m pretty sure that I’ll be messing myself soon enough, too. I can feel something rumbling in my abdomen. I’m not even mad about it though. It feels good to just sit here in my dirty diaper.  I’m hard, and I find myself slowly, lazily, pawing at the front of my diaper through my onesie–stroking at the firm shape encased in warm and squishy padding. Be careful, I remind myself. While I don’t think I can make myself cum with such a lackadaisical approach, I don’t want to get myself too excited. Cumming now would mean that I’m sent out of this world without Audry–and the odds of us connecting again are slim to none. Of course, the thought of Audry while touching myself causes me to recall that moment, just a little while ago, where I got to look up her dress and see that plump diaper of hers. And then there was that thrilling encounter in the woods where our bodies got tangled up in each other’s.  Oh yeah, that was good… Despite the fact that I’m trying not to think too hard about anything at all right now, a thought still pops into my head: For us to travel back to the, uh, Onion together…do we have to cum at the same exact time? What happens if one of us cums and, like, blasts off to the next world, but the other hasn’t finished yet? It is rather lucky, then, that Audry and I happened to cum at the same exact time. Or, perhaps, that makes sense too? Maybe, because we’re different versions of the same person, we have the same exact thresholds for pleasure? Maybe we’d always cum at the same time during sex? Huh. That’s some pretty trippy stuff. Makes me wish I was stoned right now. That’s what I want–a bong. I want to exhale a cloud of smoke so thick that I can’t see the TV screen in front of me for a few moments. I want to feel like, despite the fact I’m sitting still on the couch, I’m drifting through space. I want to burst into uncontrollable laughter and… “Unh…” A sudden grunt pushes out from my mouth and my eyes widen. Instinct alone tells my body to sit up straight and then bend myself over a little, giving the back of my diaper a little more space. My bottom makes a loud but muffled rippling sound–embarassingly enough, almost like someone blowing a raspberry with their mouth. The mess that is dumped into the diaper is soft and gloopy. That my diaper feels so full–so swampy–in just a few seconds is a testament to just how big of a mess I’ve made. And the smell–which quickly makes its presence known to me–is especially pungent. I could see a stink like this knocking someone with a nose less acclimated to big babies’ accidents out. “Erh…” I let out another meek noise as I try and push the last of it out of me. I feel the warm diaper’s new weight tugging at my hips. I should be a little disgusted in myself, I think. A little ashamed. But my hand is still on the front of my diaper. Oh. I realize that I’m not rubbing my diaper through the onesie anymore. I look down and see that it’s been unsnapped. I definitely didn’t purposefully reach down and pull it open, which might mean that the added bulk to my diaper caused the tight-fitting onesie to just burst open at some point. It’s hard to say why, but the thought of that fills me with joy. Calm down, I tell myself. I’m turned on. Worked up. I’m horny. And the idea that it’s my disgusting diaper that’s contributing to this excitement is somehow only making me hornier. “Hoo boy,” I mutter. I try to slow my breathing. I try, and fail, to think unsexy thoughts. But note even the thought of Aunt Dorothy licking peanut butter off a stick of celery is helping right now.  Suddenly, there’s a chiming noise that echoes through the house. “ASSISTANCE NEEDED IN THE NURSERY,” a monotonous voice drones over speakers that I can’t seem to locate. “SOILED DIAPER IN THE NURSERY.” “Christ,” I sigh, feeling my cheeks getting red. Even if the only other human who would hear this message is Audry, it’s still plenty embarrassing to be put on blast like that. Here come the hands again, lowering themselves onto me from all angles. “N-no,” I say, trying to shake free of their grip. “Go away! I’m not trying to escape or anything, I’m just–” But I’m cut off by a hand plugging my mouth with a pacifier once again. The hands are freakishly strong. I suppose there’s a chance that I’m just freakishly weak, but I choose not to dwell on that too much. They pull my hands away from my diaper before pulling my whole body into a sitting position.  “Ermmm…” I let out a panicked moan as the weight of my body splats down in the disgusting load I’ve filled my diaper with. I may not have been the biggest fan of MAMA thus far, but her presence right now, to help clean my dirty bottom, would be quite welcome. Another chiming noise. “SOILED DIAPER IN THE NURSERY,” the droning voice over the speaker says again.  I roll my eyes. Does it always do this? And where is MAMA anyway?  Where is Audry, for that matter? What is she doing? === A few minutes pass, and then a few more. By my estimation, it’s been an hour since I loaded my diaper. I’m still sitting in my swampy mess. The room still stinks of rotten death. And still? No sign of MAMA. No sign of Audry. The hands are still here, holding me in place–like the system that runs this house thinks I have somewhere to go if it wasn’t holding me in place. Occasionally–at an interval I can’t quite figure out, there’s another announcement made that there’s a ‘SOILED DIAPER IN THE NURSERY,’ though apparently this doesn’t matter to anyone. “Hey…can you thust let me go or thomething?” I ask through my pacifier. I don’t even know who I’m talking to. The house itself? These robotic hands? There’s no response to this–not that I expect one. It’s a little concerning that I haven’t seen MAMA for a while, though. I’m guessing this means that she found Audry, though the outcome of that altercation is uncertain. If MAMA prevailed, perhaps she’d be up here by now to change my diaper or make some comment about the current status of Audry, but that certainly hasn’t happened yet. Likewise, if Audry prevailed, then why hasn’t she come back up to the nursery yet to let me out? I try to imagine all the possibilities. Maybe MAMA and Audry have somehow killed (deactivated?) each other in battle, and their bodies are lying in a heap somewhere. Or maybe Audry has actually escaped the house, and MAMA is chasing her through the woods. There’s that chiming noise again. The droning voice says: “ASSISTANCE NEEDED IN THE KITCHEN.” a monotonous voice drones over speakers that I can’t seem to locate. “SOILED DIAPER IN THE KITCHEN.” That’s new. That’s…somewhat promising? Would a dead woman poop her pants? Well, actually…I think that’s a thing that happens, so maybe that’s not the best question to ask right now. A few minutes pass, there’s a chime again. Then: “SOILED DIAPER IN THE NURSERY. SOILED DIAPER IN THE KITCHEN.” MAMA is an in-demand woman at the moment. If only I knew where the hell she was. More sounds coming from downstairs. A banging noise. CLANG. CLANG. CLANG. Then a more alarming sound–like, I don’t know, a small explosion? “SOILED DIAPER IN THHHHHEEEE…” Then, just silence. The fuck… I wish I was there to see whatever it was.  I realize, suddenly, that the robotic hands don’t have any grip strength left in them. They hang from the ceiling and the walls on their thin metallic hands, but they’re not actually doing anything. No movement. They’re not holding me in place any longer.  I lunge forward, gripping the bars of the crib wall, and I shake at it, testing to see if it’s still locked in place. To my relief, the crib panel slides away, allowing me to finally leave its confines. I slowly, carefully, climb out and let my feet land on the ground. I wait for more robotic hands to start popping up everywhere that I need to avoid–like when I watched Audry skip across the room earlier–but no such thing happens. The power is still on, given that the lights are on, but all the, uh, more robotic features of the house seem deactivated. I spit my pacifier out onto the ground. “Audry?” To my relief, I get a response. “Alfie?” I run out of the nursery and down the stairs as fast as I can. I run all the way to the kitchen, where I let out an audible gasp at what I see. Audry’s there, a large crowbar in one hand, and MAMA’s disconnected–and slightly battered–head hanging by a fistful of hair from the other. On the ground is the rest of MAMA’s body, smoking and sparking. Audry herself is smiling, even blushing a little. Her dress is torn in places, stained black in other spots. The bottom of her diaper hangs below the hem of what remains of her dress, looking every bit as brown as my own. “Hey,” she says. “Hey.” “You missed the craziest shit,” she says. “You shoulda seen me. I was a total fucking badass.” I sigh and shake my head. Isn’t that just my luck? Sixty: Scenes from the Sex Montage Audry tries her best to tell me the story about what happened in between when she escaped the nursery and when she beheaded the house’s robot caretaker, but I feel like I miss every other detail. I’ve got a lot going on in my head. I’m not just thinking about my own dirty diaper–I’m thinking about hers too. I’m thinking about what our next move is, after we get out of whatever the hell CRAD13 is. She went to the basement. She found a crowbar. She tried to pry open the front door in the living room. She was assaulted by robot hands. She smacked them around with the crowbar. MAMA tried to stop her. In fact, she says that MAMA tried to spank her. “Is it bad that I kind of wish she did?” I ask. “I was thinking the same thing,” Audry sighs. “But I couldn’t let her, you know?” So then, she got chased around a little. There were a few minutes there where Audry didn’t think she was going to come out on top (“That was about the time I messed my diaper,” she says). Then–CLUNK–she used the crowbar to clobber MAMA in the head, knocking it right off her body.  In doing so, she inadvertently shut off the ‘automated nursery’ component of CRAD13. “Pretty cool, right?” she asks. “I guess.” Admittedly, I have a little bit of a pout on my face. “What’s wrong?” “I mean, it sounds like a scary situation. But it also sounds cool as hell.” “Aw,” she says. “You wanted to be the one to kill the robot nanny with a crowbar?” “It woulda been nice,” I say, shrugging. She snorts and shakes her head. “That’s funny, because I think I would be pouting too if I was the one left in the crib while all this cool stuff was happening.” “Ah well. Thanks for whacking her and saving the day and all that.” “My pleasure,” she says, a smug smile on her face. “So, look. You stink. I stink. Maybe we should do something about that?” She shrugs. “What’s the point?” “The point? I mean…we pooped our diapers, so…” “No, I mean, like, why bother changing when we can just leave.” “Oh,” I say, eyes wide and mouth hanging open a little. “Like, uh, we…” “Yes,” she says, nodding. “We do that while we wear our, uh, dirty diapers, huh?” “I mean, we could change,” she says. “Or clean up a little. But seeing as how we’re both already messy and how, like, when we finish we wouldn’t be here anyway…” “Right, right,” I say, rubbing my chin as I consider this. “When you put it like that, I suppose it is extra work.” She smiles and shrugs her shoulders, batting her eyelashes at me–a skill I’ve never really honed myself, but maybe that’s something more inherent for the female kind. “What do you say, you big baby? Wanna roll around with another stinky baby?” === Someday, assuming I ever make it out of this strange hell of visiting every other version of the world except for my own, I’ll have to make the decision about whether or not I tell anyone the whole story of what happened to me. It’s the sort of thing that nobody would ever believe because–as far as I know–nobody’s ever experienced it before. Or, if they have and they’ve talked about it, we as a collective community have deemed them to be ‘crazy’ and someone we shouldn’t be listening to. That could be me. “Oh don’t mind him, that’s just Old Man Alfie. He’s kinda fucked up. Says he’s been to other dimensions, you know? Says he had weird diaper-sex with a female clone of himself or some shit like that. He’s harmless, but maybe it’s best if you just keep your distance from him.” Like, if Maxine and I were still together, and I said to her: “Hey, I just want you to know that I cheated on you with a female version of myself,” would she consider that to be cheating? Well, if I know Maxine as well as I think I know her, she’d probably ask: “Okay, so how was the sex then?” “Uh, not too bad, actually.” But then, would Maxine–or whatever future partner that I have that I would potentially tell this story to–feel threatened by this revelation (assuming they even believe it in the first place, of course)? I’m trying to think about how I’d feel if Maxine told me that she had sex with a male version of herself. And there’s a part of me that wonders how I’d ever compete with that, you know? Who knows your needs better than yourself? And with the taboo factor being off the fucking charts, there’s already this level of erotic tension that would be hard to match. And so I’m thinking it’d be best if I just kept my big mouth shut about any sexcapades with Audry. That can just be our little secret. === “We’re doing this, huh?” I ask. It’s, like, the sixth or seventh time one of us has asked this question in the last ten minutes. And every time it gets asked, it seems a little sillier than the last time, since the answer is always the same. “It’s happening,” she says.  It’ll be her turn to ask me next, and she probably will soon enough. We had initially debated doing it on the living room floor, or the couch, but opted against it. There must be a more comfortable and spacious option available somewhere in this place, and we’re in search of it. Plus, despite the fact that all the robotic components seem out of order at the moment–since the destruction of MAMA–the red light on the security camera in the living room is still lit. At the end of the day, I don’t think either of us cares if someone saw the sinful things we were about to do–be it now or later–but there’s still an inherent creepiness about being watched by a mysterious camera. Maybe there are cameras in the house that we just don’t know about yet–but as long as I don’t see them, I think I can deal with that. Upstairs, we open a door at the end of the hallway, expecting to see, perhaps, a master bedroom. But no–it’s just a room full of computer equipment. Boxes with lights and meters and little display screens. Some flash and blink, some aren’t lit at all, while some screens show error codes and messages. Audry probably caused some very expensive damage to this system when she separated MAMA’s head from her body. There is a small bedroom elsewhere–perhaps a place where ‘Tommy,’ or whatever other sucker came to stay here, slept in advance of MAMA turning them into a full-on baby. I suggest we use the bed, but Audry says she has another idea, tugging at my arm to lead me out of the room. And we’re back in the nursery again. She’s pointing at the crib. “In there?” I ask. “Really?” “We know it’s big enough,” she says, shrugging. “And, well, doesn’t it seem fitting for two dirty little babies like us?” I laugh and nod my head. “You’re right.” To my surprise, and maybe hers, neither of us asks again if we’re sure about this. Instead, Audry slips into the crib and proceeds to lie on her back, hiking her dress up her waist to fully reveal her browned and lumpy diaper. I crawl towards her on the crib’s padded surface. “Should I, uh, take my diaper…off?” “Leave it on,” she says. “But yours…” “You’ll have to open it,” she says.  I suppose that I could try and pull the bottom of it aside, while leaving the diaper on her, but that might be creating an even worse mess to contend with, depending on where the contents of her padding are situated at the moment. I pull the tabs free from the front of the diaper, and with each loud tearing noise seeming to further excite us.  I’m hard again. Maybe it’s her, Audry itself, but I think it’s more than that. I think it’s the foul smell in this room–the stenches of our dirty diapers merging together for an entirely new set of strange odors. I think it’s the heavy load in my padding, and the one in hers. It’s all the unspeakable emotions coursing through the both of us as we prepare to engage in this very taboo ritual once more.  The tapes free, I open the front of her diaper, peeling it back and letting it flop onto the crib’s mattress between her thighs. There’s her filthy mess, plastered between her ass cheeks. But there is her inviting pink pussy, practically pulsating and dripping right before my eyes.  I push down the front of my diaper as best as I can, just enough to allow me to fish out my swollen cock. Success. I lick my lips and carefully crawl over her body. “Do it,” she says in a low and husky tone. But I want to hear her say it again. “Do…what?” She laughs. “Fuck me, Alfie. Fuck me, you dirty little boy.” “Look who’s talking, you…dirty little…girl…” I’m inside of her. I’m thrusting now. She’s lifting her hips from the mattress in rhythm with my thrusts, like we’re meeting each other halfway. At different times, each of us tries to talk–maybe we just have some naughty things we want to say to each other, or maybe we just want to mention how hot this moment is–but all we manage to get out is nonsensical babbling. It’s kind of fitting, in a way–baby’s talking to each other like babies. Her hands pull at my onesie, while mine feel at her body through her dress. My fingers find her pigtails and I wrap them around my digits, pulling at them to make her moan even louder.  A part of me wishes that we did have an audience right now. An ‘adult’ to stumble in on us. Someone who knows better. Someone who could be appalled by the sight of our bodies twisted together–complete with our dirty diapers. Someone ready and willing to punish us for being so naughty. I feel myself on the verge of cumming. A slow tremble is building in my body. “Y-yes,” Audry says, as if reading my mind. “Me too.” I think we’re both a little lost in the moment–all of our senses overloaded as we near climax. The smells–the foulness of our diapers and the softness of the lingering traces of baby powder in the air. The feeling of my diaper when it grinds against her skin. The look I see on her face–and the look that’s probably on mine–whenever one of us opens our eyes. The sounds of our moaning, and the crinkling of padding.  “A-almost…” I say. “Yes,” she responds. “I’m…” But I don’t get to finish that statement. === Ah yes. The vast expanse of white, with the rings of doors. The Onion, so to speak. I need a moment or two. My heart is still racing, and I’m breathing heavily. Gone is the messy diaper, the onesie, and perhaps, the cum that had just squirted out of me. But I still feel like I’m coming off of an orgasm. Breathe, Alfie. Breathe. I’m alarmed to find that I’m alone–I was hoping, and expecting, that Audry would be right here with me. But, then again, this is what happened last time too. I had assumed that we were separated, only to find she was here as well–just somewhere else in the circle of doors. “Audry?” I shout out. No response. I try again: “Audry!” I wait a few moments, and after I don’t get a response, I start walking, hoping that I just need to get closer to her.  “Audry!” I let out a long sigh, feeling like my heart is dropping in my chest. Maybe my earlier fears about what would happen if one of us came before the other is coming true now.  In the scheme of things, Audry and I haven’t spent a lot of time with each other. But I can’t say that we don’t know each other, because I feel like I might just know her better than I’ve ever known anyone in my life. Even if we were always fated to eventually split ways and be parted, I just don’t think I’m ready for that yet. “Audry! For the love of god…Audry!” Are there…tears in my eyes? Am I getting a little choked up? It’s quite the whiplash, going from a post-orgasmic high to suddenly experiencing loss. I open my mouth, ready to shout her name again when I hear, albeit softly: “Alfie!” I laugh and let out a sigh of relief. “Goddamn.” I’m running now. “Audry!” “Alfie!” Our nude bodies almost run into each other, and we loudly laugh together as we try to catch our breaths. I’ve got tears in my eyes, and so does she.  “I thought I almost lost you for a moment there,” I say. “Yeah,” she says. “Same.” “A-and it’s not like I need you…” I say, though I’m a little worried that this is coming out the wrong way. “N-no, I know what you mean,” she says. “It’s, like, I don’t want to do this by myself.” “Yes. Exactly.” We take a beat to compose ourselves. I won’t speak for Audry, but I know that I’m feeling a little silly for overreacting at the idea of her not being here with me anymore. I’m not sure what to make of that. Is it Audry herself I would’ve missed? Or, is it like she said–that now that I’ve had a companion for this adventure, I don’t want to go back to not having one?  Both. I think both can be true. After all, as Nikki likes to say to me sometimes, my ideal partner would probably be myself. And, well, that’s Audry. “What now?” she asks. “Pick a door? Do all that again?” “What’s the point?” I ask. “Hmm?” “Like…what do we actually get from going to these new worlds? Strife. Problems. Getting locked up or put in peril. Clearly, we have to go through doors to get to the center of ‘the onion,’ but I think I’m…kind of over these adventures.” She laughs. “Okay, sure. But what are we supposed to do about that?” “We, uh, speedrun it.” Her head tilts. “What’s that now?” I’m reminded of Harriet–the version that isn’t Mother, as best as I could tell–in that white space at the very start of my travels. I said something similar to her once, and needed to explain what speedrunning in video games was.  “Well, speedrunning is like…” She sighs. “I know what speedrunning is, you dork. What I don’t understand is how that applies to our situation.” “I mean, it’s simple, right? Why bother exploring every world we go to? We jump through a door, uh, copulate, and then–badda bing–we’re closer to the center, you know? Then we just do that over and over and over again. However many times it takes.” “Firstly,” she says. “Copulate?” “I was being polite.” “Secondly: ‘badda bing?’” “What’s with you nitpicking everything I say, huh?” She laughs. “No, no, it’s fine. I just…I guess I wonder if people think that I sound that corny when I talk.” I roll my eyes. “Okay, but… What do you think of my idea?” “It makes sense,” she says, shrugging. “It’s the kind of thing that, when we’re done and looking back on this situation…” “Assuming we survive,” I interject. “Sure, sure. It’s the kind of thing that would make a good montage, you know? Sex in different worlds.” “See, that’s funny. Because that’s exactly what I was thinking too.” She laughs. “I know.” === We peek through a few doors, but it’s hard to really know what you’re getting into from the little bit that you see through the doorways. Sometimes we see a grassy clearing in the woods. Sometimes we see a place that looks similar to The Cradle that we both know from our own worlds. Once, we see a sheer cliff face–which seems like a poor choice of a landing spot for us to jump into a new world. Then, in another doorway, we see a bustling city. I’m curious about that one–but we’ve already promised each other that we won’t waste more time exploring. We’re ready to go home. We’re looking for boring places. Places that look quiet and uneventful. The kinds of places we feel we could safely screw without being disturbed, captured, or inconvenienced in any way. “Here,” she says, pointing through a door. “It’s just a field. Near some trees. It’s a sunny day. Looks as good a place as any.” “Let’s do it,” I say. “Remember, no matter what we see there, we’re not going to explore.” “Right,” she says. “We go in, do our thing, and move on.” “You ready?” I ask. I think I’m asking myself more than her–my heart is racing and my hands feel sweaty. The unknown that lies before us will always be intimidating, I think. “Ready as I’ll ever be.” “Let’s do this.” She smirks at me. “Badda bing.” === The field isn’t entirely alien to us, as the clearing kind of reminds me of the place where I first met Audry on another world. We take a few minutes to look around–despite saying we weren't going to do that, we can’t help ourselves. But we just have to know: what’s different about this world? What might be beyond the horizon, that we’d never see anywhere else? Giant women? Monsters? Volcanoes that shoot green lava up into the sky? Everything looks ‘normal,’ though. I guess that’s exactly what we wanted, isn’t it? “Come on,” I hear Audry say from behind me. “I’m ready.” I spin around and see that she’s already lowering herself into the grass. She’s kicking her feet up into the air and spreading her legs. I know that this is the plan, but I still have to laugh. This is my life now, huh? “Alrighty,” I say. “Here I come. I’m, uh, gonna give it to you.” She laughs. “Alfie?” “Yes?” “You, uh, don’t actually have to say anything. You can just…do it.” “Yeah, alright.” === I’m back at the circle of doors again. And Audry is too, though it takes us a moment or two to find each other. The curve of the circle seems a little more pronounced to me–like it’s a smaller circle and there are fewer doors–but I’m not completely sure about that. “It worked,” she says. I nod my head. “And that was pretty, uh…good,” she says, her cheeks getting good and pink. “The sex?” She laughs and rolls her eyes. “No, Alfie. The buttered croissant I just ate.” “A buttered croissant sounds really good right now…” “Ready for the next door?” she asks. “I…” I pause, needing to take stock of myself and where I’m at, physically and emotionally. I sometimes hear about guys who claim to have sex multiple times in a row, and I applaud that kind of stamina. Maybe that’s a testament to their stamina that I wish I had for myself. Or maybe I just need to, I dunno, have sex more often to be able to perform like that? It was sometimes a little awkward when Maxine and I would finish, and she’d be ready for round two and I had to be, like: “What if I…just took a nap for a little while first?”  But I don’t feel that way now. I imagine that it has everything to do with the bodies we inhabit in one world as opposed to another. It’s either magic or, like, advanced physics–either way it's over my head. All this to say: I feel good to go again.  “Go ahead and pick a door for us,” I say, a big, stupid smile on my face. === The middle of the woods. We don’t bother looking around too much. Audry is bent over an especially large–and rather smooth–rock. Just before I can slide my cock into her, she lets out a little “Oh!” as she lets out a spurt of piss that runs down her thighs. This does nothing to sour the mood–if anything, it seems to excite the both of us. I call her a ‘pissy little girl,’ and it works to kick things into a higher gear. === A dirt road, cutting through the forest. We walk a short distance in search of a good place to do our business, only to stumble upon a strange sight: a box truck of some sort, pulled over on the side of the road and abandoned.  “We should check it out,” I say. “No exploring,” Audry replies. “Wasn’t that our rule?” “I think we were saying that we wouldn’t go out of our way to explore, you know? But this is right here in front of us.” “I guess…” The rusted truck looks like it's been here for a while, as evidenced by the way the ground and weeds have grown over the wheels over time. No driver. No, like, dead body of a former driver either. The front door is unlocked and so I help myself inside to take a look around. “Be careful,” she says. “Don’t do anything stupid.” I don’t know what qualifies as ‘stupid’ to her, but I don’t bother asking. There’s not much in the truck. Though the keys are still in the ignition–that’s interesting. There’s a clipboard on the seat and I take a look at it. Some forms that don’t make much sense to me. And…a shipping manifest, maybe?  A few details jump out at me and I have to laugh. I say: “You’ll never guess what this truck was delivering.” She shrugs. “I don’t know. Uh, diapers?” I laugh again. “Y-yes…that’s exactly what was being shipped. They were being sent to a town called, uh…New Cradle.” Her eyes widen at this. “Weird. That’s, like, a town?” I shrug. “It’s in the address. Has its own ZIP code and everything.” “Are…the diapers still in the back?” she asks. It’s a good question, and one I’m curious about myself. I grab the keys from the ignition and walk around to the back of the truck where I test a few keys before finding one that allows me to unlatch the back. What’s revealed when I lift the heavy door is, in fact, many cardboard boxes. “How long have these been here?” Audry asks. “And where did the driver go? Why just abandon them here?” I don’t bother answering. I’d like answers to those same questions, but I’ve come to accept that we won’t get to hear every story there is. Some things are just going to remain mysterious to us, forever. My naked body climbs into the back of the truck and I tear open one of the boxes. Yep, there are packages of diapers in them. Not just diapers–but adult diapers. Big ones. Good looking ones. Boxes and boxes of them. Brands I’ve never heard of. Fluffington. Cutesy Bootsy. Momma’s Choice. “I wish we could take them with us,” I say. “This is, like, a lifetime supply.” “Oh please. We’d blow through these in a month,” Audry teases, climbing into the back of the truck to join me. She’s tearing open boxes herself, rifling through the different diapers. “I’ve never seen prints like these before. They’re cute.” “I know.” “Alright, alright,” she sighs. “We can’t do this all day. We gotta keep moving.” “But…we’ve hit the diaper payload?” I whine. She shrugs. “But what are we going to do with them?” I have an idea. “Well…since we can assume that these diapers are abandoned and nobody’s looking for them… Maybe we make ourselves a little, uh, diaper mountain to have sex on top of?” She laughs, but immediately tears open a package of diapers, spilling the contents onto the floor of the truck. “That idea is stupid as hell. And we’re absolutely going to do that.” We rip apart packages, letting thick, folded blocks of diaper tumble to the floor. A stack begins to build, and soon the pile gets large enough that they begin to spill out the open door and onto the ground. But what do we care? We’ll be out of here soon enough. Someday, this will all be someone else’s problem. I can’t say what, exactly, sounds so appealing about having sex on an absurdly large pile of loose adult diapers, but maybe this is the same thing that drives millionaires to have sex on top of their cash. Well, I don’t know if that actually happens, but I’ve seen it happen once or twice in movies. She pushes me down on my back and this time, she’s the one climbing over me, lowering herself and her wet pussy onto my erection. Below us, around us, diapers crinkle and rub together and it’s the most blissful sound I’ve ever heard. === In another world, we find a well-maintained, but currently uninhabited, cabin near the clearing we enter into. It’s as easy as lifting up the doormat at the front door to find the key needed to enter.  Admittedly, we get a little reckless, chugging from some bottles of booze we find in a kitchen cabinet, before getting tangled up in the sheets on the bed. This time, I’m the one who loses control of my bladder, leaving a sizable wet spot on the mattress beneath us just before we proceed with our sinful business. I put our copulating on hold for a moment so that I can grab a piece of paper and a pen and scribble out a quick, crude note apologizing to the cabin owner about the mess we’ve made. I start to write something about how we’re extra-planar visitors taking a crash course through the multiverse, but I just don’t think I have the time–or paper space–to do that story justice.  I’m not entirely sure what I did or didn’t write on that paper by the time I went back to Audry. We’re a little drunk. === As it turns out, drunkenness–much like post-coital stamina–doesn’t seem to carry over from a world into the white space. We feel fine and sober–ready to jump through the next door. === We have sex at the side of a muddy river. It’s fun to get messy. Audry swears that a squirrel watched us the whole time, but I didn’t see that. === We have sex atop a grassy hill, looking over a long and wide valley that neither of us are familiar with. We count not one, not two, but three blimps (zeppelins?) floating across the sky overhead, and we both agree that we’ve never seen that many blimps in a sky at once. Maybe there’s some sort of blimp party. Or maybe that’s just how people get around in this world.  This is another world where I wouldn’t mind doing a little more exploring, though we stay on task. === A few more worlds pass us by in a bit of a blur. I keep thinking that, if nothing else, we’ll get bored with this routine–the repetitive nature of sex in strange lands. But then all one of us has to do is touch the other and we’re suddenly full of electricity and ready to go at it again. With each world we pass through, the circle of doors gets smaller. There’s noticeably less doors to choose from.  The center of the onion approaches. We’re instilled with a renewed energy, as it feels like the end is in sight. We may not know what lies ahead of us, but we know there’s a destination–and that still seems like progress. We find ourselves back in the white space again after fucking our way through another world. We’re giddy at the fact that we can literally count the number of doors left in the next circle on one hand.  “So close,” I say. “Let’s fucking do this,” Audry says, kicking open the door nearest to her with reckless abandon.  There was a time we were a little more careful about the doors we went through, but we’re a bit too hopped up on our expectations for the short-term future to be so cautious now… === …and that’s how we end up in a trap.  We step foot in another small field of tall grass and weeds, surrounded on most sides by trees. It feels similar to places we’ve been plenty of times before, save for the woman we spot almost immediately. It’s alarming to see anyone at all when we step into a new world. It’s especially alarming for us to both see someone who looks like they’ve been waiting for us. Someone that I, for one, recognize. “Celia?” Audry asks. “Y-you know Celia too?” I ask. “Well, sure, she worked at the diner in Harper’s Bell,” she says. “You know Celia?” “Same,” I say.  “There are two of you now?” Celia asks. She seems cool and collected, leaning against a tree near the grassy clearing we’ve stepped into. “Don’t worry, I’m here to help you.” “No she’s not,” I say to Audry. “Don’t listen to her.” I fell for this trick once before, and I don’t intend on falling for it again. “What do you mean?” Audry asks. “It’s Celia.” “She’s not Celia,” I warn. Another Not-Celia, if you will.  “I’m here to help,” ‘Celia’ claims. “Just come with me and…” “We’re not going anywhere with you,” I say, shaking my head.  Celia–or whoever she is–hisses with frustration as she stares at me. It would seem that she’s already giving up the act. “You’ve both been very naughty, running around like you have been. Mother is quite cross with you.” “Celia, what are you talking about?” Audry asks, suddenly showing some modesty and blushing as she turns her body and attempts to cover herself with her hands. I should’ve known it wasn’t going to be this easy.

Audio Drama

First, you should know that I am not incontinent, wetting and messing my diaper is volitional. It is so convenient to wet my diaper during the night and drift back to sleep. It is a simple and innocent pleasure to wake up with a very wet and swollen diaper, this morning the pleasure is from a purple MegaMax diaper. Then, while in the kitchen getting coffee, I relaxed with an imperceptible slight push feeling warm poopies fill my diaper, settle in bottom of my wet diaper, warmly nestle against my perineum, while I wet my diaper a little more. I love the feeling of warm, slippery potty jiggling inside my diaper as I walked with my coffee to my laptop. Sitting down is the ultimate culmination of my emotional and physical catharsis feeling my warm mess compress in my diaper becoming squishier by the minute. As long as I don't have a diaper blow-out, I stay wet and poopie for several hours and even get my morning exercise that sometimes involves going outside for a jog while wet and messy. Feeling potty jiggle inside my diaper as I run is quite the experience. Changing and cleaning up is not an issue for me. I usually don't take a shower but thoroughly clean my soiled diaper area with adult wipes followed by a wet wash cloth with a little Dawn Dish Soap works great, rinse, pat dry, roll up my soiled diaper, place my poopie diaper in a plastic bag, get a clean, fresh diaper, put 3-4 drops of baby powder scented concentrated oil in my fresh diaper, a sprinkle of baby powder, a coating of Baby Magic Baby Lotion (my favorite) on my diaper area, put on my clean diaper, regular clothes, take my soiled diaper wrapped in the plastic bag to the outside trash, a quick spray of air freshener, and I am all ready for my day. All this is accomplished before my wife is out of bed. Of course she knows, so I am not being dishonest. We have a boundary that I don't subject her to a stinky diaper. Wetting my diaper during the day happens frequently with smaller to moderate pee pees no matter where I am or with who I am with. I have been wet for as long as 12 hours, but my norm is between 6-8 hours. I don't have a wet diaper stinky because the concentrated scented oil (just Google concentrated scented oils for different companies) keeps me smelling baby fresh until I change my wet diaper. I don't like to waste a diaper so I am pretty wet when I decide to change. I am fairly astute and accurate at knowing the capacity of my diapers, but nothing is perfect and I do have a seldom/occasional press-out leak with a crescent shaped wet stain on the back of my pants. An untucked shirt maintains discretion and my secret pleasure...I think... No one has ever commented: "Is your diaper wet?" or "Are you wetting your diaper right now?" as I talk to people while I wet my diaper. I might have a brief glassy-eye pee pee gaze as I wet my diaper and feel the soothing warmth spread in my diaper, but again, no comments have ever been made. Have I ever messed my diaper while out in public? I will have to admit that I have gone poopies in my diaper a handful of times, or more accurately, a diaper full of times. I maintained social distancing and also knew that my wife would not be home when I walked in the house with a stinky potty diapie. I am considerate and it is against my personal DIAPER CODE OF ETHICS to expose a non-consenting person to my soiled diaper. I am 100% sure that the few times I messed my diaper while out, that no one knew. Social distancing. avoiding close spaces, keep walking maintained discretion and courtesy. The only thing that could have been noticed was a content friendly smile as I enjoyed the exquisite pleasurable sensations of warm poopies in my diapies. Ahhhhh!!!!!!

To be honest, I haven’t really given them a good testing like I want to mostly just because I’m very limited on how much laundry I can do and quite frankly the dryer on my floor is not real good and I’d rather have that completely dry. A few times I have tested them. I didn’t really flood them, but they hold up pretty good and I think the space in invader ones that I have mentioned are lounge briefs. Not sure if I have any full on briefs.   (I have quite a few from threaded armor and Dependco.)   I’m looking to get that case of Better Dry Daytime that I ordered last week hopefully this morning may have to throw one on when I get home and get finished up for the day