I’ve noticed that my enjoyment of my diapers and my fetish seems to amplify by, for lack of a better term, getting in touch with my feminine side. It has nothing to do with my identity. I am very much a man and enjoy being a man, and feel that I fit just fine in that cis role.

But sometimes when I’m going through my nightly rituals - putting down an absorbent pad on my bed, lotioning and powdering up, diapering myself, and sticking a cute pink binky in my mouth, relaxing, letting a gentle stream of pee trickle out, and letting my sinful horny hands wander - I find myself imagining myself as a woman. And I keep doing this, because for so reason there’s something so warm, joyous, liberating and erotic about it.

Last night I had the most sensual, riveting and intensely pleasurable bedwetter fantasy/masturbation experience I’ve had in a while. The front of my diaper swelled in humiliating and infantilizing fashion as it did every night before. I imagined that the pee had trickled out not while I was awake, but when I was sleeping, helpless and blissfully unaware of the hiss filling the air and the dampening of my Goodnites training pants. I imagined myself waking with a gasp, either mid-stream or long after the infantile deed was done, discovering my babyish failure to control myself with shock and shame. Deeply aroused and furiously blushing, my hands frantically found their way to the warm, wet, soft, squishy, swollen crotch of my sodden Pull-Ups, to rub and enjoy the sweet sensation of diapers I had been addicted to for so long.

As I moaned through my pink pacifier and rolled through wave after wave of pleasure, I imagined myself in all the different beds of all the different places I had ever been, waking up vulnerable and skittish in my wet diapers, embarrassed and fearful of discovery. I imagined all the women I had ever had a soft spot for or a crush on coming into the room. I imagined so many different things: them discovering me, soothing me, supporting me, teasing me, cruelly mocking me, exposing me, emasculating me, mommying me, cuddling me, masturbating me, laughing at me, changing me, spanking me, degrading me…

But I also - not all the time, but also not infrequently- imagined myself as a woman. Imagined myself in the feminine, a woman dependent on and in love with her diapers, at times embarrassed of them, at times thoroughly unashamed and euphoric about them.

By the time I climaxed in warm, fuzzy, wide-eyed, smiling ecstasy, I was as in love with my diaper fetish as I had ever been. I was supposed to get to sleep at a reasonable hour for my race that night, but it felt so good and felt so right that I couldn’t help but go multiple rounds until I tuckered myself out and - with a buzzing happiness - contentedly drifted off to dream world in my wet and sticky Pampers like the good little sissy baby I was.

Last night was magical in a way few nights are. And it won’t be the last time ❤️