I should be a fucking chef…or even a detective. Because olives, sweetcorn, tomato seeds and all with the flavour of bacon, tells me that someone not a million miles away, had pizza for dinner.
When my diapered eyes where opened I just knew this would be bad. The dude is into Adult Baby and has just broken news of his to his chick. He spreads me out and I look into his eyes. He’s nervous as fuck. She looks at me with that familiar distain. He lays her on me. I see she has a hairy butthole. And genital warts. Darkness falls as they do e up. It’s unbearable hot and it stinks in here. I start to pray…
Within the multiverse of diaper lives, why is it that mine can only focus on those used by couples having sex in them. I sleep through time, only to be awakened when undone and then subjected to the friction and the grunting, before being tossed aside, broken and heavy with the saturation of all bodily fluids, where I lie with my compatriots, the condom and the tampon. I die and like ether, I am then trasported to wait for my next encounter….
