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Lots of rubbing and panting. Another day at the fun factory. The stagnant air is filled with the smell of cheesy cunt and sweat. I can see nothing. I wait for the inevitable gush of piss or sperm, but nothing happens. Just the same movement and hard breathing. My diapered body is getting sore. Eventually it stops and when I am opened I briefly glimpse an exercise bike. And I am saved.
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Most of my days start in the studio props room, filled with sad tacky items, which themselves fill sad and tacky porn sets. One night I must of fallen from my usual resting place, into a box of nick-knacks below. And that night I was awoken by the sound of the sea. Lying there in the darkness I felt the cool breeze and smelt the salty ocean as it ebbed and flowed in my grateful ears. Gradually I became aware of Gods presence. Filling me with love. Hot tears came and I felt choked up. And so I slept under His watchful and caring eye. Next morning I awoke to find that I’d fallen onto a seashell.
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Most times I come back as Attends. Sometimes as Tenner. But never cloth. if I were the latter, maybe I have more “conscious” time, more time to see the real world, as I suppose, they would wash and hang me out to dry. Hmmm…hanging out to dry, sounds like how Jesus treated me.
I already know what today’s scene will be. i could hear them talking of it.But I try to push it to the back of my mind.I think of lying on a beach in Phuket. Hang gliding around the Matterhorn. Of a warm breeze that caresses my body as it blows across the Sahara. This works and I come out of my day dream just as the work finishes. And as they open my diapered body to take me off, I see a tomato seed and a piece of sweetcorn. Sweet Jesus!.jpg)
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I can feel the 2 arse cheeks againgst my diaper body. And I can smell the cunt. But all is very quiet and still. I’m not sure what’s happening but at moments like these, it always pays to be on your guard. So…to recap, a diaper on a very quiet chick who is, I think, kneeling. I can hear the shutter of a stills camera. And now silence. In the hot darkness my nervousness begins to turn to fear. The model starts to make some strange gutteral noises, but it’s difficult to hear anything inside the diaper. I close my eyes tightly. Her butt cheeks move ever so slightly. I feel a hot fresh shit againgst me. I start to gag. Tears come. Dear Lord, have pity on me.
After working today on the set of www.diapersexvideos.com, I was, as usual, disgarded on the floor, used up and broken. Slowly, through me tears I could see that I was lying besides a magazine. A breeze turned the pages for me. It was a holiday brochure. All the photos showed lovely golden beaches and clean modern hotels. The sun shone onto deep blue seas. Families played, and ate and drank and danced. Then I was bundled up and thrown out to the rubbish. It started to rain.
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My diaper life of nothingless puncuated by periods of consciousness filled with acute suffering leads me to believe in Multiverse Theory. I seem to travel down wormholes that only lead to the darker sides of the so many possibilities. Knowing that somewhere there is a happy diaper playing in the sun makes me yet more depressed.
Serenity
God grant me the serenity to accept the diapers I cannot change,
Courage to change the diapers I can,
And the wisdom to know the difference.
Once in a dream, or I think I was dreaming, I asked God: Why a diaper? And why me? He said that basically there were a limited number of choices. Tampon, dental floss, butt plug, nasal hair remover, anal lube or diaper-only-used-in-sex. Of course he wasn’t exactly too forthcoming about the fine print, you know, the nitty-gritty. Sometime later after I gone down the diaper route, I tried to strike a conversation with a butt plug, only to find we didn’t speak the same language. Like the Tower of Babel, I guess God was afraid of what we might do if we ever reached him. Fucker.
