This is my first time.

Ok not actually my first time, but my first time doing this as an adult. I don’t even remember the last time this happened. I was an infant.

Now here I stand in front of this mirror, admiring the man- is he still a man?- that I see reflected there. My hair is still tousled from sleep. I run one hand through the strands and rub my chest with the other, admiring the sleepy fox print on the soft fabric that covers me. Blushing at my reflection, my hand wanders down my front to the obvious bulge between my legs. I stare hard at myself, not used to such prominence. I’m not “packing” enough to show most of the time. My inch-long t-dick tends to be easy to hide. Something in me likes the bulge, but not because it makes my junk look bigger. I like my little cock. This tickles a very different kind of desire. Admiring myself makes me wiggle my legs together and I’m surprised again by the noise my butt makes. I’m not used to the sound of crinkles as I press against my pelvis and rub my knees together. A diaper. I’m wearing a diaper. I’m wearing a diaper and I don’t hate it. I’m wearing a diaper and I don’t hate it and, if I’m being honest, I kinda like it.

The thought makes me blush and squirm again. The squirm makes my diaper squish. The squish makes the crinkle sound. The crinkle sound makes me blush harder! What a vicious cycle of self humiliation.

The diaper creates a comfy barrier between myself and the onesie I’m wearing. Standing here in front of the mirror, I feel the pressure building below my belly. I had tried and tried and tried to use it this morning in bed, but I just couldn’t relax enough to let it come. I wanted to take this opportunity to see if I like this and I couldn’t even pee! Bursting bladder and I couldn’t do it! Dear reader, I promise, I tried! I rubbed my belly and pressed down hard. I sloshed for how full I was! Am?

Can I tell you a secret? I really liked it. I liked the way pressing on myself pushed my diapered butt into the sheets. I really liked the way my full bladder felt against the back of my little bean. I got wet, just not from my pee. Pressing on my bladder and trying to force myself to wet my diaper made my parts harder and wetter faster than I’ve experienced before. Each push on my belly rubbed the absorbent fabric against me, making me more sensitive with each circular rub. It didn’t take long before my efforts to wet myself failed successfully. My moan was half pleasure, half frustration as I came into my diaper. At the time, I had pounded my fists and kicked my legs on the mattress, but now I can still feel the slick, sticky substance coating my lips.

Staring at myself in the mirror I realize quite quickly that I am in danger of bursting. I’d stayed in bed in an attempt to force urgency- well, here she was. I gasp in surprise and satisfaction as gravity works its magic on my little body and does the pushing I had tried and failed to do minutes ago. Tears of relief threaten my eyes as urine finally rushes out of my body and into my pull-up. I am astonished that there is no sound. My eyes never leave my reflection. I watch myself. I am handsome and short and thin. I am roughly the shape of a slap bracelet, and just as snappy. I am purposely peeing on myself. I don’t feel so snappy as I feel the diaper grow as it absorbs my urine. First the bridge between my legs swells and then the liquid travels up the front and back of my body. I realize, too late, that there may be more inside me than the diaper can hold. The diaper fills and then overfills. I can tell my sloshy insides are overwhelming my padding and becoming very sloshy outsides. Horror follows the first little droplet that leaks and paints a shiny trail of my shame down my leg. I still can’t stop peeing. I waited too, too long to get up and now I couldn’t turn it off. I’d be lying to myself if I said it was for anything more than avoiding more drips. God, I love this feeling of releasing into a diaper. The warm liquid creating a cushion around my body takes me to a feeling I don’t recognize. I helplessly watch more leaks spring from the leg holes in my pull-up. Squeezing the last few drops out into the diaper, I waddle the few steps it takes to get to the bathtub and try to get in. As I raise one leg, more and more drips slide down the other. Three little puddles now glisten on my floor, mocking any attempt I made to keep my waste contained.

I giggle now as I stand in the tub, feet forced apart by my swollen nappy. I poke the front and shiver at the sharp sound of a few more drops hitting the bathtub bottom. Each of my heels has its own puddle forming beneath it. Little rivulets trace the ball of my ankles while others disappear between my toes. I feel like the smallest, silliest boy as I peel the absorbent underpants down to my knees. They slide the rest of the way to the tub, pulled by their own weight, and land with a sloppy slap. The little lake that existed within them spills out the sides and the warm yellow liquid threatens to wash over my feet. I squeal and hop from foot to foot, trying to avoid stepping in it. In what may be the world's cutest game of the floor is lava, I bounce onto the edge of the tub and perch there. Do not ask me why, reader, for I do not know. Perhaps I am just the world's silliest boy. Perhaps, by then, it had started to cool and was chilly on my feet. Perhaps an odd line exists somewhere between my comfort in wetting my pants and in that same wet covering my feet. Who knows- I’ll question it later, maybe while I daydream in another pointless meeting.

Signs of my silly exploration wash down the drain when I throw open the faucet. I twist my body to grab a few wipes and clean my legs. When I reach the top of my thighs, I find my lips are still slick and my cock hard. I put two fingers there and push them just an inch inside. I pull my hand away and a string of wetness connects my fingers to my crotch where they’d just been. I’ll have to take care of that too, I think to myself. I slip the fingers back in, deeper this time. I use my thumb to play with myself, my secretions lubricating my tiny erection. I rub inside and outside myself, thrusting my hips to hump my hand. My other hand roams my body and stops when I find my nipple. I squeeze and twist and rub the tiny bump that begins to grow there. Small whimpers escape my lips as I remember the heavy feeling of the diaper on my hips. I remember the embarrassment I felt and arch my back to get deeper in my hole. Embarrassment I felt despite being totally alone. Embarrassment I allowed and encouraged myself to feel. Embarrassment I embraced. As I embrace myself now, I feel my orgasm building inside me. My whimpers turn to moans as my wetness traces my thighs where pee had just been. I gasp when I split my fingers, reposition, and, without warm up, ram myself up my ass and my pussy. My wetness and my arousal working together to provide a smooth entry. With two fingers in each hole, two fingers tightly around my nipple, and the smell of my urine still in the air, I spill onto the tub floor again. My orgasm squirts out in unison with my squeaking moans as I solo double-team myself for making such a naughty, dirty little pee puddle.

My arms are tired when I finish, but I still make quick work of my leftover drips on the floor and scoop my soggy sponge of a diaper into the trash. Satisfied with my cleanup job, I dress myself. I only had the one diaper to experiment with so I slip on my boxer briefs. Black and covered with t-rex skeletons, they’re my favorite pair! The fox onesie I’d been wearing previously is wet, so I toss it in the laundry and choose a different onesie. I step into my pink one, a cute little piggie with hearts on the cheeks. I button up the front and wiggle my ass, still thinking about that silly, soaking diaper.