srmousse
Est. Contributor
- Messages
- 403
- Age
- 44
- Role
- Diaper Lover
- Incontinent
I just spent the last two hours both throwing up and draining from the back side. I feel awful. Thankfully, I think I'm done, there seems to be nothing left.
As I finished cleaning myself up, took a quick shower and climbed into bed, I put on a clean dry, freshly powdered diaper. I feel like I can finally breath. And then a memory hit me.
When I was 5 or 6, I had spent the night at a cousin's house, he was three, we had a great day full of all kinds of fun. At bed time, I started feeling sick, but was encouraged to lay down and try to rest. A few hours later, I woke up with diarrhea and then went back to bed. Half an hour later, it hit even harder and I messed my undies... And then I started throwing up. My aunt took very good care of me, cleaned me up and brought me back to the room I was sleeping in. There was a diaper on the bed. I was shocked, but was kind of out of it. She rubbed my back and said, it's ok, it's just for in case you get sick again. Exhausted, and still feeling naushious, I didn't argue. She diapered me so gentally and lovingly that I couldn't help but feel warm and loved and safe. The next morning I woke up feeling so much better, my dapper was a bit wet (I was a bed wetter off and on, all the way through teenhood), but my bed was dry which felt so nice compared to other wet nights, so I remember not even caring. Since my PJ pants and undies we're messed, and my cousins clothes too small, I just wore a diaper and t shirt all morning, which my cousin did too (he was sort of potty trained, but wet his bed more than me), until my mom picked me up before lunch. I think this is (to borrow from inside out) a core memory in why I love diapers so much.
So now as I lay here in bed, exhausted and feeling terrible, there's a little part of me that feels warm, and loved, and safe. Now I'm off to sleep, and I won't mind a bit of I wake up just a little we. Now if only I could spend my morning in just a t-shirt and my crinklez, I would have the makings of a great morning!
As I finished cleaning myself up, took a quick shower and climbed into bed, I put on a clean dry, freshly powdered diaper. I feel like I can finally breath. And then a memory hit me.
When I was 5 or 6, I had spent the night at a cousin's house, he was three, we had a great day full of all kinds of fun. At bed time, I started feeling sick, but was encouraged to lay down and try to rest. A few hours later, I woke up with diarrhea and then went back to bed. Half an hour later, it hit even harder and I messed my undies... And then I started throwing up. My aunt took very good care of me, cleaned me up and brought me back to the room I was sleeping in. There was a diaper on the bed. I was shocked, but was kind of out of it. She rubbed my back and said, it's ok, it's just for in case you get sick again. Exhausted, and still feeling naushious, I didn't argue. She diapered me so gentally and lovingly that I couldn't help but feel warm and loved and safe. The next morning I woke up feeling so much better, my dapper was a bit wet (I was a bed wetter off and on, all the way through teenhood), but my bed was dry which felt so nice compared to other wet nights, so I remember not even caring. Since my PJ pants and undies we're messed, and my cousins clothes too small, I just wore a diaper and t shirt all morning, which my cousin did too (he was sort of potty trained, but wet his bed more than me), until my mom picked me up before lunch. I think this is (to borrow from inside out) a core memory in why I love diapers so much.
So now as I lay here in bed, exhausted and feeling terrible, there's a little part of me that feels warm, and loved, and safe. Now I'm off to sleep, and I won't mind a bit of I wake up just a little we. Now if only I could spend my morning in just a t-shirt and my crinklez, I would have the makings of a great morning!