Waddling Through Autumn: I Wore My Diaper to the Pumpkin Patch

Amanda

I knew wearing a diaper under skinny jeans was risky.

I didn’t expect to be wet before we hit the second turn of the corn maze.

Or to like it.

Or to look Daddy in the eye while I filled myself and let him tell me I was a good girl.

By the time he had me spread out on a bale of hay, padded and dripping with humiliation, I knew I’d never come back from this.

Not clean. Not proud.

Definitely not dry.

Cole

She stank.

Not badly. Not dirty like that.

No, she smelled like submission.

Like warm wet padding and flushed cheeks and surrender.

She didn’t need punishment. She needed owning.

And I was more than ready to ruin her for anyone who didn’t know how to check her diaper, unzip her jeans, and fuck the brat right out of her in the middle of a cornfield.

Fall’s supposed to be crisp.

But baby?

She’s steamin’.

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