Here is a story I wrote awhile back. At first, I was asked to not repost it, but finally I was given permission to post the story online. Please give me feedback. Also let me know if my writing style has changed since I wrote this several years ago. I am hopeful that it changed for the better.
My Successful Date in Diapers
by Write and Left
first published in Wet Set Magazine Issue #40 under the name P. Ing Writer
I sat calmly at the table in the restaurant waiting for my date. This might be the first successful date since the accident. I wore a red dress and I looked stunning. I am not normally this proud of my appearance, but I made the extra effort for this date; running around town having my nails polished, and my hair done.
I had a secret; a secret that I would usually try hard to hide from my date, but a secret that would be revealed the moment his playful hand ran up my leg and under my dress. I am incontinent and need to wear adult diapers to stay dry.
In the past, this scenario would be the end of the date and the end of any future with the man in question. This time would be different. I had started researching incontinence and diapers and came across a website about people who enjoyed wearing and using diapers. At first I was disgusted. How could anyone want to use diapers? I hated the sound of crinkling plastic coming from under my pants or skirts. I hated the dirty looks people gave me in bathrooms. I would never have chose to wear them like these people. But one evening after another guy left me after I admitted to him my secret, I logged onto the Internet and returned to the website where I had found the people who love wearing diapers. I posted a message leaving my e-mail address.
I received over forty replies. I was disheartened when some were rude, others written by what seemed like whiney three year olds, and others just lived so far away. I replied to the one good one. The message started out asking about my interests. It was not demanding and the words were spelled correctly. So many of the others had demanded that I send pictures of myself in only diapers. He lived in my state and I would be able to drive to his city in about an hour. I e-mailed him and eventually we agreed to meet.
Tonight’s the night. Tonight’s the night I meet him, I thought. I felt warmth in the crotch as a trickle of pee absorbed in my diaper. I would not be in danger of a leak yet, so I sat and waited staring toward the front of the restaurant for him to arrive. He would be wearing a white shirt. “I’ll be wearing a red dress and be carrying an extra large purse,” I had written him.
By some cruel fate, it seemed every man entering the restaurant wore a white shirt. I glanced at my watch. He’s not going to show up. I should have known. I leaned down to pick up my purse from the floor.
“Um–Mary?” a voice asked.
“Yes,” I said and looked up at a good-looking man. He had brown hair and dark eyes that I could stare into for hours. He was muscular; his shirtsleeves bulged in protest when he bent his arms.
“It’s me, Steven,” he said. “Sorry, I am late.”
“I’m glad you came,” I said.
“You are as beautiful as I knew you would be.”
I giggled at his remarks. I had never thought that anyone who knew about my diapers could think I was beautiful.
He sat down and called the waiter over to take our orders. “Order anything you would like,” he said.
I looked longingly at the lobster tank across the room, but I had better sense then to ruin this date by ordering too expensive a meal. “I’ll have the 8 ounce sirloin,” I said and left it at that.
The waiter left us and we could finally chat. “You never told me what you do,” said Steven.
“Oh, I’m a writer,” I said.
“Do you write science fiction?” he asked. “I remember you mentioned you like to read it.”
“Oh, no,” I said, “at least not yet. I write movie reviews for an entertainment magazine. I hope to get my novel published someday.”
“Now I’m glad, I chose the opera instead of a movie for after dinner,” he said and laughed.
Small talk progressed and we made our way through the meal without him even mentioning the diapers. That was not what I expected. No wonder I had replied to this guy. What if it was a mistake and he did not know? What if he contacted me from that online dating service I had tried out? I tried to recall the conversations we had through e-mail. I remembered that a few messages mentioned my diapers.
It wasn’t until after the opera when the date was winding down that he mentioned them. We were in his car discussing opera music, which was a new thing for me. “I have Der Ring Des Nibelugen on CD at home. Would you like to listen to it tonight?”
I had never heard of using opera to seduce a girl on the first date, but he was on the right track. “I’d like that,” I said.
“Do you have enough extra diapers?” he whispered to me.
“What?” I asked.
“I mean if—if you need them. It’s a long opera,” he said.
Not the absolutely most romantic thing for him to say, but I had not thought out the logistics of the situation when I agreed to go home with him. I had plenty of diapers, but where would I change them? I needed to change as soon as I got to his house. I was very wet.
“Yeah, I have enough,” I said briskly.
We arrived at his apartment and I was able to change myself in his bathroom while he fired up his stereo. Since he knew about the diapers, I just dropped the used one in his bathroom trash.
“This is the one where Albrerich forswears all love to forge the ring of the Rhinegold,” he said as the music started.
It was all in German, so I was content to cuddle with him on the couch and just listen without following along with the story. I turned and gave him a playful peck on the cheek and the nature of the evening changed. We spent the evening kissing and making out on the couch.
We had gone through half a bottle of wine, when his hand glided up my leg and under my dress. I resisted the urge to bat away his hand. He enjoys the diapers anyway. My heart beat faster as his hand slowly crept under my dress where he touched my diaper. A stream of nervous pee expanded the padding of my diaper as he did so. I prayed he didn’t notice.
“You’re a little wet again,” he teased me playfully. So much for him not noticing.
“I’m–I’m sorry,” I muttered.
“No, it’s okay,” he said. “If you are uncomfortable we can stop.”
But if we stopped maybe I would never have another date with someone who didn’t run away at the sight of my diapers. “No, don’t stop.” I pulled up the bottom of my dress exposing my diaper for him. I blushed when I saw that the crotch was stained yellow, but he seemed to like it.
“You’re very pretty when you’re wet,” he said.
“Thank you,” I said. Feeling daring, I added, “Should I let you change me?”
“Really?” he asked. “If you’re sure you are okay with that.” I had mentioned in my e-mails that I wouldn’t let myself be changed by anyone, but I was feeling wet from more than just the pee in my diaper.
“Yes,” I said and stood up, grabbing my purse and handing him a disposable diaper.
He led me into the bedroom and helped me out of my dress. I pulled off my bra and flung it in the corner and then lay down in the center of his bed.
He walked out of the room and I was afraid I had disgusted him, but he returned with some baby wipes. He bent down and ripped the tapes off my diaper and started cleaning me with them.
“It tickles,” I said giggling.
“Sorry,” he said and reached for my clean diaper to put it on me.
“Wait,” I said, seeing he intended to re-diaper me. I sat up and reached for his zipper. He was hard; I know I was turning him on.
He slithered out of his clothes and joined me on the bed. I moaned in passion as our bodies merged into one. I hadn’t had sex since before the accident, so I was easier to please. It wasn’t settling to be with him; he took his time, stopping every so often to plant kisses all over my body. He rubbed my breasts and entered me again.
“Yes, Yes,” I moaned as he pleasured me more. Finally, we were done and I collapsed into the mattress. “Hold me,” I begged.
He held me, and wiped the sweaty wisps of hair out of my face. I lay there comforted and satisfied, until I noticed the puddle of pee I was lying in.
“Um–I–I’m sorry,” I said. “I wet your bed.”
“It’s okay,” he said, and pulled up the sheets to reveal a plastic mattress cover, “but let’s get you back in diapers and change the sheets.”
He dried me off with a big fluffy towel and diapered me and then pulled another set of sheets out of the closet. I helped him make the bed.
We got back in the bed where we kissed a little more and then I fell asleep in his arms. This date was a success and I knew this would be a start to a new relationship.