
Jonathan twirled round and round, lost in his own fairytale.
He couldn’t take his eyes off of his reflection. How he loved the sensation of
the silky leotard against his skin and the soft shape his bottom took when
encased in that puffy diaper. Why did it all have to feel so good? Again he
swirled, round and round, as the tutu bounced up and down, revealing even more
of the diaper. As he moved about the plastic leg gatherings caused his little
member to grow stiff, pressing hard against the front of his pampered prison. Jonathan
was mesmerized by his duplicitous emotions. All at once he felt every bit the
man, hard and horny, while his reflection mocked his masculine identity. Yet,
he also felt pretty and cute, every bit the sissy baby. Indeed, he was lost in
his own little world. If he hadn’t been so lost he might have thought twice
about leaving his clothes down the hall. He might have been aware of the time
and might have heard his wife pull into the driveway. He turned round again to
catch another glimpse of his diapered manhood, debating whether or not to wet
himself. Unfortunately for Jonathan his wet, sagging state was about to be witness by his wife, who even now was climbing the stairs…









