(Fantasy) My Diapers Symbolize My Surrender and Submission to Cuckolding
I love my diapers for being a perfect tool and symbol for my submission to superior alpha men.
Wetting my nappies while watching my girlfriend/crush get hit on and fondled by a new bull is my natural way of sending a message to the bull. It sends a message that I recognize his superior manhood, that I am intimidated and cowed by his greater strength and size, and that I have no intentions of challenging his breeding claim to the girl I love. It is a physical manifestation of my surrender to him as the more suitable mate, and a humbling symbol of my weakness and cowardice.
Women want a strong, hard, masculine, mature man who can take care of their needs, satisfy their carnal desires, and do whatever needs to be done. The crinkle that follows my ever step and the infantile poofy bulge under my pants announce to the entire world that despite being a "full-grown" "man" I am in reality just a weak little boy playing at manhood.
I am too weak to even hold my bladder and keep from pissing all over my pants like a loser, much less to pick a woman up and throw her giggling onto the bed and take control of her in lustful passion.
The soft padding that surrounds my itty bitty clitty at all times is perfect for a soft little beta who doesn't have what it takes to impress a woman and fill her with lust. I am unable to get her damp between her legs, for I am too busy dampening the padding between my legs.
A woman looks at me -- my knees buckled, whimpering, piddling myself like a big baby -- and do not see a man who can take care of them, but rather a helpless manchild they would have to take care of. Their maternal instincts take over, and they no longer see me as a viable sexual partner -- they see me as a cute, pitiful little pet that exists on an inferior plane, not as an equal.
I am a bedwetter and a daytime pantswetter. For most of my life I have woken up in the warm, wet embrace of my soft padding. Every morning has been a lesson in humility, as my inadequate bladder muscles emasculate me again and again. Most trips ot the bathroom end with at least a tell-tale driblle into the diaper that hides underneath my pants, a constant reminder that even when I am playing adult, I am adult in age alone and not in content of character.
This is why when I get cucked by a bigger man -- when my girlfriend tells me that she cannot feel me inside her and she needs to try laying with a man who has something more -- when I'm holding hands with my crush and she starts flirting with a larger man, biting her lip and scheming to take him to her apartment -- it does not feel sad or frustrating at all. It is natural. I am a beta male, and I warmly accept my inferiority. I enthusastically participate in my girlfriends feminizing me, buying me nappies with pink princesses on them and dressing me in emasculating pink dresses. I love when they take the time to humiliate and sissify me by decorating my hair in girlish ponytails and sweet silky ribbons. I sincerely expect and even thrillingly anticipate the moment when an alpha male gives me the opportunity to witness a real man exploring the delicious nuances of my crush's body. My greatest sexual aspiration is to gain permission to sit in my piddle-soaked padding and hump my pillow pathetically while watching my girl get a train ran on her by all these men who are larger and more worthy of reproduction. I want to cum to my girl getting came in.
90% of the times in my life that I have orgasmed and ejaculated, it has also been in the sweet embrace of my diapers. I love my diapers. I know that my tiny effeminate shrimpy is not capable of the task of actually breeding with my girlfriend/crush. I know that any attempts to penetrate a woman with my pitiful little limpdick will only end in frustration, tears and pity. However, what does provide great happiness is getting the opportunity to sit safely back in my padding and watch the eyes of the girl I love light up in excitement and ecstasy as she is ravaged by a strong, powerful bull whose parts are actually built for reproduction and female pleasure. I love hearing her moans and watching her quivers. I love watching her jaw drop and a cute line of droll come out of her mouth as her bull's tall, stiff pillar of manhood churns her insides as it thrusts in and out like a piston. I love hearing her yelps and squeals of delight as a real man reacher into deeper places then she knew she had. And I love her glazed-over eyes and sweet sigh of satisfaction as waves of orgasms wash over her, and the proud champion bull opens the floodgates and pumps her sweet waiting womb full of his potent seed.
I love my diapers for being a perfect tool and symbol for my submission to bigger men.
Wetting my nappies while watching my girlfriend/crush get hit on and fondled by a new bull is my natural way of sending a message to the bull. It sends a message that I recognize his manhood, that I am intimidated and cowed by his greater strength and size, and that I have no intentions of challenging his breeding claim to the girl I love. It is a physical manifestation of my surrender to him as the more suitable mate, and a humbling symbol of my weakness and cowardice.
Women want a strong, hard, masculine, mature man who can take care of their needs, satisfy their carnal desires, and do whatever needs to be done. The crinkle that follows my ever step and the infantile poofy bulge under my pants announce to the entire world that despite being a "full-grown" "man," I am in reality just a weak little boy playing at manhood.
I am too weak to even hold my bladder and keep from pissing all over my pants like an adult toddler, much less to pick a woman up and throw her giggling onto the bed, taking control of her in lustful passion.
The soft padding that surrounds my itty bitty clitty at all times is perfect for a soft little beta like me who doesn't have what it takes to impress a woman and fill her with lust. I am unable to get her damp between her legs, for I am too busy dampening the padding between my legs.
A woman looks at me -- my knees buckled, whimpering, piddling myself like a big baby -- and does not see a man who can take care of them, but rather a helpless manchild they would have to take care of. Their maternal instincts take over, and they no longer see me as a viable sexual partner -- they see me as a cute, pitiful little pet that exists on an inferior plane, not as an equal.
I am a bedwetter and a daytime pantswetter. For most of my life I have woken up in the warm, wet embrace of my soft padding. Every morning has been a lesson in humility, as my inadequate bladder muscles emasculate me again and again. Most trips to the bathroom end with at least a tell-tale dribble into the diaper hiding underneath my big-boy pants, a constant reminder that even when I am playing adult, I am an adult in age alone, not in content of character.
This is why when I get cucked by a bigger man -- when my girlfriend tells me that she cannot feel me inside her and she needs to try laying with a man who has something more -- when I'm holding hands with my crush and she starts flirting with a larger man, biting her lip and scheming to take him to her home -- it does not feel sad or frustrating at all. It is natural. I am a beta male, and I warmly accept my inferiority. I enthusiastically participate in my girlfriends feminizing me, buying me nappies with pink princesses on them and putting me in emasculating pink dresses. I love when they take the time to humiliate and sissify me by decorating my hair in girlish pigtails with sweet silky ribbons. I sincerely expect and even thrillingly anticipate the moment when an alpha male gives me the opportunity to witness a real man exploring the delicious nuances of my crush's body. My greatest sexual aspiration is to sit in my piddle-soaked padding and hump my pillow pathetically while watching my girl get a train ran on her by all these men who are larger and more worthy of reproduction. I want to cum to my girl getting came in.
90% of the times in my life that I have orgasmed and ejaculated, it has been in the sweet embrace of my diapers. I love my diapers. I know that my tiny effeminate shrimpy is not capable of the task of actually breeding with my girlfriend/crush. I know that any attempts to penetrate a woman with my pitiful little limpdick will only end in frustration, tears and pity. However, what does provide great happiness is getting the opportunity to sit safely back in my padding and watch the eyes of the girl I love light up in excitement and ecstasy as she is ravaged by a strong, powerful bull whose parts are actually built for reproduction and female pleasure. I love hearing her moans and watching her quivers. I love watching her jaw drop and a cute line of drool come out of her mouth as her bull's tall, stiff pillar of manhood churns her insides and thrusts in and out like a piston. I love hearing her yelps and squeals of delight as a real man reaches into deeper places then she knew she had. And I love her glazed-over eyes and sweet sigh of satisfaction as waves of orgasms wash over her, and the proud champion bull opens the floodgates and pumps her sweet waiting womb full of his potent seed.
I have never been more aroused than I have been after approaching another man with my girlfriend in tow and a trickle of pee starting to run into my nappy, admitting that my manhood is not adequate to satisfy her and that she finds him a more alluring specimen, and then humbly requesting that he breed her in front of me, the way I am not physically capable of doing. I have never felt more at home than sitting the warm, dampening padding around my butt down into the cuck chair while watching a real male specimen mount the girl of my dreams. And I will never achieve a more satisfying orgasm than I did while sucking on a pacifier-gag, teary-eyed, whimpering pathetically, rubbing the front of my wet pink princess nappies against my itty bitty clitty to the sights and sounds of her being thoroughly and ruthlessly bred by a stallion.
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