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Ugh, can you believe this shit? My husband, the one who’s supposed to be a grown-ass man, has been fucking wetting the bed. Like, every single night. I wake up and the sheets are soaked. It smells like a goddamn nursing home in here. So yeah, I went out and bought diapers. The kind with cartoon characters on them, just to really drive the point home. And you know what? He tried to argue about it at first, said it was humiliating. Well no shit, it’s supposed to be! If you’re gonna piss yourself like a fucking toddler, you’re gonna get treated like one. Honestly? I don’t feel bad at all. Not even a little bit. In fact, putting him in those diapers is kinda satisfying, like he finally got what he deserved for being so pathetic. And if he doesn’t like it? Tough. He can sleep on the fucking couch then. And he tries to give me those sad puppy eyes when I pull out a fresh diaper at night, like he’s some kind of victim. Bitch, please, I’m the one who had to scrub piss out of the mattress for weeks. Now he waddles around with that stupid crinkly sound and I just laugh. It’s not even embarrassing for him anymore; it’s just what he is. A grown man in diapers because he can’t control his own fucking bladder. You should see the way he avoids looking at me when I change him. Like he’s ashamed. Good. He fucking should be. If he wants to act like a baby, I’ll treat him like one, no apologies, no sympathy. This is his life now, and honestly? I’m starting to enjoy it.