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You know, sometimes I stop and wonder if it’s a little weird. But then I think about it… really think about it. A fresh diaper is nice, sure. That soft, clean padding, all fluffed up and waiting. It feels secure and comfortable, like putting on your favorite pair of sweatpants. But a *used* one? A warm, soiled diaper? That's where the real comfort is for me. There's just something about it. The way it gets heavier, thicker between my legs. That first little squish when I sit down after wetting it, it’s like a little secret hug just for me. And as it gets more used, that feeling just gets better and better. It puffs out so much that my thighs have to push apart a little to accommodate it. Walking with that full, bulky weight swaying with each step… it’s incredibly grounding. I love how the warmth spreads through the whole padding, this constant, soothing heat that just clings to my skin. It's a reminder of what I've done, a private little trophy of my own needs being met in the most basic way possible. And changing? Oh, I really put these diapers to work before I even consider taking them off. A single use? Absolutely not. That’s barely getting started; you haven't even broken it in yet! Four uses? Please, that's still the breaking-in period. The magic really starts around the fifth or sixth time you add to it. By then, it’s sagging beautifully low on my hips when I stand up. The plastic backing is stretched taut over all that absorbent pulp inside that’s now completely saturated and squishy mush from top to bottom and front to back. Why would I ever want to give up this perfect cushion of warmth and weight for something cold and stiff and new? No thanks. I'll stay right here in my perfectly broken-in throne until there’s genuinely no room left for anything more.