Good girl, you look so so pretty baby as per usual~
I hope you don't mind, but gosh Mommy would just love to gently feel your pamp. Groping the front of it gently, the soft crinkles would be delightful.
Gotta make sure I don't feel any accidents! Heh~
-Sharkusu đŠđ
but that always makes me feel so funny mommy sharkusu... cant you do a quick check from a peek at my diap? im just so busy today...
Bully who cums in your soggy diaper so when you need to change the nurse will write down that you "enjoyed" yourself in your diaper again. You must really like them...
"There's no time for that now, honey! We have to get you to your first treatment session. Just go potty in your diaper for now; that's what it's there for."
Your eyes widen in panic. You're unable to stifle a pathetic moan of protest as you gesture frantically at the bathroom with one of your fat, pink mittens. The toilet is right there! Nurse Molly can't expect you to pee in a diaper on purpose!
"NNNNNNNNGH! Eenh oooohn uhn derrrnherrrrr!" You plead in the stupid language of your muzzling pacifier, which punctuates each drooling syllable with an embarrassing squirt onto your white cloth bib.
"Hmm?" Nurse Molly tightens her grip on your mittened wrist and practically drags you out of the bedroom. You stumble while trying to tug in the opposite direction, and your pink jelly sandal squeaks as you go tumbling to the poured linoleum floor of the clinic hallway. "Oh no, honey! You lost your balance again! Between your tinkles in the bed and how messy you got eating lunch, I'm worried that your tics are just the tip of the iceberg."
You snarl as you attempt to stand up, but it's difficult to gain purchase with the slippery mittens against the freshly waxed floor. With a girlish squeal, your arms slide forward before you collapse into a faceplant, your bobbing pink pacifier clicking against the cold ground. The sudden impact vibrates through your teeth, and you bite down hard on the silicone shaft to numb the intense pain.
"Owwwwwwwooowwwwwwwww!" You scream into the pacifier. The muscles around your eyes tighten, milking tears from the wet heat that flushes your grimacing face.
"Oh no! My little circus tumbler! Are you okay?" Nurse Molly stoops and rubs the back of your head as you try -- and fail -- to stop whimpering. You suck and smack your pacifier frantically, and the counter-stimulation soothes the pain in your mouth. Your usual reaction to any discomfort is to bite your lip or scratch your arm, but the thick, rubbery nipple has become the node through which you filter out all negative sensations. For a split-second between sniffles and sobs, you wonder if you even want to stop sucking the pacifier.
As the pain numbs, you become cognizant of your desperation to pee again. You move to make another attempt at standing, but a firm palm on your back keeps you from rising further than your knees.
"I think until the doctor can get her hands on you, we should be careful about overtaxing your motor control. Four limbs is sturdier than two! Why don't we crawl to the office like a puppy dog?"
Despite her use of the inclusive "we," it's clear that Nurse Molly intends for you to crawl while she walks behind. With one last longing look at the toilet, you shuffle forward pathetically on your mittened hands and wobbly knees, announcing your lumbering progress with a parade of crinkles from your fat diaper. Your white cloth bib hangs perpendicular to the floor, barely catching the occasional comet of drool that comes oozing from your nursing lips.
"There you go!" Nurse Molly coos, congratulating you for shuffling down the hallway as though you're accomplishing some feat of strength. "Left! Right! Left! Right! You're an expert!"
Your cheeks burn like hot lamps; you're absolutely humiliated to be seen in this state. But what else are you supposed to do? It's all apart of your treatment...isn't it?
At last, Nurse Molly stops you at the foot of an unassuming white door, gently setting the toe of her low-heeled shoe in front of your left mitten. The plaque below the frosted glass door pane reads:
One corner of the room is dominated by what appears to be a mock kitchen; its full-sized stove, sink, and accessories are made of a chunky plastic with pastel colors. Though clearly not functional for actual cooking, the fake stove crackles with a tinny sound that emanates from a cartoonish teapot resting on one of its "burners."
A sandbox shaped like a smiling turtle lies in the shadow of a towering structure made of colorful foam blocks, deliberately cobbled together as a sort of play-fort. Against the opposite wall, a bookshelf gleams with the glossy spines of such titles as "Mr. Badger Makes a Friend" and "101 Animal Noises."
But most surprising of all is that there are people in this room. Two young women sit cross-legged on a carpet patterned to look like a twisting road through a bustling city. They're rolling small cars along its splashy, winding design in a bored stupor. One of the women has short black hair that hangs in her face, and she seems to be wearing some sort of braces on her legs. The other woman has long blonde hair, half of which is done up in a pigtail while the other half hangs loose, as though someone started styling it and then got distracted.
As the blonde looks up at the opening door, you see she's suckling a massive blue pacifier similar to your pink one, and that it's secured to her head with a length of white ribbon. Your eyes meet, and the pretty blonde drops her pink toy convertible to give you a gentle wave. Shivering with humiliation on your hands and knees, you feel the wet heat return to your face, tingle its way down your spine, and then concentrate in your groin. The sensation grows and grows until you realize it isn't just embarrassment at being seen like this...you've started flooding your diaper.
"Nnnnnnnnnnngggggggggggggh!" You wail, frozen in place as the hot ocean begins drowning your bum, seeking out every corner of thristy padding to nestle into. Your eyes are wet again as you feel the back of your diaper grow heavy with urine, strengthening the smothering hug of gravity on your quivering bottom.
Nurse Molly ignores your obvious discomfort as she scoots you into the room with a nudge of her heel. The blonde continues to eye you curiously as she suckles her pacifier, while her raven-haired companion simply returns to her childish game.
"Here you go, honey! Meet Daisy and Emma! They're here for treatment, too, just like you! I'll leave you three to get acquainted; it looks like Dr. Amelia is running a little late."
Still reeling from the experience of soaking your diaper, you barely notice the creaking of the door as Nurse Molly leaves the room. Unable to communicate through your pacifier, you're at a complete loss for what to do now.
The blonde, Daisy, reaches over and taps Emma on the shoulder. Emma looks up, only one eye visible through her heavy bangs, appearing to truly notice you for the first time.
"Oh. Hi," she shrugs, sounding neither rude nor enthusiastic. "You must be a biter, too, huh?"
You feel the dampness of your diaper acutely as you now hold both women's attention. With a cautious suckle, you nod your head up and down.
"Well, you won't be anymore," Emma smirks, picking up a plastic dump truck and using it to piston a smaller car several feet in your direction. "Whether you like it or not."
You look down at the little car and then back up at Emma, raising your eyebrow in confusion. Daisy twirls her pigtail nervously as she nurses her blue pacifier.
"Oh, you didn't know? I guess I didn't either, when I checked in," Emma sighs. The dark-haired woman crawls over to you to retrieve her toy, and you become aware of the distinct bulge and crinkle beneath her long shirt. Your eyes shift instinctively to Daisy, who shyly lifts the hem of her dress to confirm your suspicion. Both of these women are diapered!
Your heart begins beating like a hummingbird's wings, and your nervous slurping on your pacifier quickens to a drooly allegro. Emma picks up her toy car and leans in, half-smiling, inches from your face. You can smell baby powder on her skin like a sickly sweet perfume.
"Treatment never ends, pottypants. We're here forever."
I love going to Daddyâs place!! I get to go there in my cool adult clothes that I picked out myself, then by the time I leave I am⊠not dressed like that anymore >_<
Before, during, and after my play date with Daddy.
please tell me I'm not the only one who feels vulnerable exposing my love of abdl to the internet sometimes, I love it. But sometimes it feels shy, I'll get into shy spells and a bit embarrassed.
I'm so happy to be apart of this community it's just where I fit. Like a puzzle. đ„°đ
The hallway was quiet, save for the soft rustle of Amandaâs diaper as she waddled toward the bathroom, her long auburn hair swaying with each step. She wasnât heading inside.no, that would be too much like a big girl, and big girls used the potty properly. But old habits die hard, and even though she hadnât sat on a toilet in years, her body still carried her toward the bathroom door, as if drawn by some deep, instinctual memory.
Jake watched from the living room, arms crossed, a smirk playing on his lips. "What are you doing, Princess?" he called, his voice laced with amusement.
Amanda paused, glancing over her shoulder, her cheeks already flushed. "Nothing, Daddy," she mumbled, though the way her diaper sagged between her legs told a different story. She bit her lip, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, her gray socks pressing into the carpet. The urge was undeniable, and she knew there was no fighting it. With a soft sigh, she squatted right there in front of the bathroom door, her hands gripping the hem of her white T-shirt as she bore down.
Jake chuckled, shaking his head. It never failed to amuse him, how his little girl, who had long since forgotten how to use the potty, still felt the need to be near it when nature called. As if the mere proximity to the bathroom made it okay to let go, even if she was just going to fill her diaper like the toddler she was at heart.
Amandaâs face scrunched up as she pushed, the diaper crinkling loudly beneath her. A warm, mushy squish filled the air, followed by the unmistakable scent of a big poopy. She whimpered, her toes curling in her socks as the diaper swelled, the weight pressing against her bottom. It was messy, it was stinky, and it was perfect.
Jake took a step closer, inhaling the thick, musky aroma with a grin. "Mmm, someoneâs making a stinker," he teased, his voice warm. "Right in front of the bathroom, too. Almost like a big girl."
Amanda groaned, her face burning. "Daddy, stop," she whined, but there was no real protest in her voice. She wiggled in place, the diaper squelching with every movement, the mess spreading thick and heavy between her legs. It was embarrassing, sure, but it was also⊠nice. Comforting, even. Like her body knew exactly what it was doing, even if her mind was a little fuzzy on the details.
Jake crouched down behind her, his hands resting on her shoulders. "You know, Princess," he murmured, his breath warm against her neck, "itâs kind of cute. You donât even remember how to use the potty, but you still waddle over here like youâre gonna try."
Amanda pouted, but the corners of her mouth twitched upward. She couldnât stay mad at him, not when he was being so sweet. Besides, he wasnât wrong. There was something right about it. the way her body just knew where to go, even if the rest of her had moved on. She let out a final, satisfied sigh as the last of her business filled the diaper, the weight now undeniable as it sagged between her thighs.
"All done?" Jake asked, already knowing the answer. The diaper was full, the scent thick and pungent in the air.
She nodded, her fingers twisting the hem of her shirt. "Yeah⊠I think I made a really stinky poopy," she admitted, her voice small.
Jake stood up, offering her his hand. "Well, come on then, messy girl. Letâs get you to the nursery for a change." His tone was light, but there was a note of authority in it, one that Amanda found impossibly comforting.
She took his hand, letting him pull her to her feet. The diaper crinkled loudly with the movement, the squish of her mess echoing down the hallway as she waddled after him. He ruffled her hair affectionately as they reached the nursery door. "Now, up on the changing table, Princess. Letâs get you fresh and clean."
Amanda obeyed, climbing up onto the padded surface with practiced ease. She lay back, her legs kicking slightly as Jake undid the tapes of her messy diaper. The cool air hit her skin, and she squirmed, her face flushing as the full extent of her mess was revealed. Jake didnât so much as flinch, though. He simply grabbed a wipe and got to work, his touch gentle but thorough.
"Youâre such a good girl for me," he murmured, cleaning her up with efficient, soothing strokes. "Even if you do insist on squatting in the hallway like a little toddler who almost remembers how to be a big girl."
Amanda giggled, her embarrassment melting away under his care. "I canât help it, Daddy! Itâs just⊠habit."
Jake chuckled, finishing up and reaching for a fresh diaper. "Well, itâs a cute habit," he admitted, lifting her hips to slide the clean diaper beneath her. "But next time, maybe aim for the nursery, huh?"
Amanda grinned, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "No promises, Daddy."
Jake shook his head, smiling as he fastened the new diaper snugly around her waist. "Thatâs my girl."
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