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eccopeepants

😍 messing my diaper just as I'm finishing a meal

❤️wetting myself minutes after changing into a new diaper

💓looking down and seeing a prominent diaper bulge

🥰waking up in a wet, swollen diaper

🥳smelling baby powder and pee knowing it's coming from me

🥹knowing I'll be diapered for the rest of my life

🤩diapers!😍diapers!🥳diapers!

batarangaroo

How Roo became a bedwetter

(A comprehensive guide)

I've wet the bed 11 times in the past two weeks. That's more than a 78% success rate. Holy fuck. Before untraining with my daddy, I'd not wet the bed since early childhood, so this is a big change. We've been doing this nighttime routine every night since January. Now, in mid-April, I'm consistently wetting the bed.

This is starting to sound like an ad. It's not an ad.

When my daddy and I got together, we both thought it would be hot to untrain my bladder until I became a bedwetter at night. To us, that means unconsciously wetting myself fully while I stay asleep, and waking up in the morning surprised to find my diaper much soggier than when I went to bed.

I haven't wet the bed unconsciously outside of diapers. Something about the safety my body feels while padded changes my bladder's ability to hold. We may work on training bedwetting outside of diapers in the future, though.

My daddy has more experience than I in all things diapers, bedwetting, and bladder control. Therefore, he had some tricks in his back pocket as we got started. My daddy was very patient throughout this whole process, and as a result, I've progressed (regressed?) much more quickly than if we'd rushed it.

Waking up and wetting

My first goal in the process was to wake up in the middle of the night and wet my diaper. As someone who was new to wearing diapers, it was a process to even let go while laying down! First, my daddy added water to my bedtime routine. In addition to brushing my teeth and putting on a diaper before bed, he had me drink a whole bottle of water right before I went to sleep. He instructed me to stay fully relaxed down there (as much as I could) so I got used to going whenever I felt the urge.

At first when we did this, it went two ways: I woke up in the morning really having to pee sometimes. Or I woke up in the middle of the night and had to focus and relax my bladder for minutes before I could let go into my diaper. That was a frustrating stage, and I woke up pretty tired after all of the tossing and turning in the middle of the night.

One of the challenges we faced in this stage was leaks. I was still in pull-ups at night at the beginning of this process. Since I was so new to it, my daddy wanted me to work slowly up to thicker padding. Wearing pull-ups to bed led to puddles on my sheets and made me trust my bladder less after too many frustrating middle of the night changes. I have a feeling he also wanted me to leak enough that I was excited to move to diapers for their added protection. If you wanted the process to go faster, I'd recommend starting in diapers. If you want your little to feel reliant on diapers, though, set them up for some failures (followed up with ample praise and affection, not punishment).

The fuzziness

Next in my experience, I woke up some nights with the fuzziest memory of waking up and wetting my diaper. Sometimes I couldn't quite remember at all! That's not bedwetting yet, but it's close. How'd I get there?

My daddy told me not to focus on wetting anymore. What?! Why?? He told me to keep my bladder relaxed, but now that I was comfortable wetting whenever I needed to, I should start going peepee and immediately let my mind drift to other things. That trained my bladder and brain to associate diapers with not needing to monitor when I go potty. That means now, when I go, it doesn't blip on my radar much. Sometimes I can't remember the last time I wet, even when my diaper is soaked. It also means since I'm staying relaxed, I go in little spurts very frequently. That makes my bladder a little weaker and also makes my diapers last longer since I'm not flooding them.

In terms of nighttime wetting, that meant whenever I woke up to wet, I'd start to go but let myself drift back off while my bladder was relaxed and emptying. I didn't even worry if my flow stopped — I trusted that I was relaxed enough that my bladder would keep emptying when it needed to. I started to barely wake up in the middle of the night. I'd feel an urge, twist a little bit and relax, let out a little moan, and drift right back into sleep, all without opening my eyes.

Every time I could just barely remember waking up and wetting, my daddy got so proud of me. He teased me for being his good little bedwetting girl, and told me how excited he was to change all of my diapers in the mornings once I start wetting the bed every night. Praise goes a long way in making your little excited to wet the bed for you.

Wetting the bed

The first time I wet the bed, I thought it was a fluke. I had dribbled in my diaper as I fell asleep, and I remember it felt warm and nice as I drifted off. I slept deeply that night, and when I woke up, my butt felt super puffy and firm. I turned over and it felt heavier than when I'd fallen asleep, and it was warm; I could tell my diaper was fuller and soggier than when I fell asleep. When I got up and looked in the mirror, I knew I'd wet the bed. The back of my diaper was all puffy, like a pillow, and there was a large, round wet spot covering the butt. The front of my diaper was still fairly dry, while the back was soaked. That's the mark of a bedwetter, right there.

Once it happened for the first time, it didn't mean I was fully untrained. I kept up the routine consistently, and started having fewer and fewer nights where I'd woken up and wet. More nights where I barely remembered or had wet the bed entirely.

I took a break for a week to go on a family vacation, and I didn't wet the bed. I wore pull-ups every night out of fear (and comfort), but I'd need to train longer to wet those. I was happy to be dry in what would've been an awkward situation, and I found the week off didn't impede my progress at all. The week I got back, I wet the bed three times! The next week I wet even more. It's all about consistency, praise, and knowing you're making progress.

What's next

Now, I've found a system that works well for me. I stay hydrated during the day so my body doesn't just process the water I drink before bed because it desperately needs it (please make healthy hydration choices. Don't overhydrate, that's not what I'm saying).

I drink my whole bottle after I've turned off my light, put my phone or book down, and gotten under the covers. It's literally my last step before closing my eyes for the night. I also wear thick nighttime diapers so I never have to worry about leaking.

Next on the training docket for me and my daddy is practicing wetting the bed with less padding. He'd love to put me to bed without diapers for a night and wake up to find a warm, wet puddle spreading across the sheets under me while I'm still peacefully asleep. With how quickly this has progressed, I wouldn't be surprised if I've had a genuine sheets-wetting, diaper-free bedwetting accident by the end of the summer.

Thanks @argent-dl for the question that inspired this post! Hope it's helpful.

If anyone follows these steps, let me know how it goes, or if any advice is helpful! 😊😊😊

nomorepantsforme

If you like the thought of being hypnotized to need diapers, here are a few links to free hypnosis files that might be of interest to you:

1. TrainDiapers (Bladder incontinence when diapered and in safe space):

https://www.emghypnosis.com/index.php/hypnosis-files/product/613-traindiapers

2. DiaperTrap (Bladder incontinence when diapered + 2h after taking it off):

https://www.emghypnosis.com/index.php/hypnosis-files/product/626-diaper-trap

3. Bedwetter Fear to Reality (convinces you to need diapers for bed):

https://www.emghypnosis.com/index.php/hypnosis-files/product/362-bedwetter-fear-to-reality

4. TrainBedWetting (training to become bladder incontinent when sleeping):

https://www.emghypnosis.com/index.php/hypnosis-files/product/618-trainbedwetting

5. TrainBladderIncontinant (training to permanently erase all bladder control):

https://www.emghypnosis.com/index.php/hypnosis-files/product/622-trainbladderincontinant

6. Anti-Potty Training (erases the knowledge of how to control bladder and bowels):

https://www.emghypnosis.com/index.php/hypnosis-files/product/363-anti-potty-training

babying-domination

Just going to leave this here, to help any little babies who need some hypnosis to help with their reverse potty training. https://archive.org/details/ABDL-Hypnosis I think the Nicole Dosei ones are cute, although I think they’re more aimed at boys. Some of them are more gender-neutral though.

depressedtrashgirl02

saving 4 later!!

diapered-bun

I deserve to be someone's needy baby stuck in a flat chastity cage and big thick diapers instead of working.

pampersforbedwetter

gashotbox

sharting.. the beautiful feeling of putting your faith in the wrong fart and being taken off guard by the gooey warm splatter that squirts out.

moaning out loud as that evasive pressure eases on your tummy and you know you should get up and go to the bathroom. but you’re too lazy to get up now, and the hot smush leaking between your cheeks and into fabric doesn’t feel all that bad. besides, it’s probably left a streak anyway. considering, for just one moment, before the tension comes back in full force and you think fuck it, and you pucker your hole up and push, groaning in euphoric release as the gush of sludge you’ve been packing shoots out, half liquid mass filling your briefs or panties and running hot down your legs, soaking into polyester, onto the surface, the floor.

pleasemakeme

mummydommythe3rd

“I swear! I must be sick or something! I can hold it in, really! I don’t need these diapers!”

“Yes, but our original bet was that you’d wear them until you could stay dry for a full eight hours, like an adult. Remember sweetie?

“I AM an adult!” You said hotly.

“I’m still waiting for you to prove it to me. Maybe diaper #154 will be the one you keep dry. Now hush.” I said, pushing the mega-sized pacifier between your lips.

Before taping you into your new diaper I literally coated you with the powder you thought was baby powder.

You’d never suspect that the powder was composed of incredibly potent crushed up diuretics and laxatives. It was so concentrated and so powerful that the amount in your diaper would probably have been several lethal doses, if taken by mouth as instructed.

All I had to do was wait for the warm diaper to make you sweat, dissolving the powder and allowing a small percentage of it to diffuse into your body through your skin.

No matter how suspicious you got, you never solved why you were suddenly unable to go more than a few hours before filling your babyish padding.

You’d even tried eating and drinking sealed and prepackaged water bottles and foods, out of suspicion I was dosing your food, but of course that didn’t solve anything.

“Don’t get me wrong, the bet is fun, but another few used diapers, and I might just extend your babyhood indefinitely.” I said as I pulled your hair into the now-standard pigtails.

“WUH?! YU CANTH DO THA!!” You exclaimed into your pacifier.

“Think of it as extra incentive to keep your diapers clean.” I said with a smile.

Your stomach gurgled and you whimpered as the ‘baby powder’ began it’s work. To you it was like magic.

By now I had all the photos I needed to keep you obedient…and once your body got dependant on the laxatives, I’d start using real baby powder, cutting you off from the laxative you needed to pass stool.

Soon you’d be on all fours, pushing and straining to mess yourself. I wondered how long you’d try before you would be begging me to push the dildo-shaped enema nozzle deep into you and fill you to bursting with a quart of soapy warm water.

“maybe I’ll make it a nightly thing….fill you up before bed so you can enjoy your squishy diaper all night.” I thought as I helped you into the infantile dress you hated.

Yes, your life was in for some changes all right. This was just the beginning.

adult-baby-women-stories-100

The magic baby powder story

diapergirls-anime-manga-art

Great diaper-manga

These are some great diaper-manga from the artist Mikuni Atsuko.

Scandalous (Currently 8 parts)

Part 1: https://nhentai.net/g/96356/ Part 2: https://nhentai.net/g/104972/ Part 3: https://nhentai.net/g/125859/ Part 4: https://nhentai.net/g/132698/ Part 5: https://nhentai.net/g/171252/ Part 6: https://nhentai.net/g/191022/ Part 7: https://nhentai.net/g/191169/ Part 8: https://nhentai.net/g/195290/

OM☆HM (Puella Magi Madoka Magica)

https://nhentai.net/g/103946/

OM☆HM+ (Puella Magi Madoka Magica)

https://nhentai.net/g/139471/

OM☆HM++ (Puella Magi Madoka Magica)

https://nhentai.net/g/99049/

Naisho Nano! -Haruhara-ke San Shimai Monogatari-

https://nhentai.net/g/113368/

cherryprincessa

Hypnosis - Wetting Messing babies

cradlequill

Sinking Into Submission

You're an adult, a grown woman, but you don't want to be; we both know that. You want to be a little girl. You want all those silly big girl privileges taken away, even if you'd never admit it. Because admitting it would mean admitting you failed at adult life. Taking on responsibilities and meeting expectations was too much for you. You couldn't handle it. You never could. And yet, despite that, here you are, wishing you could go back and undo it all. But you can't. You're trapped.

It all started with some harmless fun. You saw it online: videos of girls wetting themselves, soaking their jeans and leggings. Sometimes even in public. You wanted to try it but knew you weren't brave enough to do it in front of anyone. You even tried to resist the urge at first, but it grew and grew, and before long, you were desperate to feel the wetness against your little "princess parts," as you'd taken to calling them.

So you put on an old pair of leggings and stood in the shower with your phone propped up and aimed at you. You were recording a video for a guy you'd met online. He'd encouraged you to give in to this strange desire of yours. He made you feel accepted, less alone, and incredibly desired. You wanted to please him. You'd do anything to please him, even if that meant giving in to your naughty fantasies of pissing yourself like a toddler failing at potty training.

The warmth trickled into your panties and spread out over your thighs, and within a second, you knew you were addicted. Your shower wettings grew increasingly more common until you worked up the nerve to piss yourself in bed like a "good girl," as your now boyfriend put it. "Boyfriend," the word felt so out of place, as you'd even taken to calling him Daddy, despite how naughty it felt. Each time you used the title, you felt like you were pleasing him and being his good little kiddo, but you were also pleasing something profound within yourself, a longing you never realized needed to be fulfilled.

After pissing your sheets every few days, you put a mattress protector on your bed like a responsible bedwetter. It pleased Daddy, and you liked pleasing him after all. But then, before long, without even meaning to, you started waking up with wet sheets. You hadn't meant to wet in your sleep; you just couldn't help it. And that made the accidents all the blushier. You knew Daddy wouldn't stand for it, but you had to tell him. He didn't like you keeping secrets, as you were too little to keep such thoughts to yourself. So reluctantly, you told him, with your cheeks burning red and a quiver in your voice.

Daddy wasn't angry. He was kind and sweet and spoke with a reassuring tone that eased the chaotic waves crashing against the edges of your mind. You sunk deeper into a babyish state, where all your thoughts seemed to disappear into oblivion. The only things there were you and Daddy, the only things that mattered.

When he told you he couldn't allow you to keep having accidents at night, your cheeks burned hot again, but you still offered a meek nod. Daddy knew best, after all. And he wouldn't steer you wrong. So, within the week, you were back in pull-ups at night. A few months prior, you didn't even know they made them for girls your age. But you still followed the pages of those girls online, the ones whose wetting videos stirred up your interest in the whole scene. And you saw them wearing cute designs that, deep down, you longed to try.

Daddy must have sensed this. After all, he read you so well. Together, you bought several designs, all uniquely humiliating in their own ways. Daddy would pick out a pull-up for you each night, and you'd wear it without complaint. And increasingly, you'd wake up in the mornings with wetness between your legs despite drifting off to sleep still dry the night before.

The further you sunk into your pathetic state of bedwetting, the more your bladder gave in. Before long, you weren't having any dry nights. And your wettings grew increasingly intense as if your bladder had entirely given up on holding it throughout the night. You'd wake up in soaked sheets with a leaky pull-up, and Daddy would comfort you and tell you it would all be alright and that you were still his good little girl.

He no longer treated you like anything resembling an adult. He treated you like a helpless little girl or like a pet to play with and tease. He'd change your pull-ups, pick out your undies and clothes, and help you dress each day, even though you'd swear you could do it yourself. He'd simply laugh and say, "Of course you can't, baby girl. That's what Dada's here for." He spoke in that loving tone you'd fallen for. Whenever he used it, you were powerless to fight against it.

One day, you came home from work after a long day only to find a pack of diapers sitting atop your freshly changed sheets. Not pull-ups, but diapers. They had babyish prints and were made for "little girls" your size. You'd seen other girls wearing them but swore you'd never sink that far. You promised yourself you wouldn't. You confronted Daddy with a stern pout and crossed arms, but he just smiled and called you adorable.

"No! I'm not adorable. I'm mad," you said with a humph and an even fuller pout.

Daddy rose from his office chair, walked over, and wrapped his arms around you. "It's alright, baby girl. You don't have to pretend anymore. Dada's here, he's got you, and he sees you. You aren't alone anymore, and I'll love you no matter what kind of protection you need."

You leaned into his embrace with tears welling in your eyes. You hid them in his chest and quietly sniffled into his form, feeling the weight of his acceptance envelop you like a warm blanket on a snowy winter's day.

From then on, you wore your diapers every night. Dada would change you into them each night when it was time to get ready for bed. Dada's changies were the highlight of your evenings. He treated you with gentle hands and soft-spoken care. And he managed the diaper tapes far better than you ever could. You'd fall asleep each night in his arms, feeling like the little girl you longed to be, with Dada there to always love and protect you.

Before long, you started wearing your diapers earlier in the evenings and even all day whenever you didn't have to work. Dada was always there to change you and kiss your forehead when you had doubts and regrets. But soon enough, the daytime accidents began. At first, they were contained only to your diapers. You didn't mind that so much, but there was a hint of fear somewhere beneath your feigned confidence. What if you started having accidents outside of diapers? Or at work, around people?

Your fears were well-founded. The first time you wet at the office, it was just enough to show on your pants, but you managed to scurry to the bathroom before anyone could notice. You texted your boss to tell her you were sick, then darted out of the office when no one was around to see your pathetic, childish state.

You sobbed all the way home. You had no one to blame but yourself. Even Dada, though he encouraged you, was simply giving you what you wanted, and you knew that. This was all the result of your decisions and stupid, misplaced desires. You had to do something to fix it.

You stopped wearing your diapers, both day and night. Dada asked you time and time again if you were sure, but you insisted. It had to be done, you thought. It was the only way to regain what little semblance of control you could still have. But the accidents didn't stop. You still woke up with wet sheets each and every night, and your daytime accidents grew increasingly common.

First, you wet yourself at the store while out shopping for groceries. You completely soaked your jeans, and it was impossible to hide it. You felt a deep sense of shame permeating your entire body as you walked through the aisles, knowing the wandering eyes of the other shoppers continued finding their way to you and your distinct wet spot.

The following few accidents were at home, on the furniture no less. Daddy refused to clean up after you. He insisted you at least wear pull-ups to stop staining the couches and carpets, but you declined. And so you were left to clean up your messes alone, only to know that you'd be doing it again soon enough. Daddy even said if you refused to wear diapers, he'd have to start putting plastic covers on the furniture, making you feel even more like an unhouse-trained puppy.

The breaking point was when you finally wet yourself again at work. You were giving a presentation in front of the whole board. You even wore a pull-up out of fear of this exact thing happening, though you never would have let Daddy know. But as you stood there giving your presentation, and the anxiety rushed through your veins as all eyes were on you, you felt yourself filling your padding. You felt your pee soak every inch and find its way into the leg gathers before overflowing into your favorite pair of work pants, just light enough to do nothing to hide your accident.

You heard gasps from the board behind you as you stared at the screen where your presentation still played. Your boss ran up to you and ushered you out of the room. There was nothing you could say to her. No explanation would suffice. She looked at you with such thorough disappointment, and when you finally went to speak, she interrupted you and told you to go home, that you'd embarrassed yourself and her enough for the day.

You made the walk of shame to your car, passing by the unmasked whispers and snickering from your co-workers. Word traveled fast in corporate offices, it seemed. They sounded like gossiping schoolgirls. You sat down in your luxury car and felt your pull-up squish beneath you, letting out more pee into your expensive seats. You sat there and cried for thirty minutes before mustering the courage and motivation to drive home.

When you arrived, Daddy was already sitting on the couch, now draped in plastic, waiting for you to return. "Your boss called," he said. You couldn't meet his eyes but felt his glare as it interrogated your entire body. "Enough is enough," he said. He stood up, and in one swift motion, he'd grabbed you, pulled your pants and pull-up down to around your knees, and bent you over his lap. The tears started before the stings began, for you knew precisely what was coming. And you'd earned it.

With each slap against your ass, you felt what little dignity you still had slipping away, further and further out of reach, to where you would never obtain it again. You sobbed like a child who knew she'd done wrong, and you could no longer claim to be anything more, no matter how much you wished to. When your spanking was finished and your cheeks burned red hot, Daddy lifted you into his arms and carried you to the bedroom.

As you entered the room, you saw a diaper on the bed beside a bottle of baby powder. It had been there, waiting for you, as if you could hear it beckoning for you to come closer. You no longer had the energy or the will to fight, so you merely cried into Daddy's shoulder until he laid you on the already-open diaper. He removed your wet pants and pull-up from around your knees and wiped your princess parts until you were all clean. He powdered you, and when he rubbed it into your skin, it felt like ecstasy pumping through you, numbing your empty brain even further.

After taping you into your diaper and ensuring the fit was snug, he looked down at you, with tears still dripping down your face. He said in a hushed but firm tone, "You will be wearing these from now on, little girl. I don't want to hear any complaints. If I have to spank you again, I will." And that was that. There was nothing to argue anymore. You had turned yourself into a full-fledged adult baby, and there was no longer anything you could do about it. The last flicker of a flame within you burned away to nothing but ashes in the wind, and you accepted your fate. As you looked up at Dada, you knew you'd be back in diapers for a long, long time.