Untitled

MID20s NB 18+ NSFW

[gurglesgasgrunts]

I was asked about an old story, and I’ve rewritten it. I can’t remember how the old one went exactly but I think this is how it went down. Anyway, I hope it’s alright haha 😅

You go on a week long trip and come home to find that your FC hasn’t shit since you left. You give them a few bottles of warm milk to help get things moving and massage their belly.

Contains: ABDL type relationship, messing, farting

Keep reading

[babypudge]

It's bad enough that the babysitter never came back with the post-bedtime story bottle refill they promised, opting instead to make out with their boyfriend and leaving your nursery lights on in the process...

But now, the adults are finally home and they're already at it too. You're just hoping they decide to turn on the baby monitor for foreplay...

Otherwise, you won't be getting lights out until the early AM diaper check Daddy normally gives you - almost always "accidentally" waking you up in the process and gloating about the fact that his body woke him up to use the potty, while proudly confirming that you've once again helplessly soaked your Pampers in your sleep.

[enegmaticallygothic]

The control

All characters are 18+

“Almost there sweetie”,mommy beamed from the front seat.my insides churned as the sickly muck inside me was pleading to come out.how much longer could it possibly be to get home,I thought. Mommy gave a cheerful smile in the rear view mirror to her baby boy,but it descended into an evil smirk.her baby boy didn’t know the plan was working perfectly,she had made a bet with her other mommy friends.The Bet was to make her little boy produce the messiest diaper he’s ever made.

this of course was not known to her little boy who was being fed as many lies as he was greasy fast food combos.his belly was taught with large combos his mommy insisted on him having to “keep his energy up”.conveniently ,she had also “forgotten” to pack any spare diapers for the day leaving him in a severely wet diaper.a diaper so full it was leaking at the sides, she would apologize and dab the sides of his legs with a baby wipe to keep him a little more comfortable.

the last 5 hours were followed with driving,playing,shopping,feeding,burping, and napping.”m-mommmyyyy… please when are we gonna be home ,I have to pottyyy..” he whined from the backseat.”oh my sweet pumpkin we’re almost there we just need to stop by the post office first.” He could feel the cold sweat drip onto his face,he was clenching the fabric of his car seat for any relief he could find.the cramps only seemed to build higher.”you know honey,you haven’t pooped yet today maybe you’re just constipated or gassy you probably just need to fart. He didn’t feel the need to fart out of fear he might open up the flood gates.

his mommy’s hand reached into the backseat to rub his tummy,kneading and rolling his outstretched belly.”Mommy please!” He cried pushing her hand away.”baby just try to fart I promise you’ll feel better you won’t be so cramped.” He didn’t want her hand to come back so he started pushing ,only a little at first but the cramps started to become a little better.

all until his mommy stopped at the post office to go inside.she left the car running and left him in the back with the doors locked.15 minutes passed and there was no sign of mommy.his stomach cramps were getting bad again so he tried passing some gas to relieve the pressure again.he pushed lightly,nothing,he braced himself to push a little harder.he sat up to push a little more but gave it all his might. the gas escaped but gave way to a thick slurry of soft serve like poop filled up his seat.his face became red as he gave up trying to hold it,still lifting himself off the seat he could feel the back of his diaper fill to meet the space he was creating.sitting down was a hard option but he couldn’t hang on to the handle any longer he let himself back down.the stinky mess pushed itself out and around his overalls with no problem.he reached forward to grab the baby wipes and started to clean up the sides of his legs he could see covered with poopy.

his mommy came back and flung herself into the drivers seat,throwing the packages into the passenger.”baby you would not believe what they made me do to get these packages I had to wait in line for almost 30 min—“she sniffed the air with a surprised look on her face.”baby did you—,what are you doing honey.?”,she asked confused.”I’m cleaning myself up mommy.” she looked down at him with no expression as she squished her hand into his sopping diaper.

“Thats mommy’s good boy”,she said evilly with a small smirk. She chided him and pet his legs as she drove to the various houses of her friends on the bet list,letting her baby boy stew in his massively full diaper to his own displeasure.she fastened a pacifier in between his lips.”Thats my baby”,she boasted.”mommy’s sweetie always has trouble keeping his pants clean.”

[hypnocatabdl]

The smooshings will continue until morale improves 🤭

[stinky-in-pinky]

Talking Him Through It

“You had to have known this was coming, didn’t you baby?" She said, "Be honest with me. Did you really think you were just going to be peeing in your diapers all the time and that was it? That you’d get to keep some scrap of big-boy dignity while waddling around in thick padding?" She let the silence hang. "No… deep down you knew this moment was inevitable. You knew that one day you’d be right here, on your knees, feeling that heavy pressure build, and you’d have no choice but to make your first real poopy diaper right in front of me.”

Mike let out a soft, mortified whimper, his face already burning crimson as he shifted uncomfortably on his knees, eyes darting away. “Valerie… please,” he whispered, voice shaking with embarrassment. “I-I didn’t think it would actually go this far. I can’t… it’s too humiliating. Can we please not do this? I don't think I can--”

"Shh..." Valerie said, pressing a finger firmly to his lips to silence him. "No more of that whining. This is how it is now. This is your new normal. And protesting only makes you look even more pathetic than you already do. You’re just going to have to accept it.”

The tension thickened unbearably. Mike’s breathing turned shallow and ragged, soft desperate whines as he clenched instinctively, trying to fight the inevitable. His hands fidgeted at his sides, knees pressing hard into the rug while waves of humiliation crashed over him.

“I really can’t do this,” he whined, voice cracking pathetically. “It’s going to be so gross and—and—and...Please, Val! I’m begging you! Please don't make me do this...”

Valerie tilted her head slightly, her expression calm and almost sweetly pitying as she looked down at him. “Oh, sweetie… I’m not making you do anything. This is what you wanted, remember? You were the one who begged me to put you in diapers in the first place.”

Mike shook his head desperately, tears already welling in his eyes. “But I didn't want this!" He whined, "I just wanted to feel little and taken care of. Maybe wet a diaper or two. But I never thought you’d actually make me do…all of this!"

Valerie gave a soft, amused chuckle and reached out to cup his burning cheek, gently wiping away a leaky tear with her thumb. “Sweetheart, you know I don’t do anything half-assed. You wanted me to take control. You wanted me to treat you like my widdle baybee. Well, this is what that looks like. You don’t get to pick and choose which parts feel good and which parts are too gross or embarrassing. I was being nice before, letting you use the potty for your dirty business. But those days are over. The diapers aren’t just for cute little wettings anymore...they’re your potty now. For all of it. This is what you asked for. Now you’re going to live with it."

Mike let out another broken whimper, face burning with shame. “Please… I’m begging you. Just this once, can’t we—”

But before he could get out another word, a pacifier was pressed into his mouth.

"Shhh...no more talking," she said, her tone firm and unsympathetic. “Just pushing. You’re done protesting. Now be a good boy and focus on filling that diaper like you know you need to.”

Mike’s made pathetic little sounds around the pacifier as he sucked on it instinctively. His face burned hotter than ever, tears of pure shame glistening in his eyes. He tried to look down, to avoid that look, as if it would give him some semblance of privacy, but Valerie lifted his chin with a single finger, forcing his gaze back up to hers.

“Look at me, baby. Eyes up here. I want to watch your face while you do it. Let Mommy see every little grunt, every little squint, every little strain. Feel that pressure building stronger and stronger? That’s your body telling you it’s time for your first poopy diaper. This is how it goes from now on. Now relax your bottom… it’s time. Let Mommy see exactly what a helpless little pants-pooper looks like!”

The pacifier quivered in his mouth. Mike held out for another long, agonizing moment, muffled whines vibrating around the silicone as his cheeks puffed slightly from sucking on it. Then, with a shaky, defeated breath, he finally gave in.

The first hesitant push came slowly. His face contorted in visible effort, brow furrowed, eyes squeezed half-shut in embarrassment as he stared up at her. A faint, muffled crackling sound broke the silence as the seat of the diaper began to expand, the bright little cars stretching obscenely while the warm, mushy mess pushed out. The sensation hit him instantly: the growing warmth, the heavy bulge forming between his legs, the unmistakable squish beginning to settle against him. Fresh shame flooded his cheeks as the reality sank in, he was actually doing it, right in front of her, grunting softly around the pacifier.

“Awww!! There we go!!” Valerie giggled, her voice warm with approval but still laced with that unyielding dominance. “You're doing it! You're making poo-poo's!! Ah-ah! Don't look away! Eyes on me. Just like that. Theeere we go!! Good boy! Your first poopy diaper as a grown man!! How's that feel, hmm? Go on! Keep pushing! Get it alllll out into your widdle diapy!! This is how you go potty from now on! Right here on your knees, facing Mommy, filling your diaper while I watch every humiliating second of your face. No more bathrooms, no more dignity. Just warm, squishy messes in your pants whenever nature calls."

Mike let out a higher, mortified whine around the pacifier as another he continued pushing, his cheeks flushing deeper, eyes watering as the diaper grew even heavier, the material rounding out noticeably.

"Just like that, baby! You're doing so well!!" she continued, leaning in closer. "Look at you making biggg boom-booms in your diaper where the little cars go vroom vroom!! Hahaha! Mommy can see that diaper sagging more and more with every little push! Feel that warm mush filling up your seat? Mommy's so proud of you!"

The smell began to drift upward, growing stronger with each passing second.

"Oof!" Valerie wrinkled her nose and wafted a hand in front of her face. "Stinky boy!! Is that you?? Are you the one making all that smell?? You're doing so amazing, sweetheart! Making a big, stinky present for Mommy! That's it. Keep pushing, baby...get it all out! I want that diaper nice and full for your very first time.”

He whimpered helplessly around the pacifier, knees trembling as the diaper sagged lower and lower, the back growing thick and heavy with a final, unmistakable crinkle. The warm, mushy weight settled heavily against him, and the pungent smell became impossible to ignore.

“That’s my good little diaper boy,” she cooed, pinching his crimson cheek, “doing his big stinky business right where he’s supposed to.”

Mike stayed on his knees, breathing shakily around the pacifier, the thick, warm mess squishing with every tiny movement. He didn’t know what was worse: the heavy, squishy feeling or the awful smell now hanging in the air. His face burned with utter shame.

“All done?” Valerie asked cheerfully.

Mike gave a small, defeated nod.

“Say ‘all done!’” she instructed, demonstrating the little hand sign she used when feeding him, raising her hands and twisting them. “Come on! Do the sign like a good baybee!”

Blushing furiously, Mike mimicked the stupid motion back at her with shaky hands while mumbling “aw done” around the pacifier. Nothing like telling your wife that you're done crapping all over yourself.

Valerie clapped her hands rapidly in delight. “Yayy!!! You did it, baby! Your first poopy diaper like the pathetic little boi you are now! And there will be sooo many more just like it in your future! But first…”

She leaned forward and gently plucked the pacifier from his mouth.

“I need to hear you say it,” she said, her voice sweet but commanding. “Tell Mommy exactly what you just did. Use your big-boy words. What happened back there? Be specific and honest about what a messy, stinky baby you’ve become. Make it good if you want any chance of being changed.”

Mike hesitated, another tiny mortified whine escaping him. Fresh waves of embarrassment washed over his face, but her expectant silence pressed down until he finally mumbled, red-faced and defeated, barely above a whisper:

“I… I went p-p-p-poo-poo's, Mommy... I...m-messed myself… ”

“Louder, sweetie. Don’t mumble. Tell me what a stinky little pants-pooper you are now.”

He swallowed hard, tears of humiliation pricking at his eyes. “I pooped my diaper… I went potty in my pants like a stupid baybee. I filled it all up and now it’s all squishy and stinky back there… and...and..." he didn't know what else to say. What words could capture how degraded he felt?

But Valerie nodded, satisfied, her voice steady and final, wrinkling her nose slightly with a knowing smile as the smell lingered. "That’s right. Your first dirty diaper, and far from the last. This is exactly how it goes from now on. No more fighting it. No more big-boy excuses or dignity. When you have to go, you come tell Mommy what you need to do...or you use your diaper right then and there."

She paused, eyes sparkling with mischief. Mike's throat tightened.

“But I’m gonna need you to do one more thing for me before you get changed, mmkay pumpkin?" She let the silence and anticipation hang again, then continued, "Since this is your first one, I need you to really feel it. To get used to it. So I’m gonna need you to sit down on your bum-bum, okay? Can you do that for Mommy?”

Mike’s eyes widened in fresh horror. “Val… please, no,” he whispered, voice cracking, wriggling in the ruined diaper. “It’s already so gross and heavy… Please don’t make me—”

“Awww, poor baby!!" Valerie cooed, her voice dripping with fake sympathy. "Look at you! all teary-eyed and cringing. It’s okay, sweetie. Mommy knows it feels yucky right now. But this is part of it. You wanted to be my little boy in diapers… so now you have to learn what that really means.”

"But can't I just—"

"Do you want to stay in that warm, squishy, stinky diaper even longer?" Valerie snapped, her voice turning firm and sharp. "Because I can leave you like this allll afternoon if you’d rather. Your choice.”

Mike sobbed softly, his shoulders shaking. But she was right, he didn't want to stay in this nasty mess any longer. Defeated, he shook his head ‘no’.

“Then sit,” she said sweetly, but with steel underneath. “Right on your bulgey little bottom. Now.”

The heavy, mushy weight already felt unbearable. Humiliated beyond words, he slowly lowered himself onto the striped rug.

The moment his bottom made contact, the warm mess squished loudly beneath him with a wet, crinkly squelch. The thick load spread out, pressing up and around him in the most degrading way imaginable. He let out a sharp, mortified cry, his whole body cringing from his toes to his spine as the mush molded disgustingly against his skin.

“Therrre we go!!” Valerie cooed, her voice flipping back to that soft, motherly tone. “Hear that squish? Feel how it’s all spreading and smearing inside your diapy? That’s your big stinky poo-poo's, baby! You made that! All of that! Now wriggle for Mommy… bounce up and down. Really feel it squishing everywhere. Good boy.”

Mike whimpered and cried, fresh tears rolling down his burning cheeks as he obeyed. He shifted his weight from side to side, then gave a small, reluctant bounce. The mess squelched loudly again, spreading further and coating him more thoroughly. Another broken sob escaped him.

“Shhh, shhh...that's it. Cry it out, baby. Let it all sink in.” Valerie said, feigning pity while her eyes sparkled with amusement. She reached out and gently stroked his hair. “Such a sad widdle baybee sitting in his own dirty diaper. Does it feel all warm and nasty back there? Does it feel gross? Poor thing… but you’re going to get sooo used to this. I promise! This heavy, stinky, squishy feeling? It's your new normal. No more running to the bathroom like a real grown-up. Just you squatting and pottying in your pampers whenever you need to."

It was his fault. It was all his fault.

He asked for this. He wanted the diapers, he wanted her to take control. But he should have known. He should have thought it all the way through. He just never thought it would lead to...this.

She let him sit there for a long moment, letting the reality sink deep into his bones, before finally standing up from the couch. She held out her hand, smiling down at him with that sweet, knowing smile.

“Come on, baby." She said, "Waddle to your room. Let's go change your first dirty diaper!”

[oddoul]

Friday plan.

[babypudge]

"You beg me for weeks to wear blue again, and when I let you, you don't even have the gratitude to accompany me to the store for the family's weekly shopping without making a fuss! I swear, you're the most ungrateful little brat I've ever had the misfortune of nannying - and to think you used to be the "man" of the house. I'd spank you right here and now, but the diaper aisle seems like a more appropriate venue for reminding you of your proper place in this household."

"Besides, the drive to the store will give you some time to sit in your carseat and think about how you should be more appreciative of the few times I bother to listen to your incessant requests for adult luxuries like "dignity", "privacy" and "choice." Just be thankful I've already changed your diaper recently, or that'd be on the agenda as well. But don't worry, next week I won't be bothering to replace your putrid Pampers until we've reached the parking lot, either before we shop... or maybe after."

[ameliemommy]

The Reintroduction

The stroller’s wheels squeak softly as Mommy pushes you through the front door, the sound of laughter and chatter spilling out from the living room. You can feel the weight of the thick diaper between your legs, the plastic backing crinkling with every slight movement. The shortalls do little to hide the obvious bulge, the fabric stretched taut over the padding. You wiggle your toes, the socks on your feet feeling absurdly small, like they belong to a child rather than a grown man. But that’s what you are now, aren’t you? Mommy’s little boy, strapped into a stroller, about to be paraded in front of people who once knew you as an equal.

You grip the tray of the stroller, your fingers tracing the edge of the plastic as Mommy steers you into the room. The conversations falter for a moment, then die entirely. You can almost hear the confusion in the silence. A few of your former coworkers glance over, their expressions shifting from polite smiles to outright bewilderment. One of them, Mark, from accounting, does a double take, his beer bottle pausing halfway to his lips.

“Uh…” he starts, then stops, as if his brain can’t quite process what he’s seeing.

Mommy doesn’t miss a beat. She stops the stroller in the middle of the room, her hand resting on the back as she beams down at you. “Look who I brought!” she announces, her voice dripping with that infuriating, affectionate pride. “Say hi to everyone, sweetheart.”

You squirm, your face burning. You want to shrink into the stroller, to disappear entirely, but there’s nowhere to hide. The diaper is impossible to ignore, the bulk of it pressing against the seat, the tapes digging slightly into your hips. You can feel the warmth spreading through the padding, you’d peed a little on the way over, nerves getting the better of you, and the wetness indicators are probably already an embarrassing blue.

“Hi,” you mumble, your voice small, your eyes fixed on your lap.

Mark, your old coworker, is the first to break the silence. He tilts his head, squinting at the obvious bulge beneath your shortalls. “Dude… is he wearing a diaper?”

Mommy doesn’t hesitate. “Of course he is.”

Sarah, from HR, steps closer, her eyes flicking between Mommy and the unmistakable outline of the diaper. “No way. Seriously?”

Mommy nods, her fingers already working at the snaps of your shortalls. “Seriously.”

Jake from marketing crosses his arms, his expression a mix of disbelief and amusement. “But does he, like… use it?”

Mommy’s grin widens as she unfastens the last snap and tugs the shortalls down your legs in one smooth motion. The fabric pools at your ankles, leaving you in nothing but your t-shirt and the thick, crinkling diaper. The room falls silent again as the full sight of you is revealed, the bulky padding, the plastic backing, the way the diaper forces your legs apart.

And then they see it.

The wetness.

The deep blue stripe on the front of the diaper is  impossible to miss, the plastic glistening slightly where the moisture has spread. Sarah’s eyes widen. “Oh my God. He peed in it.”

Mommy chuckles, bending down to pull the shortalls free and set them aside. “Told you he uses them.”

Mark lets out a disbelieving laugh, crouching down to get a better look. His fingers hover just above the diaper, as if he’s afraid to touch it. “That’s… that’s wild.”

Jake shakes his head, his grin spreading. “So he just sits there, in a wet diaper, like it’s normal?”

Mommy ruffles your hair, her touch affectionate. “It is normal. For him, anyway.” She taps the front of your diaper, the squish loud in the quiet room. “See? Nice and wet. Just like a good little boy should be.”

The room erupts into laughter, the initial shock giving way to teasing. Sarah reaches out, her fingers brushing against the plastic backing. The crinkle is deafening. “Damn. That’s thick. And wet.”

You squirm, your face burning, but you don’t protest. What’s the point? The evidence is right there, plain for everyone to see. The diaper is heavy between your legs, the wetness a constant, embarrassing reminder of your regression. But beneath the humiliation, there’s something else, something warm, something comforting. This is who you are now. Mommy’s little boy, diapered and cared for, and if that means being the center of attention for a while, so be it.

The teasing continues for what feels like an eternity. They ask if you can walk (you can, but Mommy prefers to keep you in the stroller for “safety”). They ask if you want to be like this (the answer is complicated). They ask if Mommy changes you (yes, and you hate how much you love it).

Eventually, though, the novelty wears off. The adults drift back to their conversations, work, politics, the latest sports game, leaving you and Mommy on the periphery. Mommy bends down, her face softening as she looks at you. “You doing okay, baby?”

You nod, but your throat feels tight.

She smiles, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “Good boy. “Now go play.”

Play. The word makes your stomach twist, but you obey, shuffling toward the corner of the room where a few toys have been left out, a stuffed bear, a stack of blocks, a coloring book. You can feel the eyes on you as you move, the occasional snicker, the whispered comments. But you ignore them, because Mommy told you to play, and good boys listen to Mommy.

You sink down onto the floor, the diaper crinkling loudly beneath you. The blocks are in front of you, but you don’t reach for them. Instead, you sit there, your hands resting on your knees, the thickness of the diaper a constant, comforting presence.

Across the room, the party continues. Laughter, clinking glasses, the hum of adult conversation. And you? You’re just… there. A curiosity. A joke. A little boy in a diaper, left to his own devices while the grown-ups talk about grown-up things.

It’s humiliating.

It’s perfect.

Because for all the teasing, for all the stares, you know one thing for certain: you’re hers. And as long as Mommy’s happy, as long as she’s proud of her good little boy, you can endure anything.

[mads-the-dog]

Potty Break

I squirm in discomfort, wiggling in my rolling chair, as I pretend to stare at the numbers on the screen in front of me.

My bladder, full to bursting, screams out to me in agony.

11:30 am.

It's only been two hours since I peed last, but, my body doesn't seem to care about that. All it seems to be worried about is relieving itself.

I turn my head, peeking towards the hallway where the office bathrooms are located. A shiver of unease works its way down my spin.

The fluorescent lights in the hallway flicker. A dark, malevolent figure appears in the darkness before the light becomes steady again.

I wince as a surge of pain, radiates through my body.

Despite my misgivings, I need to find a toilet, and I need to find it now.

Hesitantly, I stand up from my desk, and step towards the nearby hallway.

The lights flicker again, causing me to jump slightly, and a soft laughing, seems to come from just behind me.

I ignore it, desperation growing as I dart into the creepy corridor.

Why am I so nervous? What's making me so jumpy? It's not like I haven't used this exact bathroom a hundred times before.

I start walk down the hall.

I can see the bathroom door just a few yards away.

A soft, warm breeze, like hot breath, tickles the back of my neck.

I turn my head, but nothing is there.

A light flickers again.

The chime-like laughter seems closer now.

I pick up my pace and look forward.

The bathroom seems farther away.

Something is wrong.

"Uh oh, does someone need to go potty?"

A deep, feminine voice coos from some indistinct direction.

"Why don't you let Mommy help you?"

My bladder is throbbing in pain, as I spin around, trying to find the source of the voice.

Except for me, the hallway is empty.

I start to sprint.

The door to the bathroom appears close, but, doesn't seem to be getting any closer as I run towards it.

The lights turn completely off, and I run headfirst into something hard.

I fall to the ground, nearly losing control of my bladder as my ass hits the floor hard.

"Ah, ah, ah, no running inside, little one!" The maternal but malevolent voice coos from somewhere above me.

Squinting up, through the darkness, I can just barely make out a large, humanoid shape, looming above me.

Large, ethereal hands reach towards me, and I scuttle backwards as fast as I can.

The lights flicker back on, and I'm once again alone.

The bathroom door is also somehow, blessedly, closer.

I climb back to my feet and briskly walk towards the door that seems to be my only salvation. I'm hesitant to one, the warning of the shadow monster still ringing in my ear.

The door does seem to be getting closer, slower than I like, but faster than before.

By the time my fingers touch the door handle, my bladder is on the verge of exploding.

The pain from the pressure in my abdomen almost overwhelms the fear I am feeling as I transverse the liminal space that is the office hallway.

I turn my head, looking over both shoulders to make sure the super natural presence is no where near.

"It's ok, sweetie," the voice whispers in my ear, "The potty isn't that scary. Go inside."

The sudden, disembodied words, cause me to panic.

I quickly turn the door handle, and throw my body into the bathroom.

The lights, controlled by some sort of motion sensor, struggle to turn on.

In the small, familiar room, is filled by the giant, feminine shape of the creature that has been following me. In this room, she seems to exist more fully, not disappearing in the light.

I scream out at her unexpected presence.

My pants suddenly feel hot and wet, as the shock overwhelms me, causing me to lose control of my bladder.

I try to back out of the room as the matronly monster steps towards me, but, in a moment, my back is against the door as she looks down on me. A look of fuax, condescending disappointment is fixed to her face, as she reaches out for me.

"Uh oh, looks like someone couldn't quite make it to the potty on time," the monster says, her hands sliding under my armpits as she lifts me into the air with inhuman strength, "That's alright, sweetie, some little ones just were never built for potty training."

I try to resist. I push and kick and wriggle and squirm, desperate to be free from her hold.

She doesn't notice.

I try to scream, but as I attempt to open my mouth, it's suddenly sealed shut by some sort of large, foreign rubbery object.

"Don't worry, sweet one, Mommy's not mad," the monster coos, carrying me towards the door, "It's my job to take care of cute little things like you."

Her hand wraps around my backside, balancing me on her hip like some overgrown toddler as she walks towards the bathroom door. I whimper and whine behind the seemingly magical gag in my mouth.

"Oh, don't whine, sweetheart," the Monster continues, reaching for the door handle, opening the door to a dark, empty space, drastically different from the hallway that was there before, "You're Mommy's now. You're Mommy's for the rest of your sweet little life."

Panic envelopes me as she steps through the door and carries me into the darkness, never to be heard from again.

[pampersloversblog]

💩💩💩💩😫😫

[diaper25]

Baby

[katherinestsblog]

💩💩

[destinedfordiapers]

I Melt With You

My babysitter doesn’t show the slightest hint of surprise as I grunt and push a load into my diaper. She smiles like she saw it coming a mile away.

Want to know the worst part of this whole situation? It’s probably not what you think.

Because it’s not the fact that I’m wearing a diaper. Or even that I’m pooping my diaper in front of her.

It’s not the fact that I have a babysitter waiting to change my diaper.

It’s not even the fact that I’m pooping my diaper in the middle of public while I eat an ice cream cone.

No, it’s how stupidly normalized this all is.

I mean, look at the amused way she’s smiling at my grunts and toots, as if I were an actual toddler she was babysitting.

It’s the look of someone who absolutely expects me to helplessly fill my diaper. Like it’s as natural as the warm summer sun melting our ice cream.

“Why are you fighting it, cutie? Just relax and enjoy your ice cream before it melts. I’ll change you when we’re finished eating.”

See what I mean?

In her eyes, I am literally just a baby in bigger diapers—she doesn’t consider me an adult at all. Not to be mean or dismissive, but because it would be ridiculous for her to think otherwise.

It’s why she can’t even conceive that I could possibly be embarrassed about pooping my diaper right here in public, because that’s just what babies do.

Just like she won’t think anything of marching me to the bathroom to change my diaper right there on the bathroom floor.

Babies fill their diapers, and babysitters change them. It’s just what needs to be done.

No matter how many times it happens, it never gets any easier for me. I’m tired of the silly waves I get from women in the bathroom while I’m getting pooped wiped off my butt. Tired of being so casually dismissed by adults my age—and younger.

I’m tired of everyone treating me like I’m a baby.

“Honey, you’re getting ice cream everywhere but your mouth.”

I know she’s right. I feel the melted ice cream trickling between my fingers. And on my cheeks from eating as fast as I can.

With a giggle, she leans over and wipes my cheeks clean like I couldn’t do it myself.

“There, much better. Such a messy eater.”

I’m sitting here in a poopy diaper and she’s worried about the ice cream on my cheeks.

“Did you get all the poopoo out?” she inquires loudly, not even considering it to be an embarrassing question, “You’re not doing the poopoo dance anymore.”

I nod my head, but another bubbly toot betrays me.

All it earns me is a skeptical stare and a shrug. “Are you sure about that, mister?”

I hate being talked down to like a baby. Every single time.

It doesn’t matter what I do or say—she’s fully convinced that it’s what I need.

“Well, let’s go get that diaper changed, honey,” she says with an air of finality. Before we leave the table, she grabs some wet wipes from my diaper bag and cleans my fingers.

“Can we change at home, please?”

“Buddy, we’re 15 minutes away from home and there’s a perfectly good bathroom right here.”

I didn’t expect any other answer, but at least I tried. I let her take my hand and lead me to the bathroom.

“Hey girl! I thought you were babysitting today?”

A group of three girls close in on my babysitter, each more beautiful than the other.

“Oh, I am! He’s been so good all morning I thought he deserved a treat. It’s too nice out to be inside all day.”

They all look around confused for whoever she’s babysitting, obviously assuming it’s not me. I know it’s a Pyrrhic victory, though.

“Ummm…you could’ve just said you had a date, Liv. He’s cute.”

As much as I want to enjoy the compliment—and relish in the brief moment when people look at me as an adult—I know it’s borrowed time.

“He certainly is a cutie pie! But I don’t think he’s ready for dating quite yet! This lil’ stinker needs a diaper change.”

All three women stare at me in utter disbelief.

Exactly what I expected.

I’ve seen this same look countless times. The moment when they demote me from an adult to baby in their minds.

My babysitter just smiles. “I’ll call and explain after I put him down for his afternoon nap, okay? His Mommy will never forgive me if he gets a diaper rash.”

They give me that same infantile wave as my babysitter leads me to the bathroom to change my diaper.

As she places the changing mat down and slides off my shorts, I let out a silent prayer that nobody walks in on my diaper change.

[destinedfordiapers]

Color Your Night

This caption features the wonderful @babyeeveesstuff, who was kind enough to model for this caption! Oh, and it was also loosely inspired by @akinkycouple’s request for soft MDLB, because I realized I don’t have many soft MDLB captions!

Eevee barely stirred despite the hand prodding at his diaper. By now, waking up to diaper checks was so commonplace that they no longer startled him.

A smile curled behind his binky as he shifted on his back, kicking the rest of his blankets off and stretching his sleepy body.

His eyes remained closed, still groggy from his midday nap. As always when it came to naps, he was naked except for his diaper and socks.

Not that he cared. Mommy loved how adorable he was sleeping in nothing but a diaper. And that was all that mattered.

He giggled at the fingers tickling his tummy, his diaper crinkling merrily along as he kicked his legs.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was dimly aware of the cold, uncomfortable mess in the back of his diaper—though it was of little consequence.

The state of his diaper was not his concern. All he cared about was getting more attention from Mommy.

“Such a happy baby boy you are! Did you have a nice nappypoo?”

Eevee froze in terror. That was not Mommy’s voice.

He opened his eyes to find his Mommy’s best friend, Amy, smiling down at him. Sensing his unease, Amy runs her fingers through his hair.

“Shhh shh shhh…you’re okay, little one. No need to be upset! It’s just a poopy diapie, nothing Auntie Amy can’t handle.”

His pacifier bobbed erratically, reflecting his anxiety as he tried to decide what to say. Or what to do. He instinctively reaches for the blanket to cover his diaper.

“No need to be shy, hun,” Amy cooed, patting his diaper. “Auntie Amy knows all about your diapies, binkies, and nappyppos. Now, how about we get you out of that icky diapie, hmmm?”

Eevee could barely process what was happening. Sure, he was used to being Mommy’s little baby, but he always assumed his newfound status as her little was private.

Especially because Mommy made sure nobody would notice the diapers under his clothes when they went out in public. And always handled public diaper checks and changes as discreetly as possible.

Plus there was something about the way Amy was speaking to him—like it was perfectly normal and routine to find him in a poopy diaper—that only added to his confusion.

Amy lowered the bars of his crib and held out a hand for him to grab, still smiling that same sweet smile. She squealed in utter delight when he stood up and his overworked diaper drooped ominously between his legs.

“Ahhh! You’re so stinking cute, mister! I can’t believe your Mommy made us wait so long to see you!”

All Eevee could do is stand there in a comically sagging diaper, blushing furiously.

“Not that I blame her! I’d keep something this adorable all to myself too!”

It was one thing to be treated so casually little by Mommy. But having Amy treat him so authentically infantile was far more overwhelming.

Eevee never felt more little in the six months since his wife became Mommy. Not because Mommy never succeeded in making him feel itty bitty, of course.

No, Mommy was a master at making him feel like the little he always wanted to be.

But this was different. Amy was a friend. Someone who was supposed to see him as an adult.

Yet here she was, acting like he was just some silly baby in need of a diaper change. Without even a hint of derision or mockery in her voice or smile.

Amy playfully spanked his diaper. “C’mon, stinker. You know the drill. Waddle that tushie on over to the changing table.”

Still too embarrassed to talk, Eevee soothed himself with his binky as he marched to his changing table.

He noticed Amy admiring the stacks of diapers and changing supplies so brazenly out in the open. His diapers, diaper pail, and crib leaving no doubt of his status as a permanent pamper packer.

There was no pretending an adult lived in this room.

“Up,” Amy says, patting the changing table.

Eevee crawled on the table, careful not to smush his mess any more than necessary.

“Good boy!” Amy coos, pinching his cheek, “Time to clean the poopy baby!”

Eevee could hardly fathom how confident and naturally Amy handled the situation. She moved like there was absolutely nothing unusual about changing her best friend’s husband’s poopy diaper.

Like Eevee was an actual baby.

She walked to his feet, tickling them for a split second before reaching for diaper and grabbing a tab.

Rip.

Rip.

Rip.

Rip.

Without hesitation, she pulled open his diaper to reveal the full extent of his mess.

“My, someone had an awfully busy nap filling his diapie with poopoo, didn’t hims?!”

As before, there was no trace of malice in her voice. Not even the slightest hint of mockery.

She grabbed a handful of wipes and got to work wiping him clean.

“Your Mommy warned me about your habit of destroying your diapies during your naps. As if that would stop me from finally getting to meet the real Eevee.”

Amy laughed, as if not meeting baby Eevee was an utterly ridiculous notion.

“We’ve been hearing all about your transition to babyhood, eagerly awaiting the moment your Mommy finally let us meet you. Up!”

Eevee lifted his legs while Amy used the front of the old diaper to scoop the bulk of the mess from his bum.

“She wanted to make sure you were ready, of course. And I’d never rush a Mommy—she knows her baby best. But it was so hard pretending not to notice the obvious diaper bulges and acting like your sudden ‘disappearances’ with her weren’t so she could change your diaper.”

Amy balled the old diaper and tossed it into the diaper pail.

“The hardest part, though, was pretending you were still a big boy, when I knew you were actually just an itty bitty baby.”

Amy wiped Eevee’s special parts without even the slightest acknowledgment of its adult purpose—as if his private parts were no different from his tummy or shoulders.

As if he were a baby.

Eevee whimpered, realizing he truly got everything he wanted. To his Mommy—and now Amy—he was unmistakably a little. He was no longer an adult whose private parts commanded dignity and privacy. No, they were simply something to be cleaned during changes, nothing more.

This was his new life—there was no going back.

“Uh oh! I’m sorry, honey!” Amy apologized, mistaking the cause of Eevee’s whimpering, “How could I forget to warm up the wipes?”

Determined to make the baby more comfortable, Amy diligently warmed the last few wipes needed to clean him.

“There, no more stinkies!”

She glanced down under the changing table at the seemingly unlimited selections of diapers. Each more adorable than the last.

“Hmm, so many choices, kiddo! You’re spoiled, you know that? Oh! This one is perfect! It looks just like real Pampers!”

Eevee watched as she methodically folded and fluffed the diaper, still completely naked.

“Lift that tushie, sweetie,” Amy cooed, sliding the diaper under him.

The moment Amy grabbed the baby oil, Eevee blushed more than ever before, knowing what was about to happen. Amy just smiled and tickled his tummy.

In any other context, having a woman rub his privates so thoroughly would be unmistakably sexual.

There was nothing sexual about this.

It was simply part of the diaper change. Eevee needed baby oil to prevent diaper rash, and Amy was changing his diaper. Why would Amy treat it as anything different?

Eevee was a baby—not an adult. This was perfectly natural.

“All done!” Amy announced, wiping the oil from her hand with a wipe. “Thank you for being a patient little cutie all change! Once I get you powdered you can go see Mommy!”

As Amy grabbed the baby powder, Eevee felt an all-too-familiar shudder in his bladder. He tried to hold it, but he had been in diapers too long. There was nothing he could do.

“Ut oh! Tinkle explosion!” Amy giggled, quickly pulling up his diaper to contain his pee, “Disaster avoided.”

Amy wiped a few droplets of tinkle from his belly.

“Well, mostly. Awww, don’t be embarrassed, little one! Babies can’t help it! Why do you think I’m putting you in this diaper, hmm?”

Without waiting for a response, Amy opened up the now-damp diaper and sprinkled baby powder over his privates. When she was satisfied, she lifted his legs to powder his bum.

Finally, she lowered Eevee back down and expertly taped his diaper into place.

“Woah, hold your horses, mister!” Amy scolded Eevee as he tried to slide off the changing table, “I gotta make sure those leak guards aren’t bent or your Mommy will think I can’t handle diaper changes!”

For some reason, Eevee blushed even more when Amy’s finger slid up and down the inside of his diaper to adjust the leak guards. There was something overly infantile about it.

“There, all clean and ready to go!” Amy announced proudly.

A cloud of powder poofed from Eevee’s diaper when she patted it.

“F-fank ‘ou, A-auntie Amy,” Eevee lisped through his paci, finally finding his voice.

Amy immediately pulled him into a hug. “Awww, you’re welcome, cutie pie! Thank you for using your manners, too!”

“M..mhm!” Eevee responded.

“Oh, silly Auntie! You can’t go out in just a diapie, can you? Your Mommy left out this shirt for you. Lift up your hands!”

Amy slid the light-blue diaper shirt over each arm and lowered it.

“Oh my gosh, you look just like Tommy Pickles! Ahh, are little Rugrat!”

Eevee wasn’t sure if he was proud or wildly embarrassed.

“C’mon, mister, lets go show Mommy and Auntie Lily and Uncle Phil how adorable you are.”

Eevee stopped short at hearing who was at the house—especially knowing Phil was there.

“Don’t worry, buddy! Everyone already knows! You have nothing to be ashamed of, got it? We’re all so excited to meet the real you! Now, can you be a brave boy and take my hand so we can show everyone how adorable you are?”

As much as Eevee wanted to run and hide because apparently everyone knows he’s just a little, Auntie Amy’s smile buoyed his confidence.

Besides, why should he be ashamed?

This is who he is. This is where he belongs. This is what he’s always wanted.

Eevee takes a deep breath, grabs Amy’s hand, and follows her out the door.

Ready to start his new life.

[stinky-in-pinky]

Look at Him Go

I was curled up on the couch, legs tucked beneath me, lazily scrolling through my phone while cheerful songs drifted from the television in the background. The living room was bright with afternoon sunlight pouring through the big windows, warm and peaceful.

A faint rustling caught my ear. I glanced up at the trees outside, their leaves dancing gently in the breeze. Probably just the wind. I thought, and went back to scrolling through my phone.

Another rustle. A little closer this time.

I looked over at the corner where our golden retriever was curled up in his bed, snoring softly, one paw twitching in a dream. Not him.

The sound came again. Soft, rhythmic, unmistakable now that I was really listening. It was accompanied by the quiet crinkle of plastic. I finally lowered my phone and looked down at the floor.

There he was, my husband, lying on his tummy on the thick play mat, wearing nothing but his puffy diaper, and a cute little t-shirt too small to cover it. His pacifier bobbed between his lips as he...bobbed. Secret little wriggles, hips shifting in tiny, guilty movements he clearly hoped I wouldn’t notice.

“Honey?” I said softly.

He jumped a little, eyes wide, freezing like a deer in headlights, cheeks already flushing pink behind the shield have the pacifier. Then he quickly looked down at the mat like he could hide from me.

“You sure are doing a lot of wriggling over there, sweetheart...”

He didn’t say a word. Just suckled his paci, obviously scrambling for some excuse.

I leaned forward, tucking my hair behind my ears so I could see him better. “Are you… trying to make humpies?”

His blush deepened instantly, spreading all the way to his ears. He couldn’t meet my eyes. As if by avoiding my gaze he could make this whole situation go away.

“Awww! It’s okay, hunny!! No need to be embarwassed! You’re not in trouble!”

He peeked up at me then, eyes wide with surprise behind the pacifier still working anxiously in his mouth. His chin was already a little shiny with drool.

I smiled warmly. “It’s okay. Honest! You put up such a fuss about your diapers for so long! Mommy’s happy that you’re coming to accept them and… enjoy them.” I sat back on the couch once more. “So go on… have your fun!”

He hesitated, searching my face, clearly unsure if this was some kind of test. But after a long moment of nothing else being said, his hips began to move again. Slowly at first, testing the waters. Then gradually picking up pace with growing need.

I pretended to go back to my phone, thumb scrolling through videos I wasn’t really seeing, wanting to give him the illusion of a little privacy while he “did his business.” But my eyes kept drifting back to him. I couldn’t help it.

There he was: a grown man, my husband, someone who used to stand in boardrooms and run high-stakes projects, now reduced to this on our living room floor. Humping his own thick diaper like a desperate, clumsy little pup who couldn’t help himself. It was so ridiculous. So pitiful. And yet...it filled me with the deepest, warmest sense of satisfaction I’d ever felt in our marriage.

He used to fight this so hard when we first started the restructuring. When the diapers went from the occasional “punishment” to an everyday reality.

He would throw full tantrums. Tears, yelling, begging, swearing that he hated them. That he could never, ever enjoy them. He’d safeword out of scenes, withdraw for days, insist it was “too much,” “too humiliating,” “not who he was.” I had to be firm and consistent, even when it was difficult. It was a long, painful, arduous process.

And now look at him.

His hips ground into the floor in short, awkward little ruts at first, the thick padding between his legs forcing them apart and making every movement clumsy and limited. The diaper was already plump and swollen from his morning wetting, the front puffy and slightly yellowed, the tapes stretched tight around his waist. I could tell his poor little penis wasn’t angled quite right inside the pamper. He kept shifting, frustrated, his hands twitching as if fighting the urge to reach down and adjust himself. But he knew the rule: no touching. Ever.

The crinkling was loud and constant, almost comical, each thrust producing a wet-sounding crinkle beneath the cartoon’s distant singing.

Every now and then he’d turn his head just enough to glance back at me, checking if the coast was clear, like a naughty little tottler trying to sneak something forbidden. Each time he saw me “absorbed” in my phone, he’d look away again and resume those pitiful little movements. I could see the shame burning in his face: the way his ears stayed red, the way he kept his eyes fixed on the mat as if staring hard enough might make him invisible. And yet it wasn’t enough to stop him. That only made it sweeter.

Part of me wondered if I should have changed his diaper first. The padding was heavily yellowed and plump, making an almost fat lump flat on the floor, but he didn’t seem to mind at all. If anything, the extra warmth and squish seemed to excite him more. His movements grew bolder, hips pressing down harder against the mat, grinding the bulky, cushiony front against his sensitive parts. His whole body looked so helpless like this. Legs slightly kicked out, feet sliding on the mat, back arched just a little in that pathetic attempt to get more friction. A successful, intelligent man reduced to rutting against his own soaked diaper. The sight made my heart flutter with affection and something deeper, something possessive. This was the proof. All those months of pushing him, of holding the line when he cried and protested, had led to this exact moment. He wasn’t enduring the diapers anymore. He was using them. Willingly. Right in front of me.

He didn’t make eye contact with me. He didn’t look my way at all after those quick checks. As if staring off into the distance would make him look more non-chalant, despite him straining his little face. Faint, humiliated whimpers and grunts slipped out every few thrusts—soft, breathy sounds he probably thought were quiet. I wondered if he even knew how loud he was being, even while trying so hard to stay inconspicuous. Drool was dripping steadily now from the corner of his mouth onto the mat, forming a small shiny puddle beneath his chin. I made a quiet mental note to myself: we’d definitely need bibs or burp cloths during tummy time from now on if this was going to become a regular thing. The pacifier shield bobbed wildly as he sucked harder, trying to soothe himself while his body chased that building pleasure.

His movements grew a little more frantic, hips jerking in pitiful, uncoordinated bursts. The thick diaper squished audibly with every desperate hump, the swollen padding compressing and shifting between his spread thighs. His legs gave tiny, helpless kicks, toes curling inside his socks. He looked so ridiculous. So completely lost in the act that it made my chest tighten with love. This was what I had wanted all along. Not just control, but this deep, total acceptance. He had fought it with everything he had, and now here he was, grinding away like he couldn’t stop even if the world was watching.

His pace quickened. If he was trying to be quiet, he was failing miserably. His whole body began to tremble. His nose whistled with each quick breath. The grunts turned into longer, needier whimpers. Then, he tensed. Hard. Back arching, legs straightening, hands clutching at the edge of the blankie as he came in his diaper with a long, muffled whine around the pacifier. His hips gave a few final, twitching thrusts before he collapsed flat against the mat, breathing hard, clearly overwhelmed.

I let the moment stretch for several seconds, letting him have his little humpie high. Then I asked as sweet as possible, keeping my tone light and non-judgmental:

“All done?”

He gave the tiniest, most ashamed little nod, face still hidden. I could practically feel the post-nut clarity crashing over him. The sticky warmth spreading inside the already wet padding, the sudden wave of humiliation at what he’d just done while I sat there watching. I didn't say anything else. I didn't need to. He probably had enough internal dialogue going on already.

I thought again about changing his diaper. It was visibly swollen and discolored now, sagging heavily between his legs. But I pushed the thought aside. No. I wanted him to sit in that diaper. To really feel it. Every warm, sticky reminder of what he’d done in his pamper. So I simply went back to scrolling on my phone and let the quiet settle over the room. Giving him time. Letting it all soak in.

The cartoon kept singing cheerfully in the background, bright and innocent. A few peaceful minutes drifted by. The only sounds were the occasional soft, squishy crinkles as he shifted restlessly on the mat, the heavy, used diaper compressing and rustling beneath his weight. Then, quietly at first, I heard the rustling start again.

Wait... Again??

My thumb froze on the phone screen for a second as genuine surprise washed over me. Already? After barely a few minutes? After that intense first orgasm and all the shame that should have followed? I hadn’t expected this. Not this quickly. A warm rush of shock, delight, and deep satisfaction bloomed in my chest.

Look at him go!

My sweet, stubborn husband, the man who used to fight every single diaper with tears and tantrums, was already going back for sloppy seconds in his own messy, cum-soaked pamper like he couldn’t help himself.

I didn’t say a word. I didn’t want to embarrass him further. I mean, it was embarrassing: a grown man desperately humping his own wet, sticky diaper right there on the living room floor. But this… this was so good for him. Learning to enjoy what his body craved without fighting it anymore.

His hips were moving once more. Slower this time, almost exploratory, like he was savoring the slick, sticky mess he’d already made inside. The used diaper made everything sloppier, the crinkles wetter and more obscene. He ground down harder, rolling in deeper circles, clearly chasing that second release with renewed, almost frantic need. Those faint little grunts and whimpers returned, even softer this time, as if he were trying harder to stay quiet. Every so often he’d sneak another glance back at me, checking if I was still “not watching,” before turning away and resuming his pitiful humping. The shame was written all over him, but it clearly wasn’t enough to stop the desperate little ruts.

His movements grew more intense. Hips rolling in deeper circles, then quick little thrusts that made the heavy pamper squish between his legs. The front was visibly swollen, the padding compressed from his efforts. I wondered how it felt for him. That warm, cushiony embrace hugging his sensitive skin, the evidence of his first orgasm helping slick the way for his second.

I watched openly from the couch, warmth blooming low in my belly at the sight. There had been so many nights early on when I’d felt genuinely guilty enforcing this. The sound of his choked sobs while I spanked him over my knee, the way his voice would crack as he begged me not to make him use his diaper. There were evenings I’d had to turn the baby monitor off completely because I couldn’t bear to listen to him crying himself to sleep in the crib, tugging on his little restraints, trapped in a heavily soiled diaper with no way to escape the mess. I’d told myself it was necessary. That he needed to break. That the only way he’d ever truly accept this was if I held the line even when it hurt to do so.

And now here he was. All that resistance had melted into this eager, desperate acceptance. It was everything I’d worked for.

His second orgasm came even faster than the first. Usually the second was more stubborn. But apparently he was getting better at it. His breathing turned into quick pants. His body twitched harder. Then he tensed again, a long muffled whine escaping around the pacifier as he came in his already sticky diaper, hips jerking through the aftershocks before he went limp once more.

I waited until his breathing had mostly calmed, then spoke casually without looking up from my phone, voice still as sweet as could be. “Would you like a bottle, baby?” I asked, trying to sound breezy and aloof, "Perhaps you worked up a thirst?"

He shook his head quickly, flushing in embarrassment. Surely he didn't think he was being discreet?

I smiled softly to myself and let it go. I really did need to change him at this point. The front of his diaper was visibly damp and defiled now, sagging heavily between his legs from the two loads he’d pumped into it.

But then I glanced at the clock on the wall. 1:37. He usually had his afternoon poop right around 2:00. No sense in changing him just so he could dirty up a fresh one soon after. He could wait a little longer.

I stayed right where I was on the couch, scrolling.

Not long after, I heard his tell-tale grunts. Not the humpy kind of grunts. The other kind. When he was handling his...other type of business.

Unnh…unh…eh…unh…

Oh? I thought. He's a little early today...

I kept my eyes glued to my phone, pretending to be completely absorbed, watching everything from the corner of my vision so he could keep that tiny illusion of privacy and dignity. Even if it was only pretend.

Even on his tummy, I could see the subtle changes in his posture: the way his back tensed, his shoulders drew up slightly, the slow, concentrated push of his padded hips against the mat.

The back of his diaper began to crinkle and slowly balloon outward as he filled it. The seat expanded gradually, sagging heavily downward, the thick padding stretching and bulging under the weight. It was a thorough one. The warm, earthy smell drifted up toward the couch a few moments later, unmistakable and strong. I pretended not to notice, keeping my face perfectly neutral, thumb still scrolling at the same lazy pace.

He used to fight pooping his diapers with everything he had. Full-on meltdowns that could last an hour. Screaming, kicking, refusing, bargaining, tears streaming down his face. He could barely manage it even when I made him drop into a squat like a little tot, face bright red with humiliation and effort. So much time and energy spent resisting the most basic, babyish act. And now here he was, doing it face-down on his tummy on the play mat without a single word of protest, like it was the most natural thing in the world. The restructuring had worked so completely it almost took my breath away.

But oof… it was a stinky one. The smell was thick enough to make my nose wrinkle for a second before I schooled my expression again. Still, I didn’t comment. I didn’t even acknowledge it.

But oof… it was a stinky one. The smell was thick enough to make my nose wrinkle for a second before I schooled my expression again. Still, I didn’t comment. I didn’t even acknowledge it.

When he finally finished, he stayed very still for a long moment, clearly processing the heavy, warm mess now packed against him. Then he turned his head just enough to glance back at me, eyes wide and hopeful, clearly desperate and grossed out, silently begging for a change. The shame was written all over his flushed face—the way his pacifier worked anxiously between his lips, the way his hands clenched and unclenched against the mat. He looked so small. So pitiful. A grown man sitting in his own heavy, stinky diaper, hoping Mommy would take pity on him.

But I kept my eyes on my phone, calm and unbothered, as if nothing at all was happening. He knew better than to ask. He knew the rules by now.

Besides, I wanted to conduct a little experiment.

I wanted to see what would happen if I left him like this for a while, trapped in that heavy, warm, messy diaper on his tummy, no relief in sight, the evidence of everything he’d done today squishing and shifting with even the smallest movement. So I stayed quiet, scrolling, my heart beating a little faster with quiet anticipation and satisfaction. All those early struggles, all the guilt I’d sometimes felt enforcing his new reality… it had led to this. Total surrender.

Sure enough, after a few quiet minutes of nothing but the soft sounds of the cartoon and the occasional creak of the play mat, I heard the faint, rhythmic rustling start again…

[lilbabyprince]

Good boy sweetie! Look at you drinking your bottle like a big boy!" Ashley cooed, her saccharine tone a deliberate instrument of her husband’s emasculation, before planting a wet kiss on his forehead that made his skin crawl. He sighed, a sound of utter defeat, and futilely pushed himself away towards the living room, only for Ashley's stern, possessive voice to cut through his desperate bid for independence: "And where do you think you're going Tommy? You stay here with mommy where I can keep an eye on you!" With a casual, almost contemptuous ease, she grabbed the back of his walker, wheeling him back into the kitchen while he burned with mortification, forced to finish his baba and, out of sheer, soul-crushing boredom, absently play with the infantile activity center, its garish plastic shapes a mocking testament to his new, demeaning reality. Ashley watched him, a slow, cruel smirk spreading across her face as he wheeled himself around, a helpless exhibit in her private museum of control, when the abrupt ring of the doorbell threatened to expose his utter degradation to the outside world.

"Oh great that must be your babysitter!" Ashley announced, her words ringing with a playful authority that instantly shattered Tommy's illusion of adulthood, plunging him into a humiliating tantrum of pouts and frantic fist-bashing against his baby walker tray. His desperate protests of "No no no! Me no nee babeswitter! Me man no baby!" were punctuated by the tell-tale scent of fresh urine and baby powder , a stark, mortifying reminder of his inescapable regression, which Ashley barely suppressed a laugh at. "Tommy Oliver! That’s quite enough young man! Mommy will not stand for another tantrum today!" she declared, her voice brooking no argument as she expertly grabbed his oversized Elmo pacifier and popped it into his gaping mouth, instantly silencing his pathetic objections. "Now mommy has to get to her spin class so I expect you to be a good boy for Amy; she hasn’t seen you since your transformation and is very excited to be babysitting you! And I don’t want to hear any more talk of you being a man. You are a baby now and that’s all you are! Do you understand mommy babyboy?" Ashley sternly asked, her fingers gently but firmly gripping his chin to ensure his full, humiliated attention. "Yeth mommy!" Tommy begrudgingly babbled around the plastic, the admission of his utter helplessness a fresh wave of mortification as his wife smiled sweetly. "Good boy! Now you stay put, I’ll be right back!" Ashley responded, leaving the former man a quivering, pacifier-clamped infant, nervously tapping his feet on the cold tile floor, utterly trapped and desperately trying to concoct an escape plan before his mommy returned with his babysitter.

Defeated by a child-proof lock on the kitchen patio door, Tommy whimpered as his escape attempt was thwarted, just as the familiar, yet unwelcome, voice of his older neighbor, Amy, greeted him. Amy's soft yet stern voice cut through his despair with a playful "Well hello there babyboy! Trying to make a break for it? Eh”? quickly followed by the firm declaration that he would be staying put with "Aunty Amy," prompting his wife, Ashley, to interject sharply, "Bad boy Tommy! You don’t touch the door! Now get over here and say hello to Amy!" As Tommy begrudgingly wheeled away, furiously sucking his pacifier and half covering his eyes, the women exchanged knowing smirks, and when he stubbornly kept his hands over his face, Ashley demanded, "Tommy Oliver! Mommy said now! Stop pretending to be so shy and say hello!" pulling his hands down. A mortified "Hewo Mith Amy!" lisped from under his pacifier, his face flushing crimson as he finally met his older neighbor's gaze, to which Amy cooed back, "Hi cutiepie! You are absolutely adorable! We’re going to have so much fun today while mommy goes byebyes!" her tickling fingers finding his belly. “Oh Ashley you did such an amazing job with him! What an improvement! I don’t think he’ll be getting into any more shenanigans anytime soon that’s for sure! Now scoot I think I can handle it from here! I know how to deal with little boys!" Amy reassured the younger woman as Ashley grabbed her gym bag, reminding Amy that Tommy would need to be put down for his afternoon nap soon.

With a tell-tale grimace spreading across Tommy’s face, his eyes widened on in a struggle that soon became impossible to ignore. A low grunt escaped him as a potent, undeniable aroma filled the air, prompting a quick, knowing glance between the two women just as a substantial load settled heavily into his diaper. "Pew yew! Stinky boy!" Amy teased, her playful jab instantly triggering a fresh wave of wails from Tommy, whose distress only deepened. When Ashley offered to change her husband , Amy simply waved her off with a cheerful, "No honey, get going or you’ll be late! I’ve got this! This is what babies do! It’s not the first poopy bum I’ve changed!" With a quick peck on Tommy’s cheek and a final warning to be a good boy, Ashley thanked Amy and scurried off, leaving Amy alone with the former man. "Okay, baby boy, let’s go change that stinky butt and get you down for your nap," Amy cooed, gently scooping the wailing Tommy from his baby walker and settling the crying, babified man onto her hip. The movement caused the heavy contents in his Pamper to shift uncomfortably, eliciting another uncontrollable shriek as Amy began to rock him softly, carrying him towards his new nursery. Trapped in his infant state, Tommy could only wail louder, his mind screaming in a silent, desperate plea for this humiliating nightmare to finally end.

Upon stopping before the large white door adorned with a charming mural of a lion, giraffe, and elephant, alongside "Baby Tommy’s Nursery" stenciled in cool blue, Amy smiled and pushed it wide, her eyes widening at the gigantic baby sanctuary as the formidable scents of baby powder and wet, dirty diapers wrinkled her nose while she carried her whimpering, pacifier-sucking charge inside. "What a lucky baby you are! Your mommy really outdid herself!" Amy enthusiastically announced, gently lowering the former man onto his large white changing table and buckling the safety strap over his belly. "Now let’s change that yucky diaper babyboy!" she cooed, tickling his belly, which made Tommy pout before uncontrollably giggling to his own surprise. "There’s Auntys happy baby!" Amy laughed, beginning to unbutton the metal snaps on his onesie, exposing his oversized Pamper. "Let’s see what we have here babykins!" she singsonged, unfastening the tapes on Tommy’s Paw Patrol emblazoned Pamper and pulling down the front to reveal a large, malodorous load of poop below his tiny, hairless penis, causing Amy to snicker before pinching her nose at the revolting scent. "What a stinky boy! And look at that little peepee no bigger than a baby’s! No wonder your mommy put you back in diapers!" Amy teased, making Tommy turn bright red and nervously suck his pacifier. Lifting his bum into the cool air, Amy skillfully used the front of the wet disposable diaper to wipe most of the sticky mess from his backside before attacking the rest with a heavy supply of baby wipes, meticulously cleaning his peepee and all the crevices, much to Tommy’s utter humiliation.

With an experienced hand, Amy slid Tommy’s dirty diaper out from under him while holding his legs aloft, rolling it up, and tossing it into the diaper genie before grabbing a fresh Pamper from the stack below. As she slid the clean diaper beneath his now-clean bottom, cooing, "Almost done babyboy!" and blowing raspberries on his belly, Tommy dramatically rolled his eyes. "Oh someone’s being a grumpy Gus!" Amy teased, undeterred, as she generously slathered his hairless genitals and bottom with diaper rash cream, making sure not to miss a spot. Tommy whimpered, "Pwease stops me no wanna be baby! Me wanna be biwg boys gain!" but Amy, shaking her head in amusement, responded, "Sorry baby that’s not up to Aunty! That’s your mommy’s decision but I don’t think there’s any going back now! You’re just a baby now!" She then sprinkled his diaper area with a heavy dose of sweet-smelling baby powder before pulling up the front to reveal the smiling faces of Winnie the Pooh, Tigger, and Piglet under the elastic waistband and fastening the large Pamper tightly around his waist, causing Tommy to begin whimpering. His whimpers escalated to wails—"No pwease me biwg boy! Me man!"—as he flung his arms and legs in an epic tantrum, prompting Amy to deliver a few firm swats. "Tommy Alexander! You stop that this instant!" she sternly commanded, buttoning his onesie and unbuckling his safety strap. "Now I hate to be the bearer of bad news but Ashley has decided since your infidelity you will be moving back home permanently with your real mommy and she will be filing for divorce. Your mother is fully on board and is preparing for your arrival. So I suggest you come to terms with your new babyhood and behave unless you want another spanking!" This harsh revelation caused the former man to wail just like an infant as Amy picked him up, placed him on her hip, and carried him to the nursery window, closing the blinds before setting him in his crib, turning on his safari baby mobile and clicking on his baby monitor. With a gentle hand, Amy laid the now-infant Tommy down on the soft crib mattress, much to his chagrin, pulled up the crib side, and, wishing him sweet dreams, exited the nursery, closing the door as Tommy continued his wailing until he cried himself to sleep, his adult life irrevocably transformed.

[bbcharlotte]

The always astonishing PaddedPride on Bluesky

[imtellingmommytoo]

Self Respect

Ooh! Careful now, steady, steady. There you go, sweetie. Hey, look at you! You're standing up, all by yourself!

Now what are you..? Uh-oh, is someone trying to do pushies? Did all that activity get your tummy movin? Mhmm, go ahead, baby, make those pushies. It's perfectly natural. I know you're still a bit shy. But, you can see how it's almost becoming automatic, now? Yeah, that's right, just trust your body, it knows what to do. Pretty soon you won't put up much of a fuss, or even notice, and you'll just be along for the ride.

Yaay! - claps hands*

All done? No, no, silly, it's not naptime, yet. What's got you so interested in your crib? Are you looking for something? Is it your pride? Your dignity, maybe? It certainly can't be your masculinity, we got rid of that yucky stuff ages ago. So, what then? I know, I know, you're probably looking for your self respect? Well sorry to break it to you, champ. You just pushed that into the seat of your diapers! Yep, all gone! Sure is stinky, too. Don't worry we'll get you all cleaned up. It'll be all wiped away, folded up, and into your diaper pail it goes. Yep, say "Bye-bye, self respect there's no place for you here." And if it ever does come back, you'll push or dribble it right into the next diaper, and the next, again and again. Until you can't even remember what the big deal was in the first place.

Oh! I see, You're just looking for your stuffy. Yes, of course, you're getting so independent, now. Can you reach your buddy? Go on, grab-em. Hurry up, now. Someone has a stinky load of self respect to get changed!

[imtellingmommytoo]

Stop Doddling

Wait Mommy, NO! Wait, wait, hold on. I'm not wearing my shorts. I need my shorts, Mommy! Wait, please!

Oh, hush, sweetie. Come along, now. We don't have time for this. We're already running late.

But, but... People might see me. They, they'll, see my, my, diaper.

Oh, I'm sure they will, sweetie. A cute little crinkle butt like you, waddling around, following his pretty Mommy like a silly little duck. Quack! Quack!

MOMMY!

I'm just teasing. No one's paying attention. So, stop your fussing, potty pants. I've got your diaper bag right here. There's an extra pair of shorts in here somewhere.

Can I have em, now? Mommy, PLEASE!

Oh, that's enough, now. You know as well as I do, once we get there it'll be time for a change anyway. Once you're in a clean diaper again, Mommy will get your shorts for you. Don't worry, we'll get your diaper booty coverd up before you're out of the car.

In the car? You can't change me in the car! Someone might see me!

Again with this? Just stop. Mommy most certainly can, and will, change your butt in the back seat of the car, or anywhere else, if I see fit! Ever since you wanted Mommy to 'take charge,' you no longer have any say in how I handle your care. Remember you wanted all this. You should have though long and hard about giving up control, and what 'back to babyhood' really means. I'm not playing around at this, you don't get to just pick and choose whatever you feel like in the moment.

Now, stop worrying, I'll be quick, I can't have you waddling around in a yucky diaper while we're out and about, baby. Besides, even with your shorts on, I'm sure you'll still attract a few stares and giggles. But it's fine. Soon you'll adapt, and you won't even notice after awhile. Just like how you use your diapees now, you hardly even notice, anymore. Now, stop doddling, baby butt, and hurry up!