Hello! My name is Danielle and this my ABDL blog. I'm a little baby girl hoping to one day not have to put on my big girl facade. I love diapers, stuffies, cuddling, milky, etc...pretty much all things little!
Drop the attitude right now, mister. The guests are arriving any minute. Some of them are very important members of the matriarchal government, and you will be on your best behaviour. If you even think about asking to use the toilet, you'll be in serious trouble, little boy.
Yes, that means wetting and messing your diapers. I don't care how humiliating you find it. No arguing. And no fussing about being breastfed either! When you get hungry around dinnertime, I want you pawing at my chest and crying for milkies in front of everyone. Got it?
Enough. This isn't a debate. Having a properly infantilized husband is an important status symbol under the new order, and you are not going to embarrass me tonight. You will call me 'Mommy'. You will pee and poop in your diaper. You will nurse from my breasts. You will, in every way, act like a toddler for the entire evening. Or else I'll have the nanny spank you to tears every night for a week. Is that clear?
A virus that causes women to manifest babyish behaviours, or even mentally regress entirely, is sweeping the world. Naomi's symptoms are very mild, but that doesn't stop her losing her status as an adult in the eyes of society.
***
“This is ridiculous!” Naomi whined. “There’s nothing wrong with me!”
“You tested positive, sweetheart,” her boyfriend said, patiently. “And your potty issues aren’t nothing. How many pairs of undies did you ruin before you agreed to start wearing your training pants?”
Naomi felt her cheeks burning. “They’re not training pants, Isaac!” she insisted, stomping her foot, suddenly very aware of the thickness of the protective underwear between her legs. “They’re just… just…”
“I know, baby, I’m sorry,” Isaac said. “They’re your just-in-case pants, aren’t they? But my point is you’ve got to stop pretending that your life isn’t going to change because of this. You’ve got Baby Fever, my love.”
“But there haven’t been any mental changes!” Naomi practically shrieked. “The only thing that’s changed is that my bladder control is weaker! So why do I have to have my driving licence revoked? Why do I have to lose my job? Why do you have to be named my legal guardian? It doesn’t make any sense!”
“It’s for your own safety, Naomi,” said Isaac. “You don’t know that there won’t be any mental changes. Your little pee-pants problem could just be the start.”
“If there were going to be worse symptoms, they would’ve happened by now!” Naomi insisted, cringing at his choice of words. “I’ve been looking into it online. There are loads of women like me! We barely show any symptoms at all, and yet we’re subjected to all the same rules as a bunch of overgrown toddlers!”
“We don’t know enough about how the virus works, baby,” Isaac said, calmly. “For all we know, you could go months without any more symptoms, only to develop severe ones all at once. What if it happened while you were driving? What if you suddenly found yourself with the mind of a little girl while you were out alone in the city somewhere? Just think what might happen! Anyone could take advantage of you, sweetheart!”
“But there have been hardly any cases where a women develops more severe symptoms after three weeks!” Naomi protested.
“But there have still been some,” said Isaac. “Do you know what would happen if you ended up mentally regressed, and I’d allowed you to just wander about like you didn’t have the virus? The government would label me an irresponsible caregiver, and I’m not going to risk that. I’m not going to risk you being taken away from me and dumped in foster care. Is that what you want, Naomi? Do you want to end up in foster care?”
Naomi was blushing furiously. After a moment, she looked down at the floor and shook her head.
“Then be a good girl and do as Daddy says.”
Naomi tensed. “You’re not my Daddy,” she mumbled, still looking at her shoes.
“I am now, baby,” Isaac said firmly, “and I’m going to take care of you properly.” He took her by the hand and started leading her out of the living room.
“Where are we going?” Naomi asked, meekly.
“I ordered some new clothes for you,” said Isaac, “and they arrived today. They’re in the bedroom.”
“New clothes?” Naomi repeated, confused. Then she realised what he must mean. “No!” she squealed, trying to dig her heels into the carpet. “Please, Isaac! Please just let me just wear my normal clothes!”
“Don’t be silly, sweetie,” he said, pulling her along effortlessly. “The official guidelines state that you have to be recognisable as a virus victim. That way people will know something’s wrong if you’re by yourself. You’ve been walking around in adult clothes for far too long already, little missy.”
“But I don’t want to dress like one of them!” Naomi whined, thinking of the virus victims she sometimes saw in public, grown women dressed up in ridiculous rompers and overalls and frilly dresses. Mostly they had gormless, happy expressions on their faces, victims of the full mental regression, but others, who had merely manifested babylike behaviours that rendered them helpless and dependent, blushed with embarrassment as they toddled along in their ludicrous outfits. The idea that she should have to dress like that too, when all that was wrong with her was a little trouble holding her pee, was utterly absurd. “People will think I’m fully regressed!” Naomi complained desperately. “Isn’t it better that they know I still have my adult mind?!”
“It’s better to be safe,” said Isaac. “Plus the guidelines say it’s a good way of signalling to everyone that you’re out of your contagious phase. That will give people a lot of peace of mind if you do something babyish in front of them.”
They entered the bedroom, and Naomi saw that there were several large cardboard boxes sitting on the bed. They looked perfectly innocent, but the thought of what was inside them made her chest tighten. “Please, Isaac…” she tried again, but her boyfriend paid her no mind.
He got to work opening the boxes, and Naomi thought she might faint at the sight of the clothes he began to pull out. The fact that it was exactly what she’d expected, and feared, was no comfort to her. Childish tops and leggings, a soft pink tutu, a snug-looking pramsuit, a sparkly leotard with Disney princesses on the front, a sky blue onesie with a pattern of yellow ducks; Isaac unpacked them all and folded them neatly on the bed, ready to fill her drawers. He glanced up at her. “Start getting undressed, baby,” he said, as he folded a set of purple pyjamas covered in prancing unicorns. “I want to get you into your new clothes right away.”
Naomi opened her mouth to protest, but Isaac shot her a warning look and she closed it again. Cheeks flushed, she started to strip, removing her loose, V-neck shirt and letting it drop to the floor. She slipped off her shoes, and her jeans went next, falling to her ankles and leaving her standing in nothing but her bra and her thick pull-ups. She looked down at the clothes at her feet, wondering when she’d get to wear them again. The possibility that the answer might be never hit her suddenly like a blow to the stomach. Feeling faintly dizzy, she examined her absorbent underwear, and with a fresh rush of embarrassment, she noticed they looked a little discoloured. She squeezed her legs together experimentally. There a slight squish. When had that happened?
“Did you have an accident, baby?” Isaac asked.
Naomi froze when she realised he’d been watching her. Her face felt as red as a tomato. She couldn’t bring herself to look up at him, so she just nodded her head, still looking at the floor.
“Do you need changing?” he asked.
“No,” she mumbled. “It’s not much.”
“Alright, darling,” Isaac said, gently. “For now we’ll just get you dressed, okay? Arms up!”
“I know how to dress myself,” Naomi said, petulantly, raising her head to glare at her boyfriend. But she lifted up her arms all the same, allowing him to pull a long-sleeved pink top down over her head. At first she thought it wasn’t that different from the shirt she’d just removed, except for the colour, but then she spotted the writing on the front. Daddy’s Girl. “Seriously, Isaac?”
“It looks cute on you,” her boyfriend said, planting a quick kiss on her pouty red lips. Naomi felt butterflies fluttering in her tummy despite herself. Cute, as in adorable, she reminded herself. Cute, as in not sexy. She imagined trying to seduce him in any of her new clothes, and didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. It was bad enough trying to be sexy in padded underwear, let alone a romper with a pattern of rattles, baby blocks, and diaper pins.
A pair of thick white tights came next, and Isaac knelt down in front of her, allowing her to stabilise herself with her hands on his shoulders while she stepped into them. “Left foot first, that’s it. Then the right. Good girl!” He pulled them up her legs and over her bulky protective pants, but despite the tights’ thickness, they didn’t quite conceal what Naomi wore around her bottom.
Isaac stood after that, picking two pink ribbons from a pack on the bed, and started running his fingers through her luscious black hair. Naomi knew what he was planning at once. “No!” she squealed, stepping back. “There’s nothing wrong with keeping my hair down! It’s fine!”
“The government guidelines say that pigtails and pink ribbons are the best and easiest way a virus victim can be identified, Naomi,” said Isaac, firmly. “This way everyone will know you’re a Baby Fever girl.”
Naomi clenched her fists. She wanted to scream and shout, but she knew that if she did, Isaac would just say she was throwing a tantrum and suggest it was evidence of her developing virus symptoms. She took a deep breath. “Fine,” she said, through gritted teeth.
“Good girl!” Isaac said, and he started tying her dark hair into a pair of high pigtails that dangled down to tickle her cheeks. “Perfect,” he announced, once he was finished. “Come see what you look like, baby.”
Naomi wasn’t at all keen to see her reflection, but Isaac dragged her over to the full-length mirror and stood her in front of it. “Oh my God…” she whispered when she saw herself. She looked like a giant three-year-old, complete with training pants bulging out from under her tights. Tears welled up in her eyes. “I look like a joke!”
“Don’t say that, sweetheart,” Isaac cooed, bending down to kiss her cheek. “You look adorable! You’ll be the cutest girl in your class!”
“In my… in my what?”
“Your class, baby. At your daycare.”
Naomi stared, horror struck, at her boyfriend’s face in the mirror. “At my what?!”
The morning sun streamed through the bedroom window, painting everything in soft golden light.
She stood in front of the full-length mirror, turning slowly from side to side. Her long brunette hair cascaded down her back in gentle waves, a pale blue bow clipped neatly in the centre. The yellow sundress hugged her delicate frame perfectly, it was feminine, flirty, and just short enough to make her feel a little daring.
It’s been so long since Daddy and I had a proper romantic date, she thought, smoothing the dress over her hips. Just the two of us doing regular couple stuff. Like grown-ups.
She studied her reflection with a hopeful, determined smile. Big Disney princess doe eyes, plump pink lips, and her adorable tiny button nose Daddy always loved to kiss. She'd made sure to apply her make up carefully, highlighting all her best features. Today she looked like a proper girlfriend.
No diapers today, she told herself firmly. The thin lace panties underneath felt light and freeing. I can do this. I’m going to be his big girl all day. No accidents. Just a real date like old times.
She was smart, capable, and mature… and today she was determined to prove it!
Daddy appeared in the doorway, filling the frame effortlessly. He was truly handsome in that easy, comforting way, broad shoulders, expressive face that could shift from gentle to playfully stern in a heartbeat. When he looked at her, his eyes softened with that special warmth she loved more than anything.
“You look beautiful, princess,” he said, voice deep and affectionate. He stepped inside and wrapped his arms around her from behind, resting his chin on top of her head. “My pretty date.”
She leaned back against his chest, smiling brightly up at him in the mirror.
“Thank you, Daddy! I picked this dress because I thought it would be perfect for walking around the fair. Did you know the local fair has over thirty different food stalls this year? I read about it online. There’s even a new cotton candy stand with vanilla flavours. We have to try it.”
He chuckled, that wonderful hearty laugh she adored, before pressing a soft kiss to her temple.
“I’m looking forward to it, sweetheart. You’ve been so excited about our big date.”
But then he reached for the large pink diaper bag sitting by the door.
Her stomach dropped.
Daddy… no.
The frustration bubbled up fast. Everywhere we go he brings that bag. And he only picks daytime activities now because he decided ages ago that I need an early bedtime. It’s silly. Just because I get tired by eight o’clock doesn’t mean I need to be in bed by eight.
When they were first dating, he used to kiss her passionately in the street after a romantic dinner and movie. Now the only “public displays of affection” Daddy gave her were forehead kisses, boops on the nose, and sly diaper checks when no one was looking.
She had gotten herself all dolled up this morning. Today was supposed to be different.
“Daddy, please,” she said, turning in his arms with a determined pout. Her big doe eyes pleaded with him. “We talked about this. Today is supposed to be different. I want to feel like your girlfriend, not your baby. I can handle it. I promise. I’m going to stay dry all day like a big girl. Please?”
He looked down at her with that protective, knowing expression. His hand gently brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.
“I know you want to try, my sweet girl. And Daddy is so proud of how determined you are. You’re smart, you’re bubbly, you’re full of all those wonderful facts and thoughts you love sharing with me. But I also know my little princess. I know how your body works when we’re out having fun for hours. I’m not going to risk you being uncomfortable or embarrassed. Let me take care of you properly today.”
She fussed softly, cheeks flushing pink as he guided her toward the bed.
“But Daddy… the dress. It’s so pretty. The diaper will show and I’ll look silly…”
“You could never look silly to me,” he murmured, laying her down gently. “You’ll look adorable as always."
The thick diaper crinkled loudly as he worked, the familiar baby powder scent mixing with her signature vanilla fragrance. When he finished and helped her stand, the sundress did little to hide the obvious padded bulk. Every movement made a soft, telltale rustle.
She wanted to believe her old mask could still fit convincingly. That she could still be the big girl she used to pretend to be. But deep down, a small voice whispered that things weren’t like old times anymore.
Because now she was his baby girl.
And Daddy’s job was to make sure his little one was safe and cared for.
The car ride started off hopefully.
She held Daddy’s hand across the center console, swinging it gently. The windows were down, letting in warm summer air that smelled like fresh-cut grass and distant barbecue smoke. Her sundress fluttered against her thighs. For a few minutes she let herself believe this was really going to be their day.
“Did you know fairs like this one have been around since the 1800s?” she said brightly. “They started as agricultural shows but turned into these big celebrations of community and fun. I think that’s so sweet.”
Daddy smiled, giving her hand a squeeze. “I love how you know so many interesting facts, princess. Tell me more.”
She beamed, feeling a little spark of confidence.
But every bump in the road made the thick diaper crinkle loudly beneath her dress. The pink diaper bag sat openly in the backseat like an unwelcome guest.
When they arrived at the fair, the full sensory explosion hit her. The air was thick with the sweet scent of fried dough, popcorn, and vanilla cotton candy. Children laughed and screamed on rides. Carnival music played from old speakers. Bright lights and colourful booths stretched out in every direction.
Her heart lifted. This could still be romantic, she thought, slipping her hand into his again. We can walk around, eat cotton candy, maybe kiss on the Ferris wheel like old times.
For the first twenty minutes, it almost felt perfect. They walked hand-in-hand past game booths. She chattered away about the history of ring toss games and how the stuffed animals were probably made in the same factories as her favourite plushies at home. Daddy listened thoughtfully with that fond expression.
But then he gently steered her toward the petting zoo area.
“Daddy,” she whispered, tugging his hand. “I thought we were doing couple things. There’s a Ferris wheel and a cute photo booth over there…”
“We’ll get there, sweetheart,” he said patiently. “But first I want my girl to enjoy herself. Look how cute the baby goats are.”
She tried to stay bubbly, but the sight of parents pushing strollers and toddlers in diapers made her cheeks burn. Her own padded bottom felt enormous under the sundress. Every step made the crinkle louder in her ears.
They stopped at a lemonade stand. Daddy ordered two drinks, one normal cup for him, one sippy cup for her. She accepted it with a small pout.
As the afternoon wore on, the pressure in her bladder built. She shifted from foot to foot, trying to look casual. I can hold it. Big girls can hold it.
But Daddy noticed. He wrapped a protective arm around her.
“Everything okay, princess? You’re doing that little dance.”
Her face went bright red. “I’m fine. I’m being a big girl today. I don’t need help.”
The urge hit hard and fast while they were at the petting zoo. A sudden, warm rush flooded into her diaper. She froze, mortified, feeling the heavy warmth settle against her skin.
Tears pricked her eyes.
“I… I had an accident,” she whispered, voice trembling. “I really tried, Daddy. I wanted to be your big girl so badly today.”
Daddy immediately scooped her up into his arms, carrying her protectively against his chest. “Aww, my poor little girl. You tried so hard to be big today, didn’t you? But babies have accidents. That’s why Daddy brings extra diapers.”
She buried her face in his shirt, tears soaking the fabric. “I thought if I tried really hard, I could be normal for one day. Like we used to be. You used to kiss me in the street and now… now you only kiss my forehead and check my diaper like I’m just a baby…”
Daddy held her tighter. His hand slid down to gently pat the back of her soaked padding.
“Because you are my baby, princess. My delicate little doll with the big pretty eyes and the pouty pink lips. You tried so hard to be a big sophisticated girlfriend today… and you ended up soaking your diaper like the sweetest, smallest girl instead. Doesn’t that feel better than pretending?”
She whimpered, face flaming. “Daddy… people might hear you…”
He chuckled softly and booped her tiny nose. “Let them hear. So what if they know my baby girl needs diapers to catch all her accidents?"
The words made her feel impossibly small.
He carried her all the way to the family restroom, fussing over her the entire time, stroking her hair, rubbing her back, whispering gentle praises. Inside the stall, he laid her on the changing table and cleaned her with slow, careful wipes, powdering her thoroughly until she smelled like pure baby.
“Look at you,” he murmured playfully while taping on the fresh, even thicker diaper. “All blushy and embarrassed in your pretty sundress. My delicate little doll needs so much padding, doesn’t she?”
She whimpered, covering her face. The humiliation felt endless.
When they stepped back out, Daddy carried her again, holding her close like the precious baby she was.
The fair was still alive with noise and color, but she felt like everyone was staring. The thick, fresh diaper forced her legs into that obvious baby waddle. Every step made a loud, unmistakable crinkle that seemed to echo across the entire grounds.
Her cheeks burned hot. She kept her head down, long brunette hair falling forward like a curtain, hoping no one could see how heavily padded she was.
Daddy pulled her closer with a protective arm around her shoulders, but his voice carried that gentle, playful tease she both dreaded and craved.
“Aww, look at my little princess waddling so cutely,” he murmured, leaning down so only she could hear. “That thick diaper makes you walk so adorably. Does it feel nice and bulky between those pretty legs, sweetheart?”
“Daddy… stop teasing me,” she mumbled, even as a tiny, embarrassed giggle slipped out.
He grinned and kissed the top of her head. “But you get so adorably blushy when I tease you. Look at those rosy cheeks. My perfect padded princess.”
For the rest of the afternoon, she stopped fighting.
She let him push her on the swings. She let him carry her when her legs got tired. She let him fix her paci clip to her dress when she got fussy. Every crinkle, every squish, every caring touch reminded her exactly who she was.
They found a quiet bench a little away from the main crowd. Daddy sat down and effortlessly pulled her into his lap, arranging her so she was straddling one of his thighs. The thick diaper squished noticeably under her weight, the crinkle loud in her own ears.
They stayed like that as the sky turned pink and orange. She let herself relax against his chest, sucking softly on the paci he’d clipped to her dress. The fair lights twinkled around them while carnival music played in the distance. Every now and then Daddy would gently pat her warm soggy bottom.
For the first time all day, the constant crinkle didn’t make her want to disappear.
"That's it, baby, give Grandma a great big smile! Good boy!"
I blush as my mother-in-law coos down at me. Despite my overwhelming embarrassment, I can't help but babble and grin like an overgrown infant as the older woman frets over me.
My wife's hypnotic suggestion to "be a good baby for Grandma" is just too strong.
As my mother-in-law leans into my crib to pinch my cheek again, I feel an ominous gurgle form in my stomach. The baby part of my brain that is driving this ship giggles as a loud toot escapes my cheeks.
"Oh, is my precious little man working on a present for his Grammy?"
I want to close my eyes. I want to jump up, run away and hide. I want to be anywhere but here.
Instead, I let out a cheery wet raspberry before pulling my knees towards my chest and messily filling the seat of my pants while my wife's mother looks on, laughing.
My 'Grammy' reaches a weathered, feminine hand to my ass as I finish, squeezing the disgusting mess back against my skin.
Despite my internal mortification, outwardly I kick my legs excitedly as I babble out wordless excitement.
"That's right, sweet pea! You did make Grammy a big, stinky present, didn't you? You're such an adorable, pathetic little man! Yes you are!"
The words burn in my ears. But, her gentle, condescending tone causes my outward self to beam even more broadly.
"Well, baby, I guess there's no use in putting this off! Your Mommy would never let me babysit again if she came back to find you in a messy diaper," my mother-in-law says as she efficiently gathers changing supplies.
"You know, little one," she continues as she unsnaps the buttons on my onesie, "I never thought you were good enough for my little girl. But, now, seeing you here, like this... Well... Let's just say I am beginning to see the appeal."
Ever since he brought her home, she’s had their hearts completely. Instantly acquiescing to her newfound position as baby of the family, they couldn’t help but find themselves doting upon and cooing at her constantly. They loved to dress her up in the poofiest, twirliest dresses and watch her spin and skip around showing off. They’d ask her to twirl for them again and again, clapping their hands with each precious pirouette and smiling encouragements to the blushing girl until she dizzied herself up and fell over on her adorably round, padded bottom. Because being their bubbly babygirl meant they kept her in not only the poofiest, silliest dresses, but also the poofiest, silliest diapers!
And right on cue with her tumble, their little sweetheart’s wails pierced the air. They swept in to comfort her- Dad scooping her up into his arms, Mom asking where it hurts so she can kiss the booboo, both of them shushing her and wiping her tears and assuring her she was okay. “Maybe tummy time is more your speed, sweetie.” Dad suggested lovingly through her sniffles before setting her down on her blankie on the floor. “We can try twirlies again another time, but for now let’s just get you settled down here all safe and sound.” They loved when she behaved so helplessly, and she loved when they showered her with so much attention.
So their delicate, little babygirl she would always be. Submitting to their every infantile desire for her because they praised and rewarded her so much for it. They gave her second helpings of dessert when she was an extra messy eater in her high chair, smearing her food all over face and getting it tangled in her hair. They ooo’ed and awww’ed over the nursery rhyme performances she put on for them and their friends. They took pictures for her baby book when she was lost in play with her toys.
Brainwashed little girl being manipulated by an older sister figure into thinking childish things are completely normal for a girl her age 🎀
“Oh, don’t forget your blankie, it matches your outfit!”
“You want your paci? I told you to clip it on your overalls before we left… i guess girls your age are just forgetful, look how many other girls have forgotten theirs!”
“No no, girls don’t go to the bathroom in groups to potty, their padding handles that. No, they just gossip and check each other to make sure no one is leaking”
“Of course i ordered you the happy meal! The toys right now are the number one trending accessory for girls your age!”
“Trust me, when going to frat parties, you’ll want to make sure you’re fully padded up. Boys live there, silly. No potty will be clean.”
“I mean… you can wear tight fitting clothes, but you’d probably want to make sure you’re wearing a onesie since it’ll help keep your diaper from sagging and not poke out of your skirt. What? No honey, there’s nothing wrong with people knowing you’re padded. Girls like you are always padded! It’s just a fashion thing, trust me.”
“Every girl wears a bib when having a meal before going out. It’s so embarrassing to ruin your outfit and having to change while every single girl knows you spilled since you all showed each other what you were gonna wear!”
awwww don't give me a grouchy face lil one, i just wanna record my babygirl's first messy pullup and therefore her first step towards diapers!
And put your pacifier in, mommy doesn't wanna hear you whining about the enema or the fisting she gave you. You're a lil 30 year old baby and you should be failing potty training without my help, but what are mommies for?
There we go~ big stinky for mommy! good baby girl!
Your mom often dropped you off at your aunt’s house when life overwhelmed her, leaving you there for days or even weeks occasionally. Your aunt, childless from a career that devoured her chance at a family, harbored a regret that poured into her desperate need to mother you. At first, her care was intense but simple—piling on blankets, reading bedtime stories, lingering to smooth your hair with a tenderness that felt both warm and heavy. You leaned into it, too shy to resist. Her maternal instincts, raw and unrestrained, inched forward, each step so subtle you accepted it like a frog in warming water, barely noticing the shift.
Her unfulfilled longing pushed the routine further. She began bathing you, running a warm cloth over your skin with meticulous care, claiming it was just practical. Then, knowing you didn’t wear diapers at home for your occasional bedwetting, she insisted on them for her beds, fastening it onto you with a quiet firmness. You blushed but were too shy to say no. Over time, she diapered you earlier each evening, the ritual starting right after dinner.
Later she even began then reassuring you it was okay to wet before bed since it was just more convenient. Eventually she even started hinting that poopy diapers were normal for bedwetters, her tone soft but deliberate. One night, after her hints, your curiosity got the best of you and you filled your diaper with poop. When she smelled it her chest instinctually pushed out and she quickly peeked down the back of the diaper like you were a little boy.
As she changed you, wiping you clean with steady hands, she slipped a pacifier into your mouth to “calm you down,” her eyes gleaming strangely. Soon, afterwards a baby bottle was introduced. Finally, she offered time at her breast, but strangely you noticed she only fed you that way if you’d filled your diaper with poop, her gaze intense with maternal fulfillment.
As weird as it all was, you continually found yourself making excuses to stay—mom’s stress, school troubles—because you’d grown to crave her nurturing, each step weaving you deeper into her desperate, motherly world
Oopsie-whoopsie! Mommy smells something yucky! Did someone make boom-boom in his diapie-wipies again? I think hims did! Come over here and let me see if you've shamed yourself, sweetie.
Oh yes, baby made a big mess! I bet hims doesn't feel like such a big man with poopy Pampies on, does hims? Nu-uh! I wonder what your little side-chicks would think if they could see you now, hmm? A grown man getting his dirty diaper checked by his wife. Not much of a stud anymore, are you?
I'm not interested in hearing apologies, stinky-pants. If you didn't want to be turned into a diaper-filling loser then you shouldn't have cheated on me. This is your life now, and all I want to hear from you are the happy babbles of a baby boy who's about to get two boobies full of Mommy's milk in his tummy-wummy!
Imagine a world, completely open to the idea of keeping submissive women diapered and dependent on their husbands.......
What would make her feel more helpless and childish other than taking away her privilege of using the potty. Not only that, but conditioning her to depend on you for her most private and important every day needs.
Hey baby, what happened? Last time I saw you you were talking an awful big game about how this was the year you'd be getting out of diapers, how you were going to get back to being a big boy.
So I sure was surprised when I got a call from your mommy asking me to babysit you the second Friday of the new year. Big boys don't need babysitters to look after them. It doesn't look like you're wearing big boy underpants, it doesn't look like you're in pull-ups even, and... it doesn't smell like you should be in anything other than thick diapers either. Did you go poopy baby?
Aw, no need to be so blushy baby. I don't know why someone who looks so cute in diapers would want to get out of them. How about I change you out of that icky diaper and into a clean one and we have the same fun we had last year! And the year before that, and the year before that, and...
Tell you what. Instead of such a big resolution like relearning potty training and how to be an adult man again, why don't you start smaller and I can help you? Your resolution could be maybe, only two poopy diaper changes tonight, or putting away all your toys after playtime without being told, or how about only getting food on your face or your bib but not both? Oh, you want to do all three! Well you are an ambitious boy, but don't worry I'm here to help.
Happy new year baby, now lets get your stinky diaper changed.
Another day of mommy getting up to go to the gym while baby stays sleeping in his crib. I checked on him before leaving and his pampers are wet and based on the smell dirty too. I didnt wanna wake him right now so he can just keep sleeping and I'll change his butt when I get home.
continuing to color, despite having a warm, squishy mess pressing against your butt while there’s a potty right within reach is probably peak toddlr energy, right?
i’ve been getting more comfortable with just ~letting go~ in my pullups/diapers recently and i’m very… proud? of myself. it has been making it difficult to do any sort of desperation play though because i just rlly cant hold it that long, or i can’t stop once i start going and leak everywhere on accident >,<
i used to have a lot of trouble messing and i still kind of do, but only because of my environment (worried roommates will smell). it’s still difficult to go in front of others tho 🙈 so y’all should feel special i share with you… :p
it feels so nice to not even have to interrupt what i’m doing (too much) anymore. at most, all i have to do is change my position and push… i completely zone out still tbh as i feel my bladder empty and a warm pool forms against my private parts :3 and when i can start pushing, feeling it start to come out, all of that pressure in my tummy lessening with every push, the feeling of it stretching the padding away from my skin so all that’s touching my butt is my stinky mess. and when i’m all done, i can just continue doing what i’m doing like nothing happened, i don’t even mind the smell.
" Now now, no need to pout dear. Lay down on your mat, Mama is going to make it all better"
Those pink cheeks drew out the beast in me but instead of giving into my lustful desires I merely squished those cheeks together making little fishy lips.
" You're so cute I could just... crush you" hunt you , eat you ,keep you in my basement . My mind was running away from me while I unbuttoned that little onsie that had been hiding beneath those pretend adult clothes. I smile warmly as I look into those precious eyes.
"Isn't it fun to play pretend? Dressing up, pretending you're all big but in reality..." I look down to see a completely soak diaper underneath "You're just a lil pissy baby aren't you? Who's my lil sweet baby?"
( Mama Red is actually a writer and was curious if anyone would like to read short stories from a mama's perspective? 😊)
Lil' Bug's Dreamies @danielle3487 - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
