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!
When a little tells you they aren't a baby, there's a lot of ways to handle that sort of back talk. You can certainly impose order with a spanking and enema, but those of us that practice gentle parenting prefer other methods.
For instance......
A defiant little girl by the name of Kaitlyn had thrown her lavender handled plastic fork off of the highchair and onto the tiled kitchen floor.
"I am NOT a baby." She huffed. "I'm not using these. Get me a real fork. Now." Barked the little girl. Which elicited only a sigh, and the calm walking of her Mother towards her.
"Kaitlyn dear. If you weren't a baby then all you needed was to just say something." Mommy mused as she removed the tray from the highchair. "Why I had no idea that I had a little grown up on my hands."
Kaitlyn blushed at the remark, and rather than bolt out of the kitchen like she was planning to do ever since being put into her highchair froze. She hadn't expected Mommy to let her out, and Mommy standing right in front of her did make getting out a bit awkward. The poor girls sentence had ended as soon as it started, as mommy cut over her "um."
"I really am sorry honey. I had no idea that you were a grown up. But now I'm not quite sure what to do, I have a big grown up dressed up in a onesie and a bib, but I'm sure you can explain why you're wearing that instead of pants."
"I uh- you put me in th-AH!" Kaitlyn yelped as she was lifted up. Cutting her little explanation of who had originally dressed her off. "And if I have a grown up here, then she seems awfully blushy about getting uppies. Does little miss Kaitlyn like uppies?"
"N-no I- AIEE!" The girl squealed as Mommy gently threw her into the air, before catching the girl and holding her tight against her chest.
"And speaking of outfits, does little miss Kaitlyn wear diapers? I heard a little crinkle when you went all the way to outer space."
"I-I" Mommy casually popped open the three crotch buttons of her onesie. "My goodness! That is a diaper! And it looks awfully big to me. These don't look like the diapers grown ups wear. These have little princesses on them. I think these are the diapers that babies wear." Mommy said in a cloyingly sweet voice, gently carrying her to the living room. "And if you're wearing baby diapers, then I have to ask if you've used them like a baby yet. Is your diaper dry, young lady?'
"I-I" Kaitlyn stuttered, genuinely unsure of the state of her diaper. Mommy had just changed her out of her bedtime diaper this morning, but could she have been wet already? Mommy never asked her if she was dry when she was dry. That question was always the precursor to a diaper change, even when asked in public.
"I, um. Yes? I think."
"You think you're dry? Well why dont we go ahead and check." Mommy sat down against the couch, and her hand gripped against Kaitlyns pampers, gently caressing the crinkly cloth backed diaper, forcing a murmur out of the girl when her finger slipped inside and brushed against a very grown up part of her.
"I think you might be telling the truth this time young lady. But how long can miss Kaitlyn keep her didee dry? Do you think you can last through a whole feeding?"
"F-feeding?"
"That's right, a feeding. You didn't want to eat in the high chair, but you still need to eat breakfast right?" Mommy said as she unbuttoned the topmost of her blouse, reaching for the clapse of her nursing bra, exposing her tit just inches from Kaitlyns mouth.
"N-no I-Mmmffh." Muttered Kaitlyn as Mommy took her head and gently pushed it against her breast. Her response turned only into suckling, as her opened mouth was unfortunately in just the right position for milkies.
"Oh, does my grown up girl like that? You seem to be enjoying that a lot." Mommy almost sang as she brushed her fingers through the girls hair. Kaitlyn suckled against Mommy's chest, trying to drink as fast as she could to just get this over with. But all that accomplished was more teasing as she forced herself to swallow down the half sweet milk.
Finally, Mommy released her grasp of her head, and positioned Kaitlyn to a sitting hug, gently yet firmly patting her back.
"Oh, big burpies!" Mommy coo'd. "You really had an appetite this morning huh?" Said Mommy as she rubbed her back. Kaitlyn was too embarrassed to muster a reply, and could only dig her face into Mommy's shoulder.
"Ohhhh, it's okay baby. Mommy's got you. I know a big grown up like you wants to go do her busy little grown up things but I think we need to visit the nursery first. And once we get you in a dry diaper, you can show Mommy all how a big girl plays with her toys, okay?"
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Photo credit: wetset.net
For more stories by me:Â https://reamstories.com/babywriter
"Soon enough, you wouldnât have any control left at all. Youâd helplessly fill your diapers wherever we are, even in public and in front of friends, family, and strangers. And youâd just grow more and more embarrassed, and more and more dependent on Daddyâs kindness and care. Youâd grow to love your diapers until you were nothing more than the helpless, thumb-sucking little diaper baby youâd always secretly wanted to be."
Oopsie! Did someone just go poopy in his diapie? You always make the cutest expressions when you have an accident, sweetie. Your eyes go wide, your lips pucker up⊠just like this! You look so surprised that youâre pooping your pants!
Iâm so glad your toilet untraining has been successful, babe. Making you diaper-dependent is the best decision I ever made! I know you're not very happy about being incontinent, but I promise that puffy Pampers are a much better look for you than those boring old boxer shorts you used to wear.
Awww, are you embarrassed? But Momma wuvs your adorable widdle potty face! And your cute, crinkly tushy-wushy! Yes she does! Yes she does! Come here, baby boy! Momma doesn't care how stinky your diaper is. Time for some cuddles!
The nursery was bathed in the soft, golden glow of the lamp on the changing table, casting long shadows across the walls. The air smelled faintly of baby powder and lavender, the scent of bedtime rituals and comfort. Youâd been clingy all evening, following Mommy from room to room, your arms wrapped around her legs, your voice small and whiny as you begged for just one more story, one more cuddle. Sheâd indulged you, of course, but now it was time for bed. And bedtime meant one thing: a fresh diaper.
You lay on the changing table, the padded surface cool against your bare back. The plastic sheet crinkled beneath you as you shifted, your legs kicking restlessly. Mommy stood beside you, her hands deft as she unfastened the tapes of your soaked diaper. The wet padding sagged as she peeled it away, the cool air hitting your skin and making you shiver. You bit your lip, your face already warm with embarrassment. You knew she could see how flushed you were, how your body had already started to react to her touch.
âMmm, someoneâs a little excited tonight,â Mommy murmured, her voice thick with amusement. She wiped you down with a warm, damp cloth, her fingers lingering just a second too long as she cleaned you. You squirmed, but there was nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. Her touch was gentle but deliberate, tracing circles over your hips, down your thighs, and then⊠oh⊠there. You gasped as her fingers brushed against you, your body betraying you instantly. She chuckled, low and knowing. âLook at you. Such a needy boy for Mommy.â
You wanted to protest, to tell her to stop, but the words died in your throat. Instead, you just whimpered, your fingers clutching at the edges of the changing table. She powdered you next, the puff of white dust billowing into the air before settling onto your skin. The scent was thick, babyish, and it only made the moment feel more intimate, more real. You were at her mercy, and she knew it.
Mommy reached for the fresh diaper, unfolding it with a practiced flick of her wrists. It was thick, extra thick, the kind that would make you waddle when you walked, the kind that would crinkle with every movement. She slid it beneath you, the plastic backing cool and smooth against your skin. But she didnât tape it up. Not yet.
Instead, her hand found its way to the front of the diaper, her fingers pressing down through the dry padding. You let out a broken sound, your hips jerking up off the table. âDoes this feel nice, baby?â she asked, her voice dripping with amusement. You nodded frantically, your face burning. You hated how much you loved it, how your body arched into her touch without a second thought. Her fingers moved in slow, deliberate circles, the pressure just enough to make your breath hitch.
âMommyâs going to take such good care of you,â she cooed, her other hand pressing down on your hip to keep you still. âBut you have to be a good boy for me. Can you do that?â You nodded again, your voice lost somewhere between a whimper and a plea. Her fingers worked you through the diaper, the padding muffling the sound of her touch but doing nothing to dull the sensation. If anything, it made it better, the way the plastic crinkled, the way the thickness of the diaper pressed back against you, trapping you in the moment.
Your hips started to lift off the table, your body moving on its own, grinding into her hand. She let you, her smile widening as she watched you unravel. âThatâs it,â she murmured. âShow Mommy how much you love your Pampers.â Her fingers picked up speed, her touch firm and unyielding. You could feel it building, coiling tight in your stomach, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps. The diaper crinkled loudly with every movement, the sound filling the room, a constant reminder of what you were, who you belonged to.
âP-please,â you managed to choke out, your voice trembling. You didnât even know what you were begging for, more, less, something, but Mommy seemed to understand. She leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. âShhh, baby. Mommyâs got you.â Her hand didnât stop. If anything, it moved faster, her fingers pressing harder, her touch demanding. You were lost in it, in her, in the way your body responded so eagerly to her command.
And then⊠It hit you like a wave. Your back arched off the table, your fingers clawing at the padded surface as your body tensed. A gasp tore from your throat, your hips jerking wildly as you spilled your seed into the diaper, the padding growing warm and sticky beneath you. You collapsed back against the table, your chest heaving, your face flushed and damp with sweat. The diaper was a mess, your mess, and the realization of it sent another shudder through you.
Mommy finally taped up the diaper, her movements slow and deliberate as she secured the tabs. She patted your thigh, her touch lingering. âThere we go,â she said, her voice soft but laced with satisfaction. âAll sticky for bedtime.â She lifted you off the table, cradling you against her chest. You could feel the weight of the diaper between your legs, the warmth of your release seeping into the padding. It was humiliating. It was perfect.
She carried you to your crib, tucking you in with a kiss to your forehead. âNow you remember how much you love your diapers, donât you?â she whispered, her fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face. You nodded, your cheeks still burning, your body still trembling from the aftershocks. She smiled, pulling the blanket up to your chin. âGood boy. Sleep tight.â
And as she turned off the light, leaving you in the soft glow of the nightlight, you realized something: you did love your diapers. You loved the way they made you feel small, and safe, and hers. And as you drifted off to sleep, the weight of your sticky diaper a constant, comforting reminder, you knew youâd never forget it.
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.
***
âThis is ridiculous!â Naomi whined. âThereâs nothing wrong with me!â
âYou tested positive, sweetheart,â her boyfriend said, patiently. âAnd your potty issues arenât nothing. How many pairs of undies did you ruin before you agreed to start wearing your training pants?â
Naomi felt her cheeks burning. âTheyâre not training pants, Isaac!â she insisted, stomping her foot, suddenly very aware of the thickness of the protective underwear between her legs. âTheyâre just⊠justâŠâ
âI know, baby, Iâm sorry,â Isaac said. âTheyâre your just-in-case pants, arenât they? But my point is youâve got to stop pretending that your life isnât going to change because of this. Youâve got Baby Fever, my love.â
âBut there havenât been any mental changes!â Naomi practically shrieked. âThe only thing thatâs 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 doesnât make any sense!â
âItâs for your own safety, Naomi,â said Isaac. âYou donât know that there wonât be any mental changes. Your little pee-pants problem could just be the start.â
âIf there were going to be worse symptoms, they wouldâve happened by now!â Naomi insisted, cringing at his choice of words. âIâve been looking into it online. There are loads of women like me! We barely show any symptoms at all, and yet weâre subjected to all the same rules as a bunch of overgrown toddlers!â
âWe donât know enough about how the virus works, baby,â Isaac said, calmly. âFor 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!â
âBut there have been hardly any cases where a women develops more severe symptoms after three weeks!â Naomi protested.
âBut there have still been some,â said Isaac. âDo you know what would happen if you ended up mentally regressed, and Iâd allowed you to just wander about like you didnât have the virus? The government would label me an irresponsible caregiver, and Iâm not going to risk that. Iâm 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?â
Naomi was blushing furiously. After a moment, she looked down at the floor and shook her head.
âThen be a good girl and do as Daddy says.â
Naomi tensed. âYouâre not my Daddy,â she mumbled, still looking at her shoes.
âI am now, baby,â Isaac said firmly, âand Iâm going to take care of you properly.â He took her by the hand and started leading her out of the living room.
âWhere are we going?â Naomi asked, meekly.
âI ordered some new clothes for you,â said Isaac, âand they arrived today. Theyâre in the bedroom.â
âNew clothes?â Naomi repeated, confused. Then she realised what he must mean. âNo!â she squealed, trying to dig her heels into the carpet. âPlease, Isaac! Please just let me just wear my normal clothes!â
âDonât be silly, sweetie,â he said, pulling her along effortlessly. âThe official guidelines state that you have to be recognisable as a virus victim. That way people will know somethingâs wrong if youâre by yourself. Youâve been walking around in adult clothes for far too long already, little missy.â
âBut I donât want to dress like one of them!â 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. âPeople will think Iâm fully regressed!â Naomi complained desperately. âIsnât it better that they know I still have my adult mind?!â
âItâs better to be safe,â said Isaac. âPlus the guidelines say itâs a good way of signalling to everyone that youâre out of your contagious phase. That will give people a lot of peace of mind if you do something babyish in front of them.â
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. âPlease, IsaacâŠâ 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 sheâd 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. âStart getting undressed, baby,â he said, as he folded a set of purple pyjamas covered in prancing unicorns. âI want to get you into your new clothes right away.â
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 sheâd 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?
âDid you have an accident, baby?â Isaac asked.
Naomi froze when she realised heâd been watching her. Her face felt as red as a tomato. She couldnât bring herself to look up at him, so she just nodded her head, still looking at the floor.
âDo you need changing?â he asked.
âNo,â she mumbled. âItâs not much.â
âAlright, darling,â Isaac said, gently. âFor now weâll just get you dressed, okay? Arms up!â
âI know how to dress myself,â 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 wasnât that different from the shirt sheâd just removed, except for the colour, but then she spotted the writing on the front. Daddyâs Girl. âSeriously, Isaac?â
âIt looks cute on you,â 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 didnât 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. âLeft foot first, thatâs it. Then the right. Good girl!â He pulled them up her legs and over her bulky protective pants, but despite the tightsâ thickness, they didnât 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. âNo!â she squealed, stepping back. âThereâs nothing wrong with keeping my hair down! Itâs fine!â
âThe government guidelines say that pigtails and pink ribbons are the best and easiest way a virus victim can be identified, Naomi,â said Isaac, firmly. âThis way everyone will know youâre a Baby Fever girl.â
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. âFine,â she said, through gritted teeth.
âGood girl!â Isaac said, and he started tying her dark hair into a pair of high pigtails that dangled down to tickle her cheeks. âPerfect,â he announced, once he was finished. âCome see what you look like, baby.â
Naomi wasnât at all keen to see her reflection, but Isaac dragged her over to the full-length mirror and stood her in front of it. âOh my GodâŠâ 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. âI look like a joke!â
âDonât say that, sweetheart,â Isaac cooed, bending down to kiss her cheek. âYou look adorable! Youâll be the cutest girl in your class!â
âIn my⊠in my what?â
âYour class, baby. At your daycare.â
Naomi stared, horror struck, at her boyfriendâs face in the mirror. âAt my what?!â
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.
Itâs 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. Iâm 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.
âYou look beautiful, princess,â 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. âMy pretty date.â
She leaned back against his chest, smiling brightly up at him in the mirror.
âThank 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. Thereâs even a new cotton candy stand with vanilla flavours. We have to try it.â
He chuckled, that wonderful hearty laugh she adored, before pressing a soft kiss to her temple.
âIâm looking forward to it, sweetheart. Youâve been so excited about our big date.â
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. Itâs silly. Just because I get tired by eight oâclock doesnât 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 âpublic displays of affectionâ 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.
âDaddy, please,â she said, turning in his arms with a determined pout. Her big doe eyes pleaded with him. âWe 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. Iâm going to stay dry all day like a big girl. Please?â
He looked down at her with that protective, knowing expression. His hand gently brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.
âI know you want to try, my sweet girl. And Daddy is so proud of how determined you are. Youâre smart, youâre bubbly, youâre 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 weâre out having fun for hours. Iâm not going to risk you being uncomfortable or embarrassed. Let me take care of you properly today.â
She fussed softly, cheeks flushing pink as he guided her toward the bed.
âBut Daddy⊠the dress. Itâs so pretty. The diaper will show and Iâll look sillyâŠâ
âYou could never look silly to me,â he murmured, laying her down gently. âYouâll 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 werenât like old times anymore.
Because now she was his baby girl.
And Daddyâs job was to make sure his little one was safe and cared for.
The car ride started off hopefully.
She held Daddyâs 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.
âDid you know fairs like this one have been around since the 1800s?â she said brightly. âThey started as agricultural shows but turned into these big celebrations of community and fun. I think thatâs so sweet.â
Daddy smiled, giving her hand a squeeze. âI love how you know so many interesting facts, princess. Tell me more.â
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.
âDaddy,â she whispered, tugging his hand. âI thought we were doing couple things. Thereâs a Ferris wheel and a cute photo booth over thereâŠâ
âWeâll get there, sweetheart,â he said patiently. âBut first I want my girl to enjoy herself. Look how cute the baby goats are.â
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.
âEverything okay, princess? Youâre doing that little dance.â
Her face went bright red. âIâm fine. Iâm being a big girl today. I donât need help.â
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.
âI⊠I had an accident,â she whispered, voice trembling. âI really tried, Daddy. I wanted to be your big girl so badly today.â
Daddy immediately scooped her up into his arms, carrying her protectively against his chest. âAww, my poor little girl. You tried so hard to be big today, didnât you? But babies have accidents. Thatâs why Daddy brings extra diapers.â
She buried her face in his shirt, tears soaking the fabric. âI 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 Iâm just a babyâŠâ
Daddy held her tighter. His hand slid down to gently pat the back of her soaked padding.
âBecause 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. Doesnât that feel better than pretending?â
She whimpered, face flaming. âDaddy⊠people might hear youâŠâ
He chuckled softly and booped her tiny nose. âLet 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.
âLook at you,â he murmured playfully while taping on the fresh, even thicker diaper. âAll blushy and embarrassed in your pretty sundress. My delicate little doll needs so much padding, doesnât she?â
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.
âAww, look at my little princess waddling so cutely,â he murmured, leaning down so only she could hear. âThat thick diaper makes you walk so adorably. Does it feel nice and bulky between those pretty legs, sweetheart?â
âDaddy⊠stop teasing me,â she mumbled, even as a tiny, embarrassed giggle slipped out.
He grinned and kissed the top of her head. âBut you get so adorably blushy when I tease you. Look at those rosy cheeks. My perfect padded princess.â
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 heâd 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 didnât make her want to disappear.
It made her feel safe.
She wasnât too big for her diapers after all.
She was exactly the right size for Daddyâs arms.
"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, sheâs had their hearts completely. Instantly acquiescing to her newfound position as baby of the family, they couldnât 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. Theyâd 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 sweetheartâs 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. âMaybe tummy time is more your speed, sweetie.â Dad suggested lovingly through her sniffles before setting her down on her blankie on the floor. âWe can try twirlies again another time, but for now letâs just get you settled down here all safe and sound.â 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 oooâed and awwwâed 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 đ
âOh, donât forget your blankie, it matches your outfit!â
âYou 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!â
âNo no, girls donât 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 leakingâ
âOf course i ordered you the happy meal! The toys right now are the number one trending accessory for girls your age!â
âTrust me, when going to frat parties, youâll want to make sure youâre fully padded up. Boys live there, silly. No potty will be clean.â
âI mean⊠you can wear tight fitting clothes, but youâd probably want to make sure youâre wearing a onesie since itâll help keep your diaper from sagging and not poke out of your skirt. What? No honey, thereâs nothing wrong with people knowing youâre padded. Girls like you are always padded! Itâs just a fashion thing, trust me.â
âEvery girl wears a bib when having a meal before going out. Itâs 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!â
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 auntâs 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 simpleâpiling 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 didnât 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 âcalm you down,â 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 youâd filled your diaper with poop, her gaze intense with maternal fulfillment.
As weird as it all was, you continually found yourself making excuses to stayâmomâs stress, school troublesâbecause youâd 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.
Lil' Bug's Dreamies @danielle3487 - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
